deer, their descendants will plod around farms, or mince along city
streets, moving constrictedly, slowly, their litheness half gone.

They will think of Nature as "something to go out and look at." They
will try to live wholly apart from her and forget they're her sons.
Forget? They will even deny it, and declare themselves sons of God.
In spite of her wonders they will regard Nature as somehow too humble
to be the true parent of such prominent people as simians. They will
lose all respect for the dignity of fair Mother Earth, and whisper to
each other she is an evil and indecent old person. They will snatch
at her gifts, pry irreverently into her mysteries, and ignore half
the warnings they get from her about how to live.

Ailments of every kind will abound among such folk, inevitably, and
they will resort to extraordinary expedients in their search for
relief. Although squeamish as a race about inflicting much pain in
cold blood, they will systematically infect other animals with their
own rank diseases, or cut out other animals' organs, or kill and
dissect them, hoping thus to learn how to offset their neglect of
themselves. Conditions among them will be such that this will really
be necessary. Few besides impractical sentimentalists will therefore
oppose it. But the idea will be to gain health by legerdemain, by a
trick, instead of by taking the trouble to live healthy lives.

Strange barrack-like buildings called hospitals will stand in their
cities, where their trick-men, the surgeons, will slice them right
open when ill; and thousands of zealous young pharmacists will mix
little drugs, which thousands of wise-looking simians will firmly
prescribe. Each generation will change its mind as to these drugs,
and laugh at all former opinions; but each will use some of them, and