The only creature that has the reason to manage the world, has the physical organization to do it. No _beast_ with man’s reason could do this, and no _man_ with the mere instinct of a brute could do it. How marvellous, then this adaptation! How wondrous the adaptation of everything, and how astonishing that any man, with all these things in view, can for one moment forbear to admit a God. Let him try _a chance experiment_. Let him take the letters of the alphabet and throw them about promiscuously and then see how long ere they would move of their own accord and arrange themselves into words and sentences. He may avail himself of the whole benefit of his scheme; he may have the advantage of an energy or power as a momentum to set them in motion; he may put these letters into a box sufficiently large for the purpose, and then shake them as long as may seem him good, and when, in this way, they shall have become intelligible language, I will admit that he will have some reasons for doubting a God. If this should seem too much like _artificial_ mind, he may take some little animal, all constructed at his hands, and dismember its limbs and dissect its body, and then within some vessel let him throw its various parts at random, and seizing that vessel shake it most lustily till bone shall come to bone, joint to joint, and the little creature be restored to its original form. But if this could not be accomplished by mere power, without wisdom to direct, how could the original adjustment occur by chance? How could those very parts themselves be _formed for_ adjustment one to another?