The Origin of Man

THE EVOLUTIONARY THEORY

By Alfred Acton, M.A., D.Th

[Reprinted from THE NEW PHILOSOPHY, Vol. XXIV, Nos. 2-4, April—July—October, 1921]

And here let me observe that the evolutionary theory is still a theory. The observation is necessary, because the generality of people, and especially the young who come into contact with the sphere of the world's institutions of learning, receive the impression that it has passed the stage of theory and is an established fact. The majority of teachers seem to assume this; for their attitude to all who would question the theory is one of astonishment, if not of contempt, at the temerity or foolishness that would question an unshakably established doctrine. And from these teachers in our colleges and universities there has spread throughout the world that gives any thought to the matter the assumption that the theory of evolution is now beyond question. And yet it is only a theory—a theory, moreover, which, as we shall show, fairly bristles with difficulties. The leaders of the learned world have seen and recognized these difficulties, and many hypotheses have been advanced to meet them, but with little success; for no sooner has an hypothesis been framed to meet one series of difficulties than it is found to encounter others. The learned world is one in the assumption that all organic forms were produced by evolution; but when we come to the means by which that evolution was effected, we find only debated and debatable hypotheses. It should also be observed that the theory of evolution is not confined to creation, but is a part of a universal sphere of thought which seeks the solution of all the problems of life in the operation of merely natural laws. Thus, applied to the institution of marriage, it teaches that this institution originates in the accumulated experience of men which has gradually established monogamy for the protection of society. So with education, economic and social life, morals, etc.—all are traced to the plasma of the animal nature of man, influenced by climate, environment, conflict, and accumulated experience in the struggle for survival. Religion and the idea of God are held to be an evolutionary growth from the same origin. The belief in a spiritual world, as now held by orthodox Christians, is the evolution of primitive ideas which in their turn originated in the experience of dreams. Men saw in their dreams friends who had died, and to account for this they invented a spirit-world; they saw implements and other articles that had been lost or destroyed; and so they filled their spirit-world with the implements of war and of the chase, etc. With the growth of organized society they gradually evolved the idea that over the spirits of the spirit-world ruled chiefs whom they called gods, each nation having its own peculiar god. In rude communities these gods were savage and revengeful, but with the gradual evolution of morality a higher idea of Divinity was developed, until at last came the modern Christian idea. But this is not the final or crowning fruit of evolution. In time men will rise superior to the anthropomorphic idea of God, the idea of God as a man, to the conception of men as God, to the realization of the super-man. The essence of the theory of evolution is that progress is made merely by the operation of natural laws; by this operation advance has been made from senseless protoplasm to modern civilization, with its science, art, religion; and this advance is still continuing. But positive as the upholders of this doctrine are, yet they have been unable to answer the fundamental objection that will come at once to the thinking mind, as to the origin and spring of all this progress. Granting that man developed from a brute animal, and that the latter was the ripest fruition of protoplasm, from whence did the protoplasm come, and whence the forces of progress? The learned evolutionist may readily admit that here also there must be a cause; here also the operation of a law; and that the law must be prior to the protoplasm. He may even admit the existence of a Supreme Being. But the admission seems to enter only the external thought ; for thought concerning that Supreme Being is held to have little or no place in the solution of biological problems. The most simple reflection must discover that a stream can not rise above its source; that the human intelligence and love evidenced before us did not come from nothing; that all present and all future development of human powers must have been resident in the protoplasm, if this is their primitive origin. But then what! Is this protoplasm God? Perhaps few would openly admit so bald a declaration. Does it not, nevertheless, express the fundamental thought involved in the theory of evolution as now held? Nature is God; nature without beneficent purpose; nature acting from irresistible laws devoid of spiritual ends. There is no God-Man; no creation from Divine Love and Wisdom; no conservation from Divine Prescience and Providence, to the end that men may receive heavenly blessing! The only real thing is Nature, operating by inexorable laws to slowly but surely produce by the deadly conflict of existence the "survival of the fittest "—man, super-man, super-super-man—all with evidences of a love and wisdom, a thought and judgment, an end and purpose, denied to their origin. Here we have the reincarnation of the old theological dogma of creation out of nothing; the ancient dogma has cast off its worn-out priestly robes, and putting on the insignia of the savant, now sits enthroned in the halls of our universities. And this protoplasm which thus magically originates all the marvels of the natural and mental world, what is it? It is found, microscopically and chemically, to be but a simple substance. In this the evolutionist is surprised, not to say disappointed. Predicating of it, as he does, such latent powers of development, he would at least expect to find a wonderful com­plexity. But no! his search reveals only comparative simplicity. How, then, he asks, shall the phenomena of variation be accounted for?