All the thirty species of Primates possessed papillary ridges to such an extent that only small areas of the palmar and plantar skin of the lemurs showed any other than these remarkable characters. It is so much a property of the Primate hand and foot to possess these that it might be almost made a matter of ordinal rank belonging to the Primates, were it not that a few stray lower mammals also possess it.

The black-headed lemur is the lowest Primate examined and it is characterised by highly developed patterns of ridges on the palm and sole, and these are interspersed with nodules on the regions less exposed to pressure. The complexity of the patterns of another, the ring-tailed lemur, is greater still. Now these nodules are distinguished from the rough undifferentiated nodules of lower forms, such as the Canadian tree-porcupine, and from the scales in others. When examined with a lens the separate nodules show small groups of papillary ridges two, three or four on each nodule, arranged in a direction parallel to those of neighbouring nodules. They are in fact papillary ridges in embryo, and shortly above this lemur-stage in the ascent of animal life they are merged into papillary ridges in patterns. All this is well told at length by Dr. and Mrs. H. Wilder Harris. I refer to it here because the disappearance of the rough, plain, nodular or corrugated epidermis in mammals is coincident with increasing activity and intelligence in forms who employ or acquire a more delicate sense of touch in their hands and feet. The cruder response of structure to stimuli of friction and pressure, evident in the lower forms, is abandoned in the higher, as tactile delicacy in prehension comes more into play. Here, for example, may be a subtle case of the co-operation of the mould and sieve in action.

From this lemur-level the degree of development in the Primate palm and sole rises and falls, but always advances through the lemuroidea, monkeys and anthropoid apes to man. No attempt at the tracing of the lineage is made here, and from the present limited point of view little remains to be said about different Primates. Only two of those examined will be briefly referred to, the slow loris and man.

The slow loris shares with many monkeys and apes a very soft moist skin of the palm and sole, and in this and other refinements of this region it is much beyond many more intelligent, active and higher Primates. I have never had social intercourse with a loris, but I have shaken the friendly little hand of a chimpanzee with a combina­tion of pleasure, mild shock and perhaps memories of my own palms in the more nervous moments of early life. It is a strange, cool, soft and damp surface, but the sensation conveyed by the skin of a loris lately dead show that in life it is a wonderfully sensitive and tender structure. The whole of the palm and sole is covered with well-developed patterns of papillary ridges especially on the palmar and plantar pads. No trace of old-fashioned nodules, scales or corruga­tion is to be found. The structures due to stimuli of friction and pressure in its ancestors have disappeared for ever from this specialised and small group, and we may fairly hold, in accordance with the law of conserva­tion of energy, that the past is somehow enwrapped in the present in the strange hands and feet of the loris. The adaptations of the hand and foot of the loris are most obviously now of value to it in its wary and dangerous life in the branches of trees, but are equally unfitted for that higher life which, in his case, consists in going lower down, on the ground. The extraordinary deliberate life of the loris has been often described. As he moves from place to place on a branch, fixing one limb before he moves another, much as we do in going up a ladder, he is subjected much to the stimuli of pressure, but hardly at all to those of friction. He sets us a good example of leaving nothing to chance. Thus his soft sensitive skin suits well his mode of progression, but he would find the harder, rougher skin of an African baboon very inferior for the purpose. Here, indeed, I have ventured on the edge of Tom Tiddler’s ground, and the Pan-Selectionist or Mendelian will make a grab at me so that I escape with just the loss of a portion of clothing. After escaping I have only to observe to him as to the adaptations of a loris’s hand and foot that in human life, of which we know a little, one can in a measure forecast what a man will be like if we are told on reliable authority what he and his ancestors have not done in the way of muscular or cerebral output, without informa­tion as to what he has done. This is too obvious, but also too complex to prove here by numerous illustrations and it may be left as a mere sugges­tion as to the past life of the loris and his ancestors for many generations. He has not walked in the ordinary method of terrestrial mammals, he has always moved very slowly about the branches of trees, he sleeps most of the day in a hollow of a tree, curled up like a ball, and his home is in moist, tropical regions. No habits and conditions of life could be better calculated to soften and moisten the skin over his palms and soles or expose it less to stimuli of friction, while even those of pressure in his tenacious grasp of boughs are decidedly intermittent. Unless one may assume the appearance in the distant past of some unit-character of soft, moist skin in this and other Primates, it seems difficult to refuse the Lamarckian claim of long, long absence of effectual stimuli of friction and equally long presence of enervating “negative” conditions. Proof of such a view is, of course, wanting.

Palm and Sole of Man.

The palm of man’s hand is a miracle of adaptations for touch and grasping, but has lost most of the coarse structure formed in response to stimuli of pressure and friction which we saw were common in lower mammals. This indeed he shares with most simian forms. The skin of our hands is now very much what we make it and responds very soon to fresh positive or passive conditions. The horny, cracked epidermis on palm and digit of the old sailor may be contrasted with the soft and flexible and pale surface of his twin-brother, the bank clerk, who is of studious habits and has neither the vice of gardening nor golf. If one compares the hand of the ordinary maid with that of her mistress the difference is striking. But if one compares the hand of that mistress with that of her spinster sister who has lain for twenty years in bed or on a couch, the difference is equally significant. Indeed the sofa-and-bed-ridden invalid, of whom I knew a few once, but who have gone out of fashion, gives the observer some useful thoughts as to the why and wherefore of the strange skin of the hands of the slow loris previously referred to. And if he be disposed also to the pleasant pursuit of moralizing at the expense of others he will feel led to reflect over harshly on the invalid and compare her outlook on life with that of the loris. Even in this concrete case of the hand of an invalid there may be evidence of positive as well as negative response, if one examines the right forefinger so much used in sewing, where the skin becomes hard and thick.

The foot of man has a good deal of negative evidence in favour of my conten­tion as well as positive. As to the latter, in the thickening of the skin over the heel and ball of the great toe in those who walk much we find changes precisely similar to those on the hand. The negative or degenerative changes visible on man’s foot consist chiefly in the remarkable simplicity of pattern of the papillary ridges as well as their flattening and blurring, through wasting of those which occupy mainly the arch of the foot. These will be shown in the next chapter in a drawing. When this portion of skin is compared with that of the foot of any monkey or anthropoid ape it is clear that in this respect the skin of man’s foot has undergone even more degenera­tion than his hand has shown of higher development. This degenera­tion has coincided with two facts, first that man’s terrestrial locomo­tion has advanced far beyond that of any other Primate, and second, that he alone has a plantar arch. This subject belongs to a later chapter and is referred to here because the possession of an arch to his foot has caused man to escape, on the under surface of it, a vast propor­tion of the stimuli of pressure and friction involved in his mode of walking, and the extreme simplicity of his plantar papillary ridges, and relatively thin, soft skin under the plantar arches affords a fairly conclusive example of change of structure from disuse per se.

I have thus only selected and used two striking types of the Primates, the loris and man, not wishing to burden this part of the subject unduly with intervening and less characteristic forms of life. It may be legitimate here to say in defence of this long chapter that it illustrates what I desire to keep before me all through, the fact that use, habit, environment and selection go ever hand in hand. In all matters of science one has to descend to particulars, so it seemed necessary to select a few scattered phenomena in the best known groups of higher animals and endeavour to understand how certain “characters” or better “modifications” began to grow big enough to avoid passing through the meshes of the sieve.