The Popular Science Monthly 1874-04: Vol 4

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THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. APRIL, 1874. THE AGE OF ICE. ILL within a comparatively recent time, geologists regarded the climate of the prehistoric periods as tropical or warm tem- perate. Those who first sought to explain the presence of certain scratches upon ledges, by the action of moving ice in continental masses scouring the surface, were met by ridicule and skepticism. The writer has now before him a caricature devised to illustrate the no- tions of the literary world upon this subject thirty years since in Eng- land. The excellent Dr. Buckland appears clad in furs, such as are required in Greenland, with a map of ancient glaciers under bis arm, showing markings made on the rocks 33,333 years ago, On one side is represented a bridge with a scratched paving-stone at the entrance, and an inscription like this: “Scratches made day before yesterday by a cart-wheel passing over Waterloo Bridge.” It is said that the learned doctor was greatly amused by the sketch, and sent copies of it to all his scientific friends, The/ne before us bears his autograph. But within the last three decades numerous observers have carried out the suggestions of the earlier geologists to a very extensive appli- cation. Forbes and Agassiz explored the glaciers of Switzerland in order to learn the laws of ice-motion ; Lyell, Murchison, Ramsay, and others, have ransacked the fields of Great Britain in search of facts from which to generalize; and, in our country, Hitchcock, Mather, Whittlesey, Newberry, Dana, and a score of younger men, have made the investigation of the drift period a matter of enthusiasm. The ex istence of an immense era when all of Northern America and Europe was enveloped by enormous thicknesses of solid ice, crunching frag- ments of rocks beneath its massive tread, and transporting square miles of moraine rubbish upon its back, is now universally accepted. Some have gone so far as to believe that the entire globe was encircled 1 The Great Ice Age, and its Relation to the Antiquity of Man. By James Geikie, F. R. 8. E., F. G.S. 575 pages. D. Appleton & Co..- vou. tv.—4l

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642 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY, in these arctic fetters—as illustrated by the Brazilian researches of the lamented Agassiz. One of the latest and most extensive works relating to the Ice period is given to the world by James Geikie, of the Royal Geologi- cal Survey of Scotland, The subject is treated of with special refer- ence to the phenomena exhibited in the north of Europe. He subdi- vides the Ice age as follows: 1. Preglacial Period.—This is seen best in the “ Norwich crag,” where remains of the elephant and mastodon are found in peat-beds, and these are indications of approaching cold. 2. First Cycle of Cold.—This exhibits intense glacial conditions, with great confluent glaciers ; intermediate mild and warm periods; arctic and southern mammalia visit Britain alternately, according as climatal conditions become suited to their needs. This is followed by an arctic climate with the mountains covered by snow and ice, the gla- ciers ceasing to be confluent. The era terminates with local glaciers, The deposits laid down are chiefly the “till” and “ bowlder-clay,” with a few stratified sands. 3. Last Interglacial Period.—In this Britain is at first insular, with cold climate; next continental, with climate changing from cold to temperate and genial, and again to temperate. In early stages of the continental condition, the arctic mammalia invade Britain. Subse- quently these disappear, and are succeeded by the hippopotamus, ete. ; afterward submergence ensues, and the islands are again insulated, perhaps before the climate became again suited to arctic mammalia, At the close of this period the land sinks, reaching the depth of 2,000 feet below its present level in Wales. The deposits of this era are cave-accumulations, river - gravels, and high level beaches. The human implements found with the extinct mammalia are of stone, and of the rudest construction. 4. Last Glacial Period.—This was a time of floating ice, compar- able with the conditions imagined by the earlier writers for the whole drift period. The climate was arctic, icebergs floated over most of the land, enormous blocks of stone got stranded upon the hill-tops, moraines clogged up valleys, and toward the termination of the pe- riod local glaciers manifested the final effort of the ice to gain the mastery. Remains of boreal shells and the mammoth occur for the last time in the frozen sands and ancient beaches. 5. Preglacial Period.—The land has regained its present level, ter- races are formed by immense rivers, arctic forms of life have disap- peared, and the era of bronze and iron implements shows what prog- ress man has made in the arts. Till—Throughout the length and breadth of Scotland occur scat- tered heaps and ragged sheets of sand, gravel, and coarse débris, to- gether with wide-spread deposits of clay largely obscuring the solid ledges. In the Highland and upland districts these deposits seem to be (P= —

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644 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. largely restricted to the valleys, while in the Lowlands they spread in broad sheets, continuous over wide tracts. The very bottom earth is a strong clay or till, much like our hard-pan, which is therefore older than any of the overlying deposits. Their relations are shown in the accompanying figure. Fie. 2 i* x x j 1 s* t . < — r DIAGRAMMATIC SECTION, SHOWING RELATIVE PosITION oF TiLL ¢¢ x AND OVERLYING SAND AND GRAVEL Series SS x. W.= River VALLEY.

This till is so tough that engincers would much rather excavate the most obdurate rocks than attempt to remove it from their path. Hard rocks are more or less easily assailable with gunpowder, and the numerous joints and fissures by which they are traversed enable the workmen to wedge them out often in considerable lumps. But till has neither crack nor joint; it will not blast, and to pick it to pieces is a

Fra. 3.

ScrRaTcHeD Stone (Black Shale), rrom THE Tr. very slow and laborious process. Should streaks of sand penetrate it. water will readily soak through, and large masses will then run or col lapse, as soon as an opening is made into it. foe]

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THE AGE OF ICE. 645 The percentage of stones present is variable. They are most common in the hilly districts, while in the lowland region the clay may predominate. Most of them show markings all over. They vary in size from grains to blocks several feet or even yards in diameter. Their shape is peculiar, They are neither round nor oval like the pebbles in river-gravel, or the shingle of the sea-shore; nor are they sharply angular like newly-fallen débris at the base of a cliff; but seem to be like the latter in general shape with the sharp corners and edges smoothed away. They are to the geologist what hieroglyphics are to the Egyptologist—the silent but impressive records of an age long passed away. In narrow valleys the till often accumulates in such amount as to cover the solid floor many yards in depth. In such cases, the surface may be level, and, in the subsequent periods, the streams have made excavations in the mass, leaving the till in the terrace-form. Its un- stratified character will be determined by examining the earth aleng GRESKIN BuRN, DUMFRIESSHIRE.—STREAM CUTTING THROUGH TERRACE OF TILL. the sides of the escarpment, as, superficially, it is difficult to distin- guish the material from the terraces of later age. When the till is removed from the underlying rocks, their upper surface almost invariably shows a smoothed and often highly-polished appearance, and the whole pavement is marked with those peculiar seratches or striz that form so characteristic a feature of the embedded stones, The extent to which the polishing is carried depends very much upon the nature of the rock, As the best-preserved stones of the bowlder-clay consist of close-grained limestone and clay iron-stone, so the same materials in the ledge-condition preserve most perfectly

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THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 646 the fine lines of striation. The soft sandstones and highly-jointed rocks are much less finely marked, and often show a broken and shat- tered surface. GREENLAND.—To understand the appearance of Northern Europe in the Ice period, we may consider the features presented by a similar ice-covered country in modern times, and no country will better illus- trate this phase of geological condition than Greenland. This island is almost continental in its dimensions, containing not less than 750,000 square miles, and is all a bleak wilderness of ice and snow, save a little strip extending to 74°-north latitude along the western shore. The coasts are deeply indented with numerous bays and fiords or firths, which, when traced inland, are almost invariably found to ter- minate against glaciers. Thick ice frequently appears, too, crowning the exposed sea-cliffs, from the edges of which it droops in thick, tongue-like, and stalactitic projections, until its own weight forces it to break away and topple down the precipices into the sea. The whole interior seems to be buried beneath a great depth of snow and ice, which loads up the valleys and wraps over the hills, The scene open- ing to view in the interior is desolate in the extreme—nothing but one dead, dreary expanse of white, so far as the eye can reach—no living creature frequents this wilderness—neither bird, beast, nor insect. The silence, deep as death, is broken only when the roaring storm arises to sweep before it the pitiless, blinding snow. This represents perfectly the state of the northern part of our con- tinent in the Ice age. We have a slight inkling of what it must have been universally, from the heroic messages sent down in the winter from the meteorological observatory stationed upon the summit of Mount Washington. Some of the Greenland glaciers attain a vast size, Dr. Kane re- ports the great Humboldt glacier (see Fig. 1) as sixty miles wide at its termination, Its seaward face rises abruptly from the level of the crater to a height of 300 feet, but it is not known how deep it may extend under the sea. Another important ice-stream is the Glacier of Eisblink, on the northwest part of the island. It projects seaward so as to form a promontory thirteen miles in length. It comes from an unknown distance in the interior, and plunges deeply into the sea. Since ice is lighter than water, whenever a glacier enters the sea the dense salt-water tends to buoy it up. The great tenacity of the frozen mass enables it to resist the pressure foratime. By-and-by, however, as the ice reaches deeper water, its cohesion is overcome, and large segments are forced from its terminal part, and floated up from the bed of the sea, to sail away as icebergs. The glacier evidently crops under the water to considerable depths, or, so long as the force of cohesion is able to resist the tendency of the salt-water to press it upward. The annexed diagram will show how the ice pushes down into the sea, carrying morainic materials at its base, which accumu- A re RS a we

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oe ine Shae THE AGE OF ICE. 647 late at m ; ¢b may show the origin of the block i, which is now going to seaasa buoy. In many cases the icebergs must carry with them stones frozen on the under side, as well as blocks perched on their backs, Dr. Kane speaks of ice-rafts, floating many miles out to sea— tables 200 feet long covered with large angular blocks and bowlders. Fie. 5. GREENLAND GLACIER SHEDDING AN ICEBERG. Though Greenland is said to be inhabited only upon the south and west coast, there is a record of an early settlement upon the side toward Iceland, with which there has been no communication for 400 years. The colony was planted about 1000 a. p., which flourished, and maintained intercourse with its mother-country till the beginning of the fifteenth century. Since that time, owing to the setting in of the arctic current, and the consequent gradual increase of ice upon the coast, the colony became inaccessible, and the records of it disap- pear from history. At various intervals between, 1579, 1751, ete., down to our own time, the intrepid Danes have striven in vain to -re- open communication with their lost colony. This emerald coast, with valleys well stocked with reindeer and verdant glades, is now shut in by the pitiless ice-pack, and the fate of its inhabitants ought to excite the interest of the world. It would be very interesting to be informed of the condition of this colony: whether the increasing cold has en- larged the glaciers so as to push the dwellings out to sea, or whether the habitations are still standing, and a population has sprung up who know of the outside world only by tradition.’ Lake-Basins.—A strong argument for the former existence of gla- ciers over the northern regions comes from the excavation of basins from the solid rock for the reception of lakes. The country most traversed by the ice agency abounds in these rock-hollows. It is very evident that the glacier is the only agency which can well be called upon to explain these phenomena. Running water excavates only on a descending plane. Sea-water acts upon its level, while the glacier requires only a pressure from behind to enable it to ascend mountains, The upward movement of the ice is shown by the striw to have been exceedingly common. The glacier grinds hardest where the steeper slope is exchanged for a less inclination of its rocky bed ; the tendency of this action is to 1 Geological Magazine, vol. x., p. 541.

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THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

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~ ai TILL OVERLAID wiTH BowLpER-CLaY, River Stincwar. 1, Rock; ¢, Till; g, Boulder-clay. x, Fine Gravel, etc.

Bowlder- Clay.—There is a distinction to be drawn, in Scotland, between the “ till” and “ bowlder-clay.” The two deposits pass into each other on the Highlands, and Mr. Geikie proposes to limit the lat- ter to the maritime districts. The bowlders of the clay are more rough and angular than those found in the till. The annexed section shows where the two deposits come into juxtaposition, This clay has not been met with more than 260 feet in vertical height above the sea. It contains an abundance of shells of Arctic mollusca. Possibly it is the “ Champlain clay ” of America. Antarctie Ice-Sheet—From a study of the ice of the Antarctic Continent, it is possible to understand the origin of icebergs, and the transportation of large blocks of stone, in “ erratics.” The water is deep, and thus buoys, of enormous size, may float northerly for hun- dreds of miles, Sir J. C. Russ attained the highest southern latitude on record, but found all his attempts to penetrate farther frustrated by a precipitous wall of ice, frequently 180 feet in height. For 450 miles he found this cliff unbroken by a single inlet. While coasting along this barrier his ships were often in danger from stupendous icebergs and thick pack- ice, extending in masses too compsct to be penetrated. At one point the ice descended sufficiently low to allow Ross to look down upon it from the mast-head. The upper surface appeared to be a smooth plain, shining like frosted silver, and stretching away as far as eye could reach into the illimitable distance. In principle, the sheet is the same with that figured in the north, but more extensive. Like this must have been some portions of the glacial sheet in Scotland, when the land was mantled in ice-covering, filling up the intervening straits and channels of the sea, and terminating far out in the Atlantic Ocean, in aflat-topped vertical cliff of blue ice.

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THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

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THE AGE OF ICE. 651 Erratics.—These are of all shapes and sizes, occasionally reaching colossal proportions, and containing many hundred feet. Some are rounded, others are angular, and not a few exhibit marks of scarifica- tion. They may rest on base-rock, and, if carefully poised, may be made to oscillate by the form of the land, or these large blocks may appear on the till, angular dédris, and hills of gravel. As a general rule, they prove to have been carried from higher to lower levels in Scotland, though many exceptions are recorded, There is one at the height of 1,020 feet on the Pentland Hills, which may have traveled westerly as much as eighty miles. It probably passed from one moun- tain across a wide valley before attaining its final resting-place. This is not so striking as the blocks lying nearly over the recently-com- pleted Hoosic Tunnel, in Western Massachusetts, one of which weighs 510 tons, and has been transported from Oak Hill across a valley 1,300 feet deep. It has hundreds of lusty comrades, scattered in a south- easterly course for thirty miles. Sometimes a large block is revealed by the washing away of the till around it. Those on the surface of gravel may have been carried by floating ice. To such blocks it is not easy to assign limits of the distance traveled, since icebergs may float for thousands of miles with- out melting. Origin oF THE Cop CioateE.—The question of the cause of the glacial cold has been discussed warmly for along time. The opinion seems to be gaining ground that purely geological causes are not sufficient to account for the magnitude of the glacial distribution. The precession of the equinoxes, changing the times of the seasons, and the eccentricity of the earth’s path around the sun, lengthening the win- ters and increasing precipitation of moisture, when combined with certain changes in the courses of ocean-currents, and some elevation of land in the north, may have together been instrumental in bringing around a period of intense cold. If it be possible to use the orbital changes as a guide to a chronological date for this term of cold, we can say it began about 240,000 years since, and continued for 160,000 years, terminating 80,000 years before a.p. 1260. The cold would have culminated about 30,000 years after its beginning. Granting such figures, we can understand that the glacial must have been the dark age in the earth’s history—a terrible blight upon the flourishing faunas and fioras existing in tertiary times in northern latitudes. The presence of warm temperate plants in Greenland has always excited interest, even to the proposal of very wild theories to account for the genial climate there of preglacial days. It may be that the American Seguoia traveled across the bridge anciently con- necting Greenland with Iceland and Scotland, and that the renowned cedars of Lebanon are the cousins of their famed relations in Cali- fornia ; but the connection has been severed by the ruthless ice-flow, and is not likely to be reéstablished, unless our sun shall carry his sys-

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“aAUS ‘SNIVINOOW NITIOOD “ANNOUOANOY NI SNOO{ GALVIOVIF) NO ONILLSAU SUACTIMOG uo sMoo lg olLvaugy

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TT THE AGE OF ICE. 653 tem of planets through a much warmer region than the space now en- circling us. Centres of Dispersion.—All existing glaciers flow from higher to lower levels as a rule—the only exception being that already svated, when the ice may be forced up-hill for a short distance. This may be well exemplified in the Alpine glaciers of the present day. These streams of ice all flow from the summits and axes of particular moun- tains along the valleys, and spread over the neighboring plains. The action is radial—proceeding from a central point or line outward. Fic. 10. SN ae et ae VA — SS * ; Aurove Giacrer.—(H. M. Skae.) The geologists have concluded that most of the ancient ice-move- ments in Northern Europe have been from centres of dispersion, like those in Switzerland, Examples are numerous, One of the most in- teresting is exhibited in Switzerland. The traveler finds there two prominent centres of glacial radiation—the Bernese and the Mont Blanc regions. Glaciers now flow westerly into the great valley of Switzerland and toward the Rhone from the former, and in the latter group the streams discharge upon the Italian plains on the south, and toward the vale of Chamouni on the north. A careful study of the vale of Chamouni shows that ice once filled it to the brim, for the embossed rocks carry stria even to the height of 5,000 feet.

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THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 654 Search for the sources of bowlders proves that large blocks on the southern flanks of the Jura Mountains must have been derived from Mont Blane, sixty or eighty miles distant. Instead of passing down the Arne at Chamouni, the blocks proceeded northerly toward the Rhone, and thus across the great valley of Switzerland to the Jura, The magnitude of this ancient action equals much of the wonderful glacial phenomena of other districts in Europe, though hardly equal to what may be seen on this continent. But, being satisfied of the for- mer enormous extension of the Alpine glaciers from examination of the striations and the dispersion of blocks, it is easy to generalize and refer similar phenomena in other countries, whose glaciers are extinct, to the same mighty cause. In Scotland there may have been a centre of dispersion for glaciers from Ben Nevis, another in the south part of the province. In Eng- land, one in the Cumberland region; in Wales, one from Mount Snow- don. It is easy to discover the evidence of radial dispersion. A combination of the glacial and iceberg agencies may be dis- cerned in a map in Mr. Geikie’s work, showing the courses of the strie marked upon the rocks of Scandinavia. Tfley diverge from the central water-shed between Norway and Sweden—part pushing toward Iceland and Scotland, and part directed toward Lapland and the Bal- tic Sea. The distribution of the bowlders corresponds with these marks. Furthermore, these ice-masses seem to- have come in contact with the water of the Baltic, and part have floated over Germany till high land obstructed farther movement, and a part may have been caught by the outflowing Baltic current, carried over the North Sea to the south part of England, and perhaps Iceland. At least, bowl- ders of Scandinavian origin are common in these regions, and have probably migrated in the way described. On the east shore of Scot- land they are plenty; but, between these and those south of the Thames, none have been found, which fact has given rise to the theory of dispersion by means of icebergs through the Baltic. In years past the prominent topic of discussion in scientific associ- ations has been the character of the ice-movements in the Glacier pe- riod. One school has stoutly defended icebergs as the active agent, the other has vigorously insisted upon land glaciation. The example before us seems to require both these agents to account for all the phenomena of this period. Both classes seem to be right, though nei- ther can explain all the facts. Nature’s domain is so vast that human intellects do not seem to be capable of grasping the whole truth at once. We are like the mariners who seek to penetrate to the north- pole. They have penetrated a little way beyond Spitzbergen—they have gone nearer the goal through the straits west of Greenland, and have made great exertions in some other quarters. Each party has its theory of the character of the unknown region, as derived from a par- tial survey. By-and-by the whole of this area will be known, and it

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656 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. will then appear that each theory had its element of truth. In like manner we are endeavoring to attain to the proper conception of the condition of the earth in the Age of Ice. The whole truth has not yet been discovered. When fully revealed, it will appear far more ( magnificent and glorious than has now been surmised. THE PATHOLOGY OF THE PASSIONS. Br FERNAND PAPILLON, TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENOH, BY J. FITZGERALD, A.M. Ill. N the former part of this essay we considered the general physi- - ology of the passions: their pathology is no less interesting, and to that we now ask attention. When we reflect that the nervous sys- tem of the animal life and the system of the great sympathetic govern all the vital operations, and that the regularity of these latter is abso- lutely dependent on the orderly performance of their functions by the centres wherein are found the prime springs and the fundamental activities of the animal economy, we conceive at once how countless diseases may arise out of disturbances produced by an abuse or an excess of the passions. Physicians have in all ages reckoned the pas- sions among the predisposing, determining, or aggravating causes of the majority of diseases—especially chronic diseases ; for it is a pecu- liarity of the nerve-substance that it is impaired, and that it spreads abroad the consequences of its impairment, only little by little, and by imperceptible degrees. The work of the passions might be compared to the operations by which an army approaches a beleaguered city: they set about overmastering health and life circumspectly and slowly, but their advance is always sure. A few observations concerning the psychological and physiological disturbances produced by the pas- sions of the moral order, which are the most disastrous in their effects, viz., love, melancholy, hate, anger, etc., will give some idea of the material working of these poisons of the soul. We may regard love as a neurosis of the organs of memory and imagination, in so far as these two faculties are related to the object of love. The memory in particular seems here to acquire an intensity that is truly extraordinary. In illustration of this point, Alibert states a fact which he observed at Fahlun. As some laborers were one day at work making a connection between two shafts in a mine, they found the remains of a young man in a complete state of preservation, and impregnated with bituminous substances. The man’s features were not recognized by any of the workmen. Nothing further was known

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THE PATHOLOGY OF THE PASSIONS. 657 than that the accident by which he had been buried alive had occurred upward of fifty years before. The people had ceased to make inquiries as to the identity of the body, when a decrepit old woman came up supported on crutches. She approached the mummified corpse, and in it recognized the body of the man to whom she had been betrothed more than fifty years previously. She threw herself upon the rigid corpse—which was like a bronze statue—wept over it, and manifested intense joy at seeing again the object of her early affection. As for the imagination, it transcends all bounds, and loses all char- acter of exactitude. The will is no longer mistress of the vital acts, Says Romeo at the tomb of Juliet: “Here, here will I remain With worms that are thy chambermaids. Oh, my love! my wife! Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty ; . . .. beauty’s ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And Death's pale flag is not advanced there.” “Tam drawn toward you,” writes Mdlle. de Lespinasse to M. de Guibert, “by an attraction—by a feeling which I abhor, but which has all the power of malediction and fatality.” The English poet Keats, when dying of consumption, writes thus to a friend: “I am in that state wherein a woman—as woman—has no more power over me than a stock or a stone, and yet the thought of leaving N. is something horrible tome. Iam ever seeing her form, which is ever disappear- ing.” This latter fact pertains to the history of hallucinations, and this in turn borders on the history of ecstasies, which are so frequent in religious life; so true is it that love, even mystical and divine, if not confined within the bounds of reason, turns to a kind of mania, which, as we shall see, is full of danger for the general functions of the mind. Thought draws the sketch of life, but passion adds the coloring of the picture. When this passion is a happy one, the coloring is brill- iaut and cheerful, and then life is a bright vernal season. But oftener the passion is a painful one, and the color given by it to life is dark- some. Melancholy is one of those passions which throw a gloom over a man’s life. There is one form of melancholy which is plainly a va- riety of dementia, and which often comes under the notice of the phy- sician. It is characterized by an incurable sadness, an irresistible love of solitude, absolute inaction, and a belief in a host of imaginary evils that are ever haunting the patient. ‘“ My body is a burning fire,’ wrote a melancholic subject to his medical man; “my nerves arég glowing coals, my blood is boiling oil. Sleep is impossible. I endure martyrdom.”—“I am bereft of mind and sensibility,” writes another; “my senses are gone—I can neither see nor hear any thing; VOL. 1v.—42

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658 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. I have no ideas—I feel neither pain nor pleasure; all acts, all sensa- tions, are alike to me; I am an automaton, incapable of thinking, or feeling, or recollecting—of will and of motion.” This form of melan- cholia is a disease, and not a passion. It is aspecies of dementia akin to those strange aberrations which go by the name of lycanthropy, lypemania, ete. The true passional melancholy is that reflex, profound, painful feeling of the imperfections of our nature, and of the nothingness of human life, which seizes on certain minds, torturing them, dishearten- ing them, and making their life one long sigh. This feeling is ex- pressed by the gentle poet Virgil, when he says, “Sunt lacrime re- rum” (everywhere tears). This is the gloomy thought that haunts the mind of Hamlet, the hallucinatory despair of Pascal, the sadness which broods over Oberman and René, the bitter, heart-rending cry of Childe Harold, the grand desolation of Manfred, the inquietude and the agony represented by Albert Direr’s graver and by Feti’s pencil, Melancholy so defined has a place in the depths of the heart of every man that philosophically contemplates Destiny, nor need we seek elsewhere an explanation of the sombre humor which distin- guishes men of this kind, and which is witnessed to by those books wherein they convey to us the history of their souls’ troubles. If such a humor as this had its source in the common ills of life—in its suffer- ings, its miseries, and its deceptions—we might understand it perhaps in the case of such men as Swift, Rousseau, Shelley, and Leopardi; but, when we meet with it in such favored geniuses as Byron, Goethe, Lamartine, and Alfred de Vigny, we are forced to acknowledge that, in men of the higher stamp, its cause must be the pain they feel on seeing that they cannot slake their ideal thirst." Such is the melan- choly which we may call the philosophic. Besides this, there is another form of melancholy which proceeds from better-defined causes, i. e., from the common griefs and vexa- tions of life. Reverses of fortune, balked ambitions, and disappoint- ments in love, are usually the causes of this kind of sadness, which, being far more active than purely philosophic sadness, often gives rise to organic disorders of the most serious kind. Albert Direr suc- cumbed to the vexations caused him by his wife. Kepler died the victim of the afflictions heaped upon him by Fate. Disappointment in love is one of the most frequent causes of melancholy. This it is which harassed and tortured Mdlle. de Lespinasse—which troubled and worried the chaste soul of Pamela: it was the death of the beau- tiful Genoese, Tommasina Spinola, when she heard of Louis XII.’s ill- ness, and of Lady Caroline Lamb, when she went home after the fu- 1“ What from this barren being do we reap ? Our senses narrow and our reason frail, Life short, and truth a gem which loves the deep.” —“ Childe Harold,” iv., 98. ACT iG TL LK |

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Ot THE PATHOLOGY OF THE PASSIONS. 659 neral of Byron. These two women had lived years and years, the one preserving in the depths of her heart the calm despair of an impos- sible love, the other the bitter recollection of a love that was spurned ; but neither of them could outlive the affliction of seeing the object of her affection taken away by death. There are some cases in which the resistance is not of so long duration, and where the ravages of passion are such that the organism becomes dislocated with fearful rapidity. Indeed, it is no rare thing for a physician to be summoned to a patient who is wasting away with sadness and dejection. No organic cause can be discovered to account for the malady; the usual remedies are of no avail; the patient does not mend, and usually keeps the secret of his griefs to himself. In such cases the physician should always strive to discover whether there is any passion of the soul which produces this disorder of the functions, and makes his remedies of no effect. Usually such a passion exists. Thus it was that the physician Erasistratus discovered that Antiochus loved his step-mother, Stratonice. Boccaccio likewise tells of a physician who by chance detected the true cause, previously unknown, of the com- plaint with which a certain young man was suffering; whenever a young female cousin of the patient entered his room, his pulse beat quicker. It often happens that the melancholic becomes incapable of bearing his afflictions, or of waiting for death to relieve him. This is the origin of suicide. The history of medicine and literature is full of narratives, real or fictitious, of suicide determined by an unfor- tunate passion. While we admire what is touching and dramatic in such narratives, we cannot fail to see that suicide is in se a fact of the morbid kind. Its cause is a total aberration of the instinct of self- preservation; and, as the latter has its seat in a certain part of the brain, we are authorized in locating the cause of suicide in a cerebral disorganization, brought about more or less rapidly by certain more general changes in the economy. Similar changes are produced sooner or later under the influence of resentment, hate, and anger. Resentment is a secret passion which draws its plans in silence. Hate is taciturn, or finds utterance only in imprecations. Anger has its crises. Whereas resentment is disquiet- ing, hate painful, and anger distressing, revenge is a kind of pleasure. It has been compared to the feel of silk, to indicate at once its impe- rious nature and our gratification in appeasing it. When anger and the desire of revenge distend the veins, flush the face, stiffen the arms, brighten the eyes,’ bewilder the mind, and lead it to the commission often of criminal acts, the soul feels a sort of delight, but it is of short duration ; and the momentary excitement is followed by a pro- ? In his admirable studies on the “ Expression of the Emotions,” Mr. Darwin notes a characteristic expression of fear, rage, and anger, not found in man, though it appears in all animals—viz., the erection of the hair and feathers. This phenomenon, which is analogous to that of goose-skin in man, is produced not only by passional influences, but

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660 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. found depression whose effects, if oftentimes repeated, differ not from those of concentrated resentment or pent-up hate. The man who is given to outbursts of anger is sure to experience a rapid change of the organs, in case he does not die in a fit of rage. Death under such circumstances is of frequent occurrence, Sylla, Valentinian, Nerva, Wenceslas, and Isabeau of Bavaria, all died in consequence of an access of passion. The medical annals of our own time recount many instances of fatal effects following the violent brain-disturbance caused by anger. The symptoms usually are pul- monary and cerebral congestions. Still such fatal accidents as these are exceptional: asa rule, the passions of hate and anger deteriorate the constitution by slow degrees, but surely. How, then, do we explain those morbid phenomena which have their origin in misplaced affection, in disappointed ambition, in hatred, or in anger, and which culminate either in serious chronic maladies, or in death or suicide? They all seem to start from an impairment of the cerebro-spinal centres. The continual excitation of these by ever- present emotions determines a paralysis of the central nerve-substance, and thus affects its connections with the nerves extending out to the various organs. These nerves next degenerate by degrees, and soon the great functions are compromised. The heart and the lungs cease to act with their normal rhythm, the circulation grows irregular and languishing. Appetite disappears, the amount of carbonic acid ex- haled decreases, and the hair grows white, owing to the interruption of the pigmentary secretion. This general disturbance in nutrition and secretion is attended with a fall of the body’s temperature and anemia. The flesh dries up and the organism becomes less and less capable of resisting morbific influences. At the same time, in conse- quence of the reaction of all these disturbances on the brain, the psy- chic faculties become dull or perverted, and the patient falls into a decline more or less complicated and aggravated by grave symptoms. Under these conditions he dies or makes away with himself. Two organs, the stomach and the liver, are often affected in a pe- culiar and characteristic way in the course of this pathological evolu- tion. The modifications produced in the innervation, under the influ- ence of cephalic excitement, cause a disturbance of the blood-circula- tion in the liver. This disturbance is of such a nature that the bile, now secreted in larger quantity, is resorbed into the blood instead of passing into the biliary vesicle. Then appears what we call jaun- dice or icterus. The skin becomes pale, then yellow, owing to the also by cold. Darwin explains this horripilation—as it is called—by the action of the nervous system on certain minute involuntary muscles called arrectores pili, recently dis- covered by Kdlliker, in connection with the capsules at the base of the separate hairs and feathers. The excitation of these little muscles, which are very numerous over the entire body, determines, by reflex contraction, the erection of which we speak, and af- fords one of the most characteristic signs of fright, rage, and anger, in animals.

