of being
concentrated in intense and eager spasms. An old philosopher--a
Descartes, suppose--fancied that out of primitive truths, which he
could by ardent excogitation know, he might by pure deduction evolve
the entire universe. Intense self-examination, and intense reason
would, he thought, make out everything. The soul "itself by itself,"
could tell all it wanted if it would be true to its sublimer isolation.
The greatest enjoyment possible to man was that which this philosophy
promises its votaries--the pleasure of being always right, and always
reasoning--without ever being bound to look at anything. But our most
ambitious schemes of philosophy now start quite differently. Mr. Darwin
begins:--

"When on board H.M.S. Beagle, as naturalist, I was much struck with
certain facts in the distribution of the organic beings inhabiting
South America, and in the geological relations of the present to the
past inhabitants of that continent. These facts, as will be seen in the
latter chapters of this volume, seemed to throw some light on the
origin of species--that mystery of mysteries, as it has been called by
one of our greatest philosophers. On my return home, it occurred to me,
in 1837, that something might perhaps be made out on this question by
patiently accumulating and reflecting on all sorts of facts which could
possibly have any bearing on it. After five years' work I allowed
myself to speculate on the subject, and drew up some short notes; these
I enlarged in 1844 into a sketch of the conclusions which then seemed
to me probable: from that period to the present day I have steadily
pursued the same object. I hope that I may be excused for entering on
these personal details, as I give them to show that I have not been
hasty in coming to a decision."

If he hopes finally to solve his great problem, it is by careful
experiments in pigeon-fancying, and other sorts of artificial
variety-making. His hero is not a self-enclosed, excited philosopher,
but "that most skilful breeder, Sir John Sebright, who used to say,
with respect to pigeons, that he would produce any given feathers in
three years, but it would take him six years to obtain a head and a
beak". I am not saying that the new thought is better than the old; it
is no business of mine to say anything about that; I only wish to bring
home to the mind, as nothing but instances can bring it home, how
matter-of-fact, how petty, as it would at first sight look, even ou