stirred; then he took my chest and lifted it off. At this I started back, and cried out, "Oh! please don't," but he smiled again, remarking, "What a beautiful model" (for model it was). "What skill is represented here. See the lungs moving, see the heart pumping, see the liver lying like a sluggish bloated monster devoted to gormandising and gluttony. There you are, Specimen, as true as life. Are you not ashamed of your internal construction so much given to greed, and so little given to intellect?" With this he replaced the chest, and took off the skull, leaving the brain exposed. "Look at this brain," he said; "it is diminutive in size, it is crude in construction, it is uncultivated. Compare it with the brain I let you see over there, and perhaps you will then be able to form some idea of the progress that intellect has made in the last three thousand years."
By this time I began to get very sick of myself. I never had my badness so fully laid bare to me before, and I hope I shall never
