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Fig. 19.—A locust (Cycloptera speculata) which closely resembles a leaf. (From an exhibit in the British Natural History Museum.)]

Perhaps one of the most striking instances of special protective resemblance is that of the Malayan leaf-butterfly (Kallima paralecta). So completely, when the wings are closed, does this insect resemble a leaf that it requires a sharp eye to distinguish it. These butterflies have, moreover, the habit of alighting very suddenly. As a recent observer (Mr. S. B. T. Skertchly) remarks, they "fly rapidly along, as if late for an appointment, suddenly pitch, close their wings, and become leaves. It is generally done so rapidly that the insect seems to vanish."[AB] Instances might be multiplied indefinitely. Mr. Guppy thus describes a species of crab in the Solomon Islands: "The light purple colour of its carapace corresponds with the hue of the coral at the base of the branches, where it lives; whilst the light red colour of the big claws, as they are held up in their usual attitude, similarly imitates the colour of the branches. To make the guise more complete, both carapace and claws possess rude hexagonal markings which correspond exactly in size and appearance with the polyp-cells of the coral."[AC]

When the special protective resemblance is not to an inanimate object, but to another organism, it is termed mimicry. It arises in the following way:—

Many forms, especially among the invertebrates, escape elimination by enemies through the development of offensive weapons (stings of wasps and bees), a bitter taste (the Heliconidæ among butterflies), or a hard external covering (the weevils among beetles). The animals which prey upon these forms learn to avoid these dangerous, nasty, or indigestible creatures; and the avoidance is often instinctive. It thus becomes an advantage to other forms, not thus protected, to resemble the animals that have these characteristics. Such resemblance is termed mimicry, concerning which it must be remembered that the mimicry is unconscious, and is reached by the elimination of those forms which do not possess this resemblance. Thus the Leptalis, a perfectly sweet insect, closely resembles the Methona, a butterfly producing an ill-smelling yellow fluid. The quite harmless Clytus arietis, a beetle, resembles, not only in general appearance, but in its fussy walk, a wasp. The soft-skinned Doliops, a longicorn, resembles the strongly encased Pachyrhyncus orbifex, a weevil. The not uncommon fly Eristalis tenax (Fig. 20), is not unlike a bee, and buzzes in an unpleasantly suggestive manner.[AD]

Mimicry is not confined to the invertebrates. A harmless snake, the eiger-eter of Dutch colonists at the Cape, subsists mainly or entirely on eggs. The mouth is almost or quite toothless; but in the throat hard-tipped spines project into the gullet from the vertebræ of the column in this region. Here the egg is broken, and there is no fear of losing the contents. Now, there is one species of this snake that closely resembles the berg-adder. The head has naturally the elongated form characteristic of the harmless snakes. But when irritated, this egg-eater flattens it out till it has the usual viperine shape of the "club" on a playing-card. It coils as if for a spring, erects its head with every appearance of anger, hisses, and darts forward as if to strike its fangs into its foe, in every way imitating an enraged berg-adder. The snake is, however, quite harmless and inoffensive.[AE]

Here we have mimicry both in form and habit. Another case of imperfect but no doubt effectual mimicry is given by Mr. W. Larden, in some notes from South America.[AF] Speaking of the rhea, or South American ostrich, he says, "One day I came across an old cock in a nest that it had made in the dry weeds and grass. Its wings and feathers were loosely arranged, and looked not unlike a heap of dried grass; at any rate, the bird did not attract my attention until I was close on him. The long neck was stretched out close along the ground, the crest feathers were flattened, and an appalling hiss greeted my approach. It was a pardonable mistake if for a moment I thought I had come across a huge snake, and sprang back hastily under this impression."

Protective resemblance and mimicry have been considered at some length because, on the hypothesis of natural selection, they admirably illustrate the results which may be reached through long-continued elimination by enemies.

Sufficient has now been said to show that this form of elimination is an important factor. We are not at present considering the question how variations arise, or why they should take any particular direction. But granting the fact that variations may and do occur in all parts of the organism, it is clear that, in a group of organisms surrounded by enemies, those individuals which varied in the direction of swiftness, cunning, inconspicuousness,[AG] or resemblance to protected forms, would, other things being equal, stand a better chance of escaping elimination.

Elimination by competition is, as Darwin well points out, keenest between members of the same group and among individuals of the same species, or between different groups or different species which have, so to speak, similar aims in life. While enemies of various kinds are preying upon weaker animals, and thus causing elimination among them, they are also competing one with another for the prey. While the slower and stupider organisms are succumbing to their captors, and thus leaving more active and cunning animals in possession of the field, the slower and stupider captors, failing to catch their cunning and active prey, are being eliminated by competition. While protective resemblance aids the prey to escape elimination by enemies, a correlative resemblance, called by Mr. Poulton aggressive resemblance, in the captors aids them in stealing upon their prey, and so gives advantage in competition. Thus the hunting spider closely resembles the flies upon which he pounces, even rubbing his head with his fore legs after their innocent fashion.

As in the case of protective resemblance, so, too, in its aggressive correlative, the resemblance may be general or special, or may reach the climax of mimicry. And since the same organism is not only a would-be captor, but sometimes an unwilling prey, the same resemblance may serve to protect it from its enemies and to enable it to steal upon its prey. The mantis, for example, gains doubly by its resemblance to the vegetation among which it lives. Certain spiders, described by Mr. H. O. Forbes, in Java, closely resemble birds'-droppings. This may serve to protect them from elimination by birds; but it also enables them to capture without difficulty unwary butterflies, which are often attracted by such excreta. A parasitic fly (Volucella bombylans) closely resembles (Fig. 20) a bumble-bee (Bombus muscorum), and is thus enabled to enter the nest of the bee without molestation. Its larvæ feed upon the larvæ of the bee. The cuckoo bee Psithyrus rupestris, an idle quean, who collects no pollen, and has no pollen-baskets, steals into the nest of the bumble-bee Bombus lapidarius, and lays her eggs there. The resemblance between the two is very great, and it not only enables the mother bee to enter unmolested, but the young bees, when they are hatched, to escape. Another bee (Nomada solidaginis), which plays the cuckoo on Halictus cylindricus, does not resemble this bee, but is wasp-like, and thus escapes molestation, not because it escapes notice, but because it looks more dangerous than it really is.[AH]

Many are the arts by which, in keen competition, organisms steal a march upon their congeners—not, be it remembered, through any conscious adaptation, but through natural selection by elimination. Mr. Poulton describes an Asiatic lizard (Phrynocephalus mystaceus) in which the "general surface resembles the sand on which it is found, while the fold of their skin at each angle of the mouth is of a red colour, and is produced into a flower-like shape exactly resembling a little red flower which grows in the sand. Insects, attracted by what they believe to be flowers, approach the mouth of the lizard, and are, of course, captured."[AI] The fishing frog, or angler-fish, is possessed of filaments which allure small fry, who think them worms, into the neighbourhood of the great mouth in which they are speedily engulfed; and certain deep-sea forms discovered during the Challenger expedition have the lure illumined by phosphorescent light.

