en
next, never suspecting that it was just a preparation for man, who had
to be done just so or there wouldn't be any proper or harmonious place
for him when he arrived, and then at last the monkey came, and everybody
could see at a glance that man wasn't far off now, and that was true
enough. The monkey went on developing for close upon five million years,
and then he turned into a man--to all appearances.

"It does look like a lot of fuss and trouble to go through to build
anything, especially a human being, and nowhere along the way is there
any evidence of where he picked up that final asset--his imagination.
It makes him different from the others--not any better, but certainly
different. Those earlier animals didn't have it, and the monkey hasn't
it or he wouldn't be so cheerful."

[Paine records Twain's thoughts in that magnificent essay: "Was the
World Made for Man" published long after his death in the group of
essays under the title "Letters from the Earth." There are minor
additions in the published version: "coal to fry the fish"; and
the remnants of life being chased from pole to pole "without a dry
rag on them,"; and the "coat of paint" on top of the bulb on top
the Eiffel Tower representing "man's portion of this world's
history." Ed.]

He often held forth on the shortcomings of the human race--always a
favorite subject--the incompetencies and imperfections of this
final creation, in spite of, or because of, his great attribute--the
imagination. Once (this was in the billiard-room) I started him by
saying that whatever the conditions in other planets, there seemed no
reason why life should not develop in each, adapted as perfectly to
prevailing conditions as man is suited to conditions here. He said:

"Is it your idea, then, that man is perfectly adapted to the conditions
of this planet?"

I began to qualify, rather weakly; but what I said did not matter. He
was off on his favorite theme.

"Man adapted to the earth?" he said. "Why, he can't sleep out-of-doors
without freezing to death or getting the rheumatism or the malaria; he
can't keep his nose under water over a minute without being drowned; he
can't climb a tree without falling out and breaking his neck. Why, he's
the poorest, clumsiest excuse of all the creatures that inhabit this
earth. He has got to be coddled and housed and swathed and bandaged and
up holstered to be able to live at all. He is a rickety sor