—variation so great that it has produced the kingdoms of nature. To meet the situation many theories have been devised by those who have attempted to penetrate more deeply into the mysteries of life. Protoplasm has been endowed with ultra microscopic parts, with biophors, and stroma stems, etc.; and to these theoretical bodies functions and actions have been assigned which shall account for the phenomena of variation. Some assume these invisible constituents of protoplasm to be in perpetual conflict for existence, with the fittest surviving and thus dominating the future development of the plasma. Others suppose that there is some law that prevents the growth of one part over another beyond a certain limit; while still others suppose there is a natural development of all the parts. All this, however, is mere speculation; speculation which is learnedly discussed since it moves in the field of physics and chemistry, but which would be treated with silent scorn were it to lift up its gaze to the contemplation of Divine Love and Wisdom as the creative and directive cause of the universe. The doctrine of evolution, in its original form, as put forth by Darwin—and in justice to the latter it should be said that the doctrine was advanced by him only as a tentative explanation of the vast array of facts which he assembled together—in its original form, this doctrine is that man was created by development from a member of the gorilla family, who, by reason of a peculiar hereditary and environment, was enabled to develop, or rather the hereditary and environment developed in him, a certain quality above his fellows whereby he had opportunity to cultivate higher things, and thus become the progenitor, perhaps in a long series of generation, of the first savage man. Among later students the long series does not seem to be an essential part of the process. The Russian savant, Metchnikoff, held that the bridge from animal to man might be crossed in a single generation. In support of this he instances cases of men of genius being born from obscure and ignoble parents. A gorilla distinguished by strength would be naturally in a position to make his fellows undergo the labor of procuring food for him; and being thus relieved of toilsome labor, would—also naturally—have leisure to develop the incipient germ of a mind superior to that of his fellows. By his strength also he would be able to seize for himself the choice of mates; and thus from this select pair might be born the first man of the Stone Age. Again let me emphasize that this doctrine is nothing more than a theory, advanced to explain an army of facts—which it does not explain. Facts prove nothing more than themselves; theories are what are devised by men to explain the facts, and these theories can stand only so far as they do actually explain. Put in a general way, the facts of observation which led directly to the formulation of the theory of evolution are: that there is such immense variety in the world; that the varieties in different species are so great that it is impossible in many cases to tell the dividing line; that the like is true of genera, and even of the line between the vegetable kingdom and the animal, and between the organic and the inorganic. Moreover, there was observed a certain relation between varieties and climatic or other environment, and this observation was strengthened by the study of ethnography and the observation of the effects of surroundings and climate in the development of national character. In the field of anatomy there was not only found to be a remarkable unity between different species of animals, which indicated a common origin, but there were also found what were taken to be vestiges of organs which had functioned in some progenitor, but which were held to be now entirely useless, if not harmful. This is most commonly illustrated in the observation—much cited by university students of biology—that before birth the human fetus possesses "fish gills " which are quite useless, and which later on disappear—a proof that the fish has some place in our ancestry. Apparently we, and our progenitors for all known time, have not succeeded in entirely removing this vestige of our fishy existence, though we have pushed it back to our embryonic life where it can do least harm. Another popular illustration of a “useless" vestigial organ is the vermiform appendix, which, it is held, is doomed in time to extinction, though meanwhile it is giving abundant occupation to our surgeons. It is to explain these and similar observations that the theory of evolution has been advanced. And although it has been shown by learned