Fig. 20.—Mimicry of bees by flies.

a, b, Bombus muscorum; c, d, Volucella bombylans; e, Eristalis tenax; f, Apis mellifica. The underwings of the hive bee (f) were invisible in the photograph from which the figure was drawn. (From an exhibit in the British Natural History Museum.)]

We need say no more in illustration of the resemblances which have enabled certain organisms to escape elimination by competition. Once more, be it understood that we are not at present considering how any of these resemblances have been brought about; we are merely indicating that, given certain resemblances, advantageous either for captor or prey, those organisms which possess them not will have to suffer elimination—elimination by enemies, or else elimination by competition.

The interaction between these two kinds of elimination is of great importance. Hunters and hunted are both, so to speak, playing the game of life to the best of their ability. Those who fail on either side are weeded out; and elimination is carried so far that those who are only as good as their ancestors are placed at a disadvantage as compared with their improving congeners. The standard of efficiency is thus improving on each side; and every improvement on the one side entails a corresponding advance on the other. Nor is there only thus a competition for subsistence, and arising thereout a gradual sharpening of all the bodily and mental powers which could aid in seeking or obtaining food; there is also in some cases a competition for mates, reaching occasionally the climax of elimination by battle. There is, indeed, competition for everything which can be an object of appetence to the brute intelligence; and, owing to the geometrical tendency in multiplication—the law of increase—the competition is keen and unceasing.

Such, then, in brief, are the three main modes of elimination: elimination by physical and climatic conditions; elimination by enemies; elimination by competition. Observe that it is a differentiating process. Unlike the indiscriminate destruction before alluded to, the incidence of which is on all alike, good, bad, and indifferent, it separates the well-adapted from the ill-adapted, dooming the latter to death, and allowing the former to survive and procreate their kind. The destruction is not indiscriminate, but differential.

Let us now turn to cases of selection, properly so called, where Nature is in some way working at the other end of the scale; where her method is not the elimination of the unfit, but the selection of the fit. Such a case may be found on Darwin's principles in brightly coloured flowers and fruits. "Flowers," he says, "rank amongst the most beautiful productions of nature; but they have been rendered conspicuous in contrast with the green leaves, and, in consequence, at the same time beautiful, so that they may be easily observed by insects. I have come to this conclusion from finding it an invariable rule that, when a flower is fertilized by the wind, it never has a gaily coloured corolla. Several plants habitually produce two kinds of flowers—one kind open and coloured, so as to attract insects; the other closed, not coloured, destitute of nectar, and never visited by insects. Hence we may conclude that, if insects had not been developed on the face of the earth, our plants would not have been decked with beautiful flowers, but would have produced only such poor flowers as we see on our fir, oak, nut, and ash trees, on grasses, spinach, docks, and nettles, which are all fertilized through the agency of the wind. A similar line of argument holds good with fruits; that a ripe strawberry or cherry is as pleasing to the eye as to the palate; that the gaily coloured fruit of the spindle-wood tree, and the scarlet berries of the holly, are beautiful objects—will be admitted by every one. But this beauty serves merely as a guide to birds and beasts, in order that the fruit may be devoured and manured seeds disseminated: I infer that this is the case from having as yet found no exception to the rule that seeds are always thus disseminated when embedded within a fruit of any kind (that is, within a fleshy or pulpy envelope), if it be coloured of any brilliant tint, or rendered conspicuous by being white or black."[AJ]

Here we have a case of the converse of elimination—a case of genuine selection under nature. But even here the process of elimination also comes into play, for the visitations of flowers by insects involve cross-fertilization. The flowers of two distinct individuals of the same species of plants in this manner fertilize each other; and the act of crossing, as Darwin firmly believed, though it is doubted by some observers nowadays, gives rise to vigorous seedlings, which consequently would have the best chance of flourishing and surviving—would best resist elimination by competition. So that we here have the double process at work; the fairest flowers being selected by insects, and those plants which failed to produce such flowers being eliminated as the relatively unfit.

If we turn to the phenomena of what Darwin termed sexual selection, we find both selection and elimination brought into play. By the law of battle, the weaker and less courageous males are eliminated so far as the continuation of their kind is concerned. By the individual choice of the females (on Darwin's view, by no means universally accepted), the finer, bolder, handsomer, and more tuneful wooers are selected.

Let us again hear the voice of Darwin himself. "Most male birds," he says, "are highly pugnacious during the breeding season, and some possess weapons especially adapted for fighting with their rivals. But the most pugnacious and the best-armed males rarely or never depend for success solely on their power to drive away or kill their rivals, but have special means for charming the female. With some it is the power of song, or of emitting strange cries, or of producing instrumental music; and the males in consequence differ from the females in their vocal organs or in the structure of certain feathers. From the curiously diversified means for producing various sounds, we gain a high idea of the importance of this means of courtship. Many birds endeavour to charm the females by love-dances or antics, performed on the ground or in the air, and sometimes at prepared places. But ornaments of many kinds, the most brilliant tints, combs and wattles, beautiful plumes, elongated feathers, top-knots, and so forth, are by far the commonest means. In some cases, mere novelty appears to have acted as a charm. The ornaments of the males must be highly important to them, for they have been acquired in not a few cases at the cost of increased danger from enemies, and even at some loss of power in fighting with their rivals[AK]. … What, then, are we to conclude from these facts and considerations? Does the male parade his charms with so much pomp and rivalry for no purpose? Are we not justified in believing that the female exerts a choice, and that she receives the addresses of the male who pleases her most?"[AL]

Here again, then, we have the combined action of elimination and selection. And now we may note that selection involves intelligence—involves the play of appetence and choice. Hence it is that, when we come to consider the evolution of human-folk, the principle of elimination is so profoundly modified by the principle of selection. Not only are the weaker eliminated by the inexorable pressure of competition, but we select the more fortunate individuals and heap upon them our favours. This enables us also to soften the rigour of the blinder law; to let the full stress of competitive elimination fall upon the worthless, the idle, the profligate, and the vicious; but to lighten its incidence on the deserving but unfortunate.

