Some brain is born with new cellular development which enables it to receive impressions from mountain scenery, which scenery had hitherto failed to impress the less developed brain. The brain impressed must express the force received, must transmit it in a material form. According to its capacity it works to do this, producing picture or poem or prose description. That material form continues to transmit the impression received to those whose brains are developed in comparative similarity, and the race is gradually opened to the stimulus of this aspect of nature, and by so much is greater, wiser, able to do more. Human work, all of it, is a means to further expression. If we ask “to what end,” we can only reply that as far as our lit circle of perception goes life has no end. But its direction is plain, and its method; to receive more and more of the forces of life as the brain becomes more widely and delicately susceptible, to express more and more of the forces of life in our work, and so further to develop that brain,—that is the process. The savage has not brain development enough to “see God” with even as much as we, or as little; he is but dimly and narrowly affected by the currents of divine force. But such energy as he does receive prompts him to work, and as he works he develops further brain power. In working is human growth, and in its visible forms is the permanence and transmissibility of each advance. Take cloth, for instance, as an illustration of the value of the thing made. Imagine it out of human life. See its relation to the human skin, both in clothing and cleanliness—fancy man with neither shirt, towel, nor handkerchief! We revert at once to leather and foul habits. No carpets, no hangings, no banners and flags, no sheeted beds, no daintiness in eating, no subtle play of feeling in our dress—down would go human history backward, ravelling out to first principles. Cloth is a social tissue which enables us to come close and slip smoothly in our complex interaction. Leather means solitude and living out of doors. Civilisation is inwoven with the twisted threads; textile manufacture is a social function. These material forms which humanity makes are not gross and ignoble, as the blind asceticism of the past supposed; they are humanity’s living body, and should be lovingly and reverently regarded, most honourably and gladly constructed, as the intimate avenues of spiritual growth for us all. Human production is marked plainly higher than that of lower animals because it is in common. One makes alone for many to use; or, as we progress still further, many make together for still more to use.