only a question of the amount of intelligence and voluntary
self-adaptation which we must admit, and this must be settled rather by
an appeal to what we find in organism, and observe concerning it, than
by what we may have imagined _a priori_.

Given a small speck of jelly with some kind of circumstance-suiting
power, some power of slightly varying its actions in accordance with
slightly varying circumstances and desires--given such a jelly-speck
with a power of assimilating other matter, and thus, of reproducing
itself, given also that it should be possessed of a memory, and we can
show how the whole animal world can have descended it may be from an
amoeba without interference from without, and how every organ in every
creature is designed at first roughly and tentatively but finally
fashioned with the most consummate perfection, by the creature which has
had need of that organ, which best knew what it wanted, and was never
satisfied till it had got that which was the best suited to its varying
circumstances in their entirety. We can even show how, if it becomes
worth the Ethiopian's while to try and change his skin, or the leopard's
to change his spots, they can assuredly change them within a not
unreasonable time and adapt their covering to their own will and
convenience, and to that of none other; thus what is commonly conceived
of as direct creation by God is moved back to a time and space
inconceivable in their remoteness, while the aim and design so obvious
in nature are shown to be still at work around us, growing ever busier
and busier, and advancing from day to day both in knowledge and power.

It was reserved for Mr. Darwin and for those who have too rashly
followed him to deny purpose as having had any share in the development
of animal and vegetable organs; to see no evidence of design in those
wonderful provisions which have been the marvel and delight of observers
in all ages. The one who has drawn our attention more than perhaps any
other living writer to those very marvels of coadaptation, is the
foremost to maintain that they are the result not of desire and design,
either within the creature or without it, but of blind chance, working
no whither, and due but to the accumulation of innumerable lucky
accidents.

"There are men," writes Professor Tyndall in the 'Nineteenth Century,'
for last November, "and by no means the minority, who, however wealthy
in regard to facts, can never rise into the regio