Both selection and elimination occurring under nature, but elimination having by far the wider scope, we may now inquire what will be their effect as regards the three modes of variation—advantageous, disadvantageous, and neutral. It must be remembered that these modes are relative and dependent upon circumstances, so that variations, neutral under certain conditions, may become relatively disadvantageous under other conditions. Selection clearly leads to the preservation of advantageous variations alone, and these variations are advantageous in so far as they meet the taste of the selecting organism. For selection depends upon individual choice; and uniformity of selection is entirely dependent upon uniformity in the standard of taste. If, as Darwin contends, the splendid plumage and tuneful notes of male birds are the result of a selection of mates by the hens, there must be a remarkable uniformity of taste among the hens of each particular species, since there is a uniformity of coloration among the cock-birds. It may be said that in all their mental endowments there is greater uniformity among animals than among men; and it is true that individuation has not been carried so far in them as in human-folk. Still, careful observers of animals see in them many signs of individual character; and this uniformity in the standard of taste in each species of birds seems to many naturalists a real difficulty in the way of the acceptance of sexual selection. We shall, however, return to this point. For the present it is clear that selection chooses out advantageous variations, that the advantage is determined by the taste of the selector, and that uniform selection implies uniformity of taste.

Turning to elimination, it is clear that it begins by weeding out, first the more disadvantageous, then the less disadvantageous variations. It leaves both the advantageous and the neutral in possession of the field. I imagine that many, perhaps most, of the variations tabulated by Mr. Wallace and other observers belong to the neutral category. Their fluctuating character seems to indicate that this is so. In any case, they are variations which have so far escaped elimination. And I think they are of great and insufficiently recognized importance. They permit, through interbreeding, of endless experiments in the combination of variations, some of which cannot fail to give favourable results.

It is just possible that it may be asked—If in natural elimination there is nothing more than the weeding out of the unfit and the suppression of disadvantageous variations, where is the possibility of advance? The standard may thus be maintained, but where is the possibility of progress? Such an objection would, however, imply forgetfulness of the fact that all the favourable variations remain to leaven the residual lump. Given a mean, with plus and minus variations: if in any generations the minus variations are got rid of, the mixture of the mean with the plus variations will give a new mean nearer the plus or advantageous end of the scale than the old mean. By how much the favourable variations tend to raise the mean standard, by so much will the race tend to advance. But in this process I see no reason why the neutral variations should be eliminated, except in so far as, in the keen struggle for existence, they become relatively unfavourable.

It is clear, however, that the intercrossing and interbreeding which occurs between average individuals on the one hand, and those possessing favourable variations on the other, while it tends gradually to raise the mean standard, tends also at the same time to reduce the advantageous variations towards the mean. It must tend to check advance by leaps and bounds, and to justify the adage, Natura nil facit per saltum. At the same time, it will probably have a greater tendency to reduce to a mean level neutral variations indefinite in direction than advantageous variations definite in direction. Still, it is a most important factor, and one not to be neglected. It tends to uniformity in the species, and checks individualism. It may act as a salutary brake on what we may figuratively term hasty and ill-advised attempts at progress. And at the same time, it favours repeated new experiments in the combination of variations, occasionally, we may suppose, with happy results.

But it does more than this. It tends to check, and, if the offspring always possessed the blended character of both parents, would be absolutely fatal to, divergence of character within the interbreeding members of a species. And yet no fact is more striking than this divergence of character. It is seen in the diversified products of human selection; for example, among pigeons. It is seen in the freedom of nature. Mr. Wallace gives many examples. "Among our native species," he says, "we see it well marked in the different species of titmice, pipits, and chats. The great titmouse, by its larger size and stronger bill, is adapted to feed on larger insects, and is even said sometimes to kill small and weak birds. The smaller and weaker coal-titmouse has adopted a more vegetarian diet, eating seeds as well as insects, and feeding on the ground as well as among trees. The delicate little blue titmouse, with its very small bill, feeds on the minutest insects and grubs, which it extracts from crevices of bark and from the buds of fruit trees. The marsh-titmouse, again, has received its name from the low and marshy localities it frequents; while the crested titmouse is a Northern bird, frequenting especially pine forests, on the seeds of which trees it partially feeds. Then, again, our three common pipits—the tree-pipit, the meadow-pipit, and the rock-pipit, or sea-lark—have each occupied a distinct place in nature, to which they have become specially adapted, as indicated by the different form and size of the hind toe and claw in each species. So the stone-chat, the whin-chat, and the wheat-ear are all slightly divergent forms of one type, with modifications in the shape of the wing, feet, and bill adapting them to slightly different modes of life."[AM] There is scarcely a genus that does not afford examples of divergent species. The question then naturally occurs—How have these divergent forms escaped the swamping effects of intercrossing?

That perfectly free intercrossing, between any or all of the individuals of a given group of animals, is, so long as the characters of the parents are blended in the offspring, fatal to divergence of character, is undeniable. Through the elimination of less favourable variations, the swiftness, strength, and cunning of a race may be gradually improved. But no form of elimination can possibly differentiate the group into swift, strong, and cunning varieties, distinct from each other, so long as all three varieties freely interbreed, and the characters of the parents blend in the offspring. Elimination may and does give rise to progress in any given group as a group; it does not and cannot give rise to differentiation and divergence, so long as interbreeding with consequent interblending of characters be freely permitted. Whence it inevitably follows, as a matter of simple logic, that where divergence has occurred, intercrossing and interblending must in some way have been lessened or prevented.

Thus a new factor is introduced, that of isolation, or segregation. And there is no questioning the fact that it is of great importance.[AN] Its importance can, indeed, only be denied by denying the swamping effects of intercrossing, and such denial implies the tacit assumption that interbreeding and interblending are held in check by some form of segregation. The isolation explicitly denied is implicitly assumed.

