over the normal descendants from the same stock. This is
strikingly exemplified by the case of Gratio Kelleia, who married a
woman with the ordinary pentadactyle extremities, and had by her
four children, Salvator, George, Andre, and Marie. Of these children
Salvator, the eldest boy, had six fingers and six toes, like his father;
the second and third, also boys, had five fingers and five toes,
like their mother, though the hands and feet of George were slightly
deformed. The last, a girl, had five fingers and five toes, but the
thumbs were slightly deformed. The variety thus reproduced itself purely
in the eldest, while the normal type reproduced itself purely in the
third, and almost purely in the second and last: so that it would seem,
at first, as if the normal type were more powerful than the variety.
But all these children grew up and intermarried with normal wives and
husband, and then, note what took place: Salvator had four children,
three of whom exhibited the hexadactyle members of their grandfather and
father, while the youngest had the pentadactyle limbs of the mother
and grandmother; so that here, notwithstanding a double pentadactyle
dilution of the blood, the hexadactyle variety had the best of it. The
same pre-potency of the variety was still more markedly exemplified in
the progeny of two of the other children, Marie and George. Marie (whose
thumbs only were deformed) gave birth to a boy with six toes, and three
other normally formed children; but George, who was not quite so pure a
pentadactyle, begot, first, two girls, each of whom had six fingers
and toes; then a girl with six fingers on each hand and six toes on the
right foot, but only five toes on the left; and lastly, a boy with only
five fingers and toes. In these instances, therefore, the variety, as
it were, leaped over one generation to reproduce itself in full force in
the next. Finally, the purely pentadactyle Andre was the father of many
children, not one of whom departed from the normal parental type.

If a variation which approaches the nature of a monstrosity can strive
thus forcibly to reproduce itself, it is not wonderful that less
aberrant modifications should tend to be preserved even more strongly;
and the history of the Ancon sheep is, in this respect, particularly
instructive. With the "'cuteness" characteristic of their nation, the
neighbours of the Massachusetts farmer imagined it would be an excellent
thing if all his sheep we