thing and how much force you must put forth to keep hold of it, you are
guided entirely by the pressure on the finger-points, and to gauge this
pressure nicely the nerves must be refined and educated. In fact, the
exercise itself, with the intent direction of the mind to the
finger-points, brings about the refinement and education in accordance
with Sandow's principle of muscle culture.

For an example of the result do not look at the gross paw of any
so-called anthropoid ape, gorilla, orang-outang, or chimpanzee, but
study the gentle lemur. At the point of each digit is a broad elastic
pad, plentifully supplied with delicate nerves, and the vital energy
which has been directed into them appears to have been withdrawn from
the growth of the claws, which have shrunk into fine nails just
shielding the fleshy tips. In short, the lemur has a hand on each of its
four limbs, and no feet at all. And as it goes about its cage--I am at
the Zoo in spirit--with a silent wonder shining out of its great eyes,
it examines things by _feeling_ them with its hands.

How plainly a new avenue from the outer world into its mind has been
opened by those fingers! But how about scratching? What would be the
gain of having higher susceptibilities and keener perceptions if they
only aggravated the triumph of the insulting flea? Nay, this disaster
has been averted by reserving a good sharp claw on the forefinger (not
the thumb) of each hind hand.

The old naturalists called the apes and lemurs Quadrumana, the
"four-handed," and separated the Bimana, with one species--namely, _Homo
sapiens_. Now we have anatomy cited to belittle the difference between a
hand and a foot, and geology importuned to show us the missing link,
pending which an order has been instituted roomy enough to hold monkeys,