We know that the period of our human childhood has been inconceivably long; we know that in the far distant time, the first specimens of humankind—the initial members of the time-binding race of man—were absolutely without human knowledge of the hostile world in which they found themselves; we know that they had no conception of what they themselves were; we know that they had neither speech nor art nor philosophy nor religion nor science nor tools nor human history nor human tradition; we know, though we to-day can hardly imagine it, that their _sole_ equipment for _initiating_ the career of the human race was that peculiar faculty which made them human—the capacity of man for binding time; we know that they actually did that work of initiation, without any guidance or example, maxim or precedent; and we know that they were able to do it just because the power of initiation—the power to originate—is a time-binding power. What else do we know of the earliest part of humanity’s childhood? We know that in that far-distant age, our ancestors—being, not animals, but human creatures—not only _began_ to live in the human dimension of life—forever above the level of animals—but _continued_ therein, taking not only the first step, but the second, the third, and so on indefinitely; we know, in other words, that they were progressive creatures, that they made advancement; we know that their progress was _natural_ to them—as natural as swimming is to fishes or as flying is to birds—for both the impulse and the ability to progress—to make improvement—to do greater things by help of things already done—are of the very nature of the time-binding capacity which makes humans human.