biologists and others that the theory does not explain the facts, but is, on the other hand, contradicted by them; although the same thing has been shown to be true of every modification of the theory made to meet this or that class of objections; yet the essential position of the theory remains so firmly rooted that it is today the center and universal of the learned thought on all subjects. This “essential position" is not Darwinism, properly so called, but the theory of descent. Darwinian evolution is merely one of the explanations as to the mode whereby the descent was effected; an explanation that has been largely discredited by later experiment and criticism. But the theory of descent still remains. Criticism and new discoveries have indeed compelled it to modify one point or another, but essentially there is no change; and the theory is today more firmly established in the university than ever were theological dogmas in the halls of ecumenical councils. The power of the theory rests in its universality, and especially in its promise to explain the mysteries of existence without resort to the idea of God. The learned world is eager for such an explanation, which alone can satisfy the senses, and thought from the senses. Hence we have the unceasing labors of the biologist in hatching out new theories as to the mode or cause of descent; theories which are no sooner born than they are the center of attacks based on a new array of facts; which, in turn, give rise to new theories and new attacks. And so the Sisyphean labor continues. For it is a fact, perhaps not realized by the ordinary student, that while the theory of descent reigns unquestioned and supreme in the learned world, there is in that world nothing approaching agreement respecting the modes or causes of descent. But let us return for a moment to that assembly of facts to which the theory of descent is supposed to furnish the key; and let us observe that Swedenborg offers us another theory to these phenomena, and one, moreover, that appeals to enlightened and Christian reason. It is popularly supposed that the facts known in Swedenborg's day were but meager. But the truth is that the exact contrary is the case. In the eighteenth century there was an immense array of facts ready to men's hands, especially in the field of anatomy. Indeed, in this latter field we have gained little in the acquisition of essentials, however much we may have advanced in the knowledge of minute details. Swedenborg had a true vision of the future when he wrote in his PRINCIPIA: The sciences which have now for some thousand years been adding to our experience may at this day be said to have so far advanced that the enquiry into the secret and invisible operations of nature need no longer be deferred. Indeed it does not appear that there is any occasion for that infinite variety of phenomena which some deem necessary, in order to acquire a knowledge of natural things. We have need only of the more important; of such as bear directly and proximately upon the point, and do not diverge too obliquely and remotely. The remaining mass of experiments may be safely laid aside as not essential; indeed they would tend rather to divert the mind than to lead us onward in our investigation. For a countless variety of phenomena are very remote from their first origin and discover no path leading to it except through manifold and intricate mazes. Nature may be likened to a labyrinth; if you are in this labyrinth, the attempt to wander through all its windings, and to take note of all their direc­tions would be fruitless; for in this case the puzzle would only grow the more inextricable, you would only pursue your footsteps in a circle; and, when most elated by the prospect of emerging, would come to the selfsame spot. And so if you would reach with ease, and possibly by the shortest road, the exit of the labyrinth, you must reject the sense­less wish of exploring all its intricacies; rather, planting yourself at some intersection of its paths, strive to ascertain somewhat of its general figure from the circuitous route you have already trodden, and retrace, if advisable, some of your steps. Thus may you easily ascertain the way leading to its outlet, and there obtain the clue to direct you through all its mazes; and when you have familiarized yourself with their plan, you may throw aside even the clue itself, and fearlessly wander about in the labyrinth without it. Then, as if seated on an eminence, and, at a glance, surveying the whole labyrinth which lies before you, how will you smile in tracing the various windings which had baffled your judgment by manifold and illusive intersections! We have quoted this passage both because of the picture it presents of a learning which is so over-burdened with a labyrinth of details—important enough for special purposes—that it is unable to see the golden thread that alone can guide its way and also to give some indication that in Swedenborg's time there was an abundance of the facts of experience, sufficient to serve as the basis for rational induction. That nature was filled with variety; that there was an indistinct line between the genera and even the kingdoms of nature; that comparative anatomy revealed a remarkable similarity between animals of every kind and man—all this was well known to Swedenborg, and later investigations have served rather