ANTHROPOLOGICAL SOCIETY. 159 



acquisition was the greatest step he had taken in invention; and 

 when we regard what has grown out of it, the infinite variety of 

 cutting tools, implements, and machines, whose origin we remotely 

 trace to it, and the unnumbered needs they supply, we cannot 

 hesitate to ascribe to it the highest place among all the inventions 

 of all time. 



If the hafted celt was for the time the culmination of art, this is 

 not less true, of its time, of the flint knife. As in man''s rudest 

 estate he used the expedients with which nature endowed him, 

 selecting those best adapted to his immediate purpose, so now out 

 of the diverse forms assumed by flakes and chips, he selects those 

 best adapted for particular purposes. He is repeating what occurred 

 in his earliest period, but with new and diversified wants, wider 

 intelligence, and a greater range of material out of which to select. 

 He finds blunt edges give satisfactory results in the old process of 

 scraping wood, but he finds that thinner and sharper edges pene- 

 trate the wood deeper, and remove the superfluous material faster. 

 He finds he can work more deftly, more conveniently, can put a 

 finer point on his weapon, can apply the new tool to all parts of it, 

 can reduce and trim the shaft as well as the point, can even sever 

 the growing saplings to obtain his material. He finds that some 

 forms can be made to penetrate and divide the tough skins of beasts, 

 and carve their flesh. In fact, in whatever direction his necessities 

 or inclinations lead him, he finds his knife in some form contribut- 

 ing to his comfort, his protection, and the supply of his wants. 

 The possession of the tool has wrought out his mastery over nature. 

 This culmination in invention is but momentary. It is a mile- 

 stone, a breathing place in the history of arts. But the march 

 still goes on, and we find man still searching among fragments for 

 forms adapted to his particular uses, but gradually learning by 

 experience that by well-directed blows he can sometimes produce 

 chips having special forms, and so fitted for special uses. But these 

 are chips and flakes only. There is no attempt as yet at dressing 

 or shaping stone. The rude forms they bear when shivered from 

 the rock, are all that man has yet conceived in the structure of a 

 stone implement. These rude forms seldom appear in our museums. 

 They are the scoff of archaeologists. They are not distinguish- 

 able from the work of the elements. In fact, the splinters thrown 

 off by frost or fire may have been as readily selected for use as 

 those formed by human agency. And as writers have agreed upon 



