essor Caldwell closely. And as he followed, comprehendingly and
critically, he noted the unbroken field of the other's knowledge. As for
himself, from moment to moment the conversation showed him gaps and open
stretches, whole subjects with which he was unfamiliar. Nevertheless,
thanks to his Spencer, he saw that he possessed the outlines of the field
of knowledge. It was a matter only of time, when he would fill in the
outline. Then watch out, he thought--'ware shoal, everybody! He felt
like sitting at the feet of the professor, worshipful and absorbent; but,
as he listened, he began to discern a weakness in the other's judgments--a
weakness so stray and elusive that he might not have caught it had it not
been ever present. And when he did catch it, he leapt to equality at
once.

Ruth came up to them a second time, just as Martin began to speak.

"I'll tell you where you are wrong, or, rather, what weakens your
judgments," he said. "You lack biology. It has no place in your scheme
of things.--Oh, I mean the real interpretative biology, from the ground
up, from the laboratory and the test-tube and the vitalized inorganic
right on up to the widest aesthetic and sociological generalizations."

Ruth was appalled. She had sat two lecture courses under Professor
Caldwell and looked up to him as the living repository of all knowledge.

"I scarcely follow you," he said dubiously.

Martin was not so sure but what he had followed him.

"Then I'll try to explain," he said. "I remember reading in Egyptian
history something to the effect that understanding could not be had of
Egyptian art without first studying the land question."

"Quite right," the professor nodded.

"And it seems to me," Martin continued, "that knowledge of the land
question, in turn, of all questions, for that matter, cannot be had
without previous knowledge of the stuff and the constitution of life. How
can we understand laws and institutions, religions and customs, without
understanding, not merely the nature of the creatures that made them, but
the nature of the stuff out of which the creatures are made? Is
literature less human than the architecture and sculpture of Egypt? Is
there one thing in the known universe that is not subject to the law of
evolution?--Oh, I know there is an elaborate evolution of the various
arts laid down, but it seems to me to be too mechanical. The human
himself is left out. The evolution of the tool, of the