There are several ways in which isolation, or segregation, may be effected. Isolation by geographical barriers is the most obvious. A stretch of water, a mountain ridge, a strip of desert land, may completely, or to a large extent, prevent any intercrossing between members of a species on either side of the barrier. The animals which inhabit the several islands of the Galapagos Archipelago are closely allied, but each island has its particular species or well-marked varieties. Intercrossing between the several varieties on the different islands is prevented, and divergence is thus rendered possible and proceeds unchecked. It is said that in the Zuyder Zee a new variety of herrings, the fry of which are very small compared with open-sea herrings, is being developed. And the salmon introduced into Tasmania seem to be developing a fresh variety with spots on the dorsal fin and a tinge of yellow on the adipose fin. In the wooded valleys of the Sandwich Islands there are allied but distinct species of land-shells. The valleys that are nearest each other furnish the most nearly related forms, and the degree of divergence is roughly measured by the number of miles by which they are separated. Here there is little or no intercrossing between the slow-moving molluscs in adjoining valleys; none at all between those at any distance apart.

But even if there are no well-marked physical barriers, the members of a species on a continent or large island tend to fall into local groups, between which, unless the animal be of a widely ranging habit, there will be little intercrossing. Hence local varieties are apt to occur, and varieties show the first beginnings of that divergence which, if carried further and more deeply ingrained, results in the differentiation of species. Geographically, therefore, we may have either complete isolation or local segregation, and in both cases the possibility of divergence.

Another mode of segregation arises also out of geographical conditions. If variations of habits occur (and structure is closely correlated with habit) such that certain individuals take to the mountains, others to the plains or valleys; or that certain individuals take to the forests, others to the open country; the probabilities are that the forest forms will interbreed frequently with each other, but seldom with those in the open, and so with the other varieties. The conditions of forest life or mountain life being thus similar throughout a large area, and life being through elimination slowly but surely adapted to its environment, there might thus arise two distinct varieties scattered throughout the length and breadth of the area, the one inhabiting the mountains, the other the forests. In illustration of this mode of segregation, we may take the case of two species of rats which have recently been found by Mr. C. M. Woodford on one of the Solomon Islands. These two quite distinct species are regarded by Mr. Oldfield Thomas as slightly modified descendants of one parent species, the modifications resulting from the fact that of this original species some individuals have adopted a terrestrial, others an arboreal life, and their respective descendants have been modified accordingly. Thus Mus rex lives in trees, has broad foot-pads, and a long rasp-like, probably semi-prehensile, tail; while Mus imperator lives on the ground, has smaller pads, and a short, smooth tail. The segregation of these two species has probably been effected by the difference of their mode of life, and each has been adapted to its special environment through the elimination of those individuals which were not in harmony with the condition of their life. It is probable that this mode of segregation has been an important one. And it is clear that in many cases competition would be a co-operating factor in this process, weaker organisms being forced into otherwise uncongenial habitats through the stress of competitive elimination, the weaker forms not perishing, but being eliminated from more favoured areas.

Protective coloration may also be a means of segregation. A species of insects having no protective resemblance might vary in two directions—in the direction of green tints, assimilating their hue to that of vegetation; and in the direction of sandy or dull earthy colours, assimilating them to the colour of the soil. In the one variety elimination would weed out all but the green forms, and these would be left to intercross. In the other variety, green forms would be eliminated, dull-brown forms being left to interbreed. Stragglers from one group into the other would stand a chance of elimination before interbreeding was effected.[AO]

In the case of birds whose freedom of flight gives them a wide range, sometimes almost a world-wide range, it would seem at first sight that their facilities for interbreeding and intercrossing are so great that divergence is well-nigh impossible. And yet the examples of divergence I cited from Mr. Wallace were taken from birds, and it is well known that divergence is particularly well shown in this class. But when the habits of birds are studied attentively, it is found that, wide as is their range, their breeding area is often markedly restricted. The sanderling and knot range freely during the winter throughout the Northern hemisphere; but their breeding area is restricted to the north polar region. The interbreeding within this area keeps the species one and homogeneous, notwithstanding its wide range, and, at the same time, prevents intercrossing with allied species with different breeding-grounds.

Another most important mode of segregation among animals arises out of habitual or instinctive preferences. Where varieties are formed there is a tendency for like to breed with like. In the Falkland Islands the differently coloured herds of cattle, all descended from the same stock, keep separate, and interbreed with each other, but not with individuals outside their own colour-caste. If two flocks of merino sheep and heath sheep be mixed together, they do not interbreed. In the Forest of Dean and in the New Forest, the dark and pale coloured herds of fallow deer have never been known to intermingle.[AP] Here we have a case of selective segregation through preferential mating, and may find therein the basis of sexual selection in its higher ranges as advocated by Darwin.

The question of sexual selection will, however, be briefly considered in the chapter on "Organic Evolution." At present what we have to notice is that, through preferential mating, segregation is effected. The forms that interbreed have a distinguishing colour. From this it is but a step to the possession, not merely of a distinguishing colour, but of distinguishing colour-markings. Hence, through preferential mating, may arise those special markings which so frequently distinguish allied species. They not only enable us to recognize species as distinct, but enable the species which possess them to recognize the members of their own kind. Mr. Wallace calls these diacritical marks recognition-marks, and gives many illustrative examples.[AQ] They are especially noticeable in gregarious animals and in birds which congregate in flocks or which migrate together. Mr. Wallace considers that they "have in all probability been acquired in the process of differentiation for the purpose of checking the intercrossing of allied forms;" for "one of the first needs of a new species would be to keep separate from its nearest allies, and this could be more readily done by some easily seen external mark of difference." This language seems, however, to savour of teleology (that pitfall of the evolutionist). The cart is placed before the horse. The recognition-marks were, I believe, not produced to prevent intercrossing, but intercrossing has been prevented because of preferential mating between individuals possessing special recognition-marks. To miss this point is to miss an important segregation-factor. Undoubtedly, other tendencies co-operate in maintaining the standard of the recognition-marks. Stragglers who failed in the matter of recognition would get separated from their fellows, and stand a greater chance of elimination by enemies; young who failed in this respect would be in like condemnation. Still, I cannot doubt that the foundations of recognition-marks were laid in preferential mating, and that in this we have an important factor in segregation.

We may here note, in passing, as also arising out of preference, how the selection of flowers by insects may lead to segregation; for insects seem often to have habitual or instinctive colour-preferences. Flowers of similar colour would be thus cross-fertilized, but would not intercross with those of different colour, whence colour-varieties might arise. It is important to note that in these cases there is a psychological factor in evolution.

We have so far assumed that intercrossing of parents and interblending of their characters in the offspring always go together. This, we must now notice, is not always the fact. If a blue-eyed Saxon marry a dark-eyed Italian, the children will have blue eyes or dark eyes, not eyes of an intermediate tint. The characters do not interblend. The ancon, or otter-sheep, a breed with a long body and short, bandy legs, appeared in Massachusetts as a chance sport in a single lamb. The offspring of this ram were either ancons or ordinary sheep. The ancon characters did not blend. Hence for a time a definite breed was maintained. We may call this mode of isolation isolation by exclusive inheritance.

