Axe-man, bow-man, swords-man, plough-man, boatman, pen-man,—there is a steady likeness between man’s things and man. As there is the same likeness between the spirit and the body of each animal, so man, having the new, wide, aspiring, endless, social soul, manifests its growth in ceaseless progression of manufacture, in developing this vast body of Society. The human soul is greater than the animal’s because it has a greater body to live in—complex, universal. One marvellous power that is ours by virtue of these things is that whereas they do not grow on us personally, we remain somewhat free of their inexorable reaction. A beast depending mainly on digging for his livelihood, as the mole, is relentlessly modified to claws. Paw, arm and shoulder, neck and head, the body, the fur, the eyes,—he is a digger, and the spirit within him is a contented digger, too—needs must. Once in a permanent form the spirit accepts it and stops growing. Man digs mightily, but spade and pick do not grow on him. He takes them up, he lays them down; he substitutes the axe, the scythe, the flail. And so he does not become hopelessly the spade-holder. Too much of one kind of tool, and we have the “Man with the Hoe.” With this rich fluency of attach- and detachability we have sped up the ages of social evolution with an ease and swiftness inconceivable of any other animal whose machinery is so inalienably attached to his spirit that it takes slow centuries to change him. This is what gives the subtle beauty to the human body, its measureless potentiality. Every other animal’s body is a perfect representation of its blended activities, greater or less. The hound, the cat, the stag, the horse, the swan, each speaks to us of its activities, each form is an embodied motion. But each in its degree is final; being that motion or those motions, it cannot be others; its personal perfection is its limit. Man’s body is an almost limitless possibility. He is the handle of innumerable tools. The upright, balanced trunk leaves the legs free for all possible movement; the high-hung, wide-reaching arms with branching fingers are tenfold elephant trunks; he can perform more kinds of actions than any other creature. But the distinctive power of these actions involves always the thing made. A collection of human bodies pure and simple would tell you little of their social stage. But a collection of the tools and weapons of the man would tell you what he was and where. With the detachability comes the great characteristic of exchangeability, the “our-ness” of human things; the social body is necessarily usable by all. There is no vexed question of possession with the beast. His teeth and claws are his indeed; he cannot lend or give, and none can rob him. His “dogness” is a little bundle all his own, but our “man-ness” lies in these wide-flung tools of ours, made by one, used by another, profited in by all.