and that apparently nothing grew regularly and steadily, and so far as

he could make out nothing could grow regularly and steadily: it was as

if every living thing had just to accumulate force to grow, grew with

vigour only for a time, and then had to wait for a space before it could

go on growing again. And in the muffled and highly technical language of

the really careful "scientist," Redwood suggested that the process of

growth probably demanded the presence of a considerable quantity of some

necessary substance in the blood that was only formed very slowly, and

that when this substance was used up by growth, it was only very slowly

replaced, and that meanwhile the organism had to mark time. He compared

his unknown substance to oil in machinery. A growing animal was rather

like an engine, he suggested, that can move a certain distance and must

then be oiled before it can run again. ("But why shouldn't one oil the

engine from without?" said Mr. Bensington, when he read the paper.) And

all this, said Redwood, with the delightful nervous inconsecutiveness of

his class, might very probably be found to throw a light upon the

mystery of certain of the ductless glands. As though they had anything

The Food of the Gods and How It Came to Earth