"Degrade themselves. We are but part of a system, they say, and we live and wither and die like birds and beasts and plants. Our parts being played out, we perish utterly, and make room for others. Do they ever consider that man is the only form of life which seems to be capable of improvement--that only man advances, improves, discovers, acquires, and that all other things in Nature are the same now as they were in the beginning? That the sun rises as in the olden time; that the seasons are the same; that all forms of vegetable life show no change in all these centuries; that beasts make their lairs as of yore, and birds their nests,--that all these, according to the laws of nature, are sufficient for and in themselves, and that of all the wonders that fill the earth, man is the only one that thinks, aspires, thirsts to know, and conquers?" In this strain they talked until nearly midnight. Long before their talk was over, Pollypod had been taken to bed so fast asleep, that she could not even wake to kiss Felix. She smiled as he kissed her, and Mrs. Podmore thrilled with joy as she gazed, in thankful, full-hearted admiration, on the beautiful face of her child as she lay in her arms. Unclouded happiness rested in Polly's face, and rested also in the hearts of all present, old and young. CHAPTER XVIII. THE BEATING OF THE PULSE. Being thrown upon his own resources, Felix employed his time in looking about him--not in the most industrious fashion, it must be confessed, but after the manner of one who was entirely independent of the world, and who had merely to make up his mind which of the many good things by which he was surrounded would be most suitable to a young gentleman in his position. The weapons with which he was armed to fight the battle into which he had thrown himself were trustfulness, simplicity, and faith in human nature. These weapons are good enough, in all conscience, in themselves; but we are not content, nowadays, as we were of old, to fight a fair fight, man to man. Torpedoes and other infernal weapons have come into fashion; and a man, unless he be crafty, has but a small chance of victory when he throws down his glove. One of the first things Felix did when he came into London to conquer it was to make himself comfortable. He established himself in a capital hotel not half a mile from Soho, so as to be near his friends; for it may be truly said that the only friends he had in London lived in the little house in Soho inhabited by the Podmores, and the Gribbles, and Lily and her grandfather. He found plenty of excuses for going there often: Gribble junior was an umbrella maker, and Felix's umbrella was so continually out of repair, that it became quite a source of revenue to the bustling frame mender.