you this morning. One would almost think that you
doubted my word. If my boots are dusty, it must be, of
course, that I have put on a pair which the maid had
not cleaned."

It was perfectly evident that she knew nothing whatever
about the matter, and I reflected that, after all,
perhaps it was better that I should not enlighten her.
It might frighten her, and could serve no good purpose
that I could see. I said no more about it, therefore,
and left shortly afterward to give my lecture.

But I am immensely impressed. My horizon of scientific
possibilities has suddenly been enormously extended. I
no longer wonder at Wilson's demonic energy and
enthusiasm. Who would not work hard who had a vast
virgin field ready to his hand? Why, I have known the
novel shape of a nucleolus, or a trifling peculiarity
of striped muscular fibre seen under a 300-diameter
lens, fill me with exultation. How petty do such
researches seem when compared with this one which
strikes at the very roots of life and the nature of the
soul! I had always looked upon spirit as a product of
matter. The brain, I thought, secreted the mind, as
the liver does the bile. But how can this be when I
see mind working from a distance and playing upon
matter as a musician might upon a violin? The body
does not give rise to the soul, then, but is rather the
rough instrument by which the spirit manifests itself.
The windmill does not give rise to the wind, but only