72 EARS 



Monkeys taking to trees were like the birds, they 

 scarcely needed ears. And so by the high road of 

 evolution you arrive at man and the enigma of 

 his ear. It is a shrunken and shrivelled remnant, 

 a moss-grown ruin, a derelict ship. It is to a 

 pattern ear what the old shoe which you find in a 

 country lane, shed from the foot of some " unem- 

 ployed," is to one of Waukenphast's " five-miles-an- 

 hour-easy" boots. We ought to temper our con- 

 tempt for what it is with respect for what it was. 

 All the parts of it are there and recognisable, even 

 to the muscles that should move it, but we have 

 lost control of them. I believe anyone could regain 

 that by persevering exercise of his will power for 

 a time — that is, if he has any. I have a friend who, 

 if you treat him with disrespect, shrivels you up 

 with a sarcastic wag of his right ear. 



The ears of dogs open up another vista for the 

 questioning philosopher. Their day is past, too, 

 and man may cut them short to match his own, 

 but the dog grows them longer than before. When 

 he first took service with man, and grew careless 

 and lazy, the muscles got slack and the ears dropped, 

 which is in accordance with Nature. Then, instead 

 of being allowed to wither away, they have been 

 handed over to the milliner and shaped and trimmed 

 in harmony with the "style" of each breed of 

 dogs. How it has been done is one of those mysteries 

 which will not open to the iron keys of Darwin. 

 But there it is for those to see who have eyes. 



