THE BREATH OF LIFE 



is a universe, a oneness; that its laws are continu- 

 ous. We follow the chemistry of it to the farthest 

 stars and there is no serious break or exception; it 

 is all of one stuff. We follow the mechanics of it into 

 the same abysmal depths, and there are no breaks or 

 exceptions. The biology of it we cannot follow be- 

 yond our own little corner of the universe; indeed., 

 we have no proof that there is any biology anywhere 

 else. But if there is, it must be similar to our own. 

 There is only one kind of electricity (though two 

 phases of it), only one kind of light and heat, one 

 kind of chemical affinity, in the universe; and hence 

 only one kind of life. Looked at in its relation to the 

 whole, life appears like a transient phenomenon of 

 matter. I will not say accidental; it seems insepa- 

 rably bound up with the cosmic processes, but, I 

 may say, fugitive, superficial, circumscribed. Life 

 comes and goes; it penetrates but a little way into 

 the earth; it is confined to a certain range of tem- 

 perature. Beyond a certain degree of cold, on the one 

 hand, it does not appear; and beyond a certain de- 

 gree of heat, on the other, it is cut off. Without 

 water or moisture, it ceases; and without air, it is 

 not. It has evidently disappeared from the moon, 

 and probably from the inferior planets, and it is 

 doubtful if it has yet appeared on any of the su- 

 perior planets, save Mars. 



Life comes to matter as the flowers come in the 

 spring, — when the time is ripe for it, — and it disap- 



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