No one in the world can be a greater admirer than I of the genius of Tyndall, Darwin, or Huxley, but I must confess they get a little, just a leetle, “mixed” at times; and I doubt if Darwin himself, or any other sublunarian whatever, understands his (Darwin’s) theory of colour. He says, for instance I can’t use the exact words, but can give his meaning in my own that the wild rabbit or the hare was not painted by the finger of nature the colour we find them with any pre-defined idea of protecting the animal against its enemies; but that in the struggle for life that has been going on for aeons, considering the conditions of its surroundings, it was only the grey rabbit that had the power of continuing in existence, escaping its enemies by aid of its dusky coat. Darwin thinks, indeed, that religionists put the cart before the horse, to use a homely phrase.
I confess that I myself prefer the good old theory of design of a God of design, and a prescient Providence. I believe the testimony of the rocks, I believe to a great extent in evolution it is a grand theory, and one which gives the Creator an immensity of glory but I cannot let any one rob me of the belief that beauty and colour are not all chance.
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