For instance, on pages 35 and 36, regarding a table of Geological Epochs, he writes: “These divisions _probably_ mark off too precisely,” etc. But the accompanying diagram gives a timetable like Bradshaw, with exactly 50,000 years for the last glacial epoch, 550,000 for those intriguing anomalies the Javanese skull and thigh-bone, and 100,000 for the vastly debated Piltdown fragments. He does not, by the way, remark that the original guess at the cranial capacity of the Piltdown man was too small, certainly by 30 per cent, and possibly by 50 per cent. He does not tell his readers the remarkably high angle of the forehead, nor the really disturbing fact that there appear to have been no strong orbital ridges. And why are his readers not given all this? Because—like so many facts in Pre-history—they interfere with the simple “progress” idea and would make the reader understand how very little we do know about early man and his ancestry, and what an intolerable amount of theory there is to a halfpennyworth of fact. For the Piltdown man, on all the orthodox hypotheses, has got to be enormously older than Neanderthal man—and yet has a much more modern brain-box. Meanwhile, Mr. Wells’s artist constructs out of these little pieces of bone a human being wholly imaginary in all its functions. This person appears on page 43 in a detailed picture as “Eoanthropos.” He is having a good time hunting, and looking uncommonly like an acquaintance of my own; but he is entirely made up out of the artist’s head. Again, we have the coloured picture of a dance of American Red Indians round a fire solemnly presented as a “reconstruction of Palæolithic society.” I know very well the excuse that is offered for such things. The public for which such books are written can digest a definite timetable, and, better still, a picture, more easily than carefully thought out pros and cons; _something_ must be put simply before their eyes, and one can’t put doubt pictorially. Nevertheless, the effect produced and intended to be produced is utterly false and misleading. The Piltdown fragments would fit into a soup plate. No one knows and no one ever will know whether the ape-jaw belongs to the scraps of human, and rather high human, skull; on the one hand you have the very high authority of Keith, on the other the main weight of continental opinion. No one can confidently tell the exact posture and shape the total skull may have had. Of the creature as a whole, apart from these insufficient fragments of skull and that almost impossible jaw, we know absolutely nothing. To conceal all this and to present a finished picture of him as a fully known being is like writing a full biography on the evidence of a torn quarter of visiting-card.