to emphasize the fact and embellish it with details than to reveal it. Swedenborg also advanced a theory as the key to these phenomena. The infinite variety of nature is the picture which represents the infinite; is the indefiniteness of creation emulating the infinity of God. Nothing is or can be the same, since each represents something in the Infinite. As regards the similarity of organs, he says that Nature is the same in greatests and in leasts; everything in nature presents an image of God-Man, and this image constitutes the likeness which is observed in all things of creation. As to useless organs, Swedenborg did not and could not recognize anything useless in nature, and still less in the human body, the supreme work of nature. Instead of confirming a godless theory by the appearance of useless organs, he girded his loins and sought for and found the uses of those organs—uses, some of which have been since published as more recent discoveries. See the contrast here presented. A philosophy that everywhere contemplates use, the image of God-Man; and a philosophy that sees "vestigial" organs, left over by nature, organs which not only serve no use, but are even harmful. Can you imagine a workman who has improved a piece of machinery leaving some useless part of the old model? And shall we be so stupid as to suppose that nature—to say nothing of God—has done this very thing? Moreover, the hypothesis involves that nature previously did not know how to build her new machine; and if this is so, where, then, did she acquire her knowledge? Knowledge can not come from nothing. And here let me call attention to the cogent objection that has been raised against the theory of descent by natural selec­tion, that it leaves unexplained the supposed final disappearance of useless organs. Lack of exercise may diminish an organ in size, but, as shown by abundant experience, it cannot abolish it. The forces that form it remain, and until these are removed the organ will persist. For its supposed disappearance no satisfactory hypothesis has ever been put forward. A fundamental objection to the theory of descent is the doctrine that influx is according to reception. Where there is a difference in the receptive vessel, there is also a difference, to the same degree, in the manifestation of the life flowing into that vessel. This is well illustrated by the influx of the heat and light of the sun. These flow into all subjects of the vegetable kingdom, but they are variously manifested, or produce various organic forms according to the nature of the vessel that receives them. To a certain extent it is true that environment and other external causes do produce some effect, some difference, on organic forms of life. In one climate a plant may grow to perfection, while, transported to another, it may become poor and imperfect. The same effects may be produced also by human agency, in the way of breeding, grafting and cultivation. But in all such cases the change or modification of the vessels receptive of life is only extrinsic. It does not reach to the finer vessels, where dwells the essential quality of the organic form. The wayside weed, if by cultivation and crossing it has become a useful fruit or a lovely flower, has not undergone any essential change; consequently, as is well known, it will soon revert to its original state if left untended. It is man alone, by virtue of his gift of rationality and liberty, who can induce change of form on the interior vessels of his being ; and even he cannot produce change on the inmost vessels, the nature whereof makes him a human being with human faculties. Whatever he may make himself, he cannot cease to be a human being, though he may become a tiger or a lamb, a serpent or a dove, a brute or a true man. This is not true of animals. They cannot change their nature because they have not the power to intrinsically modify or change their organic vessels receptive of life; and influx is according to reception. Climate or environment, and to a still greater extent the influence of man, do, indeed, produce some extrinsic modification, and thus some change. But that the change is only extrinsic is plain enough from the fact that when the external influences are removed the tide of reversion at once sets in. This point has been noticed by the famous horticulturist, De Vries, in setting forth his objections to the natural selection theory, as a preliminary to introducing his substitute theory of mutations. Variations in size, color, development, he says, are not such as to form a new species of plant or animal; for they are not essential changes; they are nothing really or intrinsically new; they are "linear" and "quantitative" variations, but not "qualitative." And here we are led to ask whether the theory of descent stands the test of the truth that the law of creation is still operative. Can we see any evidence of the present workings of evolution? Here the theory breaks down utterly. Nowhere throughout the whole domain of discovered nature is there found any instance of the descent and change of species. Indeed, it would seem that the reason why Metchnikoff advanced his theory of the sudden creation of man in a single generation was the fact that no "missing link" could be discovered. Scientists have sought to prove the past existence of such a "missing link" by skulls discovered in age-long