“Courtship” is the word we commonly employ to describe the act of wooing; and in civilized human society at any rate, the intensity of the emotions which inspire the desire to woo are held in restraint by a variety of causes—and hence the “Courtship.” In the lower animals it is a moot point whether the term “Courtship” can be accurately applied. They are governed by no conventions, for them there is neither modesty nor immodesty. Desire with them is not made to walk delicately, veiled according to custom; nor is it artificially fostered as among civilized communities by stimulating food and the crowding together of large numbers of both sexes in artificial surroundings. Rather it is a natural, rhythmical, highly emotional state, which gathering force inhibits the ordinary emotions, or, rather, overrides them, begetting an intensity of passion which brooks no control. It demands, without parleying, or mincing matters, what is really the object of courtship among the civilized human communities—the consummation of the nuptial ceremony. The term “Courtship” is a Euphemism. Nevertheless, bearing this in mind, it may conveniently be used in these pages. We cannot hope to understand the springs of courtship in the human race from what we observe in present-day society, or even from what we have gleaned thereon from the records of remote ages. We must get back, so far as is possible, to the very dawn of the human race: to that period of man’s evolution when his conduct was controlled by purely savage instincts. But even then the mark of the beast must have been fading out. His most valuable asset, his larger brain, even then gave him an advantage over the Apes, his near relations, and over the beasts of the field which he had begun to bring into subjection. We may assume that like his anthropoid relations, he was of a solitary, nomadic disposition, wandering in small parties from place to place as fancy or food determined. His advance to this stage started when, by the activity of his enlarging brain, he began to be oppressed by the gloom of the forest, and drawn by the fascination of more open country, and the ever-varying scenes which exploration brought him. But this life begot new needs and new desires. Hitherto, hunger, self-preservation and self-perpetuation were the only stimulants which roused his activities; and they were also the three forces, and powerful forces, which shaped his love of solitude. The proximity of his fellows threatened his three most vulnerable points—they competed for his food, they endangered his life, and threatened the possession of his family.