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THE PATHOLOGY OF THE PASSIONS. 661 presence in the blood of the coloring matter of the bile. This change in the liver is usually developed slowly: sometimes, however, jaundice makes its appearance suddenly. Villeneuve mentions the case of two youths who brought a discussion to an end by grasping their swords; suddenly one of them turned yellow, and the other, alarmed at this transformation, dropped his weapon. The same author speaks of a priest who became icterical (jaundiced) on seeing a mad dog jump at him. Whatever may be said of these cases, we must reckon painful affections of the soul among the efficient causes of chronic diseases of the liver. The digestion, says the author of a work published some years ago, is completely subjected to the influence of the moral and intellect- ual state. When the brain is wearied by the passions, appetite and digestion are almost gone. Whatever causes grief or fright affects the stomach more or less. In times of epidemic, or of civil war, and in all social conjunctures when any extraordinary peril threatens the masses, dyspepsia becomes more frequent, and assumes a more serious aspect. This .affection commonly prevails amid the various symptoms of depression and decline produced by moral suffering. The direct pathological consequences of disordered nutrition, whose chief symp- tom is dyspepsia, are of the most serious nature, and there is no doubt that among them we must reckon cancer. Hence itis that An- toine Dubois located the cause of cancer in the brain. IV. As a vibrating chord determines vibration in a neighboring chord, so a passion produces in those who are the witnesses of it a passion or a tendency to a passion of the same kind. The infant by a smile re- sponds instinctively to its mother’s smile, and it is difficult to contem- plate attentively the portrait of a smiling person, especially if we ob- serve that the face wears a smile, without our own faces assuming a like expression. ‘We cannot,” says Leon Dumont, “reflect on any mode of expression, but our countenances will havea certain tendency to conform itself to it.” A fortiori it will so conform itself when, instead of merely reflecting on the expression, we see it. Yawning, biccoughing, and sighing, are as contagious as laughter. All passions, whether good or bad, are contagious. Esquirol seems to have been the first to discern and characterize moral ‘conta- gion, which he defines to be that property of our passions whereby they excite like passions in others who are more or less predisposed to them. The contagion of good example is manifest, and it is certain that the worship of the saints is one of the wisest and most powerful instrumentalities devised by the Catholic religion. Unfortunately, depraved passions too have their imitators, and in this case the imita- tion is so prompt, so thorough, and in some sort so automatic, as often to appear irresistible. An able psychological physician, M. Prosper

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662 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Despine, who has bestowed profound study on this subject, shows, from a very large number of instances, that when a crime surrounded with dramatic circumstances is published abroad, and made matter of general comment, a certain number of similar crimes will be committed soon afterward. Minds that are not fortitied, by a strict morality and a good education, against the allurements of such examples, and whose slumbering passions only await the occasion that will stir them up, are spurred on and decided to act by the bustle and the parade made about the hero of a criminal trial. M. Despine’s statistics on this painful subject are exceedingly curious and conclusive. Now it is some peculiar form of murder, again a new process of poisoning, anon, some original way of disposing of a corpse, that gives occasion to grim plagiarisms with all the circumstances identical. In a word, all criminal acts proceeding from hate, revenge, and cupidity, always summon forth in certain individuals a spirit of emulation. Hence it were advisable absolutely to forbid the publication, in popular prints, of criminal trials whether real or imaginary, and to interdict the per- formance of plays wherein wickedness and crime are portrayed for the gratification of the spectator’s morbid curiosity. M. Despine’s suggestion with regard to this matter will be approved by physicians and hygienists, who are all agreed that writings and plays of a cer- tain class are to be reckoned among the causes which conduct so many wretches to the galleys, the morgue, and the mad-house. When we disseminate examples of outrage and disorder, we must not be surprise: if we find a harvest of crime and insanity. Let us then heartily sec ond the suggestion we speak of, and which M. Bouchut authoritative- ly formulates when he says that, instead of feasting the public with recitals and plays so dangerous to the common weal, we should rather found a moral pest-house to which should be committed, so soon as they make their appearance, those rascalities whose contagiousness is now beyond question. Besides the contagion of those passions which end in crime, there is also the contagion of those passionate states which terminate in suicide. Epidemics of suicide are frequent in history. The instance of the young women of Miletus, as told by Plutarch, is familiar. One of them hung herself, and immediately several of her companions made away with themselves in the same manner. To stay the prog- ress of this redoubtable frenzy, the order was given to expose the naked bodies of the suicides in the market-place of the city. An an- cient historian of Marseilles records an epidemic of suicide which raged among the young women of that place. In 1793 the city of Versailles alone offered the spectacle of 1,300 voluntary deaths. In the beginning of the present century a suicidal epidemic destroyed large numbers of people in England, France, and Germany, the vic- tims being young persons who had conceived a disgust for life, from the reading of melancholy romances, coupled with precocious over-in-

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THE PATHOLOGY OF THE PASSIONS. 663 dulgence in pleasures. A still stranger epidemic is that of infanti- cide, which prevailed in Paris at the beginning of this century, after the newspapers had published the history of the Cornier case. Ma- dame Cornier, under the influence of infanticidal monomania, had mur- dered her child under circumstances of such a kind as to make an im- pression on a certain number of mothers, so that, though excellent women and sincerely attached to their children, they were seized with a desire to get rid of them. They did not yield to the temptation, but the circumstance of their being attacked with such a mania ex- cited much surprise among medical men. It will not be uninteresting, if to these curious phenomena we ap- pend the facts of nervous contagion to which M. Bouchut called the attention of physicians some years ago. It had long been known, es- pecially since the time of the famous convulsionnaires of the St.-Médard Cemetery, that some neuropathic states are multiplied by instinctive imitation; but M. Bouchut shows that facts of this kind are far more common than has been supposed, and the work wherein he describes them adds a new and a dramatic chapter to the strange history of nervous aberrations. One of the first cases given by M. Bouchut is as follows—it was observed at Paris in 1848, in a shop where 400 work-women were employed: One day one of these work-women turned pale, lost consciousness, and fell to the floor, her limbs convulsed, and her jaws set. Within the space of two hours 30 of the women were seized in the same way. On the fourth day 115 were affected, the symptoms in all cases being the same, viz., suffocation, prickling sen- sation in the limbs, vertigo, dread of sudden death, followed by loss of consciousness in the convulsions. A similar epidemic was observed in 1861 among the young girls of the parish of Montmartre, who were preparing for the first communion. On the morning of the first day of the retraite—or preparatory season of religious seclusion—while at church, three of them became unconscious, and were seized with gen- eral convulsions. The following day the same symptoms appeared in three other girls. Still others were attacked on the third day. On the fourth, the communion-day, 32 were seized in the same way. On the fifth, confirmation-day, as the archbishop approached, 15 girls were seized with convulsions, uttered a shriek, and fell to the floor unconscious, when the prelate was about to confirm them, Thus, in the space of 75 days, 40 girls out of 150 manifested identical nervous disorders. } The various hallucinational, ecstatic, and spasmodic states, trans- mitted and multiplied by example, play an important ré/e in medieval history, particularly among the religious orders. There is the closest analogy between the accounts handed down to us by the writers of those times and the observations of physicians published in our own day. As concerns the question of treatment, we possess hardly any save moral remedies; and the success attending the employment of

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664 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. these shows well the purely nervous character of these singular affec- tions. We read of Boerhaave staying an epidemic of hysterical con- vulsions in a boarding-school by threatening to burn, with a red-hot iron, any of the girls who should be attacked. Practitioners in our own time adopt analogous processes and artifices to conquer those pas- sions which degenerate into morbid states. They strive to inspire the patient with a passion different from that which possesses him, and to fix his attention on subjects disconnected with those which occupy his mind. This style of physic—this moral therapy—requires infinitely more tact and discernment than the application of the usual remedies of the pharmacopeia. Nor is it in our medical schools that young men, who intend to practise the healing art, can learn to diagnose and to treat those maladies wherein the soul wrecks the body, This is a vocation which requires profound personal study and observation, and wherein the student would do well to draw on a source too much overlooked in our times, viz., those old authors who treat questions of this kind. The young physician will find equal profit and delight in studying those profound connoisseurs of the human mind, La Chambre, Stahl, Pinel, Hoffmann, Bichat, Tissot, Richerand, Alibert, Georget. From them the student will not only learn how to judge wisely of the pas- sions of others and of the best means of treating them, but will also get sage counsels for the government of his own. There he will see that there is nowhere perfect health, save when the passions are well regulated, harmonized, and equipoised, and that moral temperance is as indispensable to a calm and tranquil life as physiological tem- perance. He will see that, without going the lengths of stoicism— in which there is more pride than wisdom, more ostentation than virtue—the noblest and the most desirable state for the mind and body alike is equidistant from all extreme passions, i. e., situated in the golden mean. And this conviction that regular living and mod- eration in material as in emotional life are the secret, not, indeed, of happiness—which is nowhere in this world—but of serenity and security, he will strive to spread abroad as being the most useful precept of the medical art. If it is your desire that your circulatory, respiratory, and digestive functions, should be discharged properly, normally, if you want your appetite to be good, your sleep sound, your humor equable, avoid all emotions that are over-strong, all pleas- ures that are too intense, and meet the inevitable sorrows and the cruel agonies of life with a resigned and firm soul. Ever have some occupation to employ and divert your mind, and to make it proof against the temptations of want or of desire. Thus will you attain the term of life without overmuch disquiet and affliction.— Revue des Deux Mondes.

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IMAGES AND SHADOWS. IMAGES AND SHADOWS. By W. J. YOUMANS, M. D. -\O much has been said lately of the wonders of spectrum analysis, that we are very apt to forget the other and equally marvelous , properties of the agent by which it is produced. Spectrum analysis is a rare and curious experiment, but the more familiar effects of light which we daily experience are really just as wonderful, if we will but pause to reflect upon them. Science means knowledge, and the science of optics embodies our knowledge of light; but how much, after all, do we know of it? A great deal, undoubtedly, of its modes of action, but very little, if any thing, of its nature. We have an by- pothesis or supposition about it, and work out ingenious conclusions, logically and experimentally, and say that they are proved; but how far are we from comprehending them. That light moves at an amazing velocity, is shown in several ways; and all the methods bring us to about the same results which are expressed in numbers and are demonstrably true; but what finite mind can enter into the meaning of the statement that the luminous ray moves forward at the rate of 185,000 miles in a second of time ? Between the two ticks of a second’s pendulum, we are told that light 7 Fie. 1. RECTILINEAR PROPAGATION or LigHT. would pass round our globe seven and a half times. But who has a notion even of the dimensions of our globe? The number of thon- sands of miles through it and around it have been calculated, and the calculations harmonize with the whole body of astronomical know]- edge; but we can form no adequate conception of such magnitudes. We patch together different shreds of our mental experience of large

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666 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. things, and construct a symbolic idea which represents our planet, but we never grasp the reality in the immensity of its proportions. Light is a force, and science holds that it is made up of impulses, Nature has been shown to conform all kinds of dynamical effects to rhythmical pulsing, or wave-like action and the impulses of light are held to be of the same kind. There are, at any rate, measurable effects which are unequal in the different colored lights, and the scale has been determined. In an inch of violet light it is shown that there are no less than 57,000 waves, a statement in which there is nothing extraordinary or impossible, as Nobert, the German optician, is in the habit of ruling his microscopical test-glasses at rates all the way from 100,000 to 200,000 per inch. But, when we are told that the ray enters the eye at the rate of 185,000 miles per second, and—as each inch contains 57,000 waves—that when we are looking at a violet ob- ject there are 699,000,000,000,000 beats upon the retina each second, the statement baffles all imagination : we may accept, but cannot under- stand it. Inthe attempt to penetrate the nature of light we are lost in the mysteries of the infinite. Yet the modes of its action have been determined, and they furnish the most splendid example we know of the inflexibleness and exactitude of what are called the laws of Na- ture. Fig. 2. IMAGE FORMED By A HOLE rw A CARD. Man is placed in the midst of the universe, and is designed to have knowledgé of it. He is impressible to outward agencies, and possesses a grand cerebral treasury-house for storing up these external impres-

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IMAGES AND SHADOWS. 667 sions. Touch, taste, smell, and hearing, are the senses by which he becomes acquainted with many properties of things immediately around him ; but the universe is reported to him through the sense of vision and by the agency of light. Somehow, in their mysterious na- ture, the luminous rays from all sources, distant and remote, effect a change in the nerve-structure of the eye by which impressions are transmitted to the brain. Into that mode of action we cannot now enter, but will confine our attention at present to the property of light by which luminous images are produced. For it is, after all, the im- ages of things we have to deal with. We know the external world in its distances, forms, and colors, because its visible objects are all du- plicated in the eye. The cloud, the landscape, the cathedral, that excites our thought and kindles our feeling, is, in each case, but a pict- ure recreated from the external object by the agency of light. INVERTED ImaGE oF LANDSCAPE. The first property, or law, of light, upon which the productien of images depends, is simply that it moves in straight lines through any uniform medium that it can traverse. We are all familiar with the general fact that the path of light is rectilinear, but it may be accu- rately proved by a very simple experiment. Two screens, A, B (Fig. 1), each pierced with a minute hole, are so arranged that the apertures are in a line with the flame of a candle, C. An eye, placed in this line behind the screens, is then able to see

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668 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY, the flame; but, if the eye, the candle, or either screen, be slightly dis- placed to the right or left, the ray is interrupted, and the tlame be- comes invisible. This propagation of light in straight lines, though the first condi- tion of the production of images, is not the only condition; for, in that case, the images of illuminated objects would be repeated everywhere, and, when the blinds were opened, a picture of the landscape might be thrown, through the window, upon the opposite wall of a room, For the formation of an image, the rays of an object must be collected and passed through an aperture. This is shown by a simple experiment illustrated in Fig. 2. A card is pierced with a large pin-hole and held between a candle and screen, when an image of the candle will be formed upon the screen in an inverted position. That the image must be upside-down is evident, if the rays take a straight course. A line from the top of the candle-flame through the puncture is pro- longed to the bottom of the image, and another, from the bottom of the flame, crosses the first at the aperture, and strikes the top of the Fie. 4. ImaGe oF SUN UPON THE Foor. image. A line from the centre of the candle passes straight through and strikes the centre of the image, while lines from the two sides of the flame cross again, and are prolonged to the opposite sides of the image. Thus, as each point upon the screen receives only the light from a corresponding point of the flame, the image repeats the object in outline, color, and brightness, though in a reversed position. This principle may be applied on a larger scale. Let a room be made quite dark, and a white screen be placed opposite a small hole

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IMAGES AND SHADOWS. 669 in the shutter. There will then be formed upon the white surface an inverted picture of the external objects, as shown in Fig. 3. They will appear of the natural colors, and the outlines will be sharper in proportion as the hole is smaller. When the sun shines through a small orifice into a darkened room, a cone of rays is produced, as everybody has observed, by lighting up the particles of dust which are scattered in its course; for, if the air were quite clear, the track of the rays would be invisible. In this case an image of the sun is formed upon the floor or opposite wall by Imaces or SUN FORMED BY FoLtAcE. the crossing of the rays through the aperture, exactly in the manner of the production of the candle-image and the landscape-picture just described. The best condition for the formation of such an image is when the sun is low, and there is a white wall opposite to receive it ; the image is then perfectly circular. But if the light falls upon the floor, as represented in Fig. 4, the cone of rays produces an oblong or elliptical image; the deviation from an exact circle depends upon the angle which the cone of rays makes with the floor. Such an image

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670 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. may often be made instructive in observing solar phenomena. By closely examining it, it is sometimes possible to detect the presence of spots on the solar surface. Solar eclipses may be watched in the same way. As the moon gradually encroaches upon the sun’s disk its prog- ress can be traced by a corresponding change in the form of the image, which resembles that of the uneclipsed portion of the solar surface. In such observations, however, it will be remembered that the cours of the movement is always reversed. It was in this way that the transit of Venus was first observed by Jeremiah Horrocks, November 24, 1639. He had calculated the time, which fell upon Sunday morning. He arranged his room for the observation, and then went to church, as he did not wish any secular interests to interfere with religious devotion. It is very probable, however, that Venus was mixed up with his devout meditations, for he hurried back from ser- vice, and was delighted to find that his calculations were verified, as the planet was already far advanced in its passage across the sun’s face. We are all familiar with similar images of the sun, of a round or oval outline, formed upon the ground where his rays shine throug) small openings in the foliage of trees, as illustrated in Fig. 5. * Fie. 6. FORMATION OF A SHADOW. The same property, that is, the rectilinear propagation of light, gives rise to a reverse effect, or a sort of dark image or shadow, al- though a shadow depending upon the absence of light is of course not properly an image. “Let the source of light be a luminous point, and let an opaque body be placed so as to intercept a portion of its rays (Fig. 6). If we construct a conical surface touching the body all round, and having its vertex at the luminous point, it is evident that all the space within this surface on the farther side of the opaque

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7 ete IMAGES AND SHADOWS. 671 body is completely screened from therays. The cone thus constructed is called the shadow-cone, and its intersection with any surface behind the opaque body defines the shadow cast upon that surface. In the case which we have been supposing—that of a luminous point—the shadow-cone and the shadow itself will be sharply defined.” Actual sources of light are not, however, mere points; they have finite and variable dimensions, and this complicates the effect in the geometry of shadows. These effects are well illustrated by the dia- gram (Fig. 7). Let the central sphere represent a source of light placed between two opaque spheres, one larger and the other smaller than itself. We shall then have two kinds of shadow, the total shadow or umbra, and the partial shadow or penumbra. If the opaque sphere, seen at the right in the diagram, be smaller than the luminous body, the umbra terminates at a finite distance depending upon the relative magnitudes and the proximity of the two bodies. If the opaque body is larger than the source of illumination, as illus- trated in the left portion of the diagram, the cone of the umbra is projected to an infinite distance. The penumbral cones represented Fre. T. » Umpra AND PENUMBRA. by a lighter shading, it is seen, are wider than the cones of total shadow, and include them. It will be noticed that all points lying within the penumbral cones are excluded from the view of some por- tion of the luminous body, and are thus partially shaded by the opaque bodies. Points that are very near the outer boundaries are very slightly darkened, if near the total shadow they are almost com- pletely shaded. The penumbra is, therefore, not a uniform shadow, but gradually fades into darkness from its outer limit to the total ob- scuration of the umbra. It follows from this that the shadow of an opaque body falling upon a screen will not have a sharply-defined edge, but will show a transition from total shadow to the complete absence of shadow. To have the shadow clean and sharp at its edge,

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672 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY, it would be necessary to have the source of illumination a mere point. Of course the effect of such abrupt transitions from perfect illumina- tion to total darkness, if it were the plan of Nature, would be most in- convenient and painful, if not destructive to the eyes. We are pro- tected from this by the phenomena of double shadows, and the grad- ual passage from darkness to light, although each luminous ray moves undeviatingly in its straight line. Light cannot turn corners like sound. This is explained by the excessive shortness of the lumi- nous as compared with sonorous waves. Sound-waves are so large that they flow around objects in the air, and consequently cast but feeble shadows, although Deschanel (from whose admirable work on * Natural Philosophy ” our cuts are borrowed) states that Collodon, in his experiments on the transmission of sound through the water of the Lake of Geneva, established the presence of a very sharply-de- fined sound-shadow in the water behind the end of a projecting wall. It is necessary to say, however, that the foregoing statement that light cannot turn corners is only true in the common and general ex- perience of it. If we carry our experiments with light down to so fine a point that we reach the dimensions of its waves, it is then found that they are capable of bending round obstacles. If sunlight be allowed to pass through an exceedingly fine slit, and then to fall on a screen of white paper, colored bands appear, called diffraction fringes ; that is, the white light, in its passage through the minute opening, has been interfered with and broken up into its component colors. We have here, however, a new order of effects which will require to be separately considered. VIVISECTION. By MICHAEL FOSTER, M. D., F. BR. 8. PROFESSOR OF PHYSIOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. ; N the following pages I propose to inquire whether it is desirable that physiologists should continue the practice of what is common- ly called vivisection, to which they have hitherto been accustomed. By vivisection I understand the operating with cutting instruments or by ; other means on the still living bodies of animals. The word “living” requires, perhaps, some further definition. In the long series of changes through which the body of a living animal passes, from full functional activity to complete decomposition, there are three chief stages, each of which may be arbitrarily taken as the end of life. There is the time at which consciousness is lost, the time at which the breath stops and the heart ceases to beat, and the time at which the muscles become rigid with the death-stiffening. The succession of the three events is always in the same order, but the interval of time be-

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ae VIVISECTION. 673 tween any two of them varies within very wide limits, For our pur- poses it will perhaps be best to take the second as marking the end of life, to say that an animal is still alive so long as the heart is beating, and air enters into and issues from the chest. It is very desirable that a discussion, the decision upon which must be of the utmost importance to physiology at least, should not be turned aside to any false issues. The question whether vivisection is a bad thing isin no wise settled by asserting that there are many things equally bad. Thus, to say that the evil wrought upon animals in the name of science is but a flea-bite compared to that done in the name of sport, is simply to bring forward a tw guoqgue argument of no real worth, except to stop the mouths of particular opponents. When an ardent sportsman, or when one, no sportsman himself, but having a theoretical admiration of the pleasures of the field, declaims against vivisection, it may be worth while to remind such a one of some of the agonies of sport—of the scenes which accompany a dattwe or a pigeon-match ; of wounded birds dragging their maimed bodies to some hidden covert, there to die a lingering death; of the piercing squeals of the hunted hare; of the last moments of the brave fox, when, after a fruitless struggle, the time comes for his living body to be torn by the pursuing hounds; to ask him how often a living object of sport is by some purposeful, sudden blow, humanely killed “ to put it out of its misery ;” to suggest to him, as a matter of reflection, that, had we any satisfactory measure of pain, it would be found that all the pain which physiologists have caused, since their science began, is less than that which the animal creation has suffered in the field from the hands of the members of the two Houses of Parliament since the last general election. It may be of use to say this to a sportsman ; but vivisection is not thereby justified. It is no use saying it at all to those who are now agitating this question. They are equally opposed to cruelty in sport as to cruelty in science; but they are also wise in their generation. They see that there is far more hope of putting down the one than the other. Biologists and physiologists are at the present moment clearly in disrepute. To call them atheists, is to show one’s self a man of spirit and intelligence. Following out their own science, along the path Nature has pointed out to them, they have run counter to many established opinions and cherished views. Divorced by the divergence of their respective methods in large measure from the mathematicians and physicists, to whom ortho- doxy is easy, accused of materialism, active in the support of Darwin- ism and evolution theories, believed by the many to have no faith— their position not a little resembles that of the Jews in the middle ages; they are just in the condition in which the accusation of cruelty is most tellingly made and most readily credited against them by a vulgar public. This the opponents of vivisection know full well; and therefore it is against the physiologists and not against the pigeon- VoL, 1V.—43

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674 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY, shooters that they make their complaint. They are even willing, at the present, to use the latter against the former. By-and-by, if they are successful in this, they will move against sport, on the ground that it is far more cruel and has far less justification than the vivisec- tion which has been done away with. Nor is it any use to tell a far larger class, the eaters of meat, that the pain which physiology has caused since the time of Galen is far less than that which in any one week is caused in butchers’ shambles in providing flesh to fill the mouths of the people of London, Nor is it, on the other hand, any use to say that because many physiologists are kindly, humane men in private life, therefore the ac- cusation of cruelty brought against them must be false. I know a physiologist who, after a day spent in experimental work, may be seen sitting in the evening with a favorite cat on his lap, an old dog by his side, and a new one at his feet ; but I would not therefore guar- antee that he had not been cruel in the morning. He might be an angel in the bosom of his family, but a demon in the laboratory. I know a physiologist, of whom his friends have said that, had he not been so amiable, he might have made a noise in the world, and yet who at the present moment is being accused of brutal cruelties, I feel that the accusation might be true. Nor is it of any use to say, though it may be said with perfect truth, that a great deal of the present agitation against vivisection is one of the many fruits of a mawkish sentimentalism which is stealing over the present generation, and by a lessening of manliness is cur- tailing the good effects of increased enlightenment. The foolish of this world are often used to correct the wise; and actions brought about by a wrong sentimentalism may be in themselves right and ' good, | The question whether it is desirable that man should continue to inflict the pains of death, or pains without death, on other animals, and, if so, within what limits, is one which must be argued out on its own merits alone, and the discussion of it will not be advanced by irrelevant considerations such as these on which we have dwelt. There are two aspects of the inquiry—one from the side of man, the other from the side of the animal. Let us first consider the ques- tion from the point of view of the animal. We have to determine the principles which govern or should gov- ern the conduct of man toward animals, One broad principle may be briefly stated: Unless man destroys animals, animals would soon destroy man. Mr. Tennyson has told us— “* Nature is one with rapine, a harm no preacher can heal ; ” and Mr. Darwin has shown that the lives of all living beings are shaped by “the struggle for existence.” Man’s life is a struggle for exist- ence with his fellow-men, with living animals and plants, and with

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VIVISECTION. 675 the liteless forces of the universe. The very conditions of his exist- ence lay upon him the burden, and in so doing give him the right, to use the world around him, the lives of animals included, to aid him in his strife. Imagine the results of forbidding man to take away the lives of animals. Suppose, for instance, the whole human race were to form itself into a Society for the Prevention of the Destruction of Ti- gers. How many generations would pass before “the last man” pro- vided a tumultuous crowd of tigers with the last human meal ?—pos- sibly the indefatigable secretary of the Society sealing with his death his loyalty to the cause. Or, since tigers, like man, are carnivorous, and might therefore be supposed more worthy of death than herbiv- orous creatures, let us suppose the efforts of the Society to be directed toward the preservation of sheep. How many generations would pass before the face of the earth were covered with woolly flocks, and man were dr: en to lead a laborious, frugivorous, arboreal life on the tree-tops, or to earn a scanty subsistence on resuscitated Pfahibauten, as being the only places where the necessities of the sheep would per- mit him to dwell? Did the reader ever by chance descend, at early dawn, into the kitchen and watch the convulsive agonies of a writhing heap of cockroaches drowning in the watery trap set for them by the cook overnight? What a scene of unutterable woe is that when judged from the stand-point of the cockroach! But, if man were to deny himself the right of vivisection or vivipression over the vermin which infest his home and bed, what would come of it ? To be serious: man, if he is to live and prosper, must kill other animals, It is a duty laid upon him by the nature of things; a duty, and therefore a right. Self-preservation demands it. But what do we mean by self-preservation? Can we draw a line and say that he is justified in slaying an animal for this purpose and not for that? We can only do so by applying the test of whether the death of the ani- mal is useful to him or not. Whenever or wherever the death of an animal is of advantage either to himself or to the human society of which he is a unit, he is justified in slaying that animal. The success of the human race in the struggle for existence depends on man’s being well fed; man is therefore justified in slaying and eating a sheep. The success of the human race in the struggle for ex- istence is dependent on knowledge being increased ; man is therefore justified in slaying a frog or a rabbit, if it can be shown that human knowledge is thereby enlarged. . Death is in itself painful. It is only by special means that the pangs amid which the ties of life are loosened can be done away with. The slaughter of an animal is therefore of necessity painful, except in the special cases where means have been taken to do away with pain. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, when an animal is slaughtered by man, it is the death of the animal which benefits man, the pain itself which accompanies the death does him no good at all. While

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676 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. justified, therefore, in killing the animal, he is not justified in causing it pain. He is bound, in fact, to kill the animal in such a way as to cause as little pain as is consistent with his own interest. The death of a sheep in a butcher’s slaughter-house is painful; but men cannot therefore be said to do wrong in killing a sheep for food. They kill it with as little pain as is under the circumstances possible. They could not make the pain less, except by the introduction of elaborate and costly methods which would probably ruin the butcher or spoil the meat, or at least, in the present state of our knowledge and of the market, do damage to the interests of mankind. The death of an ox, again, is more painful than that of a sheep; but men do not therefore feel bound to live on mutton alone. They consider that the advantages of a mixed diet of beef and mutton justify them in inflicting that additional quantity of pain which is seffered whenever an ox is felled. In short, this, under one aspect, is a selfish world. The struggle for existence is its guiding principle. If we believe that man is to govern the world, and he must either govern or succumb, then we must be prepared to use animals selfishly, if you please to call it so— to use animals for our advantage—to kill them when we have need of their deaths—to kill them with pain when the pain is for our benefit; and, inasmuch as the greater includes the less, to inflict pain without death where their pain does us good.* Our good is, in fact, the rule of our conduct toward animals. Whenever an animal is killed by man, or suffers pain at the hand of man, without benefit to man, or where the same benefit could be gained without the death or without the pain, then the death or the pain can be no longer justified. The man who inflicts them is a cruel man; he no longer does good, but harm, to humanity, and humanity ought to stop his hand, I feel that I ought almost to apologize to the reader for having spent so much of his time over what are almost truisms; but so many absurd statements are continually being made, and so many whimsical ideas broached, that it seemed desirable to have a clear understanding concerning the principles which should guide our general conduct toward animals before discussing the special subject of vivisection. We have now to inquire whether the deaths and pains which the word vivisection implies are, or have been, wrought for the benefit of mankind, inasmuch as they have led to knowledge and power which could not otherwise have been gained ; or whether they had not been wrought for the benefit of mankind, inasmuch as they have not led to knowledge and power, or the power and knowledge might have been gained in some other way, or, being gained by many deaths and much pain, have been so small that mankind could well have done without * Some writers have urged that while man is perfectly justified in Ailling any number of animals, he is not justified in causing pain. From the point of view of the animal this is simply a grotesque absurdity; from the point of view of man we shall have to speak of it later on. ae

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VIVISECTION. 677 them. I introduce the word death as well as pain, because, in spite of the etymology of the word, and the fact that vivisection suggests to the public mind pain only, and not death at all, the truth is, that in at least the great majority of cases vivisection does or ought to mean death only, and not pain at all. In the minds of those ignorant of physiology—and they are foremost, if not alone, in blaming vivi- section—much confusion has arisen from the different meanings at- tached to the words “life” and “living.” I alluded to these in the beginning of this paper. To many such it is perhaps a revelation to learn that an animal may be kept alive—that is, with its heart in full working order, and its respiratory movements continuing with perfect regularity—for hours and hours after all signs of consciousness have disappeared. All operations performed on such an animal would come under the term vivisection; but, in the total absence of all signs of consciousness, it would be absurd to speak of pain. It would perhaps be a still greater revelation to such to learn that a frog, at a later stage in the series of events which we class together as death—when its brain and spinal cord have been instantaneously destroyed by an operation the pain of which may be said to be infinitesimal, and its heart removed at a time when feeling is impossible—may yet be made by proper means to kick and jump and move its body about in almost all possible ways. Any operation performed on the body of such a frog would by many be still called vivisection ; but, to speak of such a mere mass of muscle and nerve as suffering pain, is about as truth- ful and rational as to say that it is cruel to cut down a tree, though a silly, ignorant looker-on might shriek when the leg moved, for about the same cause and with the same reason that the African grovels before his fetich. Did the reader ever see a rabbit completely under the influence of chloral? Lying prostrate, with flaccid limbs, with head sunk back on the limp neck, motionless and still, at first sight, it seems quite dead and gone. But a gentle heaving of the body, a rise and a fall every few seconds, tells you that it still breathes ; and a finger placed on the chest may feel the quick throb of the still beating heart. You pull it and pinch it; it does not move. You prick with a needle the exquisitely-sensitive cornea of its eye; it makes no sign, save only perhaps a wink. You make a great cut through its skin with a sharp knife; it does not wince. You handle, and divide, and pinch nerves which, in ourselves, are full of feeling ; it gives no sign of pain.” Yet it is full of action. To the physiologist, its body, though poor in what the vulgar call life, is still the stage of mamfold events, and each event a problem, with a crowd of still harder problems at its back. He therefore brings to bear on this breathing, pulsating, but otherwise quiescent frame, the instruments which are the tools of his research. He takes deft tracings of the ebb and flow of blood in the widening and narrowing vessels; he measures the time and the force

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pret “EE 678 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. of each throb of the heart, while by light galvanic touches he stirs this part or quiets that; he takes note of the rise and fall of the chest- walls, as they quicken or grow slow, as they wax or wane, under this influence or that ; he gathers the juice which pours from one or another gland; he divides this nerve, he stimulates that, and marks the result of each; he brings subtile poisons to bear on the whole frame, or on parts; and, having done what he wished to do, having obtained, in the shape of careful notes or delicate tracings, answers to the questions he wished to put, he finishes a painless death by the removal of all the blood from the body, or by any other means that best suit him at the time. I am not exaggerating when I say that this is at the present day one of the commonest forms of vivisectional experiment; this is what newspaper writers speak of as “torture,” and, on the strength of it, accuse cultivated physiologists of barbaric cruelty. A dog under chloroform or morphia may be brought to very nearly the same condition as a rabbit under chloral; but, as far as my ex- perience goes, the same long duration of complete quiescence is main- tained with greater difficulty. Dogs sometimes howl under chloro- form or morphia when nothing is being done to them, and under cir- cumstances in which they can be suffering no pain. At the moment when the chloroform begins to take effect upon them, when probably confused carnivorous visions chase through their brains, the howling is often excessive. Any one who knows any thing about the adminis- tration of chloroform to human beings, is well aware how frequent cries and noises are in the stage of excitement, and how little depend- ence can be placed on them as signs of pain. In a large number of cases, then, where anesthetics of one kind or another are used, vivisectional experiments cause no pain at all; and, as far as I know, in this country, at least, physiologists always use anesthetics where they can. They do so not only for the sake of the animal, but also for the sake of the experiment itself. Unless they are studying actual manifestations of feeling, pain, with all its conse- quences, is a disturbing element which must by all possible means be eliminated, if the experiment is to have its due value. The apparent lifelessness of the animal is the physiologist’s opportunity ; struggling limbs would utterly defeat his aims, and a sudden start might wreck his whole experiment. Chloroform and other anesthetics have im- mensely lessened human suffering, not only by simply diminishing pain, but even still more by putting it in the power of the surgeon to perform operations which he otherwise would not dare to attempt. In the same way they have powerfully aided the progress of physi- ology, by rendering possible new experiments, and by allowing the investigator to analyze securely phenomena which otherwise would, perhaps forever, have remained confused through the disturbances caused by pain. There are some experiments, however, requiring vivisection, in