strata; but it has been shown that these skulls have all the characteristics of the skulls of many men who are well up in the scale of civilization. Illustrations have been sought in the artificial changes induced in the vegetable kingdom, but learned authorities have shown, what had always been known as a matter of common experience, that the tendency of all such "changed" plants is to revert to type; they are preserved only by the constant application of trained and experienced human intelligence. And even were it true, as is claimed by some, that there are cases where there is no reversion, yet the cases for which this claim is made are so few that the claim can have no effect on the general question. Withdraw human skill from the training of our blooded animals and our choice plants, and how long would it be before they revert to their pristine condition? Indeed, as is well know, it is this that makes it necessary to propagate many of our highly cultivated plants by cuttings and bulbs; for it is known that they do not come true to seed. No single instance can be given of the operation at this day of the law of descent. It has apparently ceased to function. And yet the very opposite were to be expected. If nature, untended, undirected, and merely from the accidents of weather, of environment, of a lucky color to protect from foes—if nature under these circumstances has been able to produce the almost infinite variety by which we are sur­rounded; if this production is the evidence of a law of descent according to heredity and environment, then how much more should we see the operation of this law at the present day, when for centuries men have given the most assiduous atten­tion to breeding and plant culture! We should have new species indeed. We should have animals with a growing in­telligence; animals in the process of becoming men. But what is the fact? Are our horses more intelligent than the horses of the Greek warrior? Are our fruits better than the delicacies of Lucullus? We have, indeed, induced changes, but only extrinsically; and we are ever under the law, not of "descent," but of "reversal." This objection also has received attention by learned opponents to one or other of the numerous theories of descent; and some of the most advanced thinkers have shown the inadequacy of Darwinian evolution on this ground alone. The only answer that has been made to the objection is that the changes of evolution have required many centuries, and that our experience in cultivation and breeding extends to a few centuries only. Surely a lame answer when we consider the thousands of years of civilization. And in any event it ignores the fact that not only do we fail to produce new fixed species, even in the very limited range in which we can produce any modification at all, but that we must continually take active means to prevent reversion to the original type; for reversion is the normal law. Moreover, there comes here the objection of the geologist and mathematician. If the growth of new species requires such length of time, what time, then, would be required to produce from simple protoplasm the infinite variety of nature? and to produce this variety not under the directing intelligence of man, but fortuitously?  According to the theory of the selectionists, new species originate from a slight fortuitous variation, in a member of an existing species, by the possession whereof he has a slight advantage over his fellows, as, for instance, a slightly varied color whereby he may be better concealed from enemies; a slightly fleeter foot, a slightly keener eyesight, etc. But it must be noted that for the perpetuation of this variation, to say nothing of its development, it would be necessary that it exist not in the male only, but in his mate also. And it would be further necessary, not only that the offspring should inherit the same favorable variation, but should also mate in the same favorable way; for it is only thus that reversion to type can be prevented. But, say the mathematicians, and common sense echoes their words, how impossible it is that such a chain of events could happen fortuitously; and this not in a single case only, but in the myriads of cases that would be required to produce the variety we see around us! And even supposing it were possible, the most extended estimates of the geologist as to the age of our world would not give one tithe of the myriads of myriads of years which, according to the laws of chance, would be required for the attain­ment of our present development. We must also take into account the chances of the actual survival of the possessors of the variation, which is supposed to be the beginning of a new species. When we consider how slight this variation is, how slight the advantage which its possessors enjoy over their fellows, how few the variant types, and how many the normal, it must be evident that in the presumed "struggle for existence" the chances for the survival of the variant before maturity are greatly lessened. Even supposing that a slight variation should persist and increase in successive generations, contrary to all the laws of chance, still the variation will be so slight that the individuals possessing it will have no advantage over their fellows in the conflict for existence, or for mating; indeed, they will have less advantage, since their fellows would