“You may possibly do some good by lecturing on such subjects,” said I, “and as we both are trying to do good, but in different ways, possibly if you will help me I may be able to help you.” By this time, of course, we had the eager attention of all present. “How can I help you?” he inquired. “I am trying,” I replied, “to raise money to supply the destitute of this county with the Bible, and as I have applied to all of these gentlemen for help, perhaps you would give me something.” “No, indeed,” said he, with emphasis, “I would rather give my money to have all the Bibles in the county burned up.” “You don’t believe much in the Bible, then?” “Not a bit of it,” he replied. “It has deceived the people long enough already. If the people would only read my books on physiology and hygiene, and learn something of the nature and laws of their own physical organization, and what will promote the health, growth and action of all its parts, and let that ‘old fable’ alone, they would be healthier, happier and better off every way.” He said this with an air of assurance and authority which he evidently thought and desired would settle the matter with me, at least for the present, as he rose and walked the room nervously. But I had seen too many men in the West to be bluffed off after that style, and my interest in him was too intense. “Well, my friend,” I said, after he subsided a little, “If you do not believe the Bible, what do you believe?” “I am a free-thinker, sir.” “And what is a free-thinker?” “One who thinks freely, and as he pleases, upon all subjects, without the shackles and ‘leading strings’ of the Bible, or any other old book—who has the independence and manliness to think for himself.” “I have long desired to see a free-thinker,” said I, rather coolly. “Look at me, then, and you will see one,” he replied, rather curtly. “Will you be kind enough,” I asked, “to tell me what you think, ‘freely,’ upon some subjects of grave importance of which the Bible treats?” “What subjects?” “The origin of man, for instance. If you reject revelation, how do you account for the origin of our race?” “Easy enough;” he replied. “In the same way that I account for the origin of plants and animals by growth and development.” “You believe, then, in what is called the ‘development theory?’” “I do, most fully and freely.” “From what is man a development?” I asked. “From the lower animals, and immediately from the animals whose organism is nearest like ours.” “What animal,” I asked, “do you think furnishes the resemblance so striking that leads you to believe that man is a development from it, and an improvement on it?” With evident embarrassment, he answered, “I suppose the ape or the monkey.” “Then,” said I, “I think I can have you a fine audience in Jefferson City next week, if I can make the announcement according to your theory.” “How is that?” he inquired. “I will tell the people that an improved monkey will lecture to them.”