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vwvrlC VOC SOU POOrlhCtCrlrrl(iCtCrSOOC OTeFCUMA VIVISECTION. . 679 which the use of chloral or other anzsthetics is, for various reasons, inadmissible or undesirable, These form two classes. In the first and most numerous, the experiment is generally a short one, and quickly carried out, and the pain slight and transient. It is, of course, impossible for any one to judge truly of the pain felt by any other body, and we may err in two ways in estimating the pain felt by ani- mals. We may over-estimate or under-estimate it. Perhaps a rough but tolerably safe test of great pain or distress may be gained by noting whether the animal is willing to eat or not. When a rabbit, for instance, not previously starved, begins to munch carrots immedi- ately after an operation, or even continues to munch during the greater part of the time the operation is being performed, it is only fair to conclude that the operation cannot be very painful. I may add that, in the experience of experimental physiologists, the skin of the dog and the rabbit—allowance being made for individual peculiari- ties—is not nearly so sensitive as the human skin. The second class of experiments carried on without anesthetics— those entailing a considerable amount of pain—are not only by far the least numerous, but must of necessity become less and less numerous as physiology advances. The end which the physiologist has in view is to analyze the life of any being into its constituent factors. As his science advances, he becomes more and more able to disengage any one of these factors from the rest, and so to study it by itself. He can already, as we have seen, study the complicated phenomena of the circulation of the blood, of respiration, of various kinds of movement, quite apart from and independent of the presence of consciousness, As his knowledge widens and his means of research multiply, this power of analysis will grow more and more; and by-and-by, if physi+ ology be allowed free scope for its development, there will come a day when the physiologist, in his experimental inquiries, will cause pain then, and then only, when pain is the actual object of his study. And that he will probably study best upon himself. At the present day, the greatest amount of pain to animals is prob- ably caused in experiments which perhaps hardly come under the title of vivisection—experiments in which the effects of starvation or of in- sufficient food, or the actions of poisons, are being studied. These, however, lead to valuable results. The pain which is the greatest in amount, and the least worthy in object, is the pain which comes to animals whose bodies have been used as tests to ascertain the poison- ous nature of some suspected material; but this is a matter of the witness-box, not of physiology. We may conclude, then, that physiologists are the cause to ani- mals of much death, of a good deal of slight pain, and of some amount of severe pain. A very active physiologist will, for instance, in a year, be the means of bringing about, for the sake of science, as much death as a small village will, in a week, for the sake of its mouths and its

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680 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. fun, and will give rise to about as much pain as a not too enthusiastic sportsman in a short sporting-season. We have now to ask: What justification does he plead for this death and this pain? What good to mankind is thereby wrought which could not otherwise be gained ? His answer is, that the science of physiology is thereby advanced ; that our knowledge of the laws of life has, in the main, been won by experiments on living animals. He, of course, cannot, and no one can, tell the “might have been.” Without any such experiments, physics and chemistry, aided by mathematics, might have synthetically re- ‘ solved the problems of life (though even then it might be said that both physics and chemistry sprang from the older biologic lore, and not so long ago a common physiological preparation, the muscle and nerve of a frog, started a new epoch in physics); but, as a matter of history, experiments on living animals have been the stepping-stones of phyiological progress. The great Vesalius, the founder of modern anatomy, turning his thoughts to the uses of the structures he had so well described, saw clearly that the problems opening up before him could be settled only by vivisection. In his great work, “De Corporis Humani Fabrica,” may be read the evidence, not only that he performed experiments on living animals, but that, had he not in so inscrutable a way forsaken the arduous pleasures of learning for the gossip of a court, those ex- periments would have led him up to and probably beyond the dis- covery which years afterward marked an epoch in physiology, and made the name of Harvey immortal. He, indeed, sowed the seed whose fruit Harvey reaped. The corner-stone of physiology, the doc- trine of the circulation of the blood, was not built up without death and pain to animals. To-day, it is true, much of the evidence touch- ing the flow of blood may be shown on a dead body, yet the full proof cannot be given even now without an experiment on a living creat- ure ; and certainly Harvey’s thoughts were guided by his study of the living, palpitating heart, and the motions of the living arteries, quite as much as by the suggestions coming from dead valves and veins. After Harvey came Haller, whose keen intellect dispersed the misty notions of the spiritualists, and by the establishment of the doctrine of “irritability ” laid the foundations of the true physiology of the nervous system: he too, in his work, wrought death and suffering on animals. Another great step onward was made when Charles Bell and Ma- gendie, by experiments on animals more painful than any of the pres- ent day, traced out the distinction between motor and sensory nerves; and yet another, when Marshall Hall and others demonstrated by vivisections the wide-spread occurrence and vast importance of reflex actions. What was begun with death and pain has been carried forward by the same means. I assert deliberately that all our real knowledge of

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VIVISECTION. 681 the physiology of the nervous system—compared with which all the rest of physiology, judged either from a practical or from a theoreti- cal point of view, is a mere appendage—has been gained by experi- ment, that its fundamental truths have come to us through inquiries entailing more or less vivisection. By meditating over the differences in structure visible in the nervous systems of different animals, a shrewd observer might guess at the use of some particular part; but till verified by experiment, the guess would remain a guess; and ex- periment shows that such guesses may be entirely wrong. Where ex- periment has given a clew, careful observations have frequently thrown light on physiological problems. Without the experimental clew, the phenomena would ever have remained a hopeless puzzle, or have served to bolster up some baseless fancy. What disease, or what structure in what animal, could ever have made us acquainted with that “inhibitory” function of the pneumogastric nerve which the vivisectional experiment of Weber first detected ? What a light that one experiment has thrown on the working of the nervous system! What disease could have told us that which we have learned from the experiments of Du Bois-Reymond and of Pfliger? Where would physiological science be now if the labors of Flourens, Brown-Sé- quard, Schiff, Vulpian, Goltz, Waller, and others, were suddenly wiped away from the records of the past? Yet each of these names recalls long series of experiments, some of them painful in character, on liv- ing animals. I repeat, take away from the physiology of the nervous system the backbone of experimental knowledge, and it would fall into a shapeless, huddled mass. The chemistry of living beings, one would imagine at first thoughts, might be investigated without distressing the organisms which formed the subjects of research. The labors of Lavoisier and Priestley, who first made clear the chemistry of respiration, if they entailed no use of the knife, caused at times a no less painful suffocation; while the great advances which have been made in this branch of the study during the last quarter of a century, and are still being made, neces- sitate almost daily vivisection, in order that the gases of the blood may be studied in exactly the same condition as they are in the living body. Even still more bloody has been the path by following which we have gained the knowledge we now possess of the chemistry of digestion and nutrition. I have only to mention the names of Bidder, and Schmidt, and Bernard, to call to the mind of the physiological student important results, nearly all reached through vivisection. The shifts and changes of the elements within our body are too subtile and complex to be divined from the results of the chemical labora- tory; the physiologist has to search for them within the body, and to mark the compounds changing in the very spot where they change ; otherwise all is guess-work,

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682 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Among the labors of the present generation, none perhaps have already more far-reaching results, none bold out more promise of fruit in the future, than those which bear on the influence of the nervous system over the circulation of the blood and over nutrition. The knowledge we are gradually acquiring of the subtile nervous bonds which bind together the unconscious members of the animal common- wealth, which make each part or organ at once the slave and guar- dian of every other, and which with cords of nervous sympathy draw each moiety of the body to work for the good of all, is putting a new aspect on physiology, and throwing many a gleam of light into the very darkest regions of the science. The words “ inflammation” and “fever,” bandied about of old as mystery-words, sounding much but signifying little—shuttlecocks tossed to and fro from one school of doe- trinaire pathologists to another—now at last, through the labors of mod- ern physiology, seem in a fair way of being understood. That under- standing, when it is complete, will have been gained step by step through experiments on living animals, one of the first of which was Claude Bernard’s research on yaso-motor nerves.’ There still remains the question, What good does physiology bring to mankind? Of the value of physiology as a not insignificant seg- ment of the circle of universal knowledge, nothing need. be said; where saying aught is necessary, it would be useless. Nor need much be said concerning the practical value of physiology as a basis for the conduct of life. So long as men refuse to learn or to listen to physi- ology in order that they may the better use their bodies, it would be hopeless and useless to talk of the day when they may come to it for instruction how to form their minds and mould their natures. It will be enough for my present purpose to point out briefly the relations of physiology to the practical art of medicine. These are twofold. In the first place, the medical profession is largely indebted to physiology on account of special discoveries and particular experimental researches, If we regard the profession sim- ply as a body of men who possess or should possess a remedy for every disease, this may seem an exaggerated statement. Many of the remedies in use or in vogue at the present day have been discovered by chance, borrowed from ignorant savages, or lighted on by blind trials. Physiology can lay no claim to the introduction of opium or quinine. Where specific remedies have been suggested by physiologi- 1 The great importance of the vaso-motor system justly led Mr. Huxley to introduce into his “ Elementary Lessons in Physiology” Bernard’s fundamental experiment with some such words as “a rabbit may be made to blush artificially by dividing the sympa- thetic nerve.” A writer, apparently biased by the memories of his own boyhood, has accused Mr. Huxley of thereby dangerously inciting boys and girls to cruelty, as if the division of the sympathetic nerve were the sort of thing a school-boy might do with a pocket-knife and a bit of string. Is it any use to enlighten the malevolent ignorance of such minds by telling them that many physiological experiments require such skill and care as make ordinary surgical operations seem rough and easy proceedings ?

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re VIVISECTION. 683 cal results or theories, it has not seldom happened that the remedies, though useful, have been given for a wrong reason, or have done good in a way which was not expected. But if we look upon the medical profession as a body of men, cunning to detect the nature and to forecast the issues of the bodily ills under which we suffer, skillful in the use of means to avoid or to lessen those ills, rich in resources whereby pain is diminished and dangerous maladies artfully guided to a happy end, then we owe physiology many and great debts. Did the reader ever suffer, or witness others suffer, with subsequent relief, a severe surgical opera- tion? If so, let him revere the name of John Hunter, the father of modern surgery. But Hunter was emphatically a physiologist; his surgery was but the carrying into practice of physiological ideas, many of which were got by experiments on living animals. Does the reader know that in all great surgical operations there are moments of immiment danger lest life steal away in gushes of blood from the divided vessels, danger now securely met by ligatures scientifically and deftly tied ? Does he know that there was a time when the dan- ger was imperfectly met by hot searing-irons and other rude means, and that the introduction of ligatures, with their proper application, is due to experiments, cruel experiments, if you like, on dogs and other dumb animals, experiments eminently physiological in their na- ture, about which much may be read in the book of “Jones on Ham- orrhage ?” Even now, year by year, the scientific surgeon, by experi- ments on animals, is at once adding to physiological knowledge and bettering his treatment of wounded or diseased arteries. Has the reader seen any one once stricken by paralysis, or bowed down by some nervous malady, yet afterward made whole and brought back to fair, if not vigorous, health? The advice which turned such a one toward recovery was based on knowledge originally drawn from the vivisectional experiments of physiologists, and made safe by matured experience. Or has he watched any dear friend fading away in that terrible malady diabetes, after rejoicing that for a season he seemed to be gathering strength and ceasing to fail, even if not regaining health? The only gleam of light into that mysterious disease which we possess, came from the vivisectional researches of Claude Bernard on the formation of glycogen in the liver; and by judiciously acting upon the results of those researches the skillful physician can some- times stay its ravages. He cannot cure it even now; and unless some empiric remedy be found by chance, will never cure it, until, by the death of many animals in the physiological laboratory, the mystery of the glycogenic function of the liver be cleared up. But why need I go on adding one special benefit to another? They may all be summed up in one sentence, which embodies the whole re- lation of physiology to the medical profession. The art of medicine is the science of physiology applied to detailed

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684 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. vital phenomena by the help of a wisdom which comes of enlightened experience, and an ingenuity which is born of practice. Were there not a single case on record in which physiology had given special and direct help to the cure of the sick, there would still remain the great truth that the ideas of physiology are the mother-ideas of medicine. The physiologist, unincumbered by the care of the sick, not weighted by the burden of desiring some immediate practical result, is the pio- neer into the dark places of vital actions. The truths which he dis- covers in his laboratory pass over at once to the practitioner, busy in a constant struggle with the puzzling complexity of corporeal events: in his hands they are sifted, extended, and multiplied. The property of the physiologist alone, they might perhaps lie barren; used by the physician or surgeon, they soon bear fruit. The hint given by a physiologist of the past generation becomes a household word with the doctors of the present, and their records in turn offer rich stores of suggestive and corrective facts for the physiologists of the generation to come. Take away from the practical art of medicine the theoreti- cal truths of physiology, and you would have left a crowd of busy idlers in full strife over fantastic ideas. The reader has laughed with Moliére over the follies of the doctrinaire physicians of times gone by. He has to thank experimental physiology that he has not the same follies to laugh over and to suffer from now. The so-called practical man is ever prone to entangle himself in and guide his conduct hy baseless speculations. Such has been the case with medicine. The history of medicine in past centuries is largely occupied with the con- flicts of contending schools of pathology—schools which arose from this or that master putting forward a fancy, or a fragment of truth, as the basis of all medical judgment. These have given place in the present century to a rational pathology, which knows no school and swears to the words of no master, but is slowly and surely unravel- ing, bit by bit, the many separate tangled knots of disease. They have given place because men have come to see that maladies can only be mastered through a scientific comprehension of the nature of dis- ease; that pathology, the science of disease, being a part of, is insep- able from, physiology, the science of life; that the methods of both are the same, for in each a sagacious observation starts an inquiry, which a well-directed series of experiments brings to a successful end. Many, if not most, of these experiments must be made on living beings. Hence it is that animals are killed and suffer pain, in order that physiological knowledge may be increased, and disease made less. Take away from the art of medicine all that with which physiology has enriched it, and the surgeon or the physician of to-day would be little better than a mystery-man, or a quack vender of chance-gotten drugs. Take out of the present system of physiology all that has been gained by experiments on living animals, and the whole structure

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VIVISECTION. 685 would collapse, leaving nothing but a few isolated facts of human ex- perience. As far as we can see, what has been will be. The physiology of the future, if not hampered by any ignorant restraint, will, out of the death of animals, continue to press further and further into the mys- tery of—and year by year bring the physician, and not the physician only, but every one, power to prolong, to strengthen, and to purify— the life of man. By no other way can man hope to gain this end. He is thereby justified for the death he causes and the pain he gives. We have yet to consider this question in its other aspect; we have to examine not only the effects of vivisection as far as animals are concerned, but also its influence on man himself. Little, however, need be said. Necessary vivisection, we have shown, cannot be called cruel, The question of the necessity of any particular case can only be judged by the investigator himself. I content myself with assert- ing that any attempt to draw up, for the guidance of others, a general definition of necessary and unnecessary vivisection, must prove ut- terly futile. Only he who is making an inquiry knows his own needs, If he experiments recklessly and needlessly, he becomes cruel, and, being cruel, will thereby be the worse. But, if he experiments care- fully and heedfully, never causing pain where it could be avoided, never sacrificing a life without having in view some object, to attain which there seemed no other way, remembering that whoever “ tor- tures” either dead or living nature carelessly will get no true re- sponse, there is no reason why his moral nature should suffer even ever so little tarnish. On the contrary, experience teaches us that earnest physiologists, who have killed animals in the single hope of gaining new truths or of making old ones plain, have grown more gentle and more careful the longer they worked and the more experiments they made. The effects of vivisection on the moral nature of man may fairly be tested by experience. There are in this country several physiologists —myself among the number—who have for several years performed experiments on living animals. We have done repeatedly the things which a distinguished lady has seen fit to say “are best spoken of as nameless.” I can confidently appeal to all who know us, whether they have seen any deterioration in our moral nature, as the result of our work; whether we are to-day less careful of giving pain than we were when we began to experiment; whether they can trace in us any lessening of that sympathy with dumb animals, which all men should feel even in the very thickest of the struggle for existence.—Macmitl- lan’s Magazine.

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68€ THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. A FEATHER. Br W. K. BROOKS, OF THE AGASSIZ MUSEUM. LTHOUGH not by a balloon, yet the Atlantic has been crossed in the air, and “what has been can be.” There are enough well-authenticated cases of the occurrence of American wild birds on the west coast of Europe to prove that the trip can be made by birds, and it is probable that successful navigation of the air will be the fruit of careful study of that natural flying-machine, a bird’s wing. Every person who has not given more than a passing thought to the mechanism of flight is confident that he understands the whole subject, and tells you, if you ask, that the bird rows through the air with its wings, and that our lack of available force and of a sufficient- ly strong and light material is the only difficulty in the way of a suc- cessful flying-machine. A very little study of a bird’s wing and its action will show that it is not by any means simple, and that every part and every curve and angle has a use, and helps in the performance of the function of the whole, which function is not yet perfectly understood, but does not in the least resemble the action of a paddle or oar. We shall also learn that all attempts to construct flying-machines have been made with an utter disregard of every thing that a wing might have taught. To this sweeping assertion I know of only two exceptions; a boy’s kite, and the little circle of card-board which runs up the kite-string in such a mysterious way, bear a very slight resemblance to a wing, in their mode of action, and may contain the germ of a successful flying- machine. To point out some of the facts already known about flying is one of the objects of this paper; another is to show how much there is to be learned about any natural object, and the way to set about it; for he who knows all that is to be learned about a wing has a good store of useful information, but he who knows all that may be learned from a wing is a wise man. Let us examine a feather. When I say “examine a feather,” I mean, let “every one take the trouble to pull a quill-feather from an old duster, or find an old quill-pen, or in some way get possession of an actual feather, to see for himself what I wish to show; for, if what I have to say is not worth this trouble, it is not worth reading at all. Having found your feather, notice, first, the great strength of the shaft, compared with its lightness, and how secured by placing almost all the material on the outer wall of the quill. Notice, too, that the quill, where strength is most necessary, is tubular, while the rest of the shaft has a groove on its lower surface, and tapers toward the tip,

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A FEATHER. 687 so that it may be bent downward very easily by pressure near the tip, but does not bend so easily the other way. Notice, too, that the shaft is not straight, but bent so that the upper surface of the feather is convex, and the lower concave. We shall soon find a meaning in all these properties. Passing now from the shaft to the vane, we see that the two sides are not alike: one edge, or vane—the one on the right-hand side of every feather in the right wing, that is, the side nearest the tip of the spread wing—is short and stiff, while the vane on the other side of the shaft is broad and flexible; and, by examining the feathers in their places in the wing, we see that the broad inside edge of the first or outside feather passes under the stiff, narrow outside edge of the next feather, which has its own inner edge supported in the same way by the third feather, and so on through the wing. When the wing is flapped downward through the air, the broad edge of each feather is pressed against the inflexible narrow edge of the feather next it, and the whole wing is thus made air-tight; but, when the wing is moved the other way, the broad edges have nothing to sup- port them, and are pressed downward, so that the air can pass be- tween the feathers. The vane is also made up of separate pieces. If it is carefully ex- amined, separate pieces, or “barbs,” will be seen running off from each side of the shaft ata slight angle, and parallel to each other, united in such a way as to form two flat plates, the vanes. These barbs are fastened to each other quite firmly, but, if part of the vane is pulled down toward the quill, the barbs will separate at last with a tearing sound, and if this is repeated in a few places it will give the feather a very draggled appearance, and it will seem torn beyond pos- sibility of restoration ; but, if it be drawn gently between the fingers two or three times from base to tip, the broken places will unite so per- fectly that it may be quite impossible to find them again. The work- ing of the mechanism by which the attachment is made is so perfect that it need only be noticed to be admired, and careful examination will reveal the simple means by which it is accomplished. Each barb, when examined with a lens, is seen to bear some re- semblance to the whole feather; like the feather, it has a shaft run- ning longitudinally, and a vane on each side of it. These vanes are unequal, as in the whole feather, and they are composed of separate pieces running off from the shaft, and called “ barbiets,” because they are to the barb what the barbs are to the whole feather. On the side of the barb toward the tip of the feather the barblets run out from the shaft of the barb nearly at right angles, and send off from their lower surfaces little hooks at regular intervals, all pointing down- ward ; on the other side of the barb the barblets have no hooks, and, instead of being set at a large angle with the shaft, they are almost parallel with it, so that where they meet and run under the hooked

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688 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. barblets from the other side of the next barb they cross at right angles, and each hook falls directly over one of the straight barblets and fastens to it. Fig. 2. Part oF Two Barss From FEATHER OF Brrp- Barss, BARBLETS, AND Hooks, FROM FEATUER or-ParapisE, showing Barblets and the OF GoosE (magnified). Hooks which fasten them (magnified).—(From Hardwick's Science Gossip.) This is a very beautiful adaptation, but what is the use of it? Why could not the whole vane be made in one piece? It is com- monly said that its purpose is the same as that accomplished by the overlapping of the feathers, to form valves which shall allow the air to pass in one direction but to resist its passage in the other. Unfor- tunately, the hooks are arranged in just the wrong way for this, for pressure from above tightens them, while pressure from below tends to loosen them, although they are too firmly fastened to be easily un- fastened, The true use of the separate pieces seems to be to secure that all-important property, the greatest strength, by the least use of material; and it is done in precisely the way that men have employed for securing the same end. A scantling of wood placed on its edge will support a much greater weight than one placed on its side; so, in laying a floor, in- stead of laying all the boards on their sides, which would not be strong enough, or placing them all on their edges, which would use too much wood, the plan is to place on edge a sufficient number, and on these to lay the floor of boards on their sides. The method employed in the feather is still better than this: the shaft of each barb is flattened vertically, but, instead of a separate floor laid on these, the top of each rafter, or barb, is split, and these split portions aré bent down and bound to each other by the hooks already spoken of, arching over the spaces between the barbs, in exactly the way that the arches of masonry span the spaces between the iron girders of a fire-proof floor. Before we shall be prepared to understand the way the feathers act in flight, we must examine the way in which they are placed in the wing. The anterior edge of the wing is a firm rim of bone, and the quills are fastened to this rim, with the flexible end of each feather projecting backward with nothing but adjacent feathers to support it, so that the posterior border of the wing bends very easily. The feathers are of such a shape that the wing is convex on its upper sur- face, and concave below. eto eat

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A FEATHER. 689 When the wing is moved downward through the air, the feathers are pressed together; the air is confined in the concave surface of the wing, and the bird is raised up; but, when the wing is moved up to repeat the stroke, the air rushes down between the feathers. This is the paddling motion popularly supposed to be flight, but really only a small part of it. The air, being gaseous, does not remain passive under the descending wing, but tends to slide out, and as the front is unyielding, while the back is flexible, the air finds this exit, bending up the tips of the feathers, and sliding out backward and upward, while the feathers, and with them the bird, slide forward-and downward. The bird can rotate its wings as well as flap them, and, by fixing them at such an angle that the fall occasioned by sliding shall just balance the lift given by the downward flap, it is able to move forward with- out rising or falling, although the motion of its wings is up and down; and, by changing the inclination of the wings a little, it can go up or down at the same time that it moves forward. This is only an outline of what is known of the mechanism of flight—and many parts of the process are not yet understood—but we know enough to be able to appreciate the wonderful way in which every part, and every curve and outline, is adapted to its use; and the attention of thoughtful men has long been attracted by these and the countless similar adaptations in Nature, and many of the greatest thinkers have occupied themselves in attempts to understand the way in which they have been produced. Some have decided that adapta- tion implies design; and hence these adaptations must be the direct work of a personal designer and creator; but adaptation alone does not always imply design. I may go into the woods and find a young tree adapted for a cane, but no one will say that it was designed for a cane; and I once knew a very unskillful amateur carpenter, who was asked, at the close of a very industrious day’s work, what he had made. He answered, “ Well, I designed it to be a rustic chair, but I think it will answer nicely as a saw-buck.” In this case the adapta- tion was certainly not the fruit of design. | But, even if design can be shown, it does not follow that the adap- tation is the fruit of direct creative interposition; and the fact that it is not always perfect—that, perfect as the wing is in most birds, more than one species has become extinct in recent times, on account of the rudimentary and useless state of the wings—has been held by many to be sufficient proof that the adaptation was not produced in this way. We shall be able to take a more fair view of this question after we have examined the ultimate nature—the homology, as it is called —of the organs of flight. Feathers evidently take the place occupied by hair in mammals; and, in some birds which do not fly—such as the ostrich—they are very like hair; and examination of the microscopic structure and mode of growth of a feather shows that it is formed in the same way VOL. 1v.—44

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690 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. with hair, claws, or finger-nails, and is only modified skin. When a section through a piece of skin is examined with the aid of a mod- erately-powerful microscope, the lower or internal surface is seen to be made up of little, irregularly-rounded cells, or bags, with soft semi- fluid contents ; and, while the animal is alive, new cells are constantly forming under the old ones, which are pushed outward and crowded together, and gradually lose their soft contents, and are flattened out into very small scales, The outer layer of the skin is made up of Fie. 3.

< TRANSVERSE SECTION OF SHAFT OF PRI- MARY WING-FEATHER OF A GoosE, magni- LONGITUDINAL Section oF SaME, more fied to show the cellular structure. magnified. these scales, which are fastened to each other firmly enough to be separated from the living layer below in a thin sheet, as happens when a blister is raised on the hand by unusual work, but in most parts of the body they are slowly rubbed off as new ones grow; but at the tips of the fingers they are so firmly united that they form horny plates, or “ nails,” which are pushed forward as new cells form at the root. In the skin of a bird where a new feather is to grow there is a little pit, and, at the bottom of this, an elevation or pyramid; extend- ing up one side of this pyramid is a groove, or furrow, deepest at the base, and gradually growing shallower until it disappears near the top; from each side of this furrow a great many smaller grooves ex- tend around to the other side of the pyramid, and these also decrease in depth, and at last disappear just as they are about to meet on the side opposite the large furrow. The whole pyramid is covered with skin, and the surface is made of the same scales, or flattened cells, that are found over the rest of the surface of the body; but, instead of falling off when they are pushed out by the new ones below them, they become united or welded to each other, so as to form a’ horny coat over the surface of the pyramid, with ridges on its lower or inner surface, corresponding to the grooves on the pyramid; and, as new cells grow at the base, this coat or cast of the surface is pushed up- ward till it breaks at its thinnest part, which is, of course, the smooth part without ridges opposite the large furrow; and then, as it is

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La A FEATHER, 691 pushed outward and flattened, it assumes the form of a feather, the ridge formed in the main furrow being the shaft, while the casts of the side grooves form the separate barbs of the vane. When all of the vane has been formed and pushed forward, the pyramid loses its grooves and becomes smooth, and the wall now formed on its sur- face, being of the same thickness in all parts, does not break, but remains tubular and forms the quill, which is attached. to what is left of the pyramid. A finger-nail or a hair is formed from the samy kind of scales in the same way, the process differing only in those features which give to each organ its special character. Feathers, scales, hair, claws, and nails, all are made alike from the dead, flat- tened cells crowded to the surface by the process of growth. If, passing from the feather to the wing, we study that in the same way, we shall find that it is made, part for part, on the same plan as the arm of a man, the fore-leg of a horse, the fore-foot of a turtle or frog, and the fin of a fish ; and, when these organs are compared in their earlier stages of growth, the resemblance is very perfect; and it is only as one becomes fitted for swimming, another for flying, another for running, and another for handling and feeling, that the differences between them begin to appear. Studying now the whole body of the bird in the same way, and comparing it with a mammal, as the horse; a reptile, as the turtle; a batrachian, as the frog and a fish—we find that all these animals are constructed on the same general plan, and here, also, the resemblance is stronger in the earlier life of the ani- mals, We find, however, that they do not all resemble each other in the same degree, for the bird is more like the turtle than like any of the others, and, when full grown, it preserves some resemblance to rep- tiles; and there is an animal, found only in the fossil state, called the archiopteryx, which unites in itself many of the characteristics of birds, such as the possession of feathers, with other characteristics as unmistakably reptilian. Such are the principal facts to be learned about the wing, and any explanation of its origin must account for them all; and the same or similar facts may be learned by studying almost any organ or animal, To recapitulate: they are, first, the wonderful adaptation of all parts for their uses, rendered still more wonderful by the second fact, that the parts so adapted are modified forms of what are called ho- mologous organs, that is, organs having the same plan, but adapted to quite different uses, and having very little superficial resemblance; ~ third, the fact that, when the growth of these homologous parts is compared, it is found that in their earlier stages they are very much alike, and differ so far as and at the same time that they acquire those characteristics that fit them for their special uses; fourth, is the fact that there are or have been animals whose structure has been so little modified that they seem to connect animals of very different but homologous structure.

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692 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Now, what is the meaning of these relations between organs and between animals? For that they have a meaning must be clear to all, and it is fair to presume that it is one that can be discovered by in- vestigation. The fact that two or many different animals are constructed on the same plan seems to indicate some kind of connection between the animals themselves, and it is the work of the zoologist to find what it is that thus connects them. Fra. 5. Fre. 6. ForE-Froot, on “Wixa,” or Emprro YELLOW FoRE-FOOT, OR “PADDLE,” OF WaARBLER.—(From Morse.) The hand in a SNAPPING - TURTLE. — (From Reptile and Embryo Bird compared. U, ulna; Gegenbauer.) R, radius; u, ulnare, or cuneiform bone; 7, radiale, or scaphoid bone; ¢, centrale. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, first, second, third, fourth, and fifth carpals, m!, m?, m*, m*, m®, corresponding metacarpals. Two theories have been proposed, each of which seems to meet most of the points to be explained, but each seems to fail in some re- spects. One of these is, that the connection between different groups of animals is to be found only in the mind of their Creator; the other is, that there is a direct genetic connection or relationship between them. Each of these theories is conceivable and worthy of considera- tion, for we can find examples of the building up of systems some- what resembling the animal kingdom in each of these ways. The various kinds of steam-engines, for instance, are adapted each to its special work, with an accuracy rivaling that of Nature, yet all of them can be shown to be constructed on substantially the same plan. If we trace the history of any form, such as the steep-grade loco- motive, we find, as we go backward, that it loses, one by one, all of its special adaptations, until at last it is only a common locomotive at up-hill work. Tracing the history of the locomotive in the same way, we find that its special adaptations disappear, until it is nothing > ptt Ca

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A FEATHER. 693 but a power-engine placed on wheels—not the improved power-engine of the present day, but an unimproved and rudimentary form. We might trace the history of other forms in the same way, until we had found the one source for them all. In this case there can be no genetic connection; each engijie is an independent thing, and the only connection is an ideal one in the minds of the inventors; that is, the idea of the steam-engine has gone through a process of evolution, expansion, and perfection, and most of the steps in the process have been embodied in real engines, so that together they form a manifestation or record of the changes that the idea has undergone. According to the theory of which Agassiz is the most celebrated advocate, the phenomena of life are to be explained in a somewhat similar way. Recognizing all the facts which seem to indicate the evolution of the animal kingdom, and being himself the discoverer of very many of them, he says that the evolution is simply the evolution of an idea in the mind of the Creator, which idea has been embodied in material form in such a way that it can be traced by the study of the animals that form its expression. The other theory may also be illustrated by an example: When we compare languages which philologists tell us have descended from one parent tongue, we are attracted by their differences only, and it needs careful study and comparison to understand the similarity of plan which underlies them all; but when their history is traced it is seen that they were originally the same, and have become different as the races using them have become more widely separated, and, com- ing under new and widely different physical conditions, have diverged in their habits, feelings, thoughts, and associations, and have required different forms of speech to supply their need. Here, unlike the case of the steam-engines, the language has been the same all the time, and, although men have been the means by which the change has been effected, they have not been the intelligent cause, but have been un- consciously acted upon by agencies around them. According to the theory with which Darwin is identified, although he is not by any means the author, but has simply removed some of the most serious objections, all the different forms of life have been evolved from one source in substantially the same way that lan- guages have originated ; as animals become exposed to new conditions, . new varieties adapted to these conditions arise, and, as animals thus grow different, the: parent unimproved forms are unable to struggle with their more perfect descendants and become extinct, so that the animals which would connect dissimilar forms are no longer in exist- ence. The evidence necessary for the perfect establishment of either of these theories does not seem to have been obtained as yet, and we can only decide provisionally, according to probabilities ; but the discus-

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694 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. sion of the evidence already collected, or even a bare outline of it, would lead us far beyond the limits of this article, which is simply designed to show how much food for study even a feather will supply, and what broad questions it will lead us into. ——_4~eo——_—_ WHAT THE CHEMISTRY OF THE ROCKS TEACHES. By C. C. MERRIMAN. T is a general rule that substances can crystallize only while solidi- fying from the liquid state of either fusion or solution. The only exceptions are, that some few substances crystallize directly from their vapors without passing through the intermediate liquid form. Now, the older unstratified rocks of the geological formations, as the granites, are unquestionably fusible, are crystalline in their structure, and are practically insoluble. Therefore the evidence is conclusive that they were all at one time in a molten, fluid state. Thus far, it would appear, geologists are agreed, since they have named these formations the igneous rocks, But, whether the melted minerals were ever heated to a higher degree than fusion—that is, to the condition of vaporized elements—is an inquiry either carefully avoided by the authorities in geology, or merely mentioned as pertain- ing to an ingenious hypothesis which, it is claimed, is unsustained by any sufficient proof. It remains to be seen, however, if this theory of the original gaseous form of the material elements does not follow as a necessary consequence from the chemical constitution of the rocks themselves ; and if it does not explain and bear testimony in geologi- cal and cosmical sciences to such an extent as to make it absolutely essential to them. The question here presented resolves itself into two alternatives: Either the materials of the earth’s crust were formed, according to chemical laws, out of the simple elements preéxisting in liquid or gas- eous form, or they were created in the condition of melted and oxi- dized masses ready to cool into granite and limestone. The latter supposition will hardly be seriously entertained in these days of free inquiry into the natural causes of things. It is now not only conceded, but expected, that science shall have sole jurisdiction in every case where compound bodies are the subject of investigation. To follow them back to the primal laws and elements of their being—to reveal the cause and manner of their birth among the atoms—is now the highest aim of inductive research. On this border-line of inquiry, where the known shades off into the unknown, and the finite into the infinite, science has of late gained its most signal triumphs. And it scarcely requires a prophetic sense to discern that the groundwork of