A further mode of isolation or segregation, for which Mr. Romanes[AR] claims a foremost, indeed, the foremost, place, is physiological isolation as due to differential fertility. One among the many variations to which organisms are subject is a variation in fertility, which may reach the climax of absolute sterility. But it is clear that a sterile variation carries with it its own death-warrant, since the sterile individual leaves no descendants to inherit its peculiarity. Relative infertility, too, unless it chances to be correlated with some unusual excellence, would be no advantage, would be transmitted to few descendants, and would tend to be extinguished. The same is not true, however, of differential fertility. "It is by no means rare," said Darwin,[AS] "to find certain males and females which will not breed together, though both are known to be perfectly fertile with other males and females." Mr. Romanes assumes, as a starting-point, the converse of this, namely, that certain males and females will breed together, though they are infertile with all other members of the species.

Suppose, then, a variety to arise which is perfectly fertile within the limits of the varietal form, but imperfectly fertile or infertile with the parent species. Such a variety would have to run the risks of those ill effects which, as Darwin showed,[AT] are attendant upon close interbreeding. But Mr. Wallace points out[AU] that these ill effects may not be so marked under nature as they are under domestication. Suppose, then, that it escapes these ill effects. In this case, Mr. Romanes urges, it would neither be swamped by intercrossing nor die out on account of sterility. But although it could not be swamped by intercrossing, still, if it arose sporadically, here a case, there a case, and so on, the chances would be enormously against the perpetuation of the variety, unless some co-operating mode of segregation aided in bringing together the varying individuals. If, for example, there were a segregation of these variants in a particular habitat—all the variants meeting in some definite locality for breeding purposes; or if there were a further segregation through mutual preferences; or if, again, there were a further segregation in time the variety might obtain a firm footing. But without these co-operating factors it is clear that if one male and one female in a hundred individuals varied in this particular way, the chances would be at least forty-nine to one against their happening to mate together.

It is interesting to note that almost the only particular example given by Mr. Romanes in illustration of his theory is one that involves the co-operation of one of these further segregation-factors. Suppose, he says, the variation in the reproductive system is such that the season of flowering or of pairing becomes either advanced or retarded. This particular variation being inherited, the variety breeding, let us say, in May, the parent species in July, there would arise two races, each perfectly fertile within its own limits, but incapable of crossing with the other. Thus is constituted "a barrier to intercrossing quite as effectual as a thousand miles of ocean." Yes! a time-barrier instead of a space-barrier. The illustration is faulty, inasmuch as it introduces a mode of segregation other than that in question. I think it very improbable that differential fertility alone, without the co-operation of other segregation-factors, would give rise to separate varieties capable of maintaining themselves as distinct species.

That distinct species are generally mutually infertile, or more frequently still, that their male offspring are sterile, is, however, an undoubted fact. But there are, exceptions. Fertile hybrids between the sheep and the goat seem to be well authenticated. Of rats Darwin says that "in some parts of London, especially near the docks, where fresh rats are frequently imported, an endless variety of intermediate forms may be found between the brown, black, and snake rat, which are all three usually ranked as distinct species."[AV] Fertile hybrids have been produced between the green-tinted Japanese and the long-tailed Chinese pheasants. Mr. Thomas Moore, of Fareham, in Hants, has been particularly successful in producing a hybrid breed between the golden pheasant (Thaumalia picta), whose habitat is Southern and South-eastern China, and the Amherst pheasant (Thaumalia amherstiæ), which is found in the mountains of Yunnan and Thibet. In answer to my inquiries, Mr. Moore kindly informs me that he "has bred the half-bred gold and Amherst pheasant, crossed them again with gold, and recrossed them with half-bred Amherst, and kept on crossing until only a strain of the gold pheasant remained. The result is that the birds so produced are far handsomer than either breed, since the feathers composing their tiplets as well as those under the chin are of so beautiful a colour that they beggar description. They all breed most freely, and are much more vigorous than the pure gold or Amherst, and their tails reach a length of over three feet. They are also exceedingly prolific. Out of a batch of forty-two eggs, forty chickens were hatched out, of which thirty-seven were reared to perfection."

Still, though there are exceptions, the general infertility of allied species when crossed is a fact in strong contrast with the marked fertility of varieties under domestication; concerning which, however, it should be noted that our domesticated animals have been selected to a very large extent on account of the freedom with which they breed in confinement, and that domestication has probably a tendency to increase fertility. The question, therefore, arises—Is the infertility between species, and the general sterility of their male offspring, a secondary effect of their segregation? or is their segregation the direct effect of their differential fertility? The former is the general opinion; the latter is held by Mr. Romanes. He contends that sterility is the primary distinction of species, other specific characters being secondary, and regards it as a pure assumption to say that the secondary differences between species have been historically prior to the primary difference. I do not propose to discuss this question. While it seems to me in the highest degree improbable that differential fertility, apart from other co-operating factors, has been or could be a practical mode of segregation, it has probably been a not unimportant factor in association with other modes of segregation or isolation. Suppose, for example, two divergent local varieties were to arise in adjacent areas, and were subsequently (by stress of competition or by geographical changes) driven together into a single area: we are justified in believing, from the analogy of the Falkland Island cattle, the Forest of Dean deer, and other similar observed habits, that preferential breeding, kind with kind, would tend to keep them apart. But, setting this on one side, let us say they interbreed. If, then, their unions are fertile, the isolation will be annulled by intercrossing—the two varieties will form one mean or average variety. But if the unions be infertile, the isolation will be preserved, and the two varieties will continue separate. Suppose now, and the supposition is by no means an improbable one, that this has taken place again and again in the evolution of species: then it is clear that those varietal forms which had continued to be fertile together would be swamped by intercrossing; while those varietal forms which had become infertile would remain isolated. Hence, in the long run, isolated forms occupying a common area would be infertile. Or suppose, once more, that, instead of the unions between the two varietal forms being infertile, they are fertile, but give rise to sterile (mule) or degenerate offspring, as is said to be the case in the unions of Japanese and Ainos: then it is clear that the sterile or degenerate offspring of such unions would be eliminated, and intercrossing, even though it occurred, would be inoperative while breeding within the limits of the variety continued unchecked.

