birds, which had appeared on the preceding
day; and, finally, that man appeared upon the earth, and the emergence of
the universe from chaos was finished. Milton tells us, without the least
ambiguity, what a spectator of these marvelous occurrences would have
witnessed. I doubt not that his poem is familiar to all of you, but I
should like to recall one passage to your minds, in order that I may be
justified in what I have said regarding the perfectly concrete, definite
picture of the origin of the animal world which Milton draws. He says:--

The sixth, and of creation last, arose
With evening harps and matin, when God said,
"Let the earth bring forth soul living in her kind,
Cattle and creeping things, and beast of the earth,
Each in their kind!" The earth obeyed, and, straight
Opening her fertile womb, teemed at a birth
Innumerous living creatures, perfect forms,
Limbed and full-grown. Out of the ground uprose,
As from his lair, the wild beast, where he wons
In forest wild, in thicket, brake, or den;
Among the trees in pairs they rose, they walked;
The cattle in the fields and meadows green;
Those rare and solitary; these in flocks
Pasturing at once, and in broad herds upsprung.
The grassy clods now calved; now half appears
The tawny lion, pawing to get free
His hinder parts--then springs, as broke from bonds,
And rampant shakes his brinded mane; the ounce,
The libbard, and the tiger, as the mole
Rising, the crumbled earth above them threw
In hillocks; the swift stag from underground
Bore up his branching head; scarce from his mould
Behemoth, biggest born of earth, upheaved
His vastness; fleeced the flocks and bleating rose
As plants; ambiguous between sea and land,
The river-horse and scaly crocodile.
At once came forth whatever creeps the ground,
Insect or worm.

There is no doubt as to the meaning of this statement, nor as to what a
man of Milton's genius expected would have been actually visible to an
eye-witness of this mode of origination of living things.

The third hypothesis, or the hypothesis of evolution, supposes that, at
any comparatively late period of past time, our imaginary spectator would
meet with a state of things very similar to that which now obtains; but
that the likeness of the past to the present would gradually become less
and less, in proportion to the remoteness of his period of observation
from the present day; that the exis