greatly exceed them in numbers. Moreover, a single variation, even when highly developed, is not enough to give the peculiar quality that distinguishes spe­cies. The hare requires not only a fleet foot, but also keen ears and a furry coat, etc. The fish needs not only its peculiar scales, but also a peculiar formation of lungs and a peculiar formation of eye, etc. To grant the theory of descent, therefore, it would be necessary not only to grant all the difficulties we have already enumerated, but also to grant that certain sets of variations have commenced and continuously developed in harmonious and symmetrical order! and this by fortuitous circumstances! Without this assumption, wild as it is, the developments from variations of type would manifestly lead not to the orderly, symmetrical and well-marked groups or species of organic life which we see around us, but to a wild unordered variety, with every conceivable jumble of variation in all stages of development. It was partly to meet objections such as these that De Vries formulated his mutations theory, which traces the origin of species not to slight variations of type, but to those marked variations which, in the vegetable kingdom, are commonly known as "sports." But apart from the fact that De Vries bases his theory on very meager observations, unconvincing to a great number of biologists, it is contradicted both by common experience and by the experiments of trained observers. For it is an ascertained fact, statistically demonstrated, that in all the observed variations of nature the mean—the type—remains always stable. Variations and sports go above it and below it, to a certain limited limit, but the mean is always the standard to which they return, unless prevented by the constant exercise of human direction. This fact has been fully demonstrated in experiments on plant life instituted for the purpose. But, apart from this, it is no more than would be expected; for it is a consequence of the very nature of organic life. The causes that produce stability—that produce and preserve the type—are essential, having their origin in the form and substance of the inmost vessels receptive of life. But the causes that produce variation are extrinsic. Naturally, therefore, the type must prevail. And this leads us to a question which the evolutionist has been unable to answer. What is the cause of variation? Climate, food, and other external conditions account only for a few variations; and these merely external, not internal; "linear" and quantitative, not qualitative. Moreover, the same variations are found in single species, all the members of which live under the same conditions. To meet this difficulty several theories have been advanced. One is the theory of sexual selection, combined with heredity; the theory, namely, that an individual possessing a certain variation is more attractive to the female; with the consequence that the variety has greater chance of being propagated and of being developed by hereditary transmission. But the theory does not account for the fact that there is as much variety in parthenogenetic births as in others. Moreover, it is disproved by actual experiments on flies, where it was found that in the presence of many variations induced upon males the female showed absolutely no preference. Another theory, which seeks to go deeper into the matter, has been propounded by a German biologist. He assumes that the protoplasmic beginning of the organic form consists of innumerable ultra-microscopic cells, each endowed with appetite for food. From the consequent "struggle for existence" that is, the struggle for food—it would come about that one germ would be more developed than another; and these differentiations between the germs, combined with a difference of inter-arrangement, are assumed to constitute those primitive variations which are the cause of the variations that come to our view. There are variations of this theory; some hold that the development of one germ above another is due not to a battle for existence, but to latent causes, or to local situation; while others hold that the cause lies in the fact that the germs are stimulated to appetite and growth by use. The theory is, of course, not demonstrable; and had it postulated the directive guidance of Divine Love and Wisdom, we may safely say that it would have been at once rejected by the learned world on this ground alone. Moreover, it manifestly originates not in any broad conception of a truth, but merely in an effort to meet a difficulty. And against it comes at once the objection that if the fortuitous development of germs be the cause of variation, why, then, do variations always center around a common mean or type. Moreover, it has been objected that the postulated struggle between germ cells would result in some germs being starved out, while others would develop abnormally; and since each germ is supposed to be the primitive of some special function in the body, the result would be the birth of monsters. And the theory itself has been actually disproved by experiments—the withdrawal of food from larvae, the extraction of a large part of the yoke of eggs before they were hatched; and it has been shown that a limited food supply has no other result on the formation of the body than to dwarf it, all the organs and parts preserving their symmetrical proportions. This is