Sufficient has now been said concerning the modes of isolation and segregation, geographical, preferential, and physiological. We must now consider their effects. Where the isolated varieties are under different conditions of life, there will be, through the elimination of the ill-adapted in each case, differential adoption to these different conditions. But suppose the conditions are similar: can there be divergence in this case? The supposition is a highly hypothetical one, because it postulates that all the conditions, climatal, environmental, and competitive, are alike, which would seldom, if ever, be likely to occur. Let us, however, make the supposition. Let us suppose that an island is divided into two equal halves by the submersion of a stretch of lowland running across it. Then the only possible causes of divergence would lie in the organisms themselves[AW] thus divided into two equal groups. We have seen that variations may be advantageous, disadvantageous, or neutral. The neutral form a fluctuating, unfixed, indefinite body. But they afford the material with which nature may make, through intercrossing, endless experiments in new combinations, some of which may be profitable. Such profitable variations would escape elimination, and, if not bred out by intercrossing, would be preserved. In any case, the variety would tend to advance through elimination as previously indicated. But in the two equal groups we are supposing to have become geographically isolated, the chances are many to one against the same successful experiments in combination occurring in each of the two groups. Hence it follows that the progress or advance in the two groups, though analogous, would not be identical, and divergence would thus be possible under practically similar conditions of life.

In his observations on the terrestrial molluscs of the Sandwich Islands, Mr. Gulick notes that different forms are found in districts which present essentially the same environment, and that there is no greater divergence when the climatic conditions are dissimilar than there is when those conditions are similar. As before noticed, the degree of divergence is, roughly speaking, directly as the distance the varietal forms are apart. Again, Darwin notes that the climate and environment in the several islands of the Galapagos group are much the same, though each island has a somewhat divergent fauna and flora. These facts lend countenance to the view that divergence can and does occur under similar conditions of life, if there be isolation. They seem, also, so far as they go, to negative the view that the species is moulded directly by the external conditions. For, if this factor were powerful, it would override the effects of experimental combination of characters when the conditions were similar, and would give rise to well-marked varietal forms when the conditions were diverse.

If we admit preferential breeding as a segregation-factor (and arising out of it sexual selection, in a modified form, as a determining one in the evolution of the plumage of male birds), it is evident that the standard of recognition-marks can only be maintained by a uniformity of preference or taste. Still, the uniformity is not likely to be absolute. In this matter, as in others, variations will occur, and after the lapse of a thousand generations, in which elimination has been steadily at work, it is hardly probable that the recognition standard would remain absolutely unchanged. For, though there may not be any direct elimination in this particular respect, there might well be colour-eliminations in other (e.g. protective) respects, and the mental nature would not remain quite unchanged. Moreover, we know that secondary sexual characters are remarkably subject to variation, as may be well seen in the case of ruffs (Machetes pugnax) in the British Natural History Museum. In the case of our two islands with isolated faunas, therefore, if they formed separate breeding-areas for birds, the chances would be many to one against the change in the standard of recognition-marks being identical in each area. Hence might arise those minute but definite specific distinctions which are so noteworthy in this class of the animal kingdom. Instance the Old and New World species of teal, the Eastern and Western species of curlew and whimbrel, and other cases numerous.[AX] This, in fact, is probably in many cases the true explanation of the occurrence of representative species, slight specific variations of the same form as it is traced across a continent or through an archipelago of islands.

The question has been raised, and of late a good deal discussed, whether specific characters, those traits by which species are distinguishable, are always of use to the species which possess them. Here it is essential to define what is meant by utility. Characters may be of use in enabling the possessor to resist elimination; or, like the colours of flowers, they may be of use in attracting insects, and thus furthering selection; or, like recognition-marks, they may be of use in effecting segregation. This last form of utility is apt to be overlooked or lost sight of. In speaking of humming-birds, the Duke of Argyll says that "a crest of topaz is no better in the struggle for existence than a crest of sapphire. A frill ending in spangles of the emerald is no better in the battle of life than a frill ending in spangles of the ruby." But if these characters be recognition-marks, they may be of use in segregation. They are a factor in isolation. But it may be further asked—What is the use of the segregation? Wherein lies the utility of the divergence into two forms? This question, however, involves a complete change of view-point. The question before us is whether specific characters are of use to the species which possesses them. To this question it is sufficient to answer that they are useful in effecting or preserving segregation, without which the species, as a distinct species, would cease to exist. We are not at present concerned with the question whether divergence in itself is useful or advantageous. If it be pressed, we must reply that, although divergence is undoubtedly of immense advantage to life in general, enabling, as Darwin said, its varying and divergent forms to become adapted to many and highly diversified places in the economy of nature, still in many individual cases it is neither possible nor in any respect necessary to our conception of evolution to assign any grounds of utility or advantage for the divergence itself.

In any case, we are dealing at present with the utility of specific characters to the species which possess them; and under the head of utility we are including usefulness in effecting or maintaining segregation. Now, we have already seen that variations may be either advantageous (useful), or neutral (useless), or disadvantageous (worse than useless). The latter class we may here disregard; elimination will more or less speedily dispose of them. With regard to neutral (useless) variations, we must also note that they may be correlated with variations of the other two classes. If correlated with disadvantageous variations, they will be eliminated along with them; if correlated with advantageous variations, they will escape elimination (or will be selected) together with them. There remain neutral, or useless, variations, not correlated with either of the other two classes. Are these in any cases distinctive of species?

It is characteristic of specific distinctions that they are relatively constant. Elimination, selection, or preferential breeding gives them relative fixity. On the other hand, it is characteristic of neutral variations that they are inconstant. There is nothing to give them fixity. It is, of course, conceivable that all the migrants to a new area were possessed of a useless neutral character, which those in the mother area did not possess; or that such a useless character was in them preponderant, and by intercrossing formed a less fluctuating, useless character than their progenitors exhibited. Still, the extensive occurrence of such neutral, or useless, characteristics would be in the highest degree improbable. Our ignorance often prevents us from saying in what particular way a character is useful. We must neither, on the one hand, demand proof that this, that, or the other specific character is useful, nor, on the other hand, demand negative evidence (obviously impossible to produce) that it is without utilitarian significance; but we may fairly request those who believe in the wide occurrence of useless specific characters to tell us by what means these useless characters have acquired their relative constancy and fixity. A suggestion on this head will be found in the next chapter.

We must now pass on to consider briefly a most important factor in the struggle for existence. Hitherto we have regarded this struggle as uniform in intensity; we must now regard it as variable, with alternations of good times and hard times, and indicate the causes to which such variations are due.

