The Veneration natural to That which made us and by which we are, That which overshadows all possible things (including ourselves), produces a multitude of results: love quite as much as fear or wonder; a vast curiosity and search; and, above all, the ineradicable desire to _worship_—that is, to put up monuments (within the limits of our powers) bearing testimony to our Veneration; to perform acts consonant with that Veneration; to ask for aid, to admit wrongdoing, to expect justice in social relations, to enforce it, and so forth. That, I say, is the very first action of the human mind, as we know it, where the conception of the Divine comes into its action: _worship_. There is no race of men whatsoever, even where it has lost the conception of the Universal God, or has let that conception become obscure and indifferent, which does not still preserve the derivatives from the original idea of God. Treat the simplest savage with gross injustice, and you will soon see what he has to say to you: it will be of exactly the same sort as what the most corrupt of Londoners or Parisians would have to say to you. Propose that there is no ultimate vengeance for injustice, and you will discover despair in those who admit such a doctrine. You will find those who deny God—and those who find the Universe unjust are deniers of God—to be in despair, and you will find this despair showing just as clearly in the most corrupt Parisian or Londoner as you would in the most candid savage. Yet with this difference, that the savage is much less likely to accept such a proposition than the worn-out dregs of a luxurious civilization are likely to accept it. Now on this chapter of Veneration—which must of necessity come first in order, and which we know does in practice, to our own human minds, come first in order—Mr. Wells has nothing to say. He, or rather those from whom he got his mythology, have plenty to say of a base fear at the origin of religion, but nothing of Veneration. Men feel Veneration in varying degrees, just as they feel colour or music in varying degrees; but it is not for those who feel it least to teach those who feel it normally and fully. It is not for the man almost colour-blind to instruct the average man on colour; it is not for a man almost tone-deaf to instruct you and me on the insufficiency of music. Mr. Wells does not apparently feel Veneration—even for great things near at hand, let alone for his Maker—at all.