also a fact of common experience in the case of underfed mothers. Yet the theory would explain the present orderly and harmonious variety of nature as being the result of the fortuitous development of the voracious appetites of germs! and of their accidental groupings! And if, as some maintain, the germ development is along predetermined lines, we are still faced with the question as to the cause of the determination. To meet the difficulties of the evolutionary theory, many new theories have been advanced, both as substitutes and as auxiliaries. Lamarck advanced the theory of hereditary transmission, and the consequent increase and fixing of qualities acquired by use or selection. But this is simply making quantitative modification, or modification produced by extrinsic causes, the controller of qualitative force which is the inmost force or life of the living organic form. Moreover, it leaves untouched the fact that, despite heredity, all organic forms of life tend to revert to the mean or type of their species, as seen in every modification of plant or animal life that has been brought about by the agency of man. Types and variations are, of course, transmitted by heredity, but experience indicates that this is but the effect of an extrinsic modification of the primitive life-cells, and does not effect their essential or qualitative form. We may here add, by way of parenthesis, that in the case of man a different element enters into the question, namely, the element of free will. Man has freedom to form a character for himself, and the formation and change thus effected in the organic vessels of life goes deeper than is possible in the case of animals. Man, therefore, can actually change his nature; and the change will be transmitted by heredity. This is not possible with animals. And even with man it is not possible to change the inmost forms of life. The vilest criminal is still a man, and his offspring has still the faculties that distinguish the human being above all the rest of creation. Another theory that has been offered for the solution of the difficulties of evolution is the Isolation Theory. According to this theory, all variations, as the origin of species, are a matter solely of the geographical isolation of groups, and their consequent development under different environments. This position is thought to meet the objection that variations always revert to type by removing the possibility of cross-breeding. The theory does not have wide acceptance, for it is easily demonstrable that while isolation may produce, and more or less fix, a new variety of a species, it cannot produce a new species. Moreover, there is the difficulty of providing sufficient isolation to account for the infinite variety that fills nature. Then we have the theory of sexual isolation—that is, an isolation caused by the existence of a variation which confines the mating of individuals possessed of this variation to females similarly endowed. This theory is based, we believe, on observations on albatrosses, where it was found that mating took place only between types of birds possessed of the same distinguishing characteristic, there being no intertypal mating. But in this case the species remains permanent and there is no growth in the variations, despite the intermatings. Moreover, a theory based on so slender a foundation is hardly worthy of consideration. Deemed of greater importance, and reckoned by many as taking the place of Darwin's hypothesis, is the theory of Mutations or Heterogenesis, to which we have before alluded. This theory postulates that species arise not gradually and by the selective accumulation of slight variations, but suddenly; that there are sudden leaps of "qualitative" change; and that these leaps are due to some unknown but inherent law of development in the primitive germ-cells which occasionally finds expression or ultimates itself in what are called "sports" The vital weakness of this theory is that, even supposing that sports can form the basis for new species, which is opposed by facts, still they are too infrequent to furnish a cause for the infinite  variety of nature. Moreover, unless completely isolated, they would soon be lost by cross-breeding. The mutations theory has been widely accepted, but, as it would seem, rather in the hope that it may lead to a solution to the difficulties encountered by the evolution theory than from any demonstration of its truth. As we have already remarked, it is based on but few observations; and it has been assailed by biologists with as cogent destructive criticism on the basis of known and ascertained facts as the theory it is intended to replace or strengthen. It must be evident to every thinking man who studies the subject, and it is acknowledged by the leaders of the learned world, that the theory of evolution or natural descent, as orig­inally propounded or explained in any one of its various sub­sidiary theories, is far from furnishing a satisfactory explana­tion of the phenomena of nature. Every "law" of evolution that has been advanced—that is to say, every mode that has been suggested as the mode whereby evolution was effected—while serving perhaps to explain certain phenomena, is directly contradicted by a host of other phenomena. The theories put forth to meet one set of difficulties fall before a new array of fact. And yet, despite this, the