With variations of climate, such as we know to occur from year to year, or from decade to decade, there are variations in the productiveness of the soil; and when we remember how closely interwoven are the web and woof of life, we shall see that the increased or diminished productiveness of any area will affect for good or ill all the life which that area supports. The introduction of new forms of life into an area, or their preponderance at certain periods owing to climatic or other conditions particularly favourable to them as opposed to other forms, may alter the whole balance of life in the district. We are often unable to assign any reason for the sudden increase or diminution of the numbers of a species; we can only presume that it is the result of some favourable or unfavourable change of conditions. Thus Mr. Alexander Becker[AY] has recently drawn attention to the fact that whereas for several years various species of grasshoppers appeared in great numbers in South-east Russia, there came then one year of sudden death for most of them. They were sitting motionless on the grasses and dying. He gives similar cases of butterflies for a while numerous, and then rare, and states that a squirrel common near Sarepta suddenly disappeared in the course of one summer, probably, he adds, succumbing to some contagious disease. Such is the nice balance of life, that the partial disappearance of a single form may produce remarkable and little-expected effects. Darwin amusingly showed how the clover crops might be beneficially affected by the introduction of a family of old maids into a parish. The clover is fertilized by humble-bees, the bees are preyed upon by mice; the relations between cats and mice, and between old maids and cats, are well known and familiar: more old maids, more cats; more cats, less mice; less mice, more humble-bees; more humble-bees, better fertilization. A little thing may modify the balance of life, and increase or diminish the struggle for existence, and the rigour of the process of elimination.

But when we take a more extended view of the matter, and include secular changes of climate, the possible range of variation in the struggle for existence is seen to be enormously increased. It is well known to those who have followed the progress of geology, that in early Kainozoic times a mild climate extended to within the Arctic circle, while during the glacial epoch much of the north temperate zone was fast locked in ice, and the climate of the northern hemisphere was profoundly modified. The animals in the north temperate zone were driven southwards.[AZ] Not only was there much elimination from the severe climatic conditions, but the migrants were driven southwards into areas already well stocked with life, and the competition for means of subsistence in these areas must have been rendered extremely severe. Elimination was at a maximum. Then followed the withdrawal of glacial conditions. The increasing geniality of the climate allowed an expansion of life within a given area, and the withdrawal of snow and ice further and further north set free new areas into which this expanding life could migrate and find subsistence. The hard times of the glacial period were succeeded by good times of returning warmth and an expanding area; and if, as some geologists believe, there was an inter-glacial period (or more than one such period) in the midst of the Great Ice Age, then hard times and good times alternated during the glacial epoch.

Expansion and contraction of life-areas have also been effected again and again in the course of geological history by elevations and subsidences of the land. At the beginning of Mesozoic times much of Europe was dry land. In Triassic and Rhætic times there were lakes in England and in Germany, and a warm Mediterranean Sea to the south. Subsidence of the European area brought with it a lessened land-area and an increased sea-area: bad times and increased competition for land animals; good times and a widening life-area for marine forms of life. This continued, with minor variations, till its culmination in the Cretaceous period. Then came the converse process: the land-areas increased, the sea was driven back. A good time had come for terrestrial life; the marine inhabitants of estuaries and inland seas felt the pressure of increased competition in a lessening area. And so there emerged the continental Europe of the beginning of the Kainozoic era. And it is scarcely necessary to remind those who are in any degree conversant with geology that during tertiary times there have been alternate expansions and contractions of life-areas, marine and terrestrial, the former bringing good times, the latter hard times and a heightened struggle for existence.

Now, what would be the result of this alternation of good times and hard times? During good times varieties, which would be otherwise unable to hold their own, might arise and have time to establish themselves. In an expanding area migration would take place, local segregation in the colonial areas would be rendered possible, differential elimination in the different migration-areas would produce divergence. There would be diminished elimination of neutral variations, thus affording opportunities for experimental combinations. In general, good times would favour variation and divergence.

Intermediate between good times and hard times would come, in logical order, the times in which there is neither an expansion nor a contraction of the life-area. One may suppose that these are times of relatively little change. There is neither the divergence rendered possible by the expansion of life-area, nor the heightened elimination enforced by the contraction of life-area.[BA] Elimination is steadily in progress, for the law of increase must still hold good. Divergence is still taking place, for the law of variation still obtains. But neither is at its maximum. These are the good old-fashioned times of slow and steady conservative progress. They are, perhaps, well exemplified by the fauna of the Carboniferous period, and it is not at all improbable that we are ourselves living in such a quiet, conservative period.

On the other hand, hard times would mean increased elimination. During the exhibitions at South Kensington there were good times for rats. But when the show was over, there followed times that were cruelly hard. The keenest competition for the scanty food arose, and the poor animals were forced to prey upon each other. "Their cravings for food," we read in Nature, "culminated in a fierce onslaught on one another, which was evidenced by the piteous cries of those being devoured. The method of seizing their victims was to suddenly make a raid upon one weaker or smaller than themselves, and, after overpowering it by numbers, to tear it in pieces." Elimination by competition, passing in this way into elimination by battle, would, during hard times, be increased. None but the best organized and best adapted could hope to escape. There would be no room for neutral variations, which, in the keenness of the struggle, would be relatively disadvantageous. Slightly divergent varieties, before kept apart through local segregation, would be brought into competition. The weakest would in some cases be eliminated. In other cases, the best-adapted individuals of each variety might survive. If their experiments in intercrossing, should such occur, gave rise to fertile offspring, more vigorous and better adapted than either parent-race, these would survive, and the parent-forms would be eliminated. But if such experiments in intercrossing gave rise to infertile, weakly offspring, these would be eliminated. Thus sterility between species would become fixed. Wherever, during the preceding good times, divergence had taken place in two different directions of adaptation, and some intermediate forms, fairly good in both directions, had been able to escape elimination, the chances are that these intermediates would be in hard times eliminated, and the divergent forms left in possession of the field. Wherever, during good times, a species had acquired or retained a habit of flexibility, that habit would stand it in good stead in the midst of the changes wrought by hard times; but when it had, on the other hand, acquired rigidity (like the proverbially "inflexible goose"), it would be at a disadvantage in the stress of a heightened elimination.