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THE CHEMISTRY OF THE ROCKS. 695 all systems of scientific knowledge will soon be laid in molecular physics. In the constituents of the solid earth we have forms and conditions of matter of remarkable composition and complexity. The original materials of the ground, of the rocks, and of the mines, are found to be, in every case, fully saturated chemical compounds. Many of them, as the silicates, are adamantine acids neutralized by alkaline bases harder than the flint. They could not be made more stable, inert, and solid. They are materials that have apparently gone through stupen- dous changes, activities, and combustions, and at last have settled down to a rest that knows no waking. Science has no duty more le- gitimate or more imperative than to inquire how these rock-masses came to be where they are, and in the condition they are. In pursuing this inquiry—since we find one of the alternatives to be inadmissible—it is necessary, therefore, to accept the other, name- ly, that the matter which composes the geological formations preéx- isted as simple elements, either in liquid or gaseous form. Oxygen, which makes up fully one-half the weight of the solid parts of the earth, is and always was a gas in its.free state. In regard to the re- maining elements that enter into their composition, such as silicon, aluminum, calcium, and sodium, they could not all have existed on the earth at the same time as melted liquids ; for the same heat which held one in fusion would have evaporated others. Some, therefore, must hag been contained in the atmosphere as simple gaseous ele- ments. Inasmuch as granite is the base and substratum of all the other formations, if we show that this must originally have been in a gaseous state, we show that every other material must have been at the same time in like condition. The granitic rocks are by far the most abundant terrestrial sub- stance that we know of. Geologists assign to them a depth of not less than thirty miles. And still below them there is the same or nearly the same chemical substance in fusion, as the fact and analysis of voleanic products sufficiently prove. The compound which is in excess in all granite rocks is silica, the oxide of the element silicon. The varieties are formed chiefly by small percentages, more or less, of the oxides, alumina, and magnesia. This silica, or quartz, as well as the other components of the igneous rocks, is what has been termed * burnt material.” It is the product of a most complete and tremen- dous conflagration ; for the oxida’ion of silicon is as much and as powerful a combustion as the oxidation or burning of coal. To accom- plish this burning, every particle of the silicon must have been brought into contact with oxygen gas. This would have been simply impos- sible if the mineral element had always been in a melted mass of miles in depth; for this, if for no other reason, that the oxygen could not get at it—certainly not, if it was covered by other solid or liquid substances. Or, if it were conceded that silicon ever formed the sur-

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696 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. face of the earth, then all other materials of what is now the crust must have been gases above it; and, as nine-tenths of the elements in vapor are heavier than oxygen—many of them more than ten times as heavy—this gas could never have even touched this imaginary sea of silicon. The oxidation, then, was only possible in the regions of the atmosphere where oxygen existed and abounded. There only among the free-moving gases could the incalculable amount of heat evolved in the combination be carried off. We confidently assume, therefore, that the whole of this most abundant mineral element once existed in the atmosphere in the form of a high-heated gas; and that some time and somewhere, on the con- fines of the enormously-extended sphere of vapors, there was found a current sufficiently cool to condense a portion of it. If the vapor of silicon follows the general rule—that the density of gases is in propor- tion to their atomic weights—then it was but a fraction heavier than oxygen, and therefore not far below it in the atmospheric strata. The unceasing commotion of the elements would soon have brought this first cloud-mist of silicon into contact with oxygen, to which it has a strong affinity under high heat. Oxidized, and in molten drops of silica, or crystals of quartz, this new-formed material commenced its descent toward the centre of gravity—the first creation from the pri- mordial elements. As it fell into the more heated regions below, it was probably soon evaporated, and, the vapor rising, carried up with it the heat taken up in the evaporation. It was again congensed, its heat given up, and it descended for another charge of the internal fires. This, in all probability, is the epitome of the process of world- cooling. At last, the showers of melted silex reached the liquid surface of the nucleus, which the force of gravity and compression must have formed, at an early period of the nebulous globe, of less or greater extent about its centre. From this period the increasing torrents of silica, intermingled with the silicates which were forming at the same time, poured down through the heavy vapors, and filled up the fur- longs-deep of granite ocean. On this vast deposit, and at.about this stage of the gradual cooling of the earth, began, we must suppose, the first hardening and crusting over of the surface, since at this point, near the close of the granite age, first commences the division of the earth’s crust into varieties and layers more or less distinct, as also the upbearing of the heavy metals which, without this surface-hardening, could never have floated on any molten sea of minerals. The slow cooling of the granite masses beneath this crust and under the enor- mous atmospheric or other superincumbent pressure, conformed them to all the acknowledged conditions of the formation of the igneous rocks. There is found in the different beds of the granitic rocks every proportion of the admixture of silica with the silicates of alumina. ee

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THE CHEMISTRY OF THE ROCKS. 697 It is as if chances as variable as winds and storms had regulated the production and mixture. There is every gradation in the texture of granite, from the fine-grained blocks of the quarry to the coarse, com- pacted breccia so common among bowlders. It is as if the deeper beds had slowly cooled under great compression and consequent im- mobility of the particles, while the superficial layers had been worked up and conglomerated at the surface. There are specimens of granite composed of massive angular crystals, that seem as if they had been thrown together and cemented. It is, again, as if they were the con- gealed débris of some terrific hail-storm of quartz, mica, and feldspar. After the greater part of the silicious minerals had been deposited, and the cooler exterior gases had thus been let down to a nearer vi- cinity with the heavier vapors, we find that the metals proper began gradually to condense and fall. Those which have no active affinities for the other elements were deposited in their native purity. Others took on the forms of oxides or sulphurets, according to their first ex- posures or strongest attractions. Among the first of these cloud-pro- ductions, the rock records tell us, were the scanty rainfalls of gold and platinum, and the more plentiful showers of silver and copper. Rivulets of native ores ran along the hardening crust, filling the veins and crevices, or mingling with the liquid quartz that was seaming the granite and gneiss. Then from clouds of condensing iron vapor, that must have burned and scintillated with indescribable magnificence, fell the thick heavy storms of the black lodestone, the blood-red hematite, or the dark-yellow pyrites. Possibly storm-centres were established, over which the cyclones were held concentrated, and often repeated by force of intense magnetic attractions which have left their traces in almost every iron-mine. Following these, at times and places, came on the great snow- storms of the waxy flakes of zinc-blende, and the pearly calamine, the red oxide or the white carbonate of lead, and the gray galena, the beautiful crystals of the tin-stone, the gray plumes of antimony, and all the tinted and varied forms of the less abundant ores and alloys. Meanwhile, through all the long ages of these metallic precipitations, there was continually falling over all the earth the white, impalpable powder of lime—the element calcium condensed into cloud-mist, and oxidized in the upper regions of the air. These were the great chemical periods of our world; when the cool- ing vapors of the swollen sphere were struggling to unite and hold fast the embrace against the antagonist force of heat; when the con- joined elements were pouring down their fiery torrents, and the air was laden with the falling cinders and ashes of aérial conflagrations ; when the vast workshop of Nature was forming and sorting its raw materials. We do not, however, wish to be understood as insisting that all

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698 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. these minerals and metals came down in just’the form and order that we have indicated, or that they were regularly deposited, and left the orderly traces that perhaps our hasty sketch would seem to imply. There were unquestionably constant and profound commotions in the atmosphere, and the commingling of the most diverse elements, There were doubtless repeated meltings and chemical recombinations at the surface, and the rending and comminuting of the newly-formed crust by internal forces. The history of the earth’s irregularities and disorders forms the greater part of geology. But what we do claim as certain is, that all the constituents of the outer shell of our globe existed at one time as elemental gases above a sea of matter that was held in condensation by superincumbent pressure; that, as the earth gradually cooled, these gases condensed somewhat in the order, in- versely of their volatility, and directly of their nearness to the outer bounds of the atmosphere, and fell to the surface like rain and snow from water-clouds; that they formed chemical combinations at the in- stant of their condensation, or subsequently according to the power of their affinities or the elements that were present; and that, except- ing the more recent displacements by mechanical forces, they now lie in the earth as they fell from the heavens, The silica and silicates, which form the base, and by far the greater part of the earth’s crust, became oxides of their several elements be- cause oxygen was the superabundant gas in its composition. There have been worlds made up apparently without oxygen; for the mete- orites, which must be regarded as sample specimens from some stranger world, however they may have been dispatched to us, are mostly com- posed of pure crystalline and malleable iron, which could have cooled into that condition only where there was no oxygen nor carbonic gases. If chlorine had been our superabundant gas, the silicon would perhaps quite as readily have united with it, and formed as stable a compound as with oxygen. But the product, instead of being the hardest of rocks, would have been a liquid very much resembling water, a little heavier, and nearly as volatile, as the common ethers. In this case there could have been no dry land, and no living beings that we can conceive of. Eternal clouds and storms would have covered the face of a surging boundless ocean. Hitherto, in our accounts of terrestrial phenomena, water has played no part. It is probable that it was early formed, and in the condition of vapor or steam diffused through the upper air. In this state it bears the highest degree of heat that we can produce, without decomposition. Hydrogen is the lightest of all the gases, and un- questionably took its place on the outer limits of the atmosphere. There it was brought into contact with oxygen by the commotion of the elements, and converted into steam as fast as its lowering tem- perature allowed of the combination. As we might expect from the respective positions of the gases, all the hydrogen which fell to the

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ee, THE CHEMISTRY OF THE ROCKS. 699 portion of the earth in the making up of its constituents was trans- formed into water-vapor. Hydrogen is found in no other combina- tion that cannot be traced directly or indirectly to the decomposition of water. The aqueous vapor being thus formed, and lying in the upper and cooler regions of the air, it began after a time to condense and fall toward the earth. Meeting with warmer strata as it descended, it was soon evaporated and sent up with a load of heat that was set free again by a recondensation, Then another and perhaps lower descent for another charge of heat. Thus, on the outskirts of the air, water- vapor was codperating in the work of the heavier vapors of the inte- rior. It was the great fire-carrier of the globe during all the time of the contraction and consolidation of the lower elements. When every thing else that was condensable had turned to dust and ashes, and fallen to the earth, at last the waters reached the parched and scorious surface, and commenced that grand series of aqueous trans- formations which made a new earth for the indwelling of life. In the first place, it was necessary that the upper crust should be hydrated, precisely as lime is slaked by pouring water on it. The material which had been last deposited was in reality this same caus- tic lime. In its lower deposits it was gradually intermixed with the silicious compounds, until these formed the masses which are now the unstratified granitic rocks. As every one knows, the slaking of quick- lime absorbs a large quantity of water, which is incorporated into the solid, and great heat is evolved with enlargement of bulk. The pure silicious rocks do not take up water in this way, being what is termed anhydrous. All the rock-materials, then, that lie above the granite must, at some time, have undergone this hydrating, reheating, and swelling process. We accordingly find that all those strata which have remained in their original position, such as the gneiss, the mica schists, the clay-slates, and the primary limestones, have the appear- ance of having been subjected to great heat and pressure, after having been acted upon by water and steam. In some instances they have been partially melted, in others strangely contorted, and in others partly dissolved. Under certain circumstances, hot water and steam will dissolve small portions of silica, and, if charged with carbonic- acid gas, will dissolve lime quite freely. The rainfalls of the primeval ages must have been fully saturated with this oxide of carbon, which has played such an important part in the making up of the strata. In this form it carbonated all the lime- stones, carried all the building-materials to the shell and coral land- makers, and furnished the supplies for the immense magazines of the hydro-carbons. And, after all this, there was enough carbonic-acid gas left in the air for the enormous vegetation of the cval-beds. But it was necessary that the carbon of this gas should be laid away in the earth in some form, either burnt or unburnt, before air-breathing

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700 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. life could come to any perfection. The solidifying of the carbonic oxide was the latest and the slowest of the atmospheric changes. It appears that during the epoch of the hydration of the lime-rocks there occurred periods when the waters were gathered into seas, and were sufficiently cooled for the existence of marine infusoria, mollusks, and corals. Life, in some form, has ever been ready to spring into being the moment that conditions and surroundings were suitable for it. After the deposition, in those temporary oceans, of considerable thicknesses of Cambrian or Silurian strata, mixed with organic remains, some rent or upheaval has let the waters down to new beds of unslaked material, which have heated, and, as it is termed, metamorphosed those first fossiliferous deposits. The subsequent changes which the earth’s crust has undergone— aqueous, volcanic, and organic—the working up of the conglomerates and sandstones, the depositing of the deep-sea beds, the overflowing of the traps and lavas, the storing away of the carboniferous treasures, are all the story of every hand-book of geology, and pertain no more to one theory than another of the origin of the rocks. When the quar- ries were once made and opened, the after-work was merely mechanics and masonry. We have heretofore assumed that the gases which originally com- posed the aérial envelope of the earth took up separate positions therein, according to their specific gravities. This might seem to be controverted by experiments on the diffusion of gases, in which those of very different weights, as chlorine and hydrogen, will intimately commingle, even against gravity, when brought into contact. This may be true in the narrow compass of a laboratory experiment, and yet not apply to any considerable thicknesses of the gases. Such a dif- fusion, of one mile in depth of chlorine, would be equal to lifting up to the hydrogen a shell of solid iron two feet thick. Whether we explain the distinguishing principle of the constitution of gases as a mutual repulsion of their molecules, or, according to a late theory, as an in- cessant motion and clashing of atoms, there is nothing in either to warrant the supposition of the lifting or overcoming any considerable weight in the diffusion of gases. Under the first theory, diffusion, to a limited extent, would be accounted for by the small residuum of chemical or cohesive attraction that would remain between the atoms when separated as they are in gases; and, under the last theory, by the mechanical impulsion of the molecules, through their hitting against each other. Evidently, it is a principle which operates only within narrow limits, and in the lower temperatures of the gases. The sun gives no indications of such a commingling of its gaseous elements, Spectrum analysis, when applied to its outer edges, shows first hydro- gen, then the vapors of sodium and magnesium, and, lastly, those of calcium and iron. The same fact and order of position are found to exist in the more condensed layers of the sun-spots.

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THE CHEMISTRY OF THE ROCKS. 701 We have also further assumed that the elements, in their gaseous states, have specific gravities corresponding to their atomic weights. It is well known that all gases, whether simple or compound, at the same temperature and pressure, and not near to a condensing point or other change of state, contain precisely the same number of molecules in the same volume. Therefore, it necessarily results that the same measures of the different gases should have weights corresponding to the weights of the molecules of which they are composed. Thus the atom of oxygen is sixteen times as heavy as that of hydrogen; there- fore a cubic foot of oxygen gas will weigh sixteen times as much as a cubic foot of hydrogen gas. This is found to be experimentally true of all the gases that can be measured and weighed. The apparent but not real exceptions are that in arsenic and phosphorus two atoms of the element unite to form one molecule of the gas, thus making it twice as heavy as it would be, according to the general rule; while, in the case of mercury and cadmium, the atom divides into two in forming their vapors. Hence we are not absolutely sure in regard to the vapor-molecule, and therefore vapor-density, of such elements as carbon, silicon, and calcium, which chemists have not been able to volatilize. But there is every probability, both from analogy and the position in which some of them are found in the photosphere of the sun, that the vapors of nearly all of them correspond strictly to their com- bining numbers. The following table, therefore, will show the relative positions, in the atmospheric strata, of some of the most important elements, with the weights of their atoms in hydrogen units, their va- por-densities, compared with air, and the solid specific gravities of some of them as compared with water : Atomic Weights. Sp. gr. of Gas. . of Solid. GASES. HKH= " , i= 1. .. = 1. NL, 5 bce enicdens | 1 .069 eee PN covseccusar penis | 12 828 2.09 EGE ne er 14 972 er Oxygen... .. sa acai aie 16 1.105 wikia Pinteaddssscucccsus | Ue 1.59 .98 PON, 5 a sccsenoenss 24 1.66 1,74 SN i ncwadoecns-ee's 27.5 1.90 2.60 Bs wccsecccescectest 28.5 1.97 2.40 PE nctaedencessebes | $2 9.22 2. GD ie caeseseseuces 35.5 2.44 1,38 SOc onacacatcens | 39 2.69 | .86 EL a cau widicne haar 40 2.76 1.58 RRR ARES Siete | 56 3860 | 7.80 | a Pere 63.5 4.39 8.96 | ear ne 200-+-2 6.97 13.60 Silver ae ' 108 7.47 | 10.53 rrr rT rer 196.5 18.57 | 19.84 PR. 6 asic cnareconnent 198 13.66 21.50 It will be noticed from this table that the elements were arranged in positions most suitable for their combination and deposition, both in the geological order, and in the probable order of their condensa-

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702 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. tion from vapors. Oxygen and silicon, which doubtless composed more than four-fifths of the entire bulk of the gases, were separated from each other only by the elements that were needed to make up the silicates. Their compound, silica, is involatile, and even infusible by itself, under any degree of heat that we can command. The same is true of lime and the earlier-formed silicates. Therefore it is impos- sible to decide from their volatility which of these substances would have first condensed and reached the surface. But, as the vapor of silica, when formed, would still be of nearly the same specific gravity with silicon (2.07), and would still separate by its immense volume the oxygen from the calcium below, we may suppose that in any case silica would have to be condensed and deposited, in greater part at least, before lime, the oxide of calcium, could be formed. Along with silica were formed and deposited the silicates of alu- mina—mica and feldspar; then the partially fusible silicates of mag- nesia, lime, and iron—hornblende, augite, and tale. There followed a numerous order of complex silicates, in which the above-named ingre- dients are varied by small proportions of manganese, soda, strontia, zirconia, and many other mineral bases. With, and after these, was produced the lime-deposit, the last of the minerals. The metallic vapors, which were all heavier than the mineral, were condensed and deposited chiefly during the later silicate period, and somewhat in the inverse order of their volatility, but locally and irregularly as results of great perturbations, or storms in the air. It will further be seen, from the last column of the table, that in no respect are the materials of the earth deposited according to their specific gravities as solids or liquids. There is, in the superincumbent rock and ore masses, no order of position that would indicate in the least the floating or buoyancy of the lighter substances, Therefore, their arrangement cannot be referred to any origin from liquid con- ditions ; and the only other theory is that of their gaseous origin. There are many apparent anomalies in the deposition of the metal- lic and mineral compounds, which may require much study, and per- haps further knowledge and experiment for their explanation, Thus there is in one place a carbonate of lime—marble—and in another a sul- phate of lime—gypsum. There are in certain localities sulphuret-ores of iron or copper, and in others oxide-ores ; while the metals of great- est vapor-density, as mercury, lead, bismuth, and antimony, are found almost exclusively in sulphuret-ores. It will perhaps eventually be established that sulphur was combined wholly into sulphuric-acid gas, as carbon was formed entirely into carbonic-acid gas; that both were brought to the surface of the earth in solution with rain-water; and that sulphur in this form united with the metals which had failed to be oxidized upon their condensation in the air, and sulphated the quick-lime in the earth, which had not been carbonated by the car- bonic solution. Then there is the exceptional production in Nature

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THE CHEMISTRY OF THE ROCKS. 703 of the chloride of sodium—common salt. Apparently in this one in- stance the oxide is the less stable compound. But if, as we have endeavored to prove, there is a necessity of ac- counting, in accordance with this theory, for the various compounds and phenomena with which geology makes us familiar, then it is in the highest degree essential that experiment and research be prose- cuted in this new field. And there must be no hesitation in accepting the conclusions to which they lead, Should the nebulous origin of one planet be thus established by internal and inductive evidence, then the nebular theory of the formation of worlds, which has hereto- fore been received as only a provisional hypothesis, must be accepted as having a scientific basis, If the earth has once been a self-luminous body, in all respects excepting size, like the sun of to-day, it follows from analogy that the other planets have likewise been minor suns which have become extinguished by the burning out of their mate- rials, To an observer on any unseen world among the stars, our sun should have appeared in those times as a brilliant double, or mul- tiple star, around which nine lesser companions have shone out for a season, and then one after the other folded themselves up in darkness. . Furthermore, the study of this subject may throw light on many cosmical problems—may tell us in earth-periods, if not in years, how old the sun is when his glowing vapors begin to condense into dark clouds; and perhaps, too, something of his future prospects as a luminary. It is remarkable that the spectrum has never shown any indications of free oxygen in the atmosphere of the sun. Is not the absence of this element further corroborated by the fact that the solar spots, which there is evidence to believe are condensing clouds of iron and calcium, do not glow with fierce burning, as they would if oxygen were present ? Does not the enormous volume of the sun’s uncom- bined hydrogen indicate that it has not found, then, the element of its strongest affinity ? And is there not reason to believe that the heat and light supplies of our great luminary will last all the longer for the absence of this most extravagant fire-generator ? Again, the four outer planets of our system have specific gravities varying but little from that of water. Considering central condensa- tion from pressure, it is probable that they are not so dense as they would be if composed of the lightest compound substance that we know of. If oxygen had been there in excess, it would long ago have burned and condensed their elements, whatever they might be, into most stable and solid forms. This gas, therefore, cannot have formed any considerable part of their constitution. Is it not, then, a probable supposition that these distant planets are composed of some non-com- bining and inactive elements like nitrogen, and that, undisturbed by combustions or elemental agitations, they have quietly stratified into gaseous worlds, retaining in great part their original heat? So far

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704 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. as the spectroscope gives any indications of their constitution, it shows them to be composed of gases unknown in the earth. As we have stated, the four outer planets are very nearly of the specific gravity of water ; then come the innumerable asteroids, filling the place of a missing planet, and of which we know but little; then three planets that are five and a half times as dense as water; and lastly, Mercury, over eight times as dense. Does not this increasing density of the planets, from the outer to the inner, imply that they have become successively formed on the exterior of one great parent globe, and received each its portion, in the main, of denser elements, as it was later born? That this effect should appear somewhat in groups of the planets, is owing, probably, to the absence or excess of oxygen among their components. But, if this is so, what shall we say of hydrogen, the lightest of all the gases, which seems to be most abundant the nearer to the centre of the system? To explain this notable exception, might we conject- ure that hydrogen is a more recent production than the worlds them- selves? It has been observed time and again to burst up from the nethermost regions of the sun with inconceivable force, as if it were the pent-up product of a volcano, and to throw up columns of its flaming gas, in one case 200,000 miles high. And these great out- bursts of hydrogen are always the precursors of the dark, sunken spots in the photosphere. How came this almost imponderable ether to be imprisoned in the deep craters of the sun, if it is not a product that is constantly forming in the solar caldron ? But it is easier to ask questions than to answer them. And I will close, in the fear of having been already thought too free with the scientific imagination. THE UNITED STATES NAVAL OBSERVATORY. By EMMA M. CONVERSE. HE importance of establishing a first meridian for the United States at the seat of government, in connection with a National Observatory for the purpose of systematic scientific observation, at- tracted the attention of Congress as early as 1810, In 1813 the report of the committee, to whom the matter had been intrusted, was read before the House by one of its prominent members. But such were the dis- turbed condition of the country, and the absorbing interest in its military affairs during the war with Great Britain, that the subject was not again revived till 1815, when the original memorial with the several reports, hitherto presented, and the letter of the Secretary of State, read before the House in 1813, were referred toa select com- mittee. This committee strongly advocated in its report the erection

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THE UNITED STATES NAVAL OBSERVATORY, 705 of a National Observatory, furnished with suitable instruments and apparatus for astronomical observation, and that the President should cause such observations to be made as would determine the longitude of the Capitol with the greatest practicable degree of exactness. But no steps were taken at that time to carry out the resolution, and the subject was not again referred to till 1818. A third memorial was then presented, soliciting not the erection of an observatory, but simply that additional observations be made to test the accuracy of results already obtained, in order to insure a correct determination of our longitude from Greenwich. Nearly three years of tedious delay were required before the requisite resolution was passed which in- sured the modest commencement of what is destined to become one of the great scientific institutions of the country, and, we trust, of the civilized world. In 1821 Mr. Lambert, the original memorialist, was appointed by the President “to make astronomical observations by lunar occulta- tions of fixed stars, solar eclipses, or any approved method adapted to ascertain the longitude of the Capitol from Greenwich.” In 1823, President Monroe submitted to Congress Mr. Lambert’s final report, in which he stated that by the diligent use of such instruments for his work as the country afforded, by the employment of different methods, and by the assistance of competent persons in various sec- tions of the United States to test the accuracy of his work, he had endeavored to fulfill his commission to the extent of his ability. He gave, as the mean result, the longitude of the Capitol 76° 55’ 30” 54 west from Greenwich. Thus the first step in the establishment of an observatory was taken in determining the longitude of the Capitol; for, without such an institution furnished with suitable instruments and apparatus, no accurate measarements of the positions of the heavenly bodies could be made, and the computation of a nautical almanac or astronomical ephemeris would be impossible. The next movement that was made toward the accomplishment of the object was in 1825, when President Adams, in his first message, urged upon Congress the establishment of a National University. Connected with this, he earnestly recommended the erection of an as- tronomical observatory, to watch the phenomena of the heavens, and to give periodical publications of observations. The matter was re- ferred to a select committee, who presented an elaborate report in 1826, accompanied by a bill to establish an observatory in the Dis- trict of Columbia, Although the location, cost of the edifice, and the expense of carrying it on, were freely discussed, no action was taken in the matter; and Mr. Adams’s recommendation, though associated with the progress of the nation, and independent of party or personal in- terest, was allowed to lie unnoticed. But, after years of neglect and indifference on the part of Congress, a few officers of the navy had the honor of taking the first direct ac- VOL. 1v,—45

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706 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. tion in the creation of the institution. In 1830 the Depot of Charts and Instruments for the Navy was established in Washington. This was accomplished under the orders of the Navy Commissioners, and with the sanction of the Secretary of the Navy. Lieutenant Golds- borough, through whose influence principally the bureau was created, was intrusted with the charge of it. He collected from New York and other places the chronometers, sextants, theodolites, and other instruments and charts of the navy, and located them in a building opposite the residence of the Attorney-General, Hon. William Wirt. A transit instrument was afterward added, and the mval Depot of Charts and Instruments was in working order. One duty of the offi- cers was the careful rating of all chronometers belonging to the navy, which was at first effected by sextant and circle observations; but afterward with a thirty-inch transit instrument. This transit was mounted within a small circular building upon a brick pier having a base twenty feet below the surface, and is noteworthy as the first astronomical instrument erected for the navy at Washington. In 1833 Lieutenant Wilkes succeeded to the charge of the depot, and obtained permission to remove the office to Capitol Hill, where it remained until 1842. He erected here at his own expense an observa- tory sixteen feet square, and mounted a five-foot transit. But no regular observations were made till 1858, on the departure of the ex- ploring expedition, the principal use made of the transit being the de- terminatiou of time. In 1837 Lieutenant Gilliss was left in charge of the depot, and, during the absence of the exploring expedition, and in connection with it, made invaluable observations on moon culmina- tions, occultations, and eclipses. There was not a visible culmination of the moon, occurring when the sun was an hour above the horizon, from 1888 to 1842, nor an occultation after the 15th of June, 1839, with one exception, which he did not personally observe. He also completed an important series of magnetic and meteorological observations. As the work took on larger proportions under such devoted lead- ership, and valuable and expensive instruments were added, the un- suitableness of the building, the defects of the transit-instrument, and the want of space to erect a permanent circle, became more evident. Earnest solicitations were made for an appropriation for a permanent establishment, and the subject was brought before Congress by the Secretary of the Navy in 1841. Tedious and disheartening delay occurred before Congress was roused to an appreciation of the impor- tance of the enterprise. But, after persistent effort on the part of its supporters, at the last hour of the session of 1841-42 a bill passed both Houses without discussion, authorizing the Navy authorities to contract for the building of a suitable institution, and that it should be located on any unappropriated land in the District of Columbia which the President deemed suitable. Thus was the future observatory officially recognized.

