If evolution is to work smoothly, consciousness in some shape must have been present at the very origin of things.  Accordingly we find that the more clear-sighted evolutionary philosophers are beginning to posit it there.  Each atom of the nebula, they suppose, must have had an aboriginal atom of consciousness linked with it; and, just as the material atoms have formed bodies and brains by massing themselves together, so the mental atoms, by an analogous process of aggregation, have fused into those larger consciousnesses which we know in ourselves and suppose to exist in our fellow-animals.

That mind is not limited to this connection with matter, we see proved a posteriori every day by the appearance from some source, it may be only from the memories of survivors, of minds whose accompanying matter is long since dissipated.

Moreover, in life, the matter is changing constantly and entirely—­“renewed once in seven years.”  Yet not only does the “plan,” the “idea,” of the material man remain the same, but his mind grows for forty, sixty, sometimes eighty years, while the body begins to go down hill at twenty-eight.

Moreover, we never see the sum of matter in the universe increasing, and we do see the sum of mind increasing every time two old thoughts coalesce into a new one, or even every time matter assumes a new form before a perceiving intelligence, not to speak of every time Mr. Bryan or Mr. Roosevelt opens his mouth.  We cite these last as the extreme examples of increase—­in quantity.  We see another sort of increase every time Lord Bryce takes up his pen—­the mental treasures of the world are added to—­the contents of the cosmic reservoir worthily increased—­the cosmic soul greater and more significant than before.

Parts of it farther and farther removed in time and space seem to be manifesting themselves through the sensitives every day:  so the evidence is increasing that none of it has ever been extinguished.  The evidence that any part has been, is merely the evidence that it has stopped flowing through each man when he dies.  But there are pretty strong indications that it has welled up occasionally through another man, and yet with the original individuality apparently even stronger than it was in the first man—­strong enough to make an alien body—­Foster’s, in the instances quoted, look and act like the original twin body.

Yet while the cosmic soul idea seems very illuminating, and even stimulating, as far as it goes, it soon lands us in the swamp of paradox surrounding all our knowledge.  How reconcile it with our individuality—­the individuality as dear as life itself—­virtually identical with life itself?  Well, we can’t reconcile them, at least just yet.  But we can pull our feet up from the swamp, and make a step that may be towards a reconciliation.  Each of our brains is a network of channels through which the cosmic soul flows; and there are no two brains alike—­hence our individuality.