theory of descent by evolution is more firmly established in the scientific world than ever before. It is now assumed as the absolute truth on the subject of creation, which nothing can shake. But here it should also be noted that while the vulgar have not unnaturally crystallized this attitude of the learned world into a fixed belief that evolution has been effected in one certain way, leading biologists are still seeking for a theory of the mode of evolution that shall square with the facts of observation. However, this does not affect the curious phenomenon that the doctrine of descent, unsatisfactory as it has proved itself under searching examination based on experimental observation, still dominates the thought of the learned world. Though every theory as to the specific working of the doctrine has thus far been disproved, yet the doctrine itself stands firm. Take a theory or doctrine explanatory of creation, but which involves the operation of spiritual laws, the creation of all things by God-Man, and, though it were open to fewer objections from phenomenal experience, yet it would not be even seriously considered, and would hardly be deemed worthy of consideration. How shall we explain this curious phenomenon? One reason lies undoubtedly in the fact that the theory of evolution is the first theory of creation to come to the notice of the scientific world, as based not on theological dogmas, or mere intellectual reasonings, but on an array of facts gathered together with tireless patience and presented in a masterly way, and a most amazing array. It promised, and seemed at first to give, a purely and wholly satisfactory physico-mechanical explana­tion of the phenomena of nature. Moreover, it was put forward and has been received as a universal law, and not as some isolated truth with limited application ; and there is a great power in universals. In the theory of evolution are universal truths that cannot but exercise a powerful influence over men's minds, especially when opposed mainly by narrow dogmatic utterances. According to the new theory the law of creation is a LAW, and not a mere tenet of the understanding. It is a law, moreover, that is held to be one and the same in greatests and in leasts. In place of the old belief that things were simply created by a word without any necessary connection with antecedents and sequents, evolution recognizes that there is a connection of all things of creation; that the world is one unbroken chain of phenomena indissolubly connected with each other ; that there is a gradual ascent in the order of creation; and that nothing is isolated or without direct and necessary connection with the whole. I do not mean that these principles were put forth in this form by Darwin and his successors—that would not be a true statement of the case. But it is undoubted that the recognition of these universal truths is involved in the theory of evolution. And it is to this fact I think, that the theory owes much of its power to hold men's minds, despite all obstacles. When the theory was first put forth, with its dazzling promise of furnishing the key to the riddle of the universe, it was opposed mainly from the standpoint of dogmatic theology ignorant of the phenomena of nature—or ignoring them. The battle was bitter and prolonged; but the theologians were forced to give up their contentions one by one. The end was inevitable. The theologians were completely expelled from the scientific field. They argued, it is true, from the stand­point of the existence of God and of God's beneficent purpose; but they argued from a false theology, without knowledge of the laws of order, without knowledge of universal principles; and in the absence of these it is impossible to fundamentally influence men's minds. Now that they are defeated, their arguments are mentioned, only to be dismissed with an air of pity. Indeed, much of the educated thought of the Christian Church has gone over to the camp of the evolutionists, either tacitly or openly. It is because the doctrine of evolution promises a rational explanation of the phenomena of creation; because it is a doctrine assuming to be based on, and confirmed by, the facts of experience; a system that is a unit, and not a disjointed set of dogmas; that proceeds from a universal thought and not from Biblical statements badly understood, and maintained against the evidence of facts, that gives the hope of being found conformable with the phenomena of nature; that recognizes the unity and connection of creation, in which the prior is a means for the formation of the posterior; that recognizes that creation was effected according to a single law and order—it is because of this that the doctrine of evolution exercises such powerful sway. And though the promise has been unfulfilled, though every new attempt to reconcile the doctrine with the increasing array and understanding of facts has failed, yet the doctrine itself remains unweakened. But we may conclude also that a deeper and spiritual cause for this strength of the doctrine of evolution lies in the fact that it appeals to the merely natural mind. It promises to solve the riddle of creation without demanding the acknowledgment of God-Man; to explain the mysteries of life without the existence of a spiritual world beyond the reach of the senses. The promise is vain, but hope still commands belief.