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THE UNITED STATES NAVAL OBSERVATORY. 707 All obstacles to further progress being happily overcome, plans for erecting a Naval Observatory under the best available conditions were speedily made matter for diligent study. Visits were made to the Northern cities to obtain assistance, distinguished astronomers were consulted, and an accomplished architect secured to draught plans, the whole care being intrusted to Lieutenant Gilliss. The locality chosen for the observatory possesses an historic interest. The site assigned to it was known as “ Reservation No, 4,” on the original plan of the city. It lies on the north bank of the Potomac, in the southwestern part of the city. When General Braddock marched against Fort Du- quesne in the colonial wars, his troops landed and encamped on this hill. Washington’s letters show that he crossed at this point from Alexandria to join Braddock at Frederick. A large rock within the grounds of the observatory is pointed out as the spot on which these landings were made. It was here that the first President proposed to locate a national university, and at a later date it was suggested by President John Quincy Adams for the site of an observatory. The base of the observatory is the second highest eminence within the city limits, and is on a level with the floor of the Congressional Li- brary. In 1843 Lieutenant Gilliss reported to the Navy Department the adoption of a plan for an observatory, and also the progress of the erection of a building in accordance with the plan. In 1844 the new building was ready for occupancy, and the instruments adjusted for the commencement of active work. The central building is about fifty feet square, raised on a firm foundation, and built of brick in the most thorough manner, It is two stories and a basement high, with a parapet and balustrade of wood around the top, and is surmounted by a revolving dome resting on a circular wall. The roof is nearly flat, and so arranged as to form alevel promenade for gazing observa- tions. On the east and west sides of the building are wings, and also on the south. In 1870, an observing-room for the transit-circle was added, forming an extension of the west wing. A tower and dome, to accommodate the superb new equatorial telescope recently completed, was finished in October. The equipment of the observa- tory in astronomical, magnetic, and meteorological instruments is now in a fair way to become worthy of the institution and the country it represents, and the library is increasing rapidly in the number of volumes and their scientific value. Among the influences that helped to bring about this auspicious result were, in the first place, the unswerving interest and indefati- gable zeal of Mr. John Quincy Adams. Although his suggestions concerning the establishment of a national observatory were treated with neglect during the term of his presidency, he did not lessen his efforts in the cause dear to his heart. In 1838 he presented its claims before President Van Buren, and in 1842 in his place in the House of

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708 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Representatives. The report of the committee, presented at this ses- sion by Mr. Adams, should be read by every student of astronomy, for the fervor of its eloquence and the nobility of the truths it enun- ciates. Lieutenant Gilliss was equally unwearied in the cause. It was by his diligent and successful observations that he secured the essential confidence and codperation of the Navy Department, and of the naval committees. He was the first person, in the United States, who gave his whole time to practical astronomical work. He first published a volume of observations, prepared a catalogue of the stars, and planned and carried into effect the construction of a working ob- servatory, in contrast with one intended simply to teach. For this arduous work he was specially gifted, possessing a wondrous acute- ness of the perceptive powers of eye and ear. Prof. Peirce, after ex- amining his observations from 1838 to 1842, gives him the second place in the long list of observers, living and dead, whose results were critically and searchingly tested by the so-called personal scale. Profs. Bartlett, Kendall, and Walker, contributed largely by their labors to the establishment of the institution. Their series of astro- nomical observations, their publications, and the able report on Eu- ropean observatories, by Prof. Bartlett, in 1840, had a powerful influ- ence in rousing public interest in the subject, and, combining with other influences, produced the desired result. In 1844 Commander Maury was appointed superintendent of the new observatory, assisted by the same officers who had been attached to the Depot of Charts. Under the instruction of the Secretary of the Navy, the most extensive astronomical work was proposed in cata- loguing the stars. The task set before the infant observatory, said a critic in the North American Review, was “nothing less than assign- ing color, position, and magnitude, to every star in the heavens, which could be seen with the instruments.” With the resources at the com- mand of the officers at that time, it would have required a century to complete it. The work was, however, commenced of making a cata- logue of the stars down to the ninth and tenth magnitude. In 1846 the first volume of observations was issued from the press. In 1847 the observatory was first brought into prominence by the identifica- tion of the newly-discovered planet Neptune, with a star of Lalande’s catalogue of 1795. Astronomers thus obtained an observation of Neptune made fifty years before, which afforded the means of an ac- curate determination of its orbit; and the superintendent of the “ American Nautical Almanac” was enabled to publish an ephemeris of the new planet two years in advance of all other parts of his al- manac, In 1848 the institution first bore the name of “ United States Naval Observatory ” instead of “ National,” an honor justly due to the Navy Department which controlled it, and to the navy officers who had charge of its interests. But the preparation and publication of Wind and Current Charts absorbed the attention of the superintend-

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THE UNITED STATES NAVAL OBSERVATORY. 709 ent. With the exception of the equatorial and mural circle-observa- tions, zone-observations, and several years’ unpublished work of other observers, regular astronomical work did not receive the prominent attention demanded for the best interests of the observatory. In 1861 Lieutenant Maury left his position to join the cause of the Confederate States of the South. Captain Gilliss succeeded to the office in 1861. His heart and hand were in the work. He published the volume of observations for 1861 promptly in 1862. He gave detailed statements of the volumes of observations he found unprepared for the press, took measures for their publication, for the regular and prompt issue of annual volumes from the observatory, and arranged that meteorological observations should form a part of each volume. The volume of observations for 1862 contained a discussion concerning the longitude of Washington; a paper on Comet IL, 1862, with drawings of the comet during the period of greatest brilliancy ; and a plate illustrating the appearance of Mars, near the opposition in that year. The special work for 1863 was an investigation of the solar parallax from observations on the planet Mars. Nearly 11,000 observations were made with four instru- ments during this year. A transit-circle was also contracted for to improve the defective equipment of the observatory. But, while the field was widening before him, and when neither of his three favorite aims had come to a successful issue, Captain Gilliss was suddenly re- moved by death, in 1865, from the scene of his labors. Rear-Admiral Davis was placed in charge of the observatory in 1865. During the same year the great transit-circle was completed, and placed in position in the then west wing of the observatory. This constituted an era in its history, and raised it to a more fitting rank among institutions of its class. The volumes of observations for 1863 and 1864 were published in 1865 and 1866. The meteorological ob- servations from 1842 to 1867 were fully discussed, a report was made on interoceanic canals and railroads, and the regular routine work was diligently kept up. In 1867 Rear-Admiral Davis was ordered to take command of the South-Atlantic Squadron, In 1867 Rear-Admiral Sands became the fourth superintendent, and is the present incumbent of the office. Since that time the work has so greatly increased in all directions, and the progress of science demands such an amount of labor, that the limits of this article will permit only a brief mention of a few of the most important portions of the work accomplished. One of the recent publications of the ob- servatory is a “ Manual of its Founding and Progress,” prepared by Prof. Nourse. We refer readers, who desire more extended informa- tion, to this able and exhaustive paper, to which we are indebted for our facts and suggestive information, Under the present superintend- ent, and his efficient and coéperative assistants, the observatory has gone steadily forward, enlarging its boundaries, and widening its field

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710 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. of vision. The current years have been rich in results in the regular work of the institution, as the published volumes of observations bear testimony. A new observing-room for the transit-circle was erected in the west wing, and the mounting of the circle was completed in 1870. The library was removed to the room previously occupied by it, and now numbers more than 5,000 bound volumes. The total solar eclipses of August 7, 1869, in America, and December 22, 1870, in Europe, were closely observed by parties from the observatory, and full reports of their observations were published. But the greatest achievement toward raising the observatory to a higher rank among its peers was the successful completion and mount- ing, in the new tower and dome prepared for it, of the Great Equa- torial, in the month of October of the past year. This auspicious event is largely owing to the persevering effort of the superintendent. After repeated representations concerning the necessity of the instru- ment, Congress made an appropriation of $50,000 for the purpose. The contract was made in August, 1870, with Messrs. Alvan Clark & Sons, of Cambridgeport, Mass. They agreed to construct a refracting telescope, of good definition, and of 26 inches clear aperture, mounted equatorially on the German plan, and supplied with all the appliances that modern science has developed. They required four years to com- plete it. But the opticians were ahead of their contract, and the ob- servatory is now rejoicing in the absolute possession of the talismanic instrument which has been the object of its ambition. The future work of the institution will demand all its resources. It is already in the full tide of preparation for the observation of the coming transit of Venus in 1874, for which it has received an appro- priation of $150,000. It is looking forward to still more satisfactory results from the transit of 1882, which will be specially favorable for observation on American ground, while an opposition of Mars, in 1877, will test the power of its new possession. With this grand telescope and its equipment, with a personnel made up of officers who honor their profession, with Congress ready to grant all needful aid, there is every reason to anticipate a future for the United States Naval Observatory, honorable to itself, and hon- orable to the country it represents. THE MANTIS, OR PRAYING INSECT. PECIES of insects known as Mantids belong to the order Orthop- tera, which includes crickets, grasshoppers, cockroaches, locusts, etc. The following figure illustrates the appearance of one of these. They are of bright, variegated colors, and are sometimes quite large, even three or four inches in length. The mantis lays its eggs at the

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THE MANTIS, OR PRAYING INSECT. 711 end of summer, in rounded, fragile shells, which it attaches to the branches of trees, and which do not hatch till the following summer. It differs in locomotion from its orthopterous relatives, which travel by jumps, while the mantis crawls so slowly that its progress can only be appreciated by careful and prolonged watching. This trait is con- nected with another character by which the mantis differs from the foregoing groups, for, while they are vegetarians, this insect is carniv- orous, and its insidious movements are part of the policy by which it Mantis Revieiosa (MALE). captures the various creatures upon which it feeds. But the mantis is not only a carnivore which lives by killing and devouring other insects, it is also a creature of the most quarrelsome disposition ; in fact, it is a ferocious cannibal. If two of these insects be shut up together, they en- gage in a desperate combat; they deal each other blows with their front legs, and do not leave off fighting until the stronger has succeeded in eating off the other’s head. From their very birth the larve attack each other. In their contests, the male, being smaller than the female, is often the victim. This pugnacity of the mantis is the source of amusement to children in China. Two mantids are shut up together in a bamboo cage, and the young heathen view with delight the inevi- table battle, and the resulting cannibal feast. And yet, while its inoffensive orthopterous brethren have got but little credit for their virtues, and are generally reviled as nuisances, this atrocious little savage has had the fortune to acquire a peculiar reputation for wisdom and saintliness. For thousands of years, and in all parts of the world, it has borne this character. The cause has been that it habitually assumes an attitude that appears devotional, and it was supposed to spend a large portion of its life in prayer. Settled on the ground, it raises its head and thorax, clasps together the joints of its front legs (see cut), and raises them as if in supplication, and remains in this posture for hours together. To our illogical and superstitious

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712 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. forefathers what could the upraised and crossed arms indicate but an attitude of devotion? The name mantis (diviner) was given to this insect, it is said, by the Greeks, in accordance with the notion that, when the creature assumes its peculiar attitude of meditation, it is engaged in the con- templation of futurity. Naturalists have encouraged the superstition by giving names to the different species which imply some kind of sanctity; thus, we have Mantis oratoria, Mantis religiosa, Mantis su- perstitiosa, etc. With the French it is the Prega-Dieu (that prays to God), Le Précheur (the preacher) ; with the Germans it is Gottesan- beterin (worshiper of God), while the English-speaking nations have dubbed it the Praying Insect. The names familiarly given to it in Southern Europe are sufficiently expressive of the veneration with which it is regarded—nun, saint, suppliant, mendicant, etc. “In the eyes of the Languedoc peasants,” says Figuier, “the Mantis religiosa is held sacred, and they firmly believe that it performs its devotions,” Mr. Spicer, writing in Science Gossip, remarks: “ Nor was this feeling of veneration confined to the nations of Europe. At the present day (and doubtless it was the same in old times also) a Mantis is an object of worship with certain tribes of North Africa.” Sparmann also tells us (“ Travels in Africa”) that “in the southern part of the same conti- nent it is venerated by the Hottentots; and that, should one of these insects chance to settle on an individual, he is looked upon in the light of a saint, and as specially favored by Heaven.” That the superstition should have gone to greater lengths than mere inference was natural: somebody was certain to make the mantis open his mouth and give audible expression to his devout sentiments. Of course we should expect this in the middle ages, when credulity was unbounded, and there was a universal belief in the semi-divine nature of this wicked bug. “The great Saint Francis Xavier is said to have held a conversation with one which he came across in a forest, and to have induced it to chant a hymn!” Dr. James Mann, author of the “ Guide to the Knowledge of Life,” and who was for some years superintendent of education in the prov- ince of Natal, South Africa, has written a very interesting account of the insects of that region, which was published in the Jntellectual Ob- server, and from that article we quote the following passage regarding the mantis, from which it will be seen that the insect still contrives to keep up its theological reputation: “ Of orthopterous Natal insects, the large green mantis is certainly a distinguished chief. He is a very remarkable fellow, powerful alike upon wing and leg, but much given to fits of lethargy and brown study. His traditional religious exer- cise, indeed, is simply a lying in wait for what the gods may send in the way of food. He fixes himself, as if in rapt contemplation, upon some convenient stalk or leaf, and then bends up his chest and shoul- ders into an almost erect position, pressing together his arms in front,

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EVOLUTION AND THE ORIGIN OF LIFE. 713 and looking well out before him, with the palpi of his lips slightly vibrating. In this expectant mood he allows himself to be coaxed with the finger, merely staggering back a pace or two, and fixing his goggle-eyes upon the biped who vouchsafes this personal attention. If he lights upon a perpendicular window or wall when in this vein of ‘religious’ ecstasy, he seems to remain for hours together without motion, but all the while he mounts imperceptibly up and up until be reaches the ceiling or roof which limits the chamber in the upward direction. The closest watching does not show how this most gradual of all climbings is accomplished. Nota limb can be seen to move, yet up, minute after minute, he glides, It is while he is in these fits of expectant ecstasy that he seizes his prey. He is essentially a car- nivorous feeder, and pounces stealthily upon any unwary insect that settles within convenient reach, seizing the victim between his upraised legs, and fixing it there between the row of spikelets with which these prehensile limbs are fringed. After a deliberate inspection of the morsel held in this position, he goes to work with his jaws. .. . “It was the author’s fate upon one auspicious occasion,” writes Dr. Mann, “to watch one of these ‘religious’ insects engaged in a remarkably appropriate occupation. A dignitary of the Natal Church, who has since made some noise in the world (Bishop Colenso), was, one warm summer evening, with all the windows and doors of his chapel open to the refreshing breeze, preaching by candle-light, when a huge green mantis whizzed into the assembly and perched himself upon the preacher’s white neckerchief; and, first folding his arms into the prayerful attitude, he raised his chest and shoulders into rapt at- tention, turning his goggles from side to side, and following respon- sively each motion of the spectacles, that glanced, now on this hand and now on that, from above. He remained fixed in this convenient position until properly dismissed with the rest of the congregation at the close of the sermon, and he did not even then depart at once, being puzzled and staggered, in all probability, by some of the novel doe- trines he had been listening to.” EVOLUTION AND THE ORIGIN OF LIFE. By H. CHARLTON BASTIAN, M.D., F. B.S. y= by year the word “Evolution” becomes diffused more widely through our literature, and the central idea which it implies grows familiar to an ever-increasing multitude of readers. We have witnessed within the last few years a marvelous awakening of interest in the minds of the public generally to questions of science, and it so happens that a discussion of the doctrine of Evolution has

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714 - THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. been more or Jess directly involved in those departments of Science and Philosophy which have during this period received the largest share of popular attention. Perhaps the greatest impetus was given to the spread of the doctrine about fourteen years ago, by the publication of Mr. Darwin’s now celebrated “ Origin of Species.” This volume has been followed by quite a library of works and memoirs on the same subject—partly scientific and partly popular. From about the same date also, Mr. Herbert Spencer has been engaged in systematically elaborating the principles of an all-comprehensive Evolution Philosophy, and the results of his genius and labor are now undoubtedly influencing the thoughts of a rapidly-widening circle of readers. Both in this coun- try and abroad, the doctrine of Evolution is gradually but surely gaining ground among the most reflective; and, although many other writers have been more or less influential in determining this yesult, it has been in the main brought about by the two above mentioned. Evolution implies continuity and uniformity. It teaches us to look upon events of all kinds as the products of continuously-oper- ating causes—it recognizes no sudden breaks or causeless stoppages in the sequence of natural phenomena. It equally implies that natu- ral events do not vary spontaneously. It is a philosophy which deals with natural phenomena in their widest sense ; it embraces both the present and the far distant past. It seeks to assure us that the properties and tendencies now manifest in our surrounding world of things are in all respects similar to those which have existed in the past. Without a basis of this kind, the Evolution hypothesis would be a mere idle dream. Uniformity is for it an all-pervading neces- sity. Starting from facts of daily observation and from scientific experiments, the properties and tendencies of things are noted and grouped; while philosophers, using the knowledge thus gained, seek to trace back the progress of events and show how this complex world has gradually been derived from a world of more and more simple composition. We are taken back in imagination even much farther. We are referred to a primal haze or nebula—as the gigantic germ of a future Universe. This was the conception of Laplace. But whether we follow the philosopher in his bold speculations concerning the past, or listen to the biologist making his predictions concerning the future stages which the germ of a given animal will pass through in the progress of its evolution — in each case the “uniformity of Nature” is tacitly assumed. This assumption under- lies almost all our thoughts and actions, even in every-day life. And, without such a belief in the Uniformity of Nature, science would be impossible—the very idea of it, in fact, could never have arisen. In its absence we could neither fathom the past nor illumine the future. As Mr. Mill said '—* Were we to suppose (what it is perfectly possi- 1 “ System of Logic,” sixth edition, vol. ii., p. 98. —_—

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Tne EVOLUTION AND THE ORIGIN OF LIFE. 715 ble to imagine) that the present order of the universe were brought to an end, and that a chaos succeeded in which there was no fixed succession of events, and the past gave no assurance of the future, if a human being were miraculously kept alive to witness this change, he surely would soon cease to believe in any uniformity, the uniform- ity itself no longer existing.” It is true that in earlier times no absolute belief in the uniform- ity of Nature existed, even among the select few. The Greek philos- ophers, including Aristotle, recognized “chance” and “ spontaneity ” as finding a definite place in Nature, and to this extent they were not sure that the future would resemble the past. But as we have be- come more familiar with a wider range of natural phenomena, and with their mutual relations or order of appearance, so has the con- ception of chance or spontaneity disappeared from the scientific hori- zon—driven out of the field by the steady advance of Law and Order. Those who embrace the Evolution philosophy are foremost in this opinion—they believe that no effects of whatsoever kind can occur without adequate causes, and, the conditions being similar, that the same results will always follow the action of any given cause. Their whole creed is, in fact, preéminently based upon this assumed uni- formity of Nature. The present is essentially a time of transition in matters of opin- ion. Men who have been educated in one system of beliefs are gradu- ally being converted to another, because the new system is thought to be more harmonious with the observed order of natural phenomena. This has been the case even with the chief exponents of Evolution. They have themselves had to unlearn much which they had previ- ously learned. The doctrine of Evolution has thus been developed only by the sacrifice of many previous early beliefs and modes of thought. But it often happens that an old belief will—unknown, per- haps, to the person himself—leave decided traces of its previous influ- ence, and thus prevent for a time the full realization of all the logical consequences of new views. This vestige of the old state of opinion or habit of thought is, more especially, apt to remain in directions where unexplained facts, or strong prepossessions and prejudices, bar theway. Some modes of this inconsistency may become obvious to one worker or thinker, and some to another, according to the particu- lar direction which his investigations or thoughts may have taken ; and such inconsistencies should be pointed out as they present them- selves. So that, with the view of strengthening an hypothesis which I, in common with so many other workers in science, believe to be true, I now venture to allude to certain apparent anomalies in the de- clared opinions of the most prominent upholders of the doctrine of Evolution in this country. It seems all the more desirable that this should be done, since the inconsistencies may be easily shown to be wholly uncalled for, and to involve sundry unscientific conceptions.

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716 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Yet the modifications of opinion which appear to be demanded, on the ground of fact as well as on the ground of reason, will necessitate very considerable and almost revolutionary changes in the accepted code of biological doctrines. An examination of the facts of science generally and of various every-day phenomena teaches us, according to the Evolutionist, that matter of different kinds, situated as it is and has been, gradually tends within certain limits to become more and more complex in its internal and external constitution. Coupling this conclusion with yarious astronomical data, with geological data, and with facts de- rived from the study of the past forms of Life upon our globe, the Evolutionist essays to penetrate through the long vista of by-gone ages, till he may rest his speculative gaze upon a vast rotating nebu- lar mass of gaseous matter, of comparatively simple though unknown constitution, from which he supposes our Universe to have been slowly evolved. Without futile questionings as to the explanation or cause of the existence of the nebula, without speculation as to what simpler or more complex matter may have immediately preceded it, it is obvious that we may for our own convenience take up its imagi- nary existence at any stage. Though we must be free to admit that in concentrating our attention upon this nebular stage, or upon any other, we arbitrarily break into a mysterious cycle of existence whose Cause is to us unfathomable. It is needless for my purpose, however, to attempt to concentrate the reader’s attention upon a period so re- mote in the history of our Universe. The primordial nebula, as it cooled and condensed, acquired a more rapid axial rotation: masses were gradually thrown off from its circumference, and these in their turn condensed into rotating spheroids, which continued to circulate round the parent mass in elliptical orbits. Assuming, then, with the Evolutionist, that our own planet had a past history of this kind, we must also assume that it gradually changed from a gaseous to a fluid state before beginning to solidify by the formation of a superficial crust—a crust which gradually thickened as the fervent heat of it and of the fluid nucleus abated by heat-radiations into space. Until this stage of the Earth’s history had been far advanced, no Living Things could have existed upon its surface. “Hence,” as Sir William Thomson said,’ “when the Earth was first fit for life there were no living things on it. There were rocks, solid and disintegrated, water, air all round, warmed and illuminated by a brilliant sun, ready to become a garden.” Living things must, however, have appeared upon its sur- face at some very remote epoch, since their remains are to be found far down in the rocks which at present constitute its crust. But how, it must be asked, is the first appearance of living matter upon the earth to be accounted for ? We should not needlessly invoke an abnormal act of Creative 1 Inaugural Address at Meeting of British Association, Nature, August 8, 1871, p. 269.

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¥ EVOLUTION AND THE ORIGIN OF LIFE. 717 Power, we must not even resort to a “moss-grown fragment from the ruins of another world,” unless it is really necessary to invent some such hypothesis. Now, the Evolutionist repudiates the notion of Creation in its ordinary sense; he believes that the operation of natural causes, working in their accustomed manner, was alone quite adequate to bring into existence a kind of matter presenting a new order of complexity, and displaying the phenomena which we have generalized under the word “Life.” Living matter is thus supposed to have come into being by the further operation, under new conditions, of the same agencies as had previously led to the formation of the various inorganic constituents of the earth’s crust— such mineral and saline substances as we see around us at the present day. What we call “Life,” then, is regarded as one of the natural results of the growing complexity of our primal nebula. So that, in accordance with this view, we have no more reason to postulate a miraculous interference or exercise of Creative Power to account for the evolution of living matter in any suitable portion of the Universe (whether it be on this earth or elsewhere), than to explain the ap- pearance of any other kind ot matter—the magnetic oxide of iron, for instance. So far, all thorough Evolutionists are quite agreed. This is the view of Spencer, Lewes, Huxley, and others—possibly of Dar- win, I say possibly of Darwin, because on this subject it so happens that the language of this most distinguished exponent of Evolution is more than usually tinctured with a previous point of view. Speak- ing of the probable commencement of Life upon our globe, Mr. Dar- win says’: “I believe that animals have descended from at most only four or five progenitors, and plants from an equal or lesser number. Analogy would lead me one step farther, namely, to the belief that all animals and plants have descended from some one prototype. . . . There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed by the Creator into a few forms, or into one; and that while this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms, most beautiful and most wonderful, have been and are being evolved.” Taking into account the phraseology made use of in the above quotation, we have little difficulty in recognizing the views of an Evolutionist, dwarfed and modified though they are by an ultimate appeal to a Creative act only a little less miraculous and singular than the mythical origin of our reputed ancestors—Adam and Eve. Some existing naturalists may perhaps contend that Mr. Darwin ought to have kept more closely to the Mosaic record—replacing his one primordial form by a dual birth of male and female, without whose mutual influence no “ biological individuals” can in their opin- ion come into existence. Such a supposition, it is true, would be as antiquated and unnecessary from the Evolutionist’s point of view as 1“ Origin of Species,” sixth edition, 1872, pp. 424, 429.

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718 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. is the whole notion of life having been originally “breathed” into one or more organic forms. Mr. Spencer’s language is happily free from both these defects: he neither uses the phraseology of the Crea- tive hypothesis, nor does he adopt a definition of biological “ indi- viduality,” at variance with the Evolution philosophy. He distinctly teaches that living matter must have been at first formless, and that multiplication would have taken place, as among the lowest forms of the present day, exclusively by agamic methods — nay, more, he teaches that living matter must have been the gradual product or outcome of antecedent material combinations. “Construed in terms of evolution,” he says,’ “every kind of being is conceived as a prod- uct of modifications wrought by insensible gradations on a pre- existing kind of being, and this holds fully of the supposed ‘ com- mencements of organic life,’ as of all subsequent developments of organic life.” Butonthe question whether the process of Archebiosis (life-evolution) is likely to have occurred once only, as Mr. Darwin seems to hint, or in multitudinous centres scattered over the earth’s surface, Mr. Spencer makes no definite statement. The latter belief would, however, be entirely in accordance with his general doctrine ; and we seem all the more entitled to infer that Mr. Spencer inclines to the notion of a multiple occurrence of Archebiosis, both in space and in time, since he does not reject the possibility of its occurrence in our own day. Granting “that the formation of organic matter and the evolution of life in its lowest forms may go on under existing cosmical conditions,” he believes it “more likely that the formation of such matter and of such forms took place at a time when the heat of the earth’s surface was falling through those ranges of temperature at which the higher organic compounds are unstable.” But conclusions which we are only able to infer from the writings of Mr. Spencer have been distinctly enunciated by Mr. G. H. Lewes. In a criticism of the “ Darwinian Hypothesis,” he very forcibly pointed out that it is quite compatible with the hypothesis of evolution to admit a va- riety of starting-points for the formation of living matter, and he con- sequently laid down in principle a very important extension of the Darwinian doctrine, in its application to higher organisms. He says: * “ Although observation reveals that the bond of kinship does really unite many divergent forms, and the principle of Descent with Natural Selection will account for many of the resemblances and dif- ferences, there is at present no warrant for assuming that all resem- blances and differences are due to this one cause, but, on the contrary, we are justified in assuming a deeper principle which may be thus formulated: All the complex organisms are evolved from organisms less complex, as these were evolved from simpler forms: the link which unites all organisms is not always the common bond of heri- tage, but the uniformity of organic laws acting under uniform condi- * “ Principles of Biology,” vol. ii., Appendix, p. 482. ® Fortnightly Review, 1868.

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EVOLUTION AND THE ORIGIN OF LIFE. 719 tions. . . . It is therefore consistent with the hypothesis of Evolu- tion to admit a variety of origins or starting-points.” In this paper Mr. Lewes distinctly postulates the probability of a repetition of the process of Archebiosis, wherever the conditions were favorable, and though he says nothing against the continuance of such a process in the present day, neither does he dwell upon it as a probability. Prof. Huxley’s* opinions on the subject of Archebiosis are very similar to those of Mr. Spencer, with the exception that he seems more strongly opposed to the notion of its occurrence at the present day, and it is to this aspect of the question that I would now direct the reader’s attention. Why should men of such acknowledged eminence in matters of Philosophy and Science as Mr. Herbert Spencer and Prof. Huxley promulgate a notion which seems to involve an arbitrary infringement of the uniformity of Nature ? They would both have us believe that living matter came into be- ing by the operation of natural causes—that is, by the unhindered play of natural affinities operating in and upon matter which had already acquired a certain degree of molecular complexity. They believe that the simpler kinds of mineral and crystalline matter continue to come into being néw as they have ever done; nay, more, they believe that the higher kind of matter, originally initiated by the operation of nat- ural causes, continues to grow both in animal and in vegetal forms, solely under similar influences, and yet they consider themselves justi- fied in supposing that natural causes are now no longer able indepen- dently to initiate this higher kind of matter (protoplasm). We find Prof. Tyndall* also affirming, in the most unhesitating language, the ultimate similarity between crystalline and living matter: affirm- ing that all the various structures by which the two kinds of matter may be represented are equally the “results of the free play of the forces of the atoms and molecules” entering into their composition. And he, too, would have us believe that, while differences in degree of molecular complexity alone separate living from not-living matter, the physical agencies which promote the growth of living matter are now incapable of causing its origination. Why, we may fairly ask, should a supposed difference be erected by Evolutionists between Origination and Growth in the case of living matter, while no one dreams of making any such distinction in refer- ence to crystalline matter? Is it true that the process of growth dif- fers from the process of origination, and if so in what respects? Philo- sophically speaking there is little difference. Take the case of the formation of the “silver tree,” cited by Prof. Tyndall. A weak galvanic current is passed through a solution of nitrate of silver, and simultaneously, in a first increment of time, a number of molecules of ? “Inaugural Address at Meeting of British Association,” Nature, September 15, 1870, p. 404. * “Fragments of Science,” fourth edition (1872), pp. 85-87, and 113-119.

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720 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. oxygen and of silver begin to aggregate independently into crystals of oxide of silver; in a second increment of time the operation of the same causes produces similar results, only now part of the new crys- talline matter forms in connection with the preéxisting germs of crys- tals, though part of it may still aggregate independently. During a third, a fourth, and in all succeeding increments of time, in which the same causes operate amid similar conditions, similar results must en- sue. But, taking the process of origination which occurs in the first increment of time, would Prof. Tyndall have us believe that it is in any way different from that of growth which takes place in a second, third, or fourth increment of time? Does not the very fact that origi- nation and growth so often occur simultaneously in the case of crys- talline matter, and under the influence of the same causes, show us that the two processes are intrinsically similar, and that conditions favorable for growth are also likely to be favorable for origination ? And if this be true for crystalline matter, may we not infer that it would also be true for living matter? These are questions neither asked nor answered in any definite manner by those whose opinions I have already cited. They are, however, questions by no means un- worthy of an attentive consideration. Although, as a general rule, conditions favorable for the growth of any particular kind of crystalline matter are likely to be favorable for its origination, still it must be acknowledged that the presence of a erystal will occasionally lead to its growth in a medium in which simi- lar crystalline matter had previously shown no tendency to form inde- pendently—even in cases where the introduction of a non-crystalline nucleus would not be able to determine a similar formation of crys- talline matter. In spite of the general law, therefore, that conditions favorable for the growth are also favorable for the origination of crys- talline matter, we are compelled to admit that growth may be deter- mined under certain conditions where origination does not occur, and that the presence of preéxisting crystalline matter favors the process. Now, a distinction of the same kind undoubtedly obtains in the case of living matter. We know, quite positively, that, although Bacteria will not originate in a previously-boiled ammonic tartrate solution, or “‘Pasteur’s solution,” the addition of a few of these organisms (all other conditions remaining the same) will soon occasion a very con- siderable growth of the living matter of which they are composed.' We are thus reduced to ask whether the influence of the preéxisting nucleus is relatively more potent in the case of living matter than it is in the case of crystalline matter? This is a question which unfortu- nately we are unable definitely to answer. But, so long as we have no positive knowledge on this subject, we surely have little right to infer that processes both of origination and of growth continue in the case of crystalline matter, while the process of growth alone survives in the 1 “The Beginnings of Life,” vol. i., p. 325.

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EVOLUTION AND THE ORIGIN OF LIFE. 721 case of living matter. There are no facts easily discoverable upon which such an assumption can be legitimately based. ¢ _ The probabilities would seem altogether in favor of the continu- ance of a natural process like Archebiosis after it had been once initi- ated, more especially when this natural process is so closely allied to another which manifests itself with the utmost readiness on all parts of the earth’s surface. So that, unless very cogent reasons could be adduced against the occurrence of Archebiosis at the present day, looked at from an a priori point of view, there seems scarcely room for doubt upon the subject. The properties and chemical tendencies of material bodies seem to be quite constant through both time and space. Speaking upon this subject in a recent discourse on “ Mole- cules,” Prof. Clarke Maxwell says:’ “ We can procure specimens of oxygen from very different sources, from the air, from water, from rocks of every geological epoch. The history of these specimens has been very different, and, if, during thousands of years, difference of cir- cumstances could produce difference of properties, these specimens of oxygen would show it. . . . In like manner, we may procure hy- drogen from water, from coal, or, as Graham did, from meteoric iron, Take two litres of any specimen of hydrogen, it will combine with ex- actly one litre of any specimen of oxygen, and will form exactly two litres of the vapor of water. . . . Now, if, during the whole previous history of either specimen, whether imprisoned in the rocks, flowing in the sea, or careering through unknown regions with the meteorites, any modification of the molecules had taken place, these relations would no longer be preserved. ... But we have another and an entirely different method of comparing the properties of molecules. The molecule, though indestructible, is not a hard, rigid body, but is capable of internal movements, and, when these are excited, it emits rays, the wave-length of which is a measure of the time of vibration of the molecule. . . . By means of the spectroscope the wave-lengths of different kinds of light may be compared to within one ten-thou- sandth part. In this way it has been ascertained, not only that mole- cules taken from every specimen of hydrogen in our laboratories have the same set of periods of vibration, but that light having the same set of periods of vibration is emitted from the sun and from the fixed stars. . .. We are thus assured that molecules of the same nature as those of our hydrogen exist in those distant regions, or at least did ex- ist when the light by which we see them was emitted.” With evi- dence such as this before us, which could be multiplied to an enormous extent, we should hesitate before needlessly postulating any infringe- ment of the uniformity of natural phenomena. What, then, are the reasons assigned for the non-occurrence, at the present day, of the process of Archebiosis? All that Mr. Spencer says upon the subject is, that such a process seems to him more likely 1 Nature, September 25, 1873, p. 440. VOL. tv.—46

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722 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. to have occurred at “a time when the heat of the earth’s surface was falling through those ranges of temperature at which the higher or- ganic compounds are unstable,” than at the present day. ‘Why such conditions would be more favorable than those now existing Mr. Spen- cer does not say; and that such an alteration should suffice to put a stop to Archebiosis, although we see living matter still growing freely all over the earth under the most diverse conditions as regards tem- perature, seems very difficult to believe. Yet no other suggestion is offered in explanation of an assumption which seems essentially unsci- entific. For the assumption that Archebiosis took place only in the remote past puts this process on a guasi miraculous level, and tends to assimilate it to an act of special creation, the very notion of which Mr. Spencer, in other cases, resolutely rejects. Again, what reason does Prof. Huxley give, in explanation of his supposition as to the present non-occurrence of Archebiosis? He says’ if it were given to him “to look beyond the abyss of geologi- cally-recorded time,” to a still more remote period of the earth’s his- tory, he would expect “to be a witness to the evolution of living proto- plasm from non-living matter.” And the only reason distinctly im- plied why a similar process should not occur at the present day is, because the physical and chemical conditions of the earth’s surface were different in the past from what they are now. And yet, concern- ing the exact nature of these differences, and the degree in which the different sets of conditions would respectively favor the occurrence or arrest of an evolution of living matter, Prof. Huxley cannot possess even the vaguest knowledge. He chooses to assume that the un- known conditions existing in the past were more favorable to Arche- biosis than those now in operation. This, however, is a mere assump- tion which may be entirely opposed to the facts. It is useless, of course, to argue upon such a subject, but still it might fairly be said, in opposition to his assumption of the impotency of present telluric conditions, that the abundance of dead organic matter now existing in a state of solution would seem to afford a much more easy starting- point for life-evolution than could have existed in that remote past, when no living matter had previously been formed, and consequently when no dead organic matter, thence derived, could have been diffused over the earth’s surface.’ Prof. Huxley is, however, very inconsistent, since, in spite of his declared expectation of witnessing the evolution of living from lifeless matter, if it were given him “to look beyond the abyss of geologically- recorded time,” he had said, scarcely five minutes before, in reference to experimental evidence bearing upon the present occurrence of a * Nature, September 15, 1870, p. 404. * This is a consideration of great importance, since those who believe that Archebio- sis occurs in organic solutions at the present day have not yet professed to show that it can occur in saline solutions free from all traces of organic matter. re

