And he was the despair of the zealous vicar.

He was perfectly convinced that, since the force that underlay the production of Toxins could accomplish so much, it could surely accomplish everything.

He could reduce his roses, his own complexion, the grass on his garden-paths, the condition of his snakes', and frogs' skins, and the texture of his kitchen-table--if you gave him time--to terms of Toxin; therefore, argued Dr.Whitty, you could, if you had more time, reduce everything else to the same terms.

There wasn't such a thing as a soul, of course--it was a manifestation of a combination of Toxins (or anti-Toxins, I forget which); there was no God--the idea of God was the result of another combination of Toxins, akin to a belief in the former illusion.

Roughly speaking, I think his general position was that as Toxins are a secretion of microbes (I am certain of that phrase, anyhow), so thought and spiritual experiences and so forth are a secretion of the brain.