tion in the struggle that after victory there remains of themselves but the name and a few symbols of the last idea'?"
"Must we then give up the idea of knowing the future?" asked M. Goubin.
But Giacomo Boni, who when delving down into a few feet of soil had descended from the present period to the stone age, remarked:
"Upon the whole, humanity changes little. What has been shall be."
"No doubt," replied Jean Boilly, "man, or that which we call man, changes little. We belong to a definite species. The evolution of the species is of necessity included in the definition of the species. It is impossible to conceive humanity subsequent to its transformation. A transformed species is a lost species. But what reason is there for us to believe that man is the end of the evolution of life upon the earth? Why suppose that his birth has exhausted the creative forces of nature, and that the universal mother of the flora and fauna should, after having shaped him, become for ever barren. A natural philosopher, who does not stand in fear of his own ideas, H. G. Wells, has said: 'Man is not final.' No indeed, man is neither the beginning nor the end of terrestrial life. Long before him, all over the globe, animated forces were multiplying in the depths of the sea, in the mud of the strand, in