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EVOLUTION AND THE ORIGIN OF LIFE. 723 similar process, that, “if, in the present’ state of science, the alternative is offered us—either germs can stand a greater heat than has been sup- posed, or the molecules of dead matter, for no valid or intelligible rea- son that is assigned, are able to rearrange themselves into living bodies, exactly such as can be demonstrated to be frequently produced in another way—I cannot understand how choice can be, even for a moment, doubtful.” Having thus expressed himself, it was a little strange that Prof. Huxley forgot to inform his audience, five minutes afterward, what “valid or intelligible reason” he was able to assign for the occurrence of that evolution of non-living matter into living protoplasm in the remote past to which he alluded. A supernatural interposition of Creative Power would explain the presence of living things upon our earth, just as easily as a supernatural preservation of living matter from the destructive effects of heat would account for the presence of living organisms within certain experimental flasks, But Prof. Huxley most inconsistently says that, even in the face of scientific evidence concerning the destructive powers of heat upon living matter, he would rather explain the presence of organisms in certain flasks on the hypothesis of a (supernatural) preservation of germs, than believe in the otherwise proved occurrence of a present life-evolution, similar to that which he assumes to have taken place in the past. He is willing to accept the supernatural in the present, though he declines to interpret the past by its aid. He assumes this attitude because no “valid or intelligible reason” is assigned in ex- planation of life-evolution, a belief in which would render unnecessary any appeal to the supernatural in the present ; though he himself pos- tulates the occurrence of the same unexplained process in the past, solely in order to avoid recourse to the supernatural. Prof. Huxley’s position in reference to this question is very puzzling, and one cannot help wondering through what monochromatic glass he had been taking his observations (from his “ watch-tower”), in order to come to the conclusion that “the present state of science ” gives any sanction to such vacillations, or entitles him to appeal to a supernatural preserva- tion of germs, instead of trusting to the known uniformity of natural phenomena. Sir William Thomson was certainly much more consistent. He, too, seemed inclined to explain the experiments of our own day by resorting to the hypothesis of a supernatural preservation of germs, and similarly, he seems not unwilling to explain the original advent of Life upon this globe, by another assumed process of “Contagion.” He has resort neither to a creative hypothesis nor to the hypothesis of a natural becoming of living matter, but, shelving the question of “origin” altogether, he suggests that our earth may have become peopled with organic forms, owing to the advent upon it, in the re- mote past, of a “moss-grown fragment from the ruins of another world.” Sir William Thomson’s hypothesis seems strangely improb-

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724 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. able in itself, though it has, in comparison with the views of others, the somewhat rare merit of being not inconsistent with his notions concerning the experiments of to-day. He does not reject the super- natural in the past, while resorting to it for the present—he resorts to it in the present and in the past alike, and curiously evades the prob- lem of origin altogether. Since so little—or, rather, nothing—is said by Prof. Huxley in support of his supposition that living matter does not originate in the present day, even though the process of origination is so closely akin to that of growth; and, though the process of growth is taking place at every moment of our lives, in every region of the globe, and under the most varied conditions—amid tropical heat and icy coldness, on mountain-tops and deep down in almost unfathomable ocean-beds—it seems only reasonable to suppose that he must have been influenced by some prepossessions, And, so far as one can gather from his presi- dential address before the British Association—trom which I have already quoted—he does not appear to have been powerfully biased by theoretical considerations. One of these we shall now consider. Much stress is laid by certain writers upon the fact that “the doe- trine of spontaneous or equivocal generation has been chased succes- sively to lower and lower stations in the world of organized beings, as our means of investigation have improved.”’ So that, as another very eminent writer says, “if some apparent exceptions still exist, they are of the lowest and simplest forms.”* And it is usually inferred from this fact that further knowledge and improved means of obser- vation will.prove these apparent exceptions to be no exceptions to the supposed general rule—omne vivum ex vivo. A consideration of this kind seems to have powerfully influenced Prof, Huxley. But much confusion exists in reference to the point, which needs to be removed. In the first place, it must be freely admitted that many ancient no- tions, dating from the time of Aristotle, on the subject of “ Equivocal or Spontaneous Generation,” were altogether crude and absurd. Sec- ondly, it is necessary to distinguish (and Prof. Huxley did so) between two meanings of the phrase, which have often been confounded with one another—viz., between Heterogenesis, or the mere allotropic modi- fication of already existing living matter, and Archebiosis, or the inde- pendent origination of living matter. Thirdly, it should be distinctly understood that those who strictly adhere to the Evolution hypothesis could never believe in the origination of any but the “lowest and simplest ” organic forms by a process of Archebiosis. So that, as Prof. Huxley professes himself an Evolutionist, the objection above indicated should have been quite pointless for him. Molecular com- binations, giving rise to units of protoplasm far below the minimum 1 Prof. Lister, “‘ Introductory Lecture” (University of Edinburgh), 1869, p. 12. * Mr. Justice Grove (“ Presidential Address”), Report of British Association for the Advancement of Science, 1866, p. 71. a a at

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ee EVOLUTION AND THE ORIGIN OF LIFE. 725 visible stage of our most powerful microscope, would represent those initial collocations by which alone living matter could come into being —though the “germs” thus initiated may afterward appear as mi- nutest visible specks growing into Bacteria, Vibriones, or Torule. We may, therefore, be permitted to remark that, even if it were given to Prof. Huxley to “look beyond the abyss of geologically-recorded time,” he would be extremely unlikely to witness an “evolution of living protoplasm from not-living matter.” At the most, he might see (that is, if equipped with a powerful microscope) only what he may equally well see now—viz., a gradual emergence into the sphere of the visible of minute specks of living protoplasm. But though he might, when looking back to this remote age, be inclined to consider such appearances as testifying to the evolution of living protoplasm from not-living matter, he would perchance find it just as difficult to convince others of the absence of invisible Salamandrine germs (de- rived, perhaps, from the “ moss-grown fragment of another world ”) as he is himself difficult to be convinced by similar appearances at the present day. Prof, Huxley seems, for the time, to have lost sight of a consideration justly deemed by Prof. Tyndall to be one of great im- portance in the interpretation of evolutional phenomena—viz., the enormous difference in point of size between the first constituent mole- cules of protoplasm and the minutest visible organisms. As Prof. Tyndall puts it, compared with their constituent elements, “the smallest vibrios and bacteria of the microscopic field are as behemoth and leviathan,” even though the latter are often less than yy45,y of an inch in diameter. Thus it would appear that a consistent belief in the Evolution hypothesis necessarily carries with it a belief in the continuance of the process of Archebiosis from the remote epoch when living matter first appeared upon this earth down to the present time. The Evo- lutionist teaches us that living matter is not in its essence different from other kinds of matter, and that it originally came into being, like the various forms of mineral and crystalline matter, by the operation of mere natural causes. As Prof. Huxley says:* “Carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen, are all lifeless bodies, Of these carbon and oxygen unite in certain proportions and under certain con- ditions to give rise to carbonic acid; hydrogen and oxygen produce water; nitrogen and hydrogen give rise to-ammonia. These new compounds, like the elementary bodies of which they are composed, are lifeless. But, when they are brought together under certain condi- tions, they give rise to the still more complex body, protoplasm; and this protoplasm exhibits the phenomena of life.” So that, if living matter has once arisen naturally and independently, the laws of uni- formity alone, upon which all science is based, should lead us to expect 1 “ Fragments of Science,” fourth edition, 1872, p. 151. * Fortnightly Review, February, 1869.

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726 THE POPULAR ‘SCIENCE MONTHLY. that it would continue to have a similar “origin” so long as such matter continued to “grow” under the most varied conditions upon and beneath the earth’s surface. And, these conditions being fulfilled, we have a good a@ priori warrant for the belief that living matter is continually coming into being by virtue of the operation of the same “Jaws” or molecular properties as suffice to regulate its growth. Let the Evolutionist attempt to deny it, and see what other diffi- culties he plunges into, in addition to that lack of consistency which I have already pointed out. If an evolution of living matter occurred only far back beyond the depths of geologically-recorded time, and if, as Mr. Darwin’ would have us believe, “all the living forms of life are the lineal descend- ants of those which lived long before the Cambrian epoch,” how is the Evolutionist to explain the existence of the multitudinous myriads of lowest and almost structureless organisms which exist at the pres- ent day? He starts, in his argument in favor of Evolution, from the fact that the condition of homogeneity is one of necessarily un- stable equilibrium. All homogeneous matter inevitably tends to be- come heterogeneous, and, of the different kinds of matter, none unites within itself the various qualities tending to favor this passage from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous in the same degree as living mat- ter. These tendencies are daily exemplified to us by the phases of embryonic development passed through by the more or less homo- geneous germs of multitudinous complex organisms from which they proceed, The embryonic development of one of the higher animals— of man himself, for instance—is a kind of highly-condensed epitome of animal evolution in general. And the varied forms of life of higher organization, both animal and vegetal, which have existed and still exist upon the surface of our earth, are all supposed by the Evolution- ist to have arisen by dint of insensible modifications wrought through the long lapse of ages upon successive generations of organic forms, But if living matter contains within itself the potentiality of undergoing such mighty changes and of ever growing in complexity—if from ori- ginally structureless protoplasm (that is, structureless, to our senses) all the varied forms of life have been derived, how is it that some of this very same matter should have remained through the long lapse of ages almost in its primitive structureless condition?*® Why should one portion of the living matter which came into being in pre-Cambrian epochs have passed through such marvelous changes, while another portion has continued to grow, through all the inconceivably numer- ous generations which must have occurred between that time and the present, without undergoing change ? In other words, what is the meaning of the existence of Bacteria, ?“ Origin of Species,” sixth edition, p. 428. * The multiplication of the lowest forms of life takes place so simply that, as Prof. Huxley has pointed out, it is nothing more than a process of “ discontinuous growth.”

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EVOLUTION AND THE ORIGIN OF LIFE. 727 Torule, Amebx, and such simplest organisms at the present day?’ Mr. Spencer saw this difficulty, but apparently did not fully realize its force. He attempts, as it appears to me, very inconsistently to evade it by supposing that living matter may escape increasing organization so long as it can escape the influence of gross changes in external con- ditions; and, just as inconsistently, he assumes that living matter could escape these changes in external conditions through that long lapse of ages which the lowest estimate regards as a period of no less than 100,000,000 years. Speaking of what he presumes to be ancient though almost structureless organisms, and endeavoring to account for their stationary condition as regards structure, by supposing that they have succeeded through long ages in “ dodging” all changes in their environment, Mr. Spencer says: “ New influences are escaped by the survival of species in the unchanged parts of their habitats, or by their spread into neighboring habitats which the change has ren- dered like their original habitats, or by both.” Now, in opposition to these views of Mr. Spencer, many very co- gent objections may be alleged. In the first place, in supposing that the organization of living matter would not increase even through ages of time unless it were subject to marked variations in external conditions, Mr, Spencer makes a supposition which seems notably at variance with his own doctrines of Evolution. Does be not for a time ignore those internal causes of change which must ever be in operation within living matter as within all other kinds of matter— and which, even in combination with approximately fixed external conditions, should suffice to produce a continually-increasing differen- tiation (organization) in living matter? Mr. Spencer himself says :’* “ All finite forms of the homogeneous—all forms of it which we can know or conceive—must inevitably lapse into heterogeneity. In three several ways does the persistence of force necessitate this. Setting external agencies aside, each unit of a homogeneous whole must be differently affected from any of the rest by the aggregate action of the rest upon it. The resultant forces exercised by the aggregate on each unit, being in no case alike both in amount and direction, cannot produce like effects on the units. And the various positions of the parts in relation to any incident force preventing them from receiving it in uniform amounts and directions, a further difference in the effect wrought on them is inevitably produced.” Even this is not all; Mr. Spencer also points out that “every differentiated part is not simply a seat of further differentiations, but also a parent of further differen- tiations; since, in growing unlike other parts, it becomes a centre of unlike reactions on incident forces, and, by so adding to the diversity 1 Especially when Mr. Darwin says: “ Judging from the past, we may safely infer that not one living species will transmit its unaltered likeness to a distant futurity,”— “Origin of Species” (1872), sixth edition, p. 428. ? “ First Principles,” second edition, pp. 429, 548.

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728 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. of forces at work, adds to the diversity of effects produced. This multiplication of effects is proved to be similarly traceable through- out Nature.” Now, if causes like these are inevitably at work upon and within the simplest forms of life, no change in external condi- tions would be needed in order to insure an increasing complexity of structure, through months or years, to say nothing about long ages of time. But, as a matter of fact, granting that the liability of organisms to increase in complexity of structure “arises from the actions and reactions between organisms and their fluctuating envi- ronments,” and seeing that these changes in the environment are enumerated by Mr. Spencer as being due to “astronomic, geologic, meteorologic, and organic agencies,” organisms never could by any possibility shelter themselves through long ages of time even from the influence of these external inciters of change. Mr. Spencer’s ex- planation of the cause of the existence of multitudinous almost struct- ureless organisms at the present day, therefore, entirely falls to the ground. The lowest organisms can neither escape the incidence of new external conditions (such as we know from actual observation do powerfully modify them), neither, if they could, should the progress of organization thereby cease—since the internal causes of change would still remain active and still continue to give rise to a “ multi- plication of effects,” as Mr. Spencer has himself explained. Thus, the existence of such lowest and simplest organisms as the microscope everywhere reveals at the present day, is quite irrecon- cilable with the position that life-evolution has not occurred since an epoch inconceivably remote in Time. Admit the present occurrence of Archebiosis and Heterogenesis, and both the existence and protean variability of the lowest organisms are at once readily explained. We may suppose them continually seething into existence afresh, en- dowed with enormous plasticity ; so that new recruits are constantly appearing, ever ready to fill up the gaps which would otherwise be occasioned by promotion and death. The opposite doctrine, con- cerning such organisms as the structureless Ameba and the insignifi- cant Mucor now daily appearing on decaying substances, seems op- posed to all reason from the point of view of the Evolution Philoso- phy. As I have elsewhere asked:* “ Would the Evolutionist really have us believe that such forms are direct continuations of an equally structureless matter which has existed for millions and millions of years without having undergone any differentiation ? Would he have us believe that the simplest and most structureless Ameba of the present day can boast of a line of ancestors stretching back to such far remote periods that in comparison with them the primeval men were but as things of yesterday? The notion surely is preposterously absurd ; or, if true, the fact would be sufficient to overthrow the very first principles of their own Evolution philosophy.”—Author’s Advance The Beginnings of Life, 1872, vol, ng Pp- 12,

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ON THE 4STHETIC SENSE IN ANIMALS. 729 ON THE ASTHETIC SENSE IN ANIMALS. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF LOUIS VIARDOT. By A, R. MACDONOUGH. HE mind of animals is a very old subject of discussion. Descartes and his school regarded an animal as a mere piece of machinery, like a clock or a turnspit. For man alone they reserved intelligence, meaning by that, memory, feeling, will, and reason. The story of Malebranche is well known: As he was going into his convent at the Oratory with a friend, a little bitch ran up and fawned on him; he gave her a kick which sent the poor beast yelping off, and when his friend expressed surprise that so gentle, kindly, and Christian a per- son returned kicks for caresses, he exclaimed, “ What! do you really suppose that that animal had any feeling?” Thus Malebranche not merely believed he had not wounded or grieved her; he even thought he had caused her no physical pain. This was denying clear proof, and pushing faith in his master’s doctrine to absurdity. On the other hand, Montaigne, Leibnitz, La Fontaine, Bayle, Con- dillac, Madame de Sévigné, agreeing with all antiquity, from Pythag- oras to Galen, assert that animals have all the organs of sensation and of feeling; that they possess will, desires, memory, ideas, combinations of ideas, and even the power of performing some moral acts, such as entertaining attachment like that a dog feels for his master, or a hen for her chicks; or, like “that very just equality which they practise in dividing food or other good things among their young,” as Mon- taigne says; and that therefore the intelligence of animals, if not equal to man’s, is at least like it, and that the differences between the oyster anchored to its rock and the homo sapiens of Linneus are merely differences between more and less, degrees of succession that make up what is called the scale of being. It is the latter opinion that has been declared triumphant by the researches of natural history and those of comparative anatomy alike. On this point science has reached certainty, and every one, reading the story of “the two Rats, the Fox and the Egg,” says now with La Fontaine: “ After that tale, where’s the pretense That animals are lacking sense?” But another dispute has just been opened on this question: “ Have animals the sense of beauty, the esthetic sense?” The famous Charles Darwin, and his numerous followers agreeing with him, dis- playing even greater generosity than Montaigne, Leibnitz, and La Fontaine, answer unhesitatingly in the affirmative. In their view, just as animals are endowed with intelligence as well as man, though in a lower degree, so in the same way and in the same proportion they

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730 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. are endowed with the sense of beauty. They find the proof of this rather bold assertion, not in natural selection, which is a result of that struggle for life in which the weakest individuals among species, and the weakest species among genera, must disappear, but in sexual selec- tion, which is a result of the struggle for reproduction, leading straight to the same consequences, namely, to the improvement of species and genera, which reaches, by slow elaboration through ages, even to their transformation. Among all animals, they say, among insects, fish, birds, mammals, the male chooses his female, and the female chooses her mate. If strength often determines the choice, so beauty often does too. The charm of graceful shapes, pleasing colors, fine notes, has great weight in settling the preference. Now, this charm which the male possesses habitually in a far higher degree than the female, he could have no occasion for whatever in the struggle for existence; he can benefit by it only in the struggle for reproduction. Hence all those displays of genuine coquetry which may easily be observed, in pairing-time, among all animals; hence those attractions prevailing through vigor of form, brilliant hues, and impassioned song. This general fact, well established under differences of appearance among all species and all genera, gives the Darwinian school ground for assert- ing that animals, having the perception of beauty, have consequently the esthetic sense. The opposing school, including of course all who prefer metaphys- ics to physiology, is by no means wanting in excellent answers. It says, by the pen of Charles Lévéque (in the Revue des Deux Mondes of September Ist), “the doctrine of Darwin rests, in its last analysis, on the capital fact that the animal, the male sometimes, the female sometimes, often both at once, is susceptible to the beauty of its kind. That the animal is struck with it, we admit; but does it feel really this beauty of color, form, and song, in so far as it is beauty, or is it not rather the fact that those brilliant tints, that vigor, that sweet- ness of voice, form for the animal an indication, very expressive, yet merely brute-like, of a physiological condition which its instinct ex- pects, which itself stimulates and answers to?” And this question, which must involve in its solution that of the former one too, the anti- Darwinians answer in the affirmative, which is the negative of the first question. They point out that this process of choice, in which beauty wins the prize, takes place only at the season of pairing, and ceases through all the rest of the year; that if we concede to the ani- mal a sense of the beautiful, within those limits, still the sense has but one special object, finds its range within the species merely, never reaches to a less concrete conception, does not widen, does not perfect itself by tradition and culture, remains unchangeably set on the same object, the same time, the same point; that admiration which grows from the expansion of this sense of beauty can only spring from very varied and delicate comparisons ; in one word, that the animal, being

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ON THE 4&STHETIC SENSE IN ANIMALS. 731 unable to attain general and abstract ideas, cannot rise to the zsthetic sense. To conclude: that sense is the exclusive endowment of man. This is a concise statement—for neither our subject nor our pow- ers allow us to take a side in this discussion—of the interesting con- troversy raised by Mr. Darwin’s last book. We only say that, not- withstanding the deep respect and the frank support that we give to his general doctrine, we here adopt the opinion of his opponents. We, too, believe that the zsthetic sense, in the high and perfect ac- ceptation of the phrase, belongs to man alone. But we must here suggest a correction of the highest importance, which will at once define our opinion, and lead us to a fundamental reflection upon the arts. “Complete the experiment,” M. Charles Lévéque says. “Place your animal before a work of art representing its male or its female with a precision that deceives the eye; some of these works that seemed to live existed in the studios of ancient painters; they are more frequent in’ modern museums and exhibition-rooms. It was said that mares would neigh when going before horses painted by Apelles. A dog would perhaps stop a moment in front of Oudry’s hunting-pieces, if their frames were put on the floor, within reach of his look. He would come up, examine them, ask the canvas a single question with his infallible secent—and that would be all. And yet, what is there in the picture? There is exactly the element worthy of admiration, that is to say, the expression of life by means of the most attractive colors and the most perfect forms. What does the quad- ruped care for these as he looks at this wonder? It is not the ex- pression of life in general that he wants; it is life itself, individual life, life which speaks to his senses, and to that of smell much more strongly than to his eyes and ears. He has no concern with the gen- eral, the ideal, the admirable; he understands nothing about them.” This is all strictly and absolutely true. We have never put much faith in the stories invented by the Greeks and collected by Pliny; we have never remarked, in our long experience as a sports- man, that the most intelligent of man’s companions ever gave the least attention to any object represented by painting or sculpture, even to his master’s portrait, or that he looked with any feeling of satisfaction at one of those charming landscapes set before us at every step by Nature, enchanting as their view is to us. That seems to us one settled fact. But is M. Lévéque quite certain that all men-have any greater faculty for that notice and that knowledge which are want- ing in the dog? Have savages got above the level of animals in this respect? A traveler, who has studied Australia thoroughly, relates that at a gathering of some native inhabitants of that country he brought out portraits of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, to see what they would think of them. Almost all kept silence, seeing noth- ing in the pictures at all within their range, or that touched their

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732 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY, memory. But two of them, and the most intelligent ones among the tribe, such as can count as far as four, ventured on a remark. One said, “It is a boat ”’—the other, “It is a kangaroo.” All savages would answer in the same way, yet they are men. But, although they too love beauty after their fashion, though they have a strong liking for ornament, a great disposition for coquetry, savages do not go further than the special and individual object; they do not rise to a general, abstract idea; they know no more than the dog knows about seeing life in the representation of a living being. Therefore we need to correct the formula of Darwin’s opponents, and may possibly thus succeed in bringing friends and enemies into agree- ment; their phrase must read, “ The zsthetic sense belongs to civil- ized man alone. In truth, it is not an innate faculty; it is a faculty acquired by tradition, by personal study, by the development of all the other fac- ulties. The Australians must first learn to count as far as the number of fingers on the hand, and something more than that, before they can be able afterward to understand that pictures of a man and a woman, even if disfigured with a cap or crown, are neither boats nor kangaroos. This assertion, that the esthetic sense belongs only to civilized man, may be proved by both philosophic methods and by arguments which I take the liberty of stating concisely, as I have set them out at length in a treatise on the question “ How should art be encouraged ? ” The subject is worth the risk of incurring ridicule for copying one’s self. We may call it, if you choose, a second edition, A priori, were we to assert that equality before the law means equality in intelligences, and that every man who has the right to be a citizen has the power to be an artist, we should commit a funda- meutal mistake. This would be confounding the feeling of the good in our nature with the feeling of the beautiful. The former is the in- stinctive knowledge of good and evil, of the just and the unjust ; it is born with us, it is conscience itself, and, as such, it is necessary for all. The latter is a certain delicacy of sensation and of judgment which is formed very gradually in the course of life; it is called taste, and is useful only to a few. The feeling of the good, which marks the grand superiority of man over the animals, and forms the common basis of all societies, is an essential element in our nature, a gift we are forced to accept from the creative power. Without it, man would not be man. On the contrary, the feeling of the beautiful, which is less necessary, and may well be rare because it is superfluous, is an acquisition won by intelligence, slowly, painfully, uncertainly, and is often denied to the most honest efforts. One, like rank, costs nothing but the trouble of being born: the other demands, as all acquired knowledge does, a previous fitness, a kind of revelation, in which chance must often lend Nature its aid, besides time, reflection, mental labor in bodily leisure, _

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ae _ ON THE A4STHETIC SENSE IN ANIMALS. 733 A posteriori; it is plain that a man’s first movement, as regards the good, is almost always right; as regards the beautiful, almost always wrong. Listen to the crowd, judging by its moral estimate of an event that has taken place under its eyes, when no interest nor passion misleads it: what good sense, what fairness, what insight, what right intentions, what generous sympathies! Then hear it dis- coursing on the merit of works of art: what wretched taste, what glaring mistakes, what ridiculous enthusiasm, what sad and utter going astray! “The people,” writes Diderot to Grimm, “looks at every thing, and gets at the meaning of nothing.” But do you ask for still more decisive and clear practical proofs of the immense dis- tance that separates knowledge of the good from that of the beauti- ful in the human mind? A petit jury, though it decides on the lib- erty, life, and honor of an accused person, is drawn merely by lot, be- cause each citizen can judge as well as every other, upon evidence and discussion, of the truth and morality of an alleged fact. But do we choose the jury which has to award the prize of a competition from the same list and in the same way? No! in that case we must choose among the most skilled and the best qualified specialists. But what need of demonstrating what his own experience tells every one? Among these skilled and special jurors where is the one who will not confess that he at first was, and long continued to be, the dupe of his ignorance? Which of them is not aware that taste for the arts, and, still more, taste in the arts, came to him only after a long time, after lucky and often casual experiences, after protracted stud- ies, repeated comparisons, a constant exertion of the powers of see- ing, understanding, feeling, judging? And who does not know, by having learned it in himself, that in the arts—except perhaps in mu- sic, which filters in unconsciously to those who hear it—emotions come in the train of reasonings, and that the first condition of positive ad- miration is knowledge? “I am fully persuaded,” says Sir Joshua Reynolds, in one of his “Fifteen Discourses,” “that the pleasure yielded us by the perfections of art is a taste which we acquire only by long study and with much labor.” Those who choose to attribute too liberally to all men the sense of the beautiful as well as that of the good, attempt to support their opinion by a fact. They cite the instance of Athens, where, they say, competition in the arts was open to all in the public arena, where the whole people formed the tribunal, The instance is misleading, and I take it the other way, to sustain my proposition. Without insisting on the special genius of ancient Greece among the other nations of the world, and that of the Athenian people among the other peoples of Greece, I will merely point out that this people of Athens, so small in its territory and population, so great in its deeds and re- nown, consisted of about forty thousand free citizens, served by four hundred thousand slaves. Now, the slaves, charged with all manual

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734 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. tasks, and practising all the trades, relieved their masters from bodily labor, made them men of leisure, and consecrated them to the exclu- sive cultivation of the intellect, like the head of a body of which they were themselves the acting and subject limbs. That Athenian democracy, how jealous soever it might be of equality between citi- zens, was thus a real aristocracy; and we can very well understand how the decision on matters of art might be trusted to the multitude, when that multitude consisted entirely of men so enlightened, by edu- cation and experience, that all public functions and all magistracies might be distributed among them by lot, without any great danger to the state. The empire of the arts, though it refuses to accept any boundaries as haughtily as that of science does, though speaking as well a universal language it spreads over the whole world, can be ruled only by a strict oligarchy. Indeed, as has been justly said, good taste is the quintessence of good sense. Therefore, whatever may be our devotion to equality before the law, we can never admit equality before genius, or even before that talent which the cultivation of art requires. ‘Among mankind art has been, and always will be, the exclusive share of asmall minority ; in fact, a very choice and very limited aris- tocracy. It is assuredly not that of birth, for there ig nothing more personal than genius or talent. It is aristocracy in its true and genu- ine sense—the privilege of the best. Art belongs only to certain ex- ceptional natures, very rare because they are highly endowed, whose possessors must combine with the choicest moral faculties, imagina- tion with judgment, feeling with taste, other precious physical facul- ties, clearness of view, and precision of touch, All men may be arti- sans; only the best, the aristoi, can be artists. To conclude, and still taking the phrase “ esthetic sense ” in its highest and perfect meaning, we first deny it to animals; and next, holding this delicate sense to be one of the noblest attributes of man- kind, we restrict it to civilized man; then last, even among nations whom continued and general cultivation places in the front rank of humanity, we allow this esthetic sense only to some groups of select men, on whom the nature of their minds and their taste formed by long study confers this rare and precious privilege. Has not Sten- dhal declared that all literary reputations are made by a choice circle of five hundred readers? And it is a certain truth that the number of bachelors of arts is still sfhaller than the number of bachelors of letters. However, not to overstep the very modest part suited to mere writers and professional critics, let us hasten to add that, if in art the public voice is that of a very small number, but acute, practised, and disinterestedly enthusiastic; if this voice alone decrees to the living the rewards of celebrity, to the dead the immortality of fame; if, moreover, this choice circle of connoisseurs has the sole right of

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A YEAR OF GEOGRAPHICAL WORK. 735 criticism, it by no means follows thence that every one of its members has the gift of infallibility. Far from that; it is like that aristo- cratic democracy of Athens, in which each citizen had his personal vote only, and could prevail only on condition of convincing. As in the domain of the good there is but one authority—conscience, so there is but one authority in the domain of the beautiful — taste. Only, conscierace speaks the same language to all the men of one community ; while taste, on the contrary, even acquired and formed taste, is as manifold as temperaments, ideas, and passions are. It va- ries from country to country in every age, and from age to age in every country. Still further, it varies between man and man, and in each man, at different periods of life. The bear in the fable very sen- sibly says: “« Who tells you this shape’s awkward, that one fine ? Has yours the right to judge or censure mine?” Therefore it is in vain, as if in strict pursuance of a duty, to read all books, listen to all counsels, ask advice from people supposed to be cleverer than one’s self, and prop up one’s judgment by more sure and authoritative judgments. In the criticism of art, where positive canons are wanting, no one is suffered to deem himself an authority ; no one is any thing more than an opinion.— Gazette des Beaux Arts. A YEAR OF GEOGRAPHICAL WORK. T the annual meeting of the American Geographical Society, held on the 13th of January, 1874, the address was delivered by the President of the Society, Chief-Justice Daly, who gave to a large and intelligent audience an admirable digest of geographical work and progress during the past year. In his elaborate and most instructive remarks, after dilating on the object and use of geographical societies, and making special allusion to the great results of what might be called the geographical society formed by Prince Henry and his asso- ciates upon the promontory of Sagres, in Southern Portugal, viz., the discovery of the passage to the East Indies by the Cape of Good Hope, the president went on to state that there is yet one-seventeenth part of the globe of which we know nothing, except by conjecture, espe- cially in the north and south polar regions, in Central Africa, in the interior or northern parts of Australia, and some of the great East Indian islands, e. g., Borneo and New Guinea, Many regions in South America, in Asia, and even a considerable portion of our own Western country, are not yet fully explored. These may yet be outlets for the surplus population of longer-settled and overstocked countries. Geographical research aids the progress of physical geography, especially our knowl-

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736 THE POPUZAR SCIENCE MONTHLY, edge of the wind and ocean currents of the globe, and the mysterious laws of terrestrial magnetism. It was with the object of stimulating geographical inquiry that the first geographical society was formed in Great Britain forty-three years ago. There are now thirty-three similar societies over the globe, viz., in England, France, Holland, Belgium, Italy, Spain, Germany, Hungary, Russia, India, United States, Mexico, Brazil, and Buenos Ayres. These more or less influence public opinion, governments, and wealthy indi- viduals, willing to aid exploration, and the expeditions of the year have been unusually numerous. Never has there been such zeal as during the last quarter of a century, from their associated efforts. It is only very large and wealthy societies, like those of London and St. Petersburg, however, which can engage in distant and expensive ex- plorations, but all can aid in pointing out suitable fields for explora- tion, and impressing on the age the necessity and value of it. In reviewing the geographical work of the world during the year, President Daly commenced with the Coast Survey, which Humboldt in 1851 said would hereafter be our great scientific monument. The valuable practical land operations of the Engineer Corps, U.S. A.; the labors of the Hydrographic Office at Washington; the United States Geological and Geographical Survey of the Western Territories; the Yellowstone Expedition under General Stanley, and the less military one under Captain Jones, with their valuable scientific results—were in turn treated in detail; after which the president reviewed Lieuten- ant Wheeler’s exploration of the White Mountains of Arizona. The Yale College Expedition, instituted by Prof. Marsh, to explore be- tween Salt Lake City and the Colorado River, gave us five tons of fossil and other collections. The explorers received great attention from the Mormons, owing to the discovery of fossil remains of various species of horses. Certain events are related in the Book of Mormon as occurring in the prehistoric period of America, in which horses are mentioned, According to the Spanish historians, horses did not exist in America till introduced by their countrymen, and this statement has been taken as evidence that the Book of Mormon is a fabrication. The Mormons, therefore, regard Prof. Marsh’s discovery of fossil horses in Oregon as a proof of the inspiration of the Book of Mormon. The expedition and researches of Dall, in the Aleutian Islands and North Pacific, are also interesting. The archeological discoveries of the year were next briefly review- ed, and more fully the voyage of the Polaris by way of Smith’s Sound to within little more than 400 miles of the north pole. A Swedish expedition was sent out, under Prof. Nordenskidld, to Parry Island; a Norwegian to the east of Spitzbergen, and an Austrian to the east of Nova Zembla. The practicability of a ship-canal across the Isth- mus of Darien, by way of the Atrato, has been tested by an expedi- tion under Commander Selfridge, and, by Commander Lull, of an-

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A YEAR OF GEOGRAPHICAL WORK. 737 other route from Greytown, by San Juan River and Lake. Prof. James Orton, of Vassar College, just returned from South America, has added a great deal of valuable knowledge of the geography and zoology of Amazonia. Hurlbut has crossed the Cordilleras from Lima to Lake Titicaca, while Captain Musters has journeyed through Pata- gonia. A narrative of the valuable explorations of Sefior Raimondi in the little-known portions of Peru, to the west of the Andes, is to be published by the Peruvian Government. The main geographical work of Europe has been the carrying out of those valuable national topographical surveys on which, as the re- cent Franco-Prussian War shows, the fate of nations may depend. The agreement of the Meteorological Congress, held at Vienna, was unanimous as to the great importance of synchronous meteorological observations all over the world. The scientific results of the Challen- ger’s voyage, and of Prof. Mohn’s deep-sea investigations to the north of Europe, were next alluded to. Asia has been the scene of considerable activity in geographical exploration. Elias has traveled, almost alone, from Peking to St. Pe- tersburg, across Chinese Tartary. The Russian capture of Khiva will produce important geographical and political results. Among the most important of recent geographical expeditions is that of Mr. Jacob Halevy, through Yemen, in the Arabian Peninsula. Both the English and the American societies have been surveying and exploring in Palestine, the labors of the former being nearly ended, those of the latter only entered upon. The English expedition, under Captain Warren, employed chiefly in exploring Jerusalem, with branch expeditions to the plain of Philistia, and the comparatively unknown regions east of the Jordan and Mount Lebanon, has settled disputed questions, determined astronomically the position of many places, aided in elucidating ancient history, and also added much to our knowledge of local topography. The British Ordnance Survey of the Peninsula of Sinai has, among other things, remarkably corroborated the truth- fulness and accuracy of Biblical history, as did also the examination of the desert of the Exodus by Prof. Palmer and Mr. Drake. By arrangement with the English society, the country lying to the east of the Jordan and Dead Sea has been undertaken by the American Pales- tine Exploring Society, under Lieutenant Steever, U. 8. A. This em- braces the lands of Moab and Edom, where the celebrated Moabite Stone was found, which illustrated so fully the origin and history of our alphabet, and the art of writing. The surveys for the various railroad routes between London and India were then briefly alluded to. The geographical intelligence from Africa is varied, but not so in- teresting as during the previous year. It embraces Nachtigall’s jour- ney in the Wadai country; that of Rohlfs ftom North Africa to Lagos; the Livingstone relief expedition of Cameron; Sir 8. Baker’s efforts to suppress the slave-trade in the Upper Nile region; Miani’s travels VoL, 1v.—47

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738 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY, along the White Nile to the Monbuita country, where he lost his life, A difficult journey was made by Prof. Blyden to Falaba, a little-known country to the northeast of Sierra Leone. Marche and Compeigne are now penetrating Equatorial Africa in the vicinity of the Ga- boon. Besides these, it should be remembered that hundreds of residents, living on the coast or having trading outposts in the interior, annually contribute a rich fund to geographical knowledge by corre- spondence or publications. Among these are Bushnell of the Gaboon, who supplies valuable letters, Hansell of Khartoum, and Munzinger Bey, one of the ablest geographers and most experienced travelers, and cor- responding member at Masswah of the American Geographical Society. The effect of the Anglo-Ashantee War on our geographical knowledge cannot yet be fairly estimated. In Australasia the eastern shore of New Guinea has been explored by Captain Moresby, of the British Navy, in H. M. S. Basilisk, who dispels many false impressions prevalent regarding that hitherto little-known but highly-interesting island and its inhabitants. The island has been crossed from Geelvinks Bay to McClure Gulf by Dr. Meyer, who, like Moresby, but unlike Beccari, who has been explor- ing there, gives a favorable account of the island and its people. For- mosa has been traversed from north to south by Thompson and Max- well, who found coal. It would be premature to speak of the geo- graphical results of the Dutch Acheen expedition. Mr. Ernest Giles and Baron von Miller have been exploring Central Australia, and gathering much accurate geographical informa- tion. The telegraphic event of the year has been the construction of a line across Australia, from Adelaide in the south to Port Darwin on the north coast, a distance of 2,012 miles, which gives a continuous line from Adelaide to Gibraltar, a distance of 12,462 miles, of which 9,146 are submarine, by which Australia has three weeks’ earlier news than by the mail-steamers. The last geographical intelligence from Australia is the discovery of thousands of acres of the richest sugar- growing land near Cardwell, in Northern Queensland, by a government exploring expedition. Judge Daly’s instructive address, of which we have only given an outline, is well worth careful perusal, nor can its fresh and valuable details fail to awaken a fresh and wider interest in geographical science, or to give a renewed impetus to geographical discovery, while showing that America and Americans are not behind the age in geographical zealeand enterprise. In an appendix we also find some valuable information regarding the United States Geological Survey of the Territories (Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, and Utah), in 1872, extracted from the report of the Government geologist, J. V. Hayden.

