recognized in women their instinct for fine dress; I would have encouraged the revival of Love: I would have restored the Arts. But now—now—"
"Now," I said, "that you have begun to make the attempt, you recognize at last that there is nothing better for them all than forgetfulness and freedom from anxiety, struggle, and thought."
"Not so," he replied. "Not at all. I understand that unless the Spirit of Man mounts higher continually, the earthly things must grow stale and tedious, and so must perish. Yea: all the things which once we thought so beautiful—Music, Art, Letters, Philosophy, Love, Society—they must all wither and perish, if Life be prolonged, unless the Spirit is borne continually upward. And this we have not tried to effect."
"The Spirit of Man? I thought that old superstition was cleared away and done with long ago. I have never found the Spirit in my Laboratory. Have you?"
"No, I have not. That is not the place to find it."
"Well. Since you have changed your mind—"
"With us, the Spirit of Man has been sinking lower and lower, till it is clean forgotten. Man now lives for himself alone. The Triumph of Science, Suffragan, is yours. No more death; no more pain; no more ambition: equality absolute and the ultimate lump of human flesh, incorruptible, breathing, sleeping, absorbing food, living. Science can do no more."
"I am glad, even at this last moment, to receive this submission of your opinions."
"But," he said, his eye flashing, "remember. The Spirit of Man only sleeps: it doth not die. Such an awakening as you have witnessed among a few of us will some day—by an accident, by a trick of memory—how do I know? by a Dream! fly through the heads of these
