194 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 
keep his foursome one—a primordial struggle 
toward unity of self and division of labor; my 
consciousness climbed the microscope tube and 
came to rest upon a slim glass of amber liquid 
on my laboratory table: a servant had brought 
a cocktail, for it was New Year’s Eve. (Now 
the thought came that there were a number of 
worthy people who would also approve of this 
approximation!) I looked at the small spirit- 
uous luxury, and I thought of my friends in 
New York, and then of the Attas in front of 
the laboratory. With my electric flash I went 
out into the starlight, and found the usual hosts 
struggling nestward with their chlorophyll bur- 
dens, and rushing frantically out into the black 
jungle for more and yet more leaves. My mind 
swept back over evolution from star-dust to Kar- 
tabo compound, from Gonium to man, and to 
these Jeaf-cutting ants. And I wondered 
whether the Attas were any the better for be- 
ing denied the stimulus of temptation, or 
whether I was any the worse for the opportunity 
of refusing a second glass. I went back into 
the house, and voiced a toast to tolerance, to 
temperance, and—to pterodactyls—and drank 
my cocktail. 
