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Some years ago a German Artist was travelling in Norway, on foot, with his knapsack on his back and his stick in his hand. He lodged most of time in the cottages that he fell in with on his road. In one of them there was a seal, which the fisherman had found on the sand, after harpooning the mother of the poor animal. No sooner was it admitted into the cottage than the seal became the friend of the family and the playmate of the children. It played from morning till night with them, would lick their hands, and call them with a gentle little cry, which is not unlike the human voice, and it would look at them tenderly with its large blue eyes, shaded by long black lashes. It almost always followed its master to fish, swimming around the boat and taking a great many fish, which it delivered to the fisherman without even giving them a bite. A dog could not have been more devoted, faithful, teachable, or even more intelligent.

And yet it seems very difficult for any person to realise what is the philosophical conclusion, namely, that the work of each of us matters very little to the world, but that it matters very much to ourselves that we should have some work to do. We seem to be a very feeble-minded race in this respect, that we require to be constantly bribed and tempted by illusions. I have known men of force and vigour both in youth and middle life who had a strong sense of the value and significance of their work; as age came upon them, the value of their work gradually disappeared; they were deferred to, consulted, outwardly reverenced, and perhaps all the more scrupulously and compassionately in order that they might not guess the lamentable fact that their work was done and that the forces and influences were in younger hands. But the men themselves never lost the sense of their importance. I knew an octogenarian clergyman who declared once in my presence that it was ridiculous to say that old men lost their faculty of dealing with affairs.

It also seems to us that those who hold to the view that man was living in other parts of the world, as Asia, during the Miocene Age, ought readily to admit that a few wandering bands might penetrate into Europe.<50> The climate was tropical, there was an abundance of animal life, and, if man was living anywhere, it is very reasonable to suppose that, at some epoch during the course of the Miocene Age, he would have found his way to Europe, unless shut off by the sea. It therefore seems to us that the presence of those cut flints is conclusive of the presence of man in Europe during the Miocene Age. At the same time we can not affirm that this is the conclusion of the scientific world. They seem to have heeded the remark of Quatrefages, that "in such a matter there is no great urgency," and are waiting for further discoveries.

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