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SKETCH OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY. 739 SKETCH OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY. By ERNST HAECKEL, OF THE UNIVERSITY OF JENA. HOMAS HENRY HUXLEY was born at Ealing, on May 4, 1825. With the exception of two and a half years spent at the semi-public school at Ealing, of which his father was one of the mas- ters, his education was carried on at home, and in his later boyhood was chiefly the result of his own efforts. In 1842 he entered the medical school attached to Charing Cross Hospital, where, at that time, Mr. Wharton Jones, distinguished alike as a physiologist and oculist, was lecturing on physiology. In 1845 Mr. Huxley passed the first M. B. examination at the University of London, and was placed second in the list of honors for Anatomy and Physiology, the first place being given to Dr. Ransome, now of Nottingham. After some experience of the duties of his profession among the poor of London, in 1846 he joined the medical service of the Royal Navy, and proceeded to Haslar Hospital. Thence he was selected, through the influence of the distinguished arctic traveler and naturalist, Sir John Richardson, to occupy the post of assistant-surgeon to H. M. 8, Rattlesnake, then about to proceed on a surveying voyage in the Southern Seas. The Rattlesnake, commanded by Captain Owen Stanley, with Mr. MacGillivray as naturalist, sailed from England in the winter of 1846. She surveyed the Inner Route between the Bar- rier Reef and the East Coast of Australia and New Guinea, and, after making a voyage of circumnavigation, returned to England in No- vember, 1850. During this period Mr, Huxley investigated, with a success known to all naturalists, the fauna of the seas which he trav- ersed, and sent home several communications, some of which were published in the “ Philosophical Transactions” of the Royal Society. The first which so appeared, presented by the late Bishop of Nor- wich, and read June 21, 1849, bears the title “On the Anatomy and Affinities of the Family of the Meduse.” This was, however, not Mr. Huxley’s first scientific effort. While yet a student at Charing Cross Hospital, he had sent a brief notice to the Medical Times and Ga- zette, of that layer in the root-sheath of hair which has since borne the name of Huxley’s Layer. Shortly after his return he was (June, 1851) elected a Fellow of the Royal Society. In 1853 Mr. Huxley, after vainly endeavoring to obtain the publi- cation by the Government of a part of the work done during his voy- age, left the naval service, and in 1854, on the removal of Edward Forbes from the Government School of Mines to the chair of Natural * From Nature. The first part of this sketch has been supplied by its editor.

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THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 74° History at Edinburgh, succeeded his distinguished friend as Professor of Natural History in that institution, a post which he has continued to hold up to the present day. Since that time Mr. Huxley has lived in London a life of continued and brilliant labor. From 1863 to 1869 he held the post of Hunterian Professor at the Royal College of Sur- geons. He was twice chosen Fullerian Professor of Physiology at the Royal Institution of Great Britain. In 1869 and 1870 he was Presi- dent of the Geological Society, having previously served as secretary. During the same period he was President of the Ethnological Society. In 1870 he filled the office of President of the British Association for the Advancement of Science, and in 1872 was elected secretary to the Royal Society. He has been elected a corresponding member of the Academies of Berlin, Munich, St. Petersburg, and of other foreign scientific societies, has received honorary degrees from the Universi- ties of Breslau and Edinburgh, and last year was presented with the Order of the Northern Star by the King of Sweden. Since 1870 he has.been one of the members of the Royal Commission on Scientific Instruction and the Advancement of Science. From 1870 to 1872 he served on the London School Board as one of the members for Mary- lebone, and during that time was chairman of the Education Com- mittee which arranged the scheme of education adopted in the Board Schools. In 1872 he was elected Lord Rector of the University of Aberdeen. In this skeleton narrative of the career of this distinguished naturalist we have purposely omitted any list or any critical estimate of his writings; but we have great pleasure in laying before our read- ers, as a token of what is thought of him by those who are laboring in the same field of science, the following communication from one who ranks, in his own country as well as among ourselves, as one of the very first of German naturalists, The more general, year by year, the interest taken by all educated people in the progress of natural science, and the wider, day by day, the field of science, the more difficult is it for the man of science him- self to keep pace with all the advances made—the smaller becomes the number of those who are able to take a bird’s-eye view of the whole field of science, and in whose minds the higher interest of the philosophical importance of the whole is not lost amid a crowd of fas- cinating particulars. Indeed, if at the present moment we run over the names distinguished in the several sciences into which Natural Knowledge may be divided—in Physics, in Chemistry, in Botany, in Zoology—we find but few investigators who can be said to have thor- oughly mastered the whole range of any one of them. Among these few we must place Thomas Henry Huxley, the distinguished British investigator, who at the present time justly ranks as the first zoologist

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SKETCH OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY. 741 among hiscountrymen. When we say the first zoologist, we give the widest and fullest signification to the word “ zoology ” which the latest developments of this science demand. Zoology is, in this sense, the entire biology of animals; and we accordingly consider as essential parts of it the whole field of Animal Morphology and Physiology, in- cluding not only Comparative Anatomy and Embryology, but also Systematic Zoology, Paleontology, and Zoological Philosophy. We look upen it as a special merit in Prof. Huxley that he has a thor- oughly broad conception of the science in which he labors, and that, with a most careful empirical acquaintance with individual phenom- ena, he combines a clear philosophical appreciation of general rela- tions. When we consider the long series of distinguished memoirs with which, during the last quarter of a century, Prof. Huxley has enriched zoological literature, we find that in each of the larger divisions of the animal kingdom we ure indebted to him for important discoveries. From the lowest animals, he has gradually extended his investiga- tions up to the highest, and even to man. His earlier labors were, for the most part, occupied with the lower marine animals, especially with the pelagic organisms swimming at the surface of the open sea. He availed himself of an excellent opportunity for the study of these, when on board H. M.S. Rattlesnake on a voyage of circumnavigation, which took him to many most interesting parts of tropical oceans lit- tle investigated, previously, by the zoologist ; especially the coasts of Australia. Here he was able to observe, in their living state, a host of lower pelagic animals, some of which had not at all been studied, others but imperfectly. In the Protozoa, he was the first to lead us to satisfactory conclusions concerning the nature of the puzzling Tha- lassicollide and Sphsrozoida, Our knowledge of Zoophytes has been greatly extended by his splendid work on “Oceanic Hydrozoa,” in which, chiefly, the remarkable Siphonophora, with their largely-de- veloped polymorphism and the instructive division of labor in their individual organs, are described with very great accuracy. Already in his first work “On the Anatomy and Affinities of the Meduse,” 1849, he directed attention to the very important point, that the body of these animals is constructed of two cell-layers—of the Ectoderm and the Endoderm—and that these, physiologically and morphologically, may be compared to the two germinal layers of the higher animals. He has made us better acquainted with several in- teresting members of the class Vermes, Sagitta, Lacinularia, some lower Annulosa, etc. He was the first to point out the affinities of Echinodermata with Vermes. In opposition to-the old view, that the Echinodermata belong to the Radiata, and, on account of their radial type, are to be classed with corals, meduse, etc., Huxley showed that the whole organization of the former is essentially different from that of the latter, and thet the Echinoderms are more nearly related, morpho-

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742 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. logically, to worms. Further he has essentially enlarged our knowl- edge of the important group of Tunicata by his researches on the Ascidians, Appendicularia, Pyrosoma, Doliolum, Salpa, etc. Many important advances in the morphology of the Mollusca and Arthropoda are also due to him. Thus, e. g., he has greatly elucidated the controverted subject of the homology of regions of the body in the various classes of Mollusca. He has considered the generation of vine-fretters from quite a new point of view, based on his “ genealogi- cal conception of animal Individuality.” But it is the comparative anatomy and classification of the Vertebrata which, during the last ten years, he has especially studied and advanced. His excellent “Lectures on the Elements of Comparative Anatomy” afford abun- dant proof of this, to say nothing of his numerous important mono- graphs, especially those on living and extinct fish, amphibians, rep- tiles, birds, and mammals. Huxley’s works on the comparative anatomy of the Vertebrata are the only ones which can be compared with the otherwise incomparable investigations of Carl Gegenbaur. These two inquirers exhibit, par- ticularly in their peculiar scientific development, many points of rela- tionship. They both belong to that small circle of morphologists which is marked by the names of Caspar Friedrich Wolff, George Cuvier, Wolfgang Goethe, Johannes Miller, and Carl Ernst von Baer. More important than any of the individual discoveries which are contained in Huxley’s numerous less and greater researches on the most widely different animals, are the profound and truly philosophical con- ceptions which have guided him in his inquiries, have always enabled him to distinguish the essential from the unessential, and to value special empirical facts chiefly as a means of arriving at general ideas, Those views of the two germinal layers of animals which were published as early as 1849 belong to the most important generalizations of compar- ative anatomy ; they already contain in germ the idea of the “ perfect homology of the two primary germinal layers through the whole series of animals (except protozoa),” which first found its complete expression, a short time since, in the “ Gastrea theory; ” also his re- searches on animal individuality, his treatment of the celebrated ver- tebral theory of the skull, in which he first opened out the right track, following which Carl Gegenbaur has solved in so brilliant a manner this important problem, and, above all, his exposition of the Theory of Descent and its consequences belong to this class. After Charles Darwin had, in 1859, reconstructed this most important biological theory, and, by his epoch-making theory of Natural Selection, placed it on an entirely new foundation, Huxley was the first who extended it to man; and, in 1863, in his celebrated three lectures on “ Man’s Place in Nature,” admirably worked out its most important develop- ments. With luminous clearness and convincing certainty, he has

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SKETCH OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY. 742 here established the fundamental law that, in every respect, the ana- tomical differences between man and the highest apes are of less value than those between the highest and the lowest apes. Especially weighty is the evidence adduced, for this law, in the most important of all organs—the brain ; and by this the objections of Prof. Richard Owen are, at the same time, thoroughly refuted. Not only has the Evolution Theory received from Prof. Huxley a complete demonstra- tion of its immense importance, not only has it been largely advanced by his valuable comparative researches, but its spread among the gen- eral public has been largely due to his well-known popular writings. In these he has accomplished the difficult task of rendering most fully and clearly intelligible, to an educated public of very various ranks, the highest problems of philosophical biology. From the lowest to the highest organisms, from Bathybius up to man, he has elucidated the connecting law of development. In these several ways he has, in the struggle for truth, rendered Science a service which must ever rank as one of the highest of his many and great scientific merits. No statement of the character and work of Prof. Huxley would be complete that did not recognize his remarkable attainments as a writer. All who have read the masterly papers contained in “ Lay Sermons,” or the “Critiques and Addresses,” will acknowledge his fine and vig- orous command of English, and the literary richness of his style. He has a keen enjoyment of literary excellence, and “keeps up” with poetry, fiction, and the progress of critical thought, notwithstanding his indefatigable scientific investigations. Owing to these traits, Prof. Huxley has a high reputation as a popular scientific teacher; and even his “ Lectures to Working-men” are models of what such dis- courses should be—clear, simple, and attractive, yet carefully accurate and strictly scientific. As a public speaker he is quiet, deliberate, fluent, and, we might almost say, colloquial ; while socially he is ge- nial, witty, and brilliant. He is, moreover, a man of enlarged sympa- thies, in this respect contrasting markedly with many scientific men, who are swallowed up in their specialties, and never give a thought to any thing beyond them. Prof. Huxley has, however, overworked himself, and damaged his health. We hope he will regain his power, and be able to give this country a season of lecturing, as he has long hoped to do. He is perhaps the only scientific man in England who could revive for us the pleasant experience we had with Prof. Tyndall last year.

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744 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. CORRESPONDENCE. NOTE ON THE BREEDING HABITS OF THE MUD-MINNOW. UR very common “ mud-minnow” (Melanura limi, Agassiz — Silliman’s American Journal of Science, 1853, vol. xvi., p. 135), which is found over a wide extent of territory in America, and which, according to Dr. Albert Giinther (“ Catalogue of Fishes,” in the British Museum, vol. vi., p. 231), is generically the same as the Umbra crameri of Europe, presents some features in its breeding habits which we have thought of particular interest, and would be greatly pleased to know if the European Umbra crameri, which Dr. Giinther states inhabits the “stagnant waters of Austria and Hun- gary—neighborhood of Odessa,” has identi- cal habits ; or, if the difference of climate, and character of the surroundings generally, have caused a more or less noticeable varia- tion in its habits, especially during the spawning-season. We have not access to any work, on the fishes of Central Europe, that gives any details of their habits. As we have already described it ( Ameri- can Naturalist, vol. iv., pp. 107, 388, Fig. 86), this little umbra is, “pure and simple,” a mud-loving fish, and more strictly so than any ether, unless we may except the eel (Anguilla acutirostris), During the present winter we have had unusually favorable op- portunities for studying the fish during this part of the year. In December, while the weather was cool rather than cold, with but little ice, we found that hundreds of these fish were being thrown out with the mud then being scooped from the ditches of the tract of meadow on the writer’s farm. On learning this, we had the mud carefully taken out by shovelfuls and examined, to learn the exact condition and position of these fish. They were, when taken from the mud, motionless, stiff, and apparently frozen; they were not brittle, and an at- tempt to bend or break them resulted in a very prompt but partial restoration of vi- tality (or consciousness ?). Specimens thus roughly handled were permanently injured by being bent, even if not in excess of a de- gree of curvature that they can and do readily assume when in their normal con- dition. On placing specimens freed from mud in water of a temperature of 60° Fahr., which is pretty nearly or quite that of the ditch-water in summer, they only fully re- vived after lying on their sides, at the bot- tom of the vessel, for from twenty-five to forty minutes, and seemed to be injured permanently by the sudden change; but, if placed, with the mud still adhering to them, in water at a temperature of 40° Fahr., which became gradually warmer, by the ves- sel containing the fish being removed to a warm room, the minnows would become wholly themselves again, in from ten to fif- teen minutes, and swim off in full vigor, as the mud slowly loosened from them and settled to the bottom of the vessel. As taken from the bottom of the ditch, the mud in which these minnows were hibernating was of about the consistency of cheese. As far as we were able to determine, these fish had burrowed tail-foremost, to a depth of from four to nine inches, and, in every instance, we believe the tail was deeper than the head, the position varying from almost horizontal to nearly or quite perpendicular, Pursuing the investigation somewhat further, we found that, where these fishes had gone into winter-quarters in deep water, i.e., from three to five feet deep, the hi- bernating slumber was not as profound ; and, when they were placed in clear water, at a temperature of 46° Fahr., they almost immediately swam about; slowly at first, but with steadily-increasing activity, and, in from three to five minutes, were in full possession of all their powers, and assumed the statue-like positions common to them, when seen in summer, when, for many min- utes together, they will remain immovable, and only move when the near approach of an insect larva offers them a sure chance for a meal, or portion of one. It should be here mentioned that the water in the ditches from which we first gathered specimens va- ried from nine to fifteen inches in depth, and was coated with ice one inch thick.

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During the past month (February), the weather being most of the time mild and spring-like—the smailer frogs. singing throughout the day—we watched for the first ippearance of these mud-minnows, and saw them in scanty numbers, first, on Sun- day, the 15th. A week later (Monday, 23d), we found but few specimens in the muddy ditches, but a vast number of females, with distended abdomens, heavy with orange- colored masses of ripe (?) ova, in the swift, clear, ice-cold waters of the hill-side brooks. On the 25th there was a violent snow- storm, with cold northeast winds, but this did not deter the “ onward” movement of the minnows. Of the specimens taken from the rivulets, at this time, none were males, and it seems probable, although we could not positively ascertain the truth, that the male fish follow the females, and either seek out the deposited ova and fertilize it (does this ever happen ?), or that the females wait until the arrival of the males before depos- iting their eggs. We would refer, in conclusion, to one feature of their habits again. These fish, at the commencement of winter, by burrow- ing deeply in the mud of the waters they frequent, avoid the decided lowering of the temperature, which they, at this season, seem unable to withstand; but, at the ap- proach of spring, they arrive, synchronously with the maturing of the ova in the females, and milt in the males, and, after thus re- covering their wonted activity—say in Feb- ruary—no amount of severe weather deters them from seeking out exceptionally cold waters for their spawning-beds. This was shown by the late snow-storm above re- ferred to, after which the female minnows were still found passing up the brooks, forcing their way up miniature cascades, with all the agility of a salmon, leaping from eddy to eddy, seeking out the most distant points from their muddy summer haunts that they could reach ; and here, where but little water flowed, and with the dry grass and twigs projecting fromsit, thickly coated with crystal ice and glisten- ing frost, we found the plainly-colored, di- minutive mud-minnows hidden among the pebbles and sandy ridges of the brook-bed. Cartes C. Apsorr, M.D. Trenton, N. J., March 2, 1874. CORRESPONDENCE. 745 ANIMAL MIGRATIONS. To the Editor of the Popular Science Monthly : I BELIEVE that grasshoppers (locusts) migrate solely on account of an encmy—a dipterous insect much resembling the house- fly, but larger, quicker, and grayish in color owing to the white hairs at the edges of the articulations. This insect deposits its eggs in the upper part of the locust’s abdomen, when the latter is resting on the ground, as it cannot do so when flying. Its favorite moment of attack is just as the locust alights from a flight or a hop. In a few days the larva or maggot is about a quarter of an inch in length. Soon the locust dies, when the larva eats its way out and bur- rows in the ground for transformation. Sometimes four of these larve will be found in one locust, I first noticed this in the summer of 1871. In 1872, when a flight of locusts began to arrive, the fly destroyed nearly all that came during the first two weeks, or until cool nights seemed to stop its multiplication. In 1873 I had an un- usually fine opportunity to observe the lo- custs, as they hatched in incredible num- bers upon my farm, and devoured my crops. During the whole summer the fly left the locusts no quiet, but drove them to most des- perate straits to avoid the attacks; so that, as soon as the locusts acquired wings, they flew away—that is, what were /é/t of them, for I estimate that not one in fifty escaped death. In places where the irrigating ditches prevented them from crawling forward, they were piled two and three inches deep. The ground during the cool of the day would be dotted with white maggots crawling off to find burrows. The locusts did not leave on account of famine, for there were ample fields of grain and other crops untouched ; and they would sometimes abandon a field when only slightly eaten. Besides, I have seen the swarm floating all day in the air when still, and constantly alighting and arising, as hunger impelled from above, or the fly from below. I do not find this fly mentioned in Tenney’s work on “ Entomol- ogy.” If comparatively new, there is hope that it will work the destruction of the lo- custs. I also believe the latter can be read- ily destroyed by the combined efforts of man, as they hatch in exceedingly small areas,

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746 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. The prairie-dog (Cynomes ludovicianus) ; moral timidity which the hiding of their is migratory, although it moves slowly, ac- | real names is the effect of. It is the pecu- complishing hardly more than half a mile a year. Apparently, their object is to obtain fresh food, for they eat root and branch as they go. The leaders are, invariably, the young, who are constantly driven out by their more mature and powerful brethren. Their vacated holes are occupied by owls and rattle-snakes, but whether these prove enemies or not I do not know. I strongly suspect that the cause of mi- gration in the lemmings is the parasites which infest their bodies. These, after a few years, increase to such nvfnbers as to be unendurable ; then the lemmings set out and are never known to return until they have overcome their enemies in the flood. S. E. Wiser. Greetey, Cotornapo, Feb. 28, 1874. MR. SPENCER AND THE WOMEN. Sir: Two papers have already appeared in your columns relating to Mr. Herbert Spencer’s “Study of Sociology :”—a direct review of the work, January 10th, to which Viscount Amberley has given the credit of fairly appending to it his own name, thus placing his comments on the author's view of women on the true class-footing of their being the judgment of a man; and a letter, December 20th, confined to this point, to which, through its being signed only with the initial “ L.,” class-weight of this sort is entirely wanting, notwithstanding the actual force of its remarks—thus forming, as I wish to argue, a notable instance of the un- desirableness of that practice of signing by mere initials which is contended for in an- other article of the first-mentioned number, on the ground of its being a protection to the modest, retiring, sensitive nature of some writers who yet feel that they have something to say which would be well said. My object, then, is now the twofold one, of on the one hand repeating (with some dif- ference) the main arguments of “ L.,” under the avowed character of a woman; and on the other of pressing upon my fellow-women the present necessity, as especially called forth by Mr. Spencer’s recent work, of wom- | en not indulging on this occasion in the | themselves —the case referred to being *. liarity of the case that, as all writers have hitherto been taken for granted to be men, there has sprung a natural desire among actual women-writers to play a trick on the public, which has thence caused them as much as possible to force the matter of their own thoughts into the mould of those of men. And although, perhaps, there may be little harm in this where it is fiction alone that is concerned, I contend that it is really a deep injury in relation to those practical questions with which specially all the literature of journals must be occupied, I share strongly with “L.” the disap- pointment which he or she expresses on the turn which to me also appears indicated in Mr. Spencer’s design agains( the present desire arisen in women to take their part in the social regulating of their country. I mean, chiefly, as to those appended state- ments of his, cast as if casually into the foot-notes at the end of his volume, which, however, contain in this peculiar instance what must be taken by his readers as a sort of a priori basis to his whole intended rea- soning on the subject to come; the whole statements, crowded into almost a single page, regard matters on which it is the very claim of women that no settled opinion is yet possible. Mr. Spencer signifies that whatever fruits of the higher kind of in- tellect women possibly may produce are, nevertheless, by a certain degree of “ nor- mal limitation,” to be accounted of as mere mental monstrosities—mere aberrations from the true course of development which is the only profitable course. He obviously thinks it nothing against such course that some of the number of men should exclude them- selves from the ordinary duties of domestic and social life, in order that, by strained ef- forts at intellectual illumination, they may guide those self-efforts of commoner men, which, in the case of men, he asserts are the only true means of real culture; but with women he implies that all such seclu- sion can inevitably produce nothing of any value so long as men are at hand to afford the required lights. Nothing but an abso- lute dearth of men present to do that for women which normally they cannot do for

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specially that of ascertaining their own so- cial status—can justify the alleged wasting of their real powers! Surely this is a re- versal of his plan for men, threatening a philosophic tyranny in his future scheme over the true instincts of women, which the latter cannot possibly feel to be justice to them. Most needfully, then, in the face of such threatened injury on the part of a writer who is daily becoming more and more of de- served weight in social topics, must women look to one another ; that is, for the openly- expressed class-feeling which manifestly is the thing that is now called for. The best thing that has been said for us by Mr. Mill, and that for which I think, for one, we owe him a debt of gratitude never to be extin- guished, is that, after all, women must speak Sor themselves. Unless they will do so, this most generous of our advocates has said, it must remain “impossible that any man, or all men taken together, should have knowl- edge which can qualify them to lay down the law to women as to what is, or is not, their vocation” (“Subjection of Women,” EDITORS TABLE. 747 p. 48). Let me, however, add, on the other side, that in my own view this demand of self-expression from women by no means in- cludes any equal need of immediate political action. Until the subject has been well thought out between men and women, with much more of careful study than is com- patible with popular agitation, I am con- vinced that any too eager pressing forward toward practical arrangement of it must be dangerously premature. And for this end I believe truly that we need, not only all the instruction that Mr. Spencer can give us, both philosophic and scientific, but all the strenuous mental effort on the part of at least those who must take lead among us, which he seems to condemn. I recognize fully that we can in no way do better than to take him as our teacher—however little he may perhaps himself approve of this— provided always that in learning from him we remain true to ourselves. I am, etc., Sara 8. HENNELL. Coventry, January 20, 1874. — Examiner, EDITOR’S TABLE. THE WORK AND INFLUENCE OF THE MONTHLY. HE present number closes the sec- ond year and the fourth volume of Tae Porputar Science Monruty. That it met a demand is shown by» the fact that it has been better sustained than any other scientific magazine of its class that has been started in any country. That it has fulfilled its early promise in the estimation of the pub- lic, is shown also by the fact that it has been increasingly commended with each succeeding issue. We wish to make it still better, but our power to do so will depend upon the liberality of its patronage; and we therefore so- licit all who would increase its strength and extend its usefulness, to do what they can to make it more widely known in their respective circles of inquiring and intelligent readers. The Montaty is as yet known to but very few of those who would appreciate and prize it, and our friends can do much, as many of them have already done, by lending their copies to thoughtful neighbors, and inducing them to form clubs. In regard to the character of Tne Porviar Science Monruty, we have preferred to let it speak for itself, and have made no parade of the numerous and flattering commendations of it which we have received from eminent sources. But there come a few words regarding the importance of our work from a distant country, which we may be excused for giving to our readers. From a letter of Mr. Bancroft, American minister at the court of Ber- lin, to the publishers in New York, we select the following passage: “I re- ceive from time to time your PopuLaR

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748 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Sorence Montaty, which I think excel- lent in itself and perfectly adapted to its purpose of diffusing knowledge and a right way of thinking more widely among the people. I have done what I could to spread the knowledge of the periodical, and it is here very highly esteemed. Prof. Helmholtz and Prof. Dubois-Reymond have both spoken to me their opinions very much in its favor, and higher author- ity could not be found. I should not do justice to my own opinions if I did not add how well I think you deserve of the country for the persistent and judicious manner in which you em- ploy your great influence through your business to spread through the country the important works of science as fast as they appear. In this way you give very material aid toward educating the | coming generation to the love of truth and a knowledge of the world in which they live.” In the same letter Mr. Bancroft adds: “I send you to-day a copy of a masterly address of Prof. Dubois-Rey- mond, who, you know, stands among the highest in his branch of science: I hope you will have it translated and published in Tae Popvutar Science Montaty. No essay of the kind since I have been in Germany has attracted so much attention, and, as you see, it has already arrived at its third edi- tion.” The address here spoken of is on “The Limits of our Knowledge of Nature.” It is certainly a masterly | discussion, and will appear in our next issue. THE HIGHER EDUCATION OF WOMAN. Or the great movement of modern culture, one of the most important phases is that now recognized as the “higher education of woman.” That woman requires a better education than she has hitherto had, and that it should also be of a higher grade, are undeniable, although the prac- , tical questions that arise in the at- tempt to define and attain it are seri- ous and formidable. The prevalent short-cut solution of the problem— women crave a higher education, there- fore open to them the higher institu- tions—is as far as possible from being an adequate or satisfactory disposition of the case. It is a constant complaint among the leaders of the woman’s movement, that, in consequence of the long subjec- tion of the sex to the domination of men, women have not been allowed or incited to think for themselves. They complain that women’s ideas have been moulded by men, in conformity to the state of subordination in which the weaker sex has been held, and that the first thing women have to do is to as- sert themselves mentally, to develop their own powers in their own way, to | form their own opinions, and not be | forever dependent upon those who by | the radical bias of an opposite consti- | tution are incapable of comprehending | woman or of doing justice to her capa- cities. On this ground it is of course impossible for woman to accept a mas- culine education. For the existing col- leges and universities have not only been originated and developed through centuries exclusively by men, but they have been pervaded by the thoughts and animated by the feelings and tastes, and moulded by the aims and necessi- | ties, of men. If women are to free themselves from male control in the | matter of one-sided mental influence, it would seem that their first care should be not to subject themselves to the action of those institutions the very object of which is to assimilate and determine the intellectual charac- ter of students into harmony with their own policy. We yield to no others in the ear- nestness of our belief in the higher edu- cation of women; but we want to see them take the matter in their own hands, and work out a system of mental —

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ieee aia RS ete cultivation adapted to their own na- tures and needs. The higher educa- tion as embodied in existing institu- tions cannot meet this requirement. It is, in fact, under indictment for non- adaptation to the present wants of men; and one of the most profound and important of the reforms of our age is that thorough modification of collegiate methods of study that shall bring them up to the demands of mod- ern life. That they now answer to these demands, but very few will main- tain. There are many, and the num- ber is increasing, who do not go to college because the education there obtained is thought to be of little use to the possessor, if not indeed a hin- drance to him in his future experience with the world. Thousands ignore all considerations of the usefulness of what is to be learned, and go or are sent to college because it is the proper thing, a fashion of society, and has its social benefits; and many undoubted- ly go because they have been made to believe that the old education is the perfection of human wisdom for men- tal discipline, and is, after all, the best thing even for practical life. Yet the distrust of the system is deep, and has already made itself so powerfully felt, that the colleges have been com- pelled to yield to it, and in many cases to modify their methods of instruction and create supplemental schools de- voted to modern knowledge. The higher education of men is thus in a state of conflict and transition; the old education is giving way, and a New Education is rising in its place. It seems to us that this is the first fact for women to consider in their ef- forts to attain a higher education. . The question that is forced upon men, What shall the higher education be? has even a graver concern for women, for it is not only an open one, but it is an experiment which must be submitted to the test of time, and if mismanaged may be full of peril. It hehooves wom- EDITOR’S TABLE. 749 en not to be so carried away by the current clamor about the advantages of education, that they are willing to ac- cept any thing under that name that is dispensed from the schools. Education, like every thing else, may be good or bad, worthless or valuable; but it dif- fers from most other things in this, that, if bad and worthless, it cannot be got rid of. We have yet to realize the impor- tant fact that much so-called education is worse than none at all ; and that it is better to leave the mind to its spontane- ous forces and its self-development un- der the action of the surrounding influ- ences of Nature and life, rather than to meddle with it inconsiderately, to bur- den it with worthless knowledge, or to violate its proportions by an extrava- gant over-culture of some faculties and a total neglect of others. Were the doors of all the colleges of the coun- try to be opened to-morrow to woman, in good faith, and in obedience to a public sentiment that would lead her to avail herself of the opportunity as men do, we believe that the result could not be otherwise than in a high degree disastrous to woman and to so- ciety ; and this because the education which she would get would be not what she requires, would be put in the place of what she requires, and would indefinitely postpone the attainment of what she requires. It is well for woman that, in awaken- ing to the necessity of a higher culti- vation of her faculties, she is free in the choice of means; but it remains to be seen what she will do with her chance. There is superabounding knowledge, the ripening of all the past—wheat and chaff; there is the world’s long expe- rience with education for help or for warning; what, then, will woman do toward constructing a higher education for herself? Will she follow blindly the old traditions, content with any thing, and accept the culture that man has outgrown and is rejecting; or will she be equal to the occasion, and form Fe ne I et nat

