so near 
the same spot--think it safer to ride over to him and put him across the 
river. The river was very low and so clear that we could see every stone. 
On getting to the river-bed we lit a fire and did the same on leaving it; 
our tracks would guide anyone over the intervening ground. 
Besides his occupation with the sheep, he found time to play the piano, 
to read and to write. In the library of St. John's College, Cambridge, are 
two copies of the Greek Testament, very fully annotated by him at the 
University and in the colony. He also read the Origin of Species, which, 
as everyone knows, was published in 1859. He became "one of Mr. 
Darwin's many enthusiastic admirers, and wrote a philosophic dialogue 
(the most offensive form, except poetry and books of travel into 
supposed unknown countries, that even literature can assume) upon the 
Origin of Species" (Unconscious Memory, close of Chapter I). This 
dialogue, unsigned, was printed in the Press, Canterbury, New Zealand, 
on 20th December, 1862. A copy of the paper was sent to Charles 
Darwin, who forwarded it to a, presumably, English editor with a letter, 
now in the Canterbury Museum, New Zealand, speaking of the 
dialogue as "remarkable from its spirit and from giving so clear and 
accurate an account of Mr. D's theory." It is possible that Butler himself 
sent the newspaper containing his dialogue to Mr. Darwin; if so he did 
not disclose his name, for Darwin says in his letter that he does not 
know who the author was. Butler was closely connected with the Press, 
which was founded by James Edward FitzGerald, the first 
Superintendent of the Province, in May, 1861; he frequently 
contributed to its pages, and once, during FitzGerald's absence, had 
charge of it for a short time, though he was never its actual editor. The 
Press reprinted the dialogue and the correspondence which followed its 
original appearance on 8th June, 1912. 
On 13th June, 1863, the Press printed a letter by Butler signed
"Cellarius" and headed "Darwin among the Machines," reprinted in The 
Note-Books of Samuel Butler (1912). The letter begins: 
"Sir: There are few things of which the present generation is more 
justly proud than of the wonderful improvements which are daily 
taking place in all sorts of mechanical appliances"; and goes on to say 
that, as the vegetable kingdom was developed from the mineral, and as 
the animal kingdom supervened upon the vegetable, "so now, in the last 
few ages, an entirely new kingdom has sprung up of which we as yet 
have only seen what will one day be considered the antediluvian types 
of the race." He then speaks of the minute members which compose the 
beautiful and intelligent little animal which we call the watch, and of 
how it has gradually been evolved from the clumsy brass clocks of the 
thirteenth century. Then comes the question: Who will be man's 
successor? To which the answer is: We are ourselves creating our own 
successors. Man will become to the machine what the horse and the 
dog are to man; the conclusion being that machines are, or are 
becoming, animate. 
In 1863 Butler's family published in his name A First Year in 
Canterbury Settlement, which, as the preface states, was compiled from 
his letters home, his journal and extracts from two papers contributed to 
the Eagle. These two papers had appeared in the Eagle as three articles 
entitled "Our Emigrant" and signed "Cellarius." The proof-sheets of the 
book went out to New Zealand for correction and were sent back in the 
Colombo, which was as unfortunate as the Burmah, for she was 
wrecked. The proofs, however, were fished up, though so nearly 
washed out as to be almost undecipherable. Butler would have been 
just as well pleased if they had remained at the bottom of the Indian 
Ocean, for he never liked the book and always spoke of it as being full 
of youthful priggishness; but I think he was a little hard upon it. Years 
afterwards, in one of his later books, after quoting two passages from 
Mr. Grant Allen and pointing out why he considered the second to be a 
recantation of the first, he wrote: "When Mr. Allen does make 
stepping-stones of his dead selves he jumps upon them to some tune." 
And he was perhaps a little inclined to treat his own dead self too much 
in the same spirit.
Butler did very well with the sheep, sold out in 1864, and returned via 
Callao to England. He travelled with three friends whose acquaintance 
he had made in the colony; one was Charles Paine Pauli, to whom he 
dedicated Life and Habit. He arrived in August, 1864, in London, 
where he took chambers consisting of a sitting-room,    
    
		
	
	
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