reshaping one must needs do to the brain that my trouble lies.
The intelligence is often oddly low, with unaccountable blank ends,
unexpected gaps. And least satisfactory of all is something that I
cannot touch, somewhere--I cannot determine where--in the seat
of the emotions. Cravings, instincts, desires that harm humanity,
a strange hidden reservoir to burst forth suddenly and inundate
the whole being of the creature with anger, hate, or fear.
These creatures of mine seemed strange and uncanny to you so soon
as you began to observe them; but to me, just after I make them,
they seem to be indisputably human beings. It's afterwards, as I
observe them, that the persuasion fades. First one animal trait,
then another, creeps to the surface and stares out at me.
But I will conquer yet! Each time I dip a living creature into the bath
of burning pain, I say, 'This time I will burn out all the animal;
this time I will make a rational creature of my own!' After all,
what is ten years? Men have been a hundred thousand in the making."
He thought darkly. "But I am drawing near the fastness.
This puma of mine--" After a silence, "And they revert.
As soon as my hand is taken from them the beast begins
to creep back, begins to assert itself again." Another long
silence.

"Then you take the things you make into those dens?" said I.

"They go. I turn them out when I begin to feel the beast in them,
and presently they wander there. They all dread this house and me.
There is a kind of travesty of humanity over there. Montgomery knows
about it, for he interferes in their affairs. He has trained one
or two of them to our service. He's ashamed of it, but I believe
he half likes some of those beasts. It's his business, not mine.
They only sicken me with a sense of failure. I take no interest in them.
I fancy they follow in the lines the Kanaka missionary marked out,
and have a kind of mockery of a rational life, poor beasts!
There's something they call the Law. Sing hymns about 'all thine.'
They build themselves their dens, gather fruit, and pull herbs--marry
even. But I can see through it all, see into their very souls,
and see there nothing but the souls of beasts, beasts that perish,
anger and the lusts to live and gratify themselves.--Yet they're odd;
complex, like everything else alive. There is a kind of upward
striving in them, part vanity, part waste sexual emotion,
part waste curiosity. It only mocks me. I ha