The spirit of man is simple. It is an ultimate and indivisible unity. Death divides, breaks up, and disintegrates. The nature of the human spirit is such, however, that it cannot be divided, broken up, or disintegrated. We see it maintain its identity through the storms and mutations of eighty years. All things change about it. The very body that constitutes its temporary abiding place is torn down and rebuilt many times in the course of a long life. It advances in knowledge and experience; grows larger and richer in hope and love, but all its accumulations of thought and increasing wealth of life are stored in the same self-conscious, self-determining, personal spirit. In the evening of life the old man sits in the midst of his grandchildren and recounts the scenes of his boyhood days. All the waves of time contained within the sweep of three score years and ten have left their labels of drift and storm on the shores of his life. But they have not worn, or wasted, or altered his spirit. A rock wears away, or is crumbled to dust, when it is a rock no longer. A tree is cut down and split into cord wood and burned in the engine, and it is a tree no longer. In the furnace it is turned back into its original elements. In the fire it is altered or othered. The other of a tree is oxygen, hydrogen, etc. The bird in the thicket is shot by the heartless sportsman. It falls to the ground and its little heart ceases to beat. Soon its body is changed back into earth and air. The other of a bird is not a bird, but the particles which were organized under the process of natural law to form its body. The images which fell on its vision in the grove, faded away when the objects which caused them were removed. The sounds which came to its ears from here and there in the forest passed from its sense when the air that caused them ceased to vibrate. In the bird there was no inner self, abiding, self-conscious, determining, and active, that was capable of grasping and holding and recreating the visions and the notes which came to it. It may have had a sort of sentient consciousness, but it was not much above the consciousness of the sea, which holds the images of the stars in its dark blue waves, as long as they stand above it.