Glaucus; Or, The Wonders of the Shore

He has said— and must be allowed to say again, for he sees no reason to alter his words— in speaking of the wonderful variety of forms in the Euphorbiaceæ, from the weedy English Euphorbias, the Dog’s Mercuries, and the Box, to the prickly-stemmed Scarlet Euphorbia of Madagascar, the succulent Cactus-like Euphorbias of the Canaries and elsewhere; the Gale-like Phyllanthus; the many-formed Crotons; the Hemp-like Maniocs, Physic-nuts, Castor-oils, the scarlet Poinsettia, the little pink and yellow Dalechampia, the poisonous Manchineel, and the gigantic Hura, or sandbox tree, of the West Indies,— all so different in shape and size, yet all alike in their most peculiar and complex fructification, and in their acrid milky juice,— “What if all these forms are the descendants of one original form? Would that be one whit the more wonderful than the theory that they were, each and all, with the minute, and often imaginary, shades of difference between certain cognate species among them, created separately and at once? But if it be so— which I cannot allow— what would the theologian have to say, save that God’s works are even more wonderful than he always believed them to be? As for the theory being impossible— that is to be decided by men of science, on strict experimental grounds. As for us theologians, who are we, that we should limit, à priori, the power of God? ‘Is anything too hard for the Lord?’ asked the prophet of old; and we have a right to ask it as long as the world shall last.