The Greenlanders have a story that relates the creation of woman from man's thumb. This is significant and much more probable. There is wisdom in this even if it be regarded as a myth. The bare fact that woman has always been under man's thumb shows some kinetic relation. The masculine gender has not been reluctant to manifest a disposition to preserve the gentler sex in this position. He calls her by pet names, and bestows compliments upon her, and declares upon the honor of a despot that there is no name so sacred as mother, and that there is no virtue so precious as that possessed by woman--he will even die for her, but still he prefers to keep her in subjection under his thumb. Liberty will come to woman when she becomes tired of being a mere plaything, a pet, a favorite slave, and then, and not till then may she rise into the full dignity of womanhood, and throw off thumb authority and all allegiance to the legends which give the thumb its authority. Woman needs again to eat of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, even if she be driven out of the social garden and ostracised therefrom with the flaming sword of respectability guarding the gates against her return. Her first rebellion brought knowledge and progress to man, and her second rebellion must be against both God and man. "And the serpent said unto the woman, ye shall not surely die." Never in the history of snakes was there a match for this first one. It is highly probable that his snakeship did not have a protracted existence after this emeute of the garden. In fact we never hear of him more. Some historians say he changed his name and went west, and some have gone so far as to say that Satan, who attacked Job many centuries after the seduction of Adam and Eve was nothing more than the old Serpent under a new name. One thing is certain, and that is, that the snake in the garden of Eden immortalized himself in a short time. But we can hardly comprehend the curse pronounced upon it for so laudable a work. This was the curse: "Above all cattle, and above every beast of the field; upon thy belly shalt thou go and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy life." It would seem from this, that the serpent did not go naturally upon his belly, but some how or other he diddled along on the tip end of his tail. We fail to see any reason for this sort of locomotion unless it was to help him look out for other snakes. And we are perplexed to understand why he should be sentenced to eat dust. If he was cursed, it seems that the curse is quite conveniently borne by him; for he finds it just to his gait to go upon his belly, and as for eating dust, he never did and never will. He is defiant, rebellious, and successful. The more we study the character of this original snake the more we find to admire in him.