gating its race: half-animal, half-vegetable, and a ruthless cannibal. This unhappy result was prevented by the first organisms being sexless, so that there was no inter-crossing, but each could develop independently. It is useful to contemplate what might have been, for we can then realise what the principle of isolation has saved us from; and we can the more readily recognise what an important part it has played in nature.

I must keep you a minute longer while I point out where this leads us; for there is more than appears upon the surface.

We are accustomed to say, and I have repeated it many times in this lecture, that the characters developed by natural selection are utilitarian; that is, they are of use to the creature possessing them, while the characters due to isolation are for the most part non-utilitarian. Now we may at once grant that these latter characters are not, and never have been, of any use to their possessors. But are they of no use at all in the scheme of nature? Would man have been the same now if these non-utilitarian characters had never existed? Certainly not. It is the variety in nature that has excited man's curiosity, urged on his thirst for knowledge, and so induced him to study natural phenomena; while contemplation of the

beauty seen in nature has stimulated his sluggish soul, and has developed his æsthetic and religious faculties.

Natural selection has, no doubt, developed that part of man's intellect which makes him cunning in devising means to ensnare his prey, and to get the better of his fellow man. But this, after all, is the form of intellect which man shares with the beasts; while the intellectual and spiritual qualities which especially distinguish him have not been called forth by natural selection. These are largely the result of contemplating the variety and beauty in nature; and if natural selection has played an important part in gradually developing the body and mind of man, isolation has played a no less important part in developing his higher intellectual and spiritual faculties, and in teaching him to reverence and adore the Almighty Designer and Creator of all we see around us.

We are quite accustomed now to the idea that every structure in a plant or in an animal has a special object; else it would not be there. But it is generally supposed that this object must be a useful one to its possessor; for this is the teaching of the old Darwinism. Now, why should we limit ourselves to so narrow a view? We know that many structures exist which are not, and

never have been, of use to their owner. Is it therefore necessary to believe that they are of no use at all? If we allow that the ultimate object of organic evolution is the development of man, not only physically but also mentally and morally, I do not see how we can escape from the conclusion that all these so-called useless structures, all that give us beauty and variety, have been specially designed for his education.

Three hundred years ago geologists argued that fossils could not have been either simple freaks of nature or the outcome of fermentation in the rocks—as had been previously supposed—because that would imply that the Creator had laid traps for man's intelligence, and had caused him to use his intellect for the purpose of leading him astray. Thirty years ago the same line of argument was used by zoologists with reference to rudimentary organs, and to the singular vagaries seen during the development of animals. It was urged that there must be some reason for these things, and that this reason could not have been to deceive man. In both cases the argument has been allowed; and why should it be disallowed in the present case? If beauty and variety have been a fruitful cause in the development of the special human characteristics; if they have been largely

instrumental in making him a being " of wise discourse, looking before and after," and if, so far as we know, they have been of no other use, why should we refuse to believe that this was the primary object for which they were designed? The only alternative is that man's higher development has been due to a lucky chance, and that evolution has no meaning.

This, then, it seems to me, is the ultimate teaching of the new Darwinism; and I think you will all agree that we owe it a deep debt of gratitude for lifting us out of the deadly region of utilitarianism into an altogether higher and purer air. But we must always remember that we could not have attained our present position if we had not had the old Darwinism to climb with.

LECTURE III

DARWINISM IN HUMAN AFFAIRS

THE principle of selection, so important to the

animal and vegetable kingdoms, plays also a very important part in human affairs; indeed it is universally present wherever there is competition. We select our dinners, we select our clothes, we select our books, we select our amusements; here it is not the inanimate objects which are competing, but their human producers. The one thing essential for the action of selection is competition; the one thing essential for selection to be cumulative is that the variations be capable of transmission to other individuals.

PHYSIOLOGICAL EVOLUTION

The enunciation of the principle of selection is simple. It is that, among two or more competing individuals, the worst adapted to the circum