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75° for herself a curriculum of studies suited to the requirements of her own nature ? That woman has a sphere marked out by her organization, however the notion may be scouted by the reform- ers, is as true as that the bird and the fish have spheres which are determined by their organic natures. Birds often plunge into the watery deep, and fishes sometimes rise into the air, but one is nevertheless formed for swimming and the other for flight. So women may make transient diversions from the sphere of activity for which they are constituted, but they are nevertheless formed and designed for maternity, the care of children, and the affairs of do- mestic life. They are the mothers of humankind, the natural educators of childhood, the guardians of the house- hold, and by the deepest ordinance of things they are this, in a sense, and to a degree, that man is not. For woman in these relations, education has hith- erto done but little, and humanity has suffered as a consequence. To the mothers of the race, especially, belongs the question of its preservation and im- provement. The problem is transcend- ent, and woman’s interest in it more immediate and vital than man’s can be. Science has furnished the knowledge that is required, a vast mass of truth that is waiting to be applied for the conduct and ennobling of the domestic sphere. Man has originated it; is it not for woman to use it? And now, when there is so much agitation to give woman larger mental opportuni- ties, and she is pressing for the advan- tages of a higher education, we have a right to expect that she will consider the subject from her own point of view, and supply the great educational need that has been so long recognized and deplored. The new departure of higher female education should unques- tionably be from the results of the medical profession. We believe that physicians have by no means yet taken THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. the share in general education that the interests of society require; but, when the mental cultivation of women is to become systematic and they have their own higher institutions, the agency of physicians will be indispensable. It is not that all women are to be doc- tors, but that they are to be instructed and become intelligent first of all in the sciences of life, with which also the physician has to deal. If, to get the A. M. of Yale or Harvard, would be worth the struggle for women, as qualifying them for the intelligent ful- fillment of their destiny, let the doors be battered down if necessary for their entrance; but, if it would not conduce to this end, and would rather be fatal to it, let the doors remain double- locked. If the present aspiration is to be utilized, the movement must not take a false direction. New institu- tions are called for, that shall supply a new education on the feminine side. The system of studies may be broad and liberal in the best sense, but what we insist on is that it should be shaped with fundamental reference to the life- needs of female students. From this point of view our existing female col- leges are liable to criticism; in so far as they are imitations of the old mas- culine establishments, they do not meet the wants of the sex, and rather ob- struct than aid the true course of femi- nine cultivation. EXPERIMENTS UPON LIVING ANIMALS. Tuere is no element of human na- ture more noble than that sympathy with inferior creatures which leads to a kindly regard for their welfare, and protects them from wanton or careless suffering; and it is gratifying to ob- serve that this feeling is becoming so definite, so strong, and so extended, as to have embodied itself in organizations for the systematic prevention of cruelty to animals. With all our boasted civ-

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EDITORS TABLE. ilization and enlightenment, men are yet ; being rid of them, because, if suffered 75! very much barbarians, and the cruelin-! to multiply unchecked, they would stincts of the savage still animate many a nominal Christian. The hamaner feelings are beginning to assert their influence; but they encounter fearful odds in the struggle with hereditary impulses to violence, and that artistic refinement of brutality which seeks en- joyment in the suffering of inferior creatures. Yet, like every thing else, the kindly sentiments toward animals may be car- ried to extremes and run into absurd- ity. We live in a world, or at least in a stage of it, in which suffering is not to be escaped. By the constitution of things, it must be inflicted. Older than the Decalogue, older than man, as old as the earliest life, is the divine ordi- nance of Nature to kill or be killed. The necessity of mutual destruction was instituted in the nature and with the first appearance of living things. Not only was death the doom of all, but death by violence and mutual ruthless slaughter was the necessary and normal result of the arrangement. The world has advanced through agony, and, in its unfolding, the price of higher enjoy- ment has ever been intenser pain. As the nervous system of the animal series has become more voluminous, delicate, and complex, the capacity of suffering as well as pleasure is increased; and, in the most perfected being, the very flowering of genius opens new suscep- tibilities for painful emotion of which natures with lower gifts know nothing. Pain, therefore, is not to be escaped. Each sentient creature by the law of its being strives to avoid it, and it is incumbent upon all to lessen it as far as possible, but it is wrought into the inexorable economy of things, and not to recognize and deal with it as any other fact is irrational. It hurts insects to be killed, but we must kill them in self-defense. We destroy the lower animals for our food, but there is a deeper reason for put an end to us. It will therefore not do to yield in this matter to the pure dictates of sentiment. There is an infliction of pain that is reasonable and necessary, and one of the cases of it is afforded by the physiologist who makes painful experiments upon the lower animals to extend the knowl- edge of his science. As the exigen- cies of diet may require us to slay an ox, so the demands of scientific truth may require us to sacrifice a rabbit or adog. In both cases the pain pro- duced should be the least possible, but in both the ends are reasonably held to justify the infliction. Yet there have been many and earnest protests against vivisection, or experiments upon liv- ing animals, as an inexcusable cruelty ; and physiologists have recently been the subjects of a fresh assault by sen- timental writers in the London literary press. The arguments in favor of the practice are so convincingly stated, and the objections to it so well refuted, in a paper by Dr. Foster, of Cambridge, that we reproduce it in the present number of the Montuty. It will well repay perusal. LITERARY NOTICES. Enouisn Psycuo.ocy. Translated from the French of Théodore Ribot,' Professor of Philosophy in the Lycée at Laval. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 828 pp. Price, $1.50. Tue study of the human mind is beyond all doubt one of the most sublime and im- portant, as it is certainly one of the most difficult, of all studies. So great is its inter- est that it has fascinated philosophers for thousands of years, and so great is its diffi- culty that of all branches of inquiry it has proved least amenable to investigation, and has led to the most discordant conclusions. From the beginning of speculation it has been pursued by a method that has failed to 1 Pronounced Rebo,

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752 yield agreement or results that have vom- pelled the general acceptance of thinkers. Its problems were too complex, subtile, and exalted, to be effectually dealt with before men had been trained to the work of inves- tigation on the subordinate planes of natu- ral phenomena. The lower before the high- er, the simple before the complex, must be the law of movement where not only truths of the highest order are to be reached, but the methods by which they are to be ar- rived at have also to be discovered. There was needed a long and severe apprentice- ship of science in the work of unraveling phenomena before the realm of mind could be entered with any confidence of its con- quest. And it was not only necessary to learn by scientific practice the difficult art of investigation, but the solution of mental problems was vitally dependent upon a spe- cies of knowledge which ordinary science alone could disclose. Of mind, as a phe- nomenon to be investigated, we know noth- ing whatever, except as a manifestation of organic life. It is conditioned by organic laws, and there can be no competent men- tal science that does not recognize this truth, Mind, moreover, is exhibited, with a thousand modifications, through all the grades of animate being, and these diversi- ties must be regarded by any true science of the subject. The psychical natures of the quadruped, the bird, the fish, the insect, may not be so dignified as that of man, and may afford less inspiring themes for decla- mation, but, in a scientific point of view, they are of equal interest, and their inves- tigation is imperative. It could not be other- wise, therefore, than that mental philosophy should be profoundly affected both by that drill in research and that extension of knowledge which have resulted from the last three centuries of scientific progress. The new phase which the subject has con- sequently assumed is known as the Modern Psychology or the New Psychology, and this has given rise to a school of thought, the most eminent representatives of which are Englishmen. With a few exceptions, and those of hardly the highest mark, Ger- many clings to the old methods. France is behind the age in every thing, our own coun- | try is crippling along after European tradi- tions, and it is left to England to pioneer THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. the world in the work of psychological de- velopment. Prof. Ribot’s book is the tribute of a candid and unprejudiced foreigner to the greatness of the English school of scientific psychology, and it is an admirable analysis of the contributions of the representative English writers upon this subject. An en- thusiastic student of philosophy himself, and thoroughly imbued with the scientific spirit, Prof. Ribot brings eminent qualifica- tions to his task, and grasps the subject with the power of a master, while his.work has a judicial fairness in the estimate of men that is favored by his foreign point of view. He writes, moreover, with a point and clearness that are quite unusual in treating this class of subjects. Prof. Ribot gives us in this volume a lucid account of the systems of Hartley, James Mill, Herbert Spencer, Alexander Bain, George H. Lewes, Samuel Bailey, and John Stuart Mill, and his work altogether affords the best deline- ation we have of the positions and grounds of the New Psychological School that has come forward into such prominence in the present generation. Prof. Ribot prefixes to his volume an admirable and instructive introductory chapter on the relations of philosophy, science, and metaphysics, and the gradual growth and present position of scientific psychology. In his section considering the several definitions of it, he remarks as fol- lows concerning one of them: “We are told that psychology is the science of the human soul. That is a very narrow and incomplete idea of it. Is bi- ology ever defined as the science of human life? Has physiology ever believed, even in its infancy, that its only object was man? Have they not considered, on the contrary, that every thing which has organized and manifested life belongs to them—the infu- soria, as well as man? Now, unless we ad- mit the Cartesian opinion of animal ma- chines—which has no longer, to my knowl- edge, an adherent—we must acknowledge that animals have their sensations, their sentiments, their desires, their pleasures, their pains, their character, just like our- selves ; that there is a collection of psycho- logical facts which one has no right to sub- tract from the science. Who has studied

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those facts? The naturalists, and not the psychologists. If we were to go further, we might show that ordinary psychology, in restricting itself to man, has not even in- cluded the whole of mankind ; that it has taken no heed of the inferior races (black and yellow); that it has contented itself with affirming that the human faculties are identical in nature and various only in de- gree, as if the difference of degree might not sometimes be such as to be equivalent to a difference of nature; that in man it has taken the faculties already constituted, and rarely occupied itself with their mode of development; so that, finally, psychol- ogy, instead of being the science of psy- chical phenomena, has simply made man, adult, civilized, and white, its object. “We have seen how psychology under- stands its object, let us now see how it un- derstands its method. This consists en- tirely in reflection, or interior observation. Assuredly, no one believes more firmly than we do in the necessity of this mode of ob- servation ; it is the point of departure, the indispensable condition of all psychology, and those who have denied it, like Brous- sais and Auguste Comte, have so completely gone against evidence, and given the game to their adversaries, that their most faith- ful disciples have not gone so far with them. It is certain that the anatomist and the physiologist might pass centuries in study- ing the brain and the nerves, without ever suspecting what a pleasure or a pain is, if they have not felt both. “No testimony is so valuable on this point as that of consciousness, and we are always brought back to that saying of an anatomist—‘In the presence of the fibres of the brain, we are like hackney-coach- men, who know the streets and the houses, but know nothing of what takes place in- side them.’ It is also certain that the ob- jections made to this method of observation have been very well discussed. But is it true that interior observation is the unique method of psychology? that it reveals every thing, that it suffices for every thing ? Taken in its rigorous meaning, this doctrine would lead to the impossibility of the sci- ence. For, if my reflection apprises me of that which passes in me, it is absolutely in- capable of enabling me to penetrate into VOL. 1v.—48 LITERARY NOTICES. 753 the mind of another. A more complicated process is necessary for that. We are talk- ing; @ man present at our conversation joins in it with an absent manner, says a few words with evident effort, and forces a smile; I conclude from all this that he is a prey to some hidden trouble. I may soon divine its causes if I have a penetrating mind, and if I am acquainted with this man and his antecedents. But this psychologi- cal discovery is a very complex operation, of which the following are the stages: per- ception of signs and gestures, interpretation of those signs, induction from effects to causes, inference, reasoning by analogy. It has nothing in common with interior obser- vation except that aptitude for knowing others better which comes from knowing one’s self better. Thus, one of two things is the case: either psychology is limited to interior observations, and, these being com- pletely individual, it has no longer any scientific character; or else it is extended to other men, it searches out laws, it prac- tises induction, it reasons, and then it is susceptible of progress ; but its method is to a great extent objective. Interior obser- vation alone is not sufficient for the weak- est psychology.” INTERNATIONAL SCIENTIFIC SERIES, No. VIII. Anmat Locomotion; or, WaLkinc, Swim- MING, AND Fiyinc, With a Dissertation on Aéronautics. By J. Bevt Perrtt- crew, M.D., F.R.S. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 264 pp. Illustrated, Price, $1.75. Locomotion by steam began but a few years since; its principles are simple, and the machines by which it is accomplished are all of one general construction ; yet we have already whole libraries of literatare —folios, quartos, and octavos, cyclopzdias, essays, and catechisms, technical and popu- lar—expounding and explaining it. Much also has been written in elucidation of the principles and mechanisms of progression that are illustrated in the animal kingdom ; but the present volume of Dr, Pettigrew is the first popular monograph on the subject that we have seen, and, although not large, it contains much curious and interesting information upon all aspects of it. But the ER er nee. —_

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754 chief interest of Dr. Pettigrew's book for thoughtful readers will consist in the skill- ful way he strikes through those diversities of movement and medium which are in- volved in the three forms of progression, and brings out the principles that are com- mon to all. ‘“ We are apt,” he says, “ to consider walking as distinct from swim- ming, and walking and swimming as dis- tinct from flying, than which there can be no greater mistake. Walking, swimming, and flying are, in reality, only modifications of each other. Walking merges into swim- ming, and swimming into flying, by insen- sible gradations. The modifications which result in walking, swimming, and flying, are necessitated by the fact that the earth af- fords a greater amount of support than the water, and the water than the air. That walking, swimming, and flying, represent in- tegral parts of the same problem, is proved by the fact that most quadrupeds swim as well as walk, and some even fly, while many marine animals walk as well as swim, and birds and insects walk, swim, and fly, indis- criminately.” The problem thus becomes interesting from the unity of its fundamental laws, but for the author it has more than a specula- tive interest; it has a scientific importance as furnishing conditions for solving the problems of artificial progression. Upon this point he remarks: “ The his- tory of artificial progression is essentially that of natural progression. The same laws regulate and determine both. The wheel of the locomotive and the screw of the steamship apparently greatly differ from the limb of the quadruped, the fin of the fish, and the wing of the bird; but, as I shall show in the sequel, the curves which go to form the wheel and the screw are found in the traveling surfaces of all ani- raals, whether they be limbs (furnished with feet), or fins, or wings. “ It is a remarkable circumstance that the undulation or wave made by the wing of an insect, bat, or bird, when those animals are hovering before an object, and when they are flying, corresponds in a marked manuer with the track described by the stationary and progressive waves in fluids, and likewise with the waves of sound. “Of all animal movements, flight is in- THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. disputably the finest. It may be regarded as the poetry of motion. The fact thata creature as heavy, bulk for bulk, as are many solid substances can, by the unaided move- ments of its wings, urge itself through the air with a speed little short of that of a cannon- ball, fills the mind with wonder. Flight (if I may be allowed the expression) is a more unstable movement than that of walking and swimming, the instability increasing as the medium to be traversed becomes less dense. It, however, does not essentially differ from the other two, and I shall be able to show, in the following pages, that the materials and forces employed in flight are literally the same as those employed in walking and swimming.” These passages foreshadow the charac- ter of Dr. Pettigrew’s book. He works out the principles of animal locomotion as a further step in the progress of artificial locomotion, by which the theoretical issues in the practical. After an elaborate analy- sis of the anatomical and dynamical condi- tions of flight, he goes into the question of its imitation by art, and points out the con- ditions on which he thinks the problem may be ultimately solved. Here, of course, he launches into an untried field, abounding with difficulty, and open to a diversity of opinions. Already a brisk controversy has sprung up in the London journals over his theory of flight, aud the question of prece- dence in its elucidation between the French and the English; but, whatever may be its merits, the interest of Dr. Pettigrew’s con- tributions to the question in the present volume will remain unaffected. We should not omit to state that the volume is profuse- ly and beautifully illustrated with original cuts and plates, Prana’s Natvrat History Serres or Cor- orED Curomos. For Schools and Fami- lies. Classified by N. A. CaALkrns; 14 large Plates; 192 Cards. Price of full set, $10. J. W. Schermerhorn & Co., Agents, 14 Bond Street, New York. Mr. Prana, having achieved fortune and fame in the cultivation of the chromo-litho- graphic art in the department of fancy pict- ures, has at length turned his attention to education, and applied it to the illustration of objects of natural history. A large num-

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ber of specimens of plants and animals, se- lected by Mr. Calkins to represent the more interesting groups of organic forms, are printed in colors upon cards for convenience of handling in the class-room. It needs not to be said that these illustrations are beau- tifully executed, and cannot fail to prove in a high degree attractive to children, That they have been executed with care and cor- rectness, under the vigilant direction of Mr. Calkins, there can be no doubt. As to their utility in education, that will depend entirely upon the teacher and the policy of the school. If employed as guides to the study of real objects, they cannot fail to be helpful ; but, if subordinated to the usual system of study, and accepted in place of the things they represent, they will have simply the value of excellent pictures, and will add to the already immense mass of hindrances and stumbling-blocks which the schools interpose between the minds of children and the objects of Nature. ‘Tue Srons Ace, Past ann Present, by E. B. Tytor; and Tarory or Nervous Errer, by Dr. Ricwarpson, F. R. 8. Boston: Estes & Lauriat. Price, 25 cents, Tus is No. 9 of “Half-Hour Recrea- tions in Popular Science.” The first paper is a popular account of the stone age, or, as the author puts it, “of that period in the history of mankind during which stone was habitually used as a material for weapons and tools.” This period he divides into two parts, the first of which he calls the Un- ground Stone Age, when the implements em- ployed were merely chipped out, and used in a comparatively rough and imperfect shape. Such implements are found in greatest abundance in the Drift or Quater- nary Deposits, and in the early bone-caves, and consist largely of chipped flints, appar- ently designed for spear-heads, arrow- heads, scrapers, knives, etc. The second or later division of the period above re- ferred to—the Ground Stone Age—is char- acterized by the employment of ground and often polished instruments of stone, much more perfect than the chipped forms, and therefore denoting a higher stage of human progress. Stone implements are found in nearly every part of the world, and, what- LITERARY NOTICES. 755 ever their source, show a remarkable uni- formity of pattern. This latter feature the author accounts for partly on the principle that man does the same thing under the same circumstances, and partly on the be- lief that the art was derived by one race from another. The evidences of the stone age, brought to light in the countries hith- erto explored, take up the remainder of the paper. Any one wishing a general idea of what is at present known on this inter- esting subject, will be well repaid by a pe- rusal of this essay. The theory of a nervous ether we will give in the author’s own words: “ The idea attempted to be conveyed by the theory is, that between the molecules of the mat- ter, solid or fluid, of which the nervous or- ganism, snd indeed of which all the organic parts of the body are composed, there exists a refined, subtile medium, vaporous or gase- ous, which holds the molecules in a condi- tion for motion upon each other, and for arrangement and rearrangement of form ; a medium by and through which all motion is conveyed ; by and through which the one organ or part of the body is held in com- munion with the other parts, and by and through which the outer living world com- municates with the living man—a medium which, being present, enables the phenom- ena of life to be demonstrated, and which, being universally absent, leaves the body actually dead ; in such condition, i. e., that it cannot, by any phenomenon of motion, prove itself to be alive.” The paper is de- voted to an elucidation of this theory. Insects or THE Garnen: Their Habits, ete. By A. 8. Packarp, Jr. Boston: Estes & Lauriat. Price, 25 cents. Tus is the first part of a volume from the pen of Prof. Packard, entitled “ Half- Hours with Insects,” to be issued in twelve parts, of about 36 pages each, by the above house. Beginning with some general con- siderations on the relations of living ob- jects to one another, the author passes thence to the subject of agriculture, and the manner in which its interests are affect- ed by the incursions of insects. Numerous instances are given of their terrible de- structiveness to crops, which, though appar- ently insignificant when estimated, say, for RE Ee eT me ee

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756 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. a single township, amounts to something al- most incredible when an entire State or coun- try is included in the calculation. Accord- ing to the reports of Dr. Fitch, $12,000,000 worth of wheat has been destroyed in the State of New York, in a single year, by the wheat-midge and Hessian-fly, An in- teresting account is next given of the re- production, growth, and metamorphosis, of insects, with some remarks on their psy- chology, their relations to each other, and their relations to other animals, The last twelve pages are devoted to the insects of the garden, some of the more noxious of which are described, their habits sketched, and the means of combating them indi- cated. A beautiful chromo-lithograph, show- ing the different stages of insect metamor- phosis, heads the issue, and the succeeding pages abound with well-executed illustra- tions. For clearness and vigor of style, the name of the author is sufficient guarantee. Manvat or Payrsicat Grocrapny anp Iv- STITUTIONS OF THE Strate oF Iowa. By C. A. Warre, Professor of Geology in the State University. Davenport: Day, Egbert & Fidlar. 1873. Tas book was made for use in the schools of Iowa, being limited to the physi- cal geography and institutions of that State. This has enabled the author to give a large amount of information, locally valuable, that would be obviously out of place in a more general work. For convenience, the book is divided into two parts. Part I. gives an account of the leading natural features of the State—its physical geography, geology, climate, soil, minerals, and natural history. Part II. deals with the history of the State, and includes an account of its educational, charitable, and penal institutions. The few who may desire to carry the study into a wider field, will find the mastery of this work an excellent preparation. Tue Tueory anp Practice or Linear Per- spective, Translated from the French of V. Pellegrin. New York: Putnam’s Sons. 651 pp., with colored chart. Tae author claims that books of this kind are generally too theoretical, and that he has aimed to make this especially prac- tical. It was adopted by the educational authorities of Paris, and commended by | them as a “little book which, under a mod- est form, contains ideas of which the popu- larization would be of great use—‘ The Practical Theory of Perspective,’ a study for the use of artists, etc., by Monsieur V. Pellegrin, late Professor of Topography at the Military School of St. Cyr. The author, himself a painter, and accustomed to the manipulation of geometrical methods, was particularly qualified for writing this trea- tise; and he has been able, by dint of re- search and ability, to condense into a small number of pages the laws of perspective ; and to extract, from a confused mass, rules which are very simple and easily applicable to every possible case; thus placing a sure and clear guide within the reach of all stu- dents, artists, and amateurs. Monsieur Pellegrin’s excellent treatise will become a standard work.” SuspMerGeD aND Dirrerent Forms or Re- rarntnc Watts. By James 8. Tare, C.E. New York: D. Van Nostrand, 1874. Price, 50 cents, Tus is No. 7 of the publisher’s “ Sci- ence Series.” The simple statement of what the author has proposed to himself to accomplish will be the best evidence of the value of this little manual. His object was to furnish to engineers a certain and ready means of ascertaining the pressures of em- bankments, submerged or otherwise, com- posed of different materials; also the mo- ments of retaining walls, of different forms of cross-section, to successfully withstand those pressures. By having this little book at hand, the engineer will be saved the trouble of many a long calculation. How To Become a Successrut ENGINEER. By Bernarp Srvuart. New York: D. Van Nostrand, 127 pp., 18mo, Price, 50 cents. Tus little work, which is designed par- ticularly for the mechanical engineer, but, in a more general way, also for the civil en- gineer, is more indicative than instructive. That is, it points out the studies to be pur- sued without explaining their nature, and it tells the apprentice what work he will find in the machine-shop, without detailing the method in which it is done. It con- tains some practical suggestions on the im- PE AERO Semmes a wre

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ae LITERARY portance of good habits, self-reliance, and dexterity of hand. Lecat Responsipitity 1x Otp Ace, By Greorce M. Bearp, A.M., M.D. New York: Printed by Russell’s American Steam Printing-House; 42 pp., 8vo. Tus is an address delivered before the Medico - Legal Society of New York, in March, 1873. It discusses the effects of age on the mental faculties, as evidenced in the works of the greatest men of all times. The author states that his method was to study the biographies of such men, and ob- serve the average age at which their best works were produced. The conclusion reached is, that the best work is done be- tween thirty and forty, the worst between seventy and eighty, and that the growth, maturity, and decay, of the mind; are co- eval with the corresponding stages of the body. As a corollary, it is held that the moral faculties also decay with the down- ward curve of life. The fact is pointed out that one or more of the moral faculties may decay, while the rest remain sound. The address concludes with an earnest protest against the prevailing mode of testing moral responsibility in courts of law, and recom- mends, as an improvement, the appointment by the States of an examining commission, composed of from three to five psycholog- ical experts. It is both interesting and in- structive. PaysicaL Grocrarny. By Jonn Youne, M. D., L. R.C.S., ete. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 3868 pp. Price, $1.50. ; Tuts book is a condensed statement of the principal geological and biological truths and such astronomical facts as re- late to the earth. In the introductory chapter, the author thus describes the sphere of his subject: “ Physical geogra- phy takes up the results achieved in all these departments—geology, biology, and astronomy—and proceeds to higher gener- alizations. It shows how the behavior of the earth, as a body in space, and its rela- tions to other bodies, determine the atmos- pheric currents, and, through them, the movements of the ocean; it points out how the ocean-currents modify and are affected by the tides; it determines the extent to which the character and variation of the NOTICES. | 757 climate are dependent on secular changes. The changes of sea and land, as ascertained by the geologists, are used to explain the movements of organized forms, and the bi- ologist finds, in atmospheric, topographical, and climatal influences, the key to the pres- ence or absence, the abundance or scarcity, of particular groups in any locality.” In connection with the composition of the earth’s crust, are described the classifica- tion, formation, and chemical constitution of rocks ; also the production and geologi- cal importance of fossils. The configura- tion of the earth’s surface, or the distribu tion of land and water, with the changes it has undergone; the formation of islands and continents; ocean and atmospheric currents; forms of water in the atmosphere, as snow, rain, mist, etc.; climate and weather, are briefly though clearly set forth. Apparently the only fault of the book is that less space has been devoted to describing the distribution of plants and animals than the importance of the subject demands, As may be inferred from its na- ture, the book contains no new truths, but its value suffers no impairment therefrom. It has the merit of being free from the in- fluence of particular theories, and, where unsettled questions are discussed, the au- thor conscientiously endeavors to give the reader the drift of scientific opinion. Tue Brern or Cuemistry. By G. F. Rop- weit, F.R.S., F.C.8. London: Mac- millan & Co. 135 pp. 12mo. Price, $1.50. Tue origin of chemistry is herein traced through the grotesque alchemic vagaries of the middle ages to the natural philosophy of the ancient Greeks and their contempo- raries, The quaint admixture of truth and error, constituting their so-called natural philosophy, is first shown. The ideas of primary elements and their transmutations ; the metals known to the ancients and the manner in which they were worked; an- cient colors and chemical compounds, are all described in a manner calculated to please the general reader. The origin of alchemy is traced to Arabia about the fourth century a.p. The mysteries of al- chemy are likewise detailed, as well as the theories of combustion and pblogiston, out

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of which legitimate chemistry was devel- oped about 150 years ago, by the efforts of Boerhaave, Lavoisier, and others. Essays on Epvucationat Rerormers. By R. H. Quick, M.A. Cincinnati: Robeit Clarke & Co. 326 pp., 12mo. Price, $2.00, Tuts is a review of the principal educa- tional doctrines, beginning with the once famous schools of the Jesuits, and ending with Herbert Spencer. The main features of each doctrine are given and commented on in a liberal tone. The author differs from Mr. Spencer in some important points, such as the worthlessness of ordinary his- tory, the value of the sciences, and the po- sition fine arts and belles-lettres should oc- cupy in education. In the two concluding chapters he gives his own views on secular education and moral and religious training. Outlines of the lives of the earlier Reformers are given in connection with the discussion of their doctrines. The work possesses value as a history of modern education. PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED. The Border-Land of Science. By Richard A. Proctor, B.A. J. B. Lippincott & Co. 1874. The Structure of Animal Life. By Louis Agassiz. New York: Scribner, Armstrong & Co. 1874. A Manual of Inorganic Chemistry—the Non-Metals. By T. E. Thorpe, Ph.D. New York : G. P. Putnam’s Sons, Animal Physiology, and the Structure and Functions of the Human Body. By John Cleland, M.D. Putnam. Politics and Mysteries of Life Insurance. By Elizur Wright. Lee & Shepard. 1873. Inorganic Chemistry. By W. B. Kem- shead. Putnam. Addresses and Proceedings of the Na- tional Educational Association. Published by the Association. 1873. An Elementary Treatise on Steam. By John Perry, B.E. Macmillan. 1874. The Galvanometer and its Uses. By C. 758 ' THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Building Construction. Putnam. Elements of Zoology. By M. Harbison. New York : Putnam. Bulletin of the Bussey Institution. Bos- ton. Pp. 80. The Progressive Ship-Builder. By John W. Griffiths. Illustrated. New York: The Nautical Gazette Print. 1874. Pp. 32. Notice of New Equine Mammals from the Tertiary Formation. By O. C. Marsh. Pp. 12. Twenty-second Annual Report of the Detroit Water Commissioners. 1873. Report of the Committee on the Yellow- Fever Epidemic. Shreveport Medical So- ciety. Uncivilized Man. A Lecture by Bishop Cotterill, of Edinburgh. Edinburgh: R. Grant & Son. 1874. Pp. 30. Bulletin of the United States Geological and Geographical Survey of the Territories. No. 1. Washington: Government Printing- Office. 1874. Pp. 28. A Short Treatise on the Compound Steam-Engine. By John Turnbull, Jr. New York: Van Nostrand. 1874. Pp. 43. MISCELLANY. Ramford’s Diseoveries in Thermodynam- ies.x—In his sketch of the growth of the science of thermodynamics, Prof. P. G. Tait, of the University of Edinburgh, rates the services of Count Rumford second in im- portance to those of Davy, and does not apparently consider them comparable to those of Joule. Prof. R. H. Thurston, of the Stevens Institute of Technology, in a note relating to Rumford’s determination of the mechanical equivalent of heat, points out the injustice of this proceeding, on the part of Prof. Tait, and says that “‘ we may claim for Rumford: 1. That he was the first to prove the immateriality of heat, and to indicate that it is a form of energy, pub- lishing his conclusions a year before Davy; 2. That he first, and nearly a half-century before Joule, determined, with almost per- H. Haskins. Van Nostrand. 1873. fect accuracy, the mechanical equivalent of ee

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heat; 8. That he is entitled to the sole credit of the experimental discovery of the true nature of heat. Benzamin Tuompson, of Concord, New Hampshire, commonly known as Count Rumford, should be ac- corded a nobler position and a higher dis- tinction than he has yet been given by writers on thermodynamics.” Antiquity of Man.—R. H. Tiddeman pub- lishes in Nature an interesting paper on the “Relation of Man to the Ice-sheet in the North of England,” in which he describes, with some detail, the fossils found in Victo- ria Cave, in Yorkshire, now being explored by a committee, aided by the British As- sociation. In this cave discoveries of a most interesting character have been made. In a bone-bed, beneath other deposits, were found bones, teeth, and other remains of extinct species of animals, Prof. Burke identified remains of the Hlephas primigenius, rhinoce- ros, cave-bear, hyena, bison, and others, and among these remains was a human bone, a somewhat clumsy fibula (small bone of the leg). Of this Mr. Busk says: “The relic is human; there is no room for the slightest doubt on the subject.” And this opinion is fully confirmed by Prof. James Flower, of the College of Surgeons. The position of the locality in which this bone was found makes its discovery of great importance. It seems to carry back the period when man existed to glacial if not to preglacial times. Trout from an Artesian Well.—In the Journal of Science and Art we find a note from Mr. A. W. Chase, giving the following curious information, which the author re- ceived from Mr. Bard, agent of the Califor- nia Petroleum Company at San Buenaven- tura: Mr. Bard, wanting water to supply a newly-constructed wharf at Point Hueneme, southeast of San Buenaventura, commenced sinking an artesian well