"Pigmy flints" are tiny, prehistoric implements. Some of them are a quarter of an inch in size. England, India, France, South Africa--they've been found in many parts of the world--whether showered there or not. They belong high up in the froth of the accursed: they are not denied, and they have not been disregarded; there is an abundant literature upon this subject. One attempt to rationalize them, or assimilate them, or take them into the scientific fold, has been the notion that they were toys of prehistoric children. It sounds reasonable. But, of course, by the reasonable we mean that for which the equally reasonable, but opposing, has not been found out--except that we modify that by saying that, though nothing's finally reasonable, some phenomena have higher approximations to Reasonableness than have others. Against the notion of toys, the higher approximation is that where "pygmy flints" are found, all flints are pygmies--at least so in India, where, when larger implements have been found in the same place, there are separations by strata. (Wilson.) The datum that, just at present, leads me to accept that these flints were made by beings about the size of pickles, is a point brought out by Prof. Wilson (_Rept. National Museum_, 1892-455): Not only that the flints are tiny but that the chipping upon them is "minute." Struggle for expression, in the mind of a 19th-century-ite, of an idea that did not belong to his era: In _Science Gossip_, 1896-36, R.A. Galty says: "So fine is the chipping that to see the workmanship a magnifying glass is necessary." I think that would be absolutely convincing, if there were anything--absolutely anything--either that tiny beings, from pickle to cucumber-stature, made these things, or that ordinary savages made them under magnifying glasses. The idea that we are now going to develop, or perpetrate, is rather intensely of the accursed, or the advanced. It's a lost soul, I admit--or boast--but it fits in. Or, as conventional as ever, our own method is the scientific method of assimilating. It assimilates, if we think of the inhabitants of Elvera-- By the way, I forgot to tell the name of the giant's world: Monstrator. Spindle-shaped world--about 100,000 miles along its major axis--more details to be published later. But our coming inspiration fits in, if we think of the inhabitants of Elvera as having only visited here: having, in hordes as dense as clouds of bats, come here, upon hunting excursions--for mice, I should say: for bees, very likely--or most likely of all, or inevitably, to convert the heathen here--horrified with anyone who would gorge himself with more than a bean at a time; fearful for the souls of beings who would guzzle more than a dewdrop at a time--hordes of tiny missionaries, determined that right should prevail, determining right by their own minutenesses. They must have been missionaries. Only to be is motion to convert or assimilate something else.