First, it must have existed before man. Second, it must have possessed the powers of speech; and, therefore, must have been an intelligence. We have already seen this in our reflections upon the fact that the life-long deaf, who are deprived of hearing words spoken, are always dumb; so man, if he had never heard words spoken, would have remained dumb. He that created the ear, could He not hear? Did He not know what He was doing? He that arranged the vocal powers of man, could He not speak? Is there no evidence of an intelligent authorship here? He who not only created but also endowed man with all His noble and God-like attributes, would He not delight in visiting man and talking with him and learning him the art of speech? Did man not have the privilege of learning to talk? Did he not hear and learn from the "ancient of days"--from his great author? Is it not unreasonable to suppose that the author of man's being took no delight in him? _Without this_ the first man could never have commanded the use of words. Here we have the "Arriere pensee" clue, that is, the clue in mental reservation; and here we meet the axiom. The clear is the true, and the "Ariadne," the clue that leads us out of the labyrinth. Language at the first must have been specific. This, in the nature of the case, must have been true; that is, each and every word must have been used in such a manner as to convey a certain definite idea. As we have already seen how mathematics aid us in passing back to the first man, so we can easily see how to reach an approximate idea of his mental condition. Physiologically, he might have been a full developed athlete, but in mentality, like the helpless infant. He is at the first uneducated. True, he possesses powers of mind, but they are inactive. No thought has passed through his mind to wake him up. He opens his eyes and immediately he thinks, he hears, and thought is increased. He is connected with the objective world of things by means of the five senses, and his mind goes to work upon these. His thoughts are all his own; he himself thought them; they were within his reach. He saw and heard, but his thoughts, like yours and mine, did not go beyond his perceivings. Yes, he wakes up and hears a rustling sound in the air just above his head; looking up he discovers a pair of the birds of Paradise flying over him; they light on the branch of a tree near by. These were the first things seen; he saw them in the morning of the first day of his life. He looks and looks, and thinks these birds are older than himself, for he remembers having seen them at the moment of the first consciousness. The question possible came up, Whence came they, and all the other things which I now see and hear? Were they always here? No answer is found. His curiosity is aroused; his reason is perplexed; he _would be_ puzzled. He now reaches for thoughts too high for him; neither bird, beast, nor any other part of all creation can give the light he seeks.