The alternation of good times and hard times may be illustrated by an example taken from human life. The introduction of ostrich-farming in South Africa brought good times to farmers. Whereupon there followed divergence in two directions. Some devoted increased profits to improvements upon their farms, to irrigation works which could not before be afforded, and so forth. For others increased income meant increased expenditure and an easier, if not more luxurious, mode of life. Then came hard times. Others, in Africa and elsewhere, learnt the secret of ostrich-farming. Competition brought down profits, and elimination set in—of which variety need hardly be stated.

I believe that the alternation of good times and hard times, during secular changes of climate and alternate expansions and contractions of life-areas through geological upheavals and depression of the land, has been a factor of the very greatest importance in the evolution of varied and divergent forms of life, and in the elimination of intermediate forms between adaptive variations. It now only remains in this chapter to say a few words concerning convergence, adaptation, and progress.

Convergence, which is the converse of divergence, is brought about through the adaptation of different forms of life to similar conditions of existence. The somewhat similar form of the body and fin-like limbs of fishes, of ancient reptiles (the ichthyosaurus and its allies), of whales, seals, and manatees, is a case in point. Both birds, bats, and pterodactyls have keeled breastbones for the attachment of the large muscles for flight. A whole series of analogous adaptations, as the result of analogous modes of life, are found in the placental mammals of Europe and Asia, on the one hand, and the marsupial forms of Australia on the other hand. The flying squirrel answers to the flying phalanger, the fox to the vulpine phalanger, the bear to the koala, the badger to the pouched badger, the rabbit to the bandicoot, the wolverine to the Tasmanian devil, the weasel to the pouched weasel, the rats and mice to the kangaroo rats and mice, and so on. A familiar example of convergence is to be seen in our swallows and martins, on the one hand, and the swifts on the other. Notwithstanding their superficial similarity in external form and habits, they are now generally regarded as belonging to distinct orders of birds.

These are examples of convergence.[BB] Animals of diverse descent and ancestry have, through similarity of surrounding conditions or of habits of life, become, in certain respects, assimilated. But some zoologists go further than this. They maintain that the same genus or species may, through adaptation to similar circumstances, be derived from dissimilar ancestors. Some palæontologists, for example, believe that the horse has been independently evolved along parallel lines in Europe and in America. Professor Cope considers that in the one continent Protohippus, and in the other Hipparion, was the immediate ancestor of Equus. The probabilities are, however, so strongly against such a view, that it cannot be accepted until substantiated by stronger evidence than is yet forthcoming.

A special and particular form of convergence, at any rate in certain obvious, if superficial, characters, has already been noticed in our brief consideration of mimicry. In the first place, among a number of closely related species of inedible butterflies, the tendency to divergence is checked, so far as external markings and coloration are concerned, that all may continue to profit by the resemblance, and that the numbers tasted by young birds in gaining their experience (for the avoidance seems to be at most incompletely instinctive) may be divided amongst all the species, thus lessening the loss to each. Secondly, there may be a convergence of certain genera of distantly related inedible groups (e.g. among the Heliconidæ and the Danaidæ), which gain by being apparently one species, since the loss from young birds is shared between them. And lastly, there is the true mimicry of quite distinct families of butterflies, not themselves inedible, but sheltering themselves under the guise and sharing the bad reputation of the mimicked forms. Such forms of convergence are in special adaptation to a very special environment.

We must remember that in all cases adaptation is a matter of life and environment. And these, we may now note, may be related in one or more of three ways. In the first place, there is the adaptation of life to an unchanging environment; for example, the adaptation of all forms of life to the fixed and unchanging properties of inorganic matter. If we liken life to a statue and the environment to a mould in which it is cast, we have in this case a rigid mould and a plastic statue. Secondly, the adaptation may be mutual, as, for example, when the structures of insects and flowers are fitted each to the other, or when the speed of hunters and hunted is steadily increased through the elimination of the slow in either group. Here the mould and statue are both somewhat plastic, and yield to each other's influence. Thirdly, the environment may be moulded to life. This, again, is only relative, since life never wholly loses its plasticity. The bird that builds a nest, the beaver that constructs a dam, the insect that gives rise to a gall—these, so far, mould the environment to the needs of their existence. Man in especial has the power, through his developed intelligence, of manufacturing his own environment. Here the statue is relatively rigid, and the mould plastic.

Progress may be defined as continuous adaptation. In modern phrase, this is called evolution. The continuity makes the difference between evolution and revolution. Both are natural. Both occur in the organic, the social, and the intellectual sphere. Evolution is the orderly progress of the organism or group of organisms, by which it becomes more and more in harmony with surrounding conditions. If the conditions become more and more complex, the organism will progress in complexity; but if the conditions be more and more simple, progress (if such it may still be called) will be towards simplicity of structure, unnecessary complexity being eliminated, or, in any case, disappearing. Hence, in parasites and some forms of life which live under simple conditions, we have the phenomena of degeneration, or a passage from a more complex to a more simple condition.

Revolution in organic life is the destruction of one organism or group of organisms, and the replacement in its stead of a wholly different organism or group of organisms. During hard times there may be much revolution, or replacement of one set of organic forms by another set of organic forms. It was by revolution that the dominant reptiles of the Mesozoic epoch were replaced by the dominant mammals of Kainozoic times. It was by revolution that pterodactyls were supplanted by birds. Revolution has exterminated many a group in geological ages. On the other hand, it was by evolution that the little-specialized Eocene ungulates gave rise to the horse, the camel, and the deer; by divergent evolution that the bears and dogs were derived from common ancestors. Palæontology testifies both to evolution and revolution.[BC] That history does the same, I need not stay to exemplify. The same laws also apply to systems of thought. Darwinism has revolutionized our conceptions of nature. Darwin placed upon a satisfactory basis a new order of interpretation of the organic world. By it other interpretations have been supplanted. And now this new conception is undergoing evolution, not without some divergence.

In this chapter we have seen how evolution is possible under natural conditions. If the law of increase be true, if more are born than can survive to procreate their kind, natural selection is a logical necessity. We must not blame our forefathers for not seeing this. Until geology had extended our conception of time, no such conclusions could be drawn. If organisms have existed but six or seven thousand years, and if in the last thousand years little or no change in organic life has occurred, the supposition that they could have originated by any such process as natural selection is manifestly absurd. Lyell was the necessary precursor of Darwin. Given, then, increase and elimination throughout geological time, natural selection is a logical necessity. No one who adequately grasps the facts can now deny it. It is an unquestionable factor in organic evolution. Whether it is the sole factor, is quite another matter, and one we will consider in the chapter on "Organic Evolution."