led with
a golden light. Hugh fell to wondering over it. One's food, as a
rule, transformed and dignified by art, and enclosed in vessels of
metal and porcelain, had little that was simple or ancient about its
associations; how the world indeed was ransacked for one's pleasure!
meats, herbs, spices, minerals--it was strange to think what a
complexity of materials was gathered for one's delight; but honey
seemed to take one back into an old and savage world. Samson had
gathered it from the lion's bones, Jonathan had thrust his staff into
the comb, and put the bright oozings to his lips; humanity in its most
ancient and barbarous form had taken delight in this patiently
manufactured confection. But a further thought came to him; the
philosopher spoke of a development in nature, a slow moving upward
through painfully gathered experience. It was an attractive thought,
no doubt, and gave a clue to the bewildering differences of the world.
But after all how incredibly slow a progress it was! The whole course
of history was minute enough, no doubt, in comparison with what had
been; but so far as the records of mankind existed, it was not possible
to trace that any great development had taken place. The lines of
species that one saw to-day were just as distinct as they had been when
the records of man began. They seemed to run, like separate threads
out of the tapestry, complete and entire from end to end, not mixing or
intermingling. Fish, birds, quadrupeds--some had died out indeed, but
no creature mentioned in the earliest records showed the smallest sign
of approximating or drawing near to any other creature; no bird had
lost its wings or gained its hands; no quadruped had deserted instinct
for reason. Bees were a case in point. They were insects of a
marvellous wisdom. They had a community, a government, almost laws.
They knew their own business, and followed it with intense enthusiasm.
Yet in all the centuries during which they had been robbed and
despoiled for the pleasure of man, they had learnt no prudence or
caution. They had not even learned to rebel. Generation after
generation, in fragrant cottage gardens, they made their delicious
store, laying it up for their offspring. Year after year that store
had been rifled; yet for all their curious wisdom, their subtle
calculations, no suspicion ever seemed to have entered their heads of
what was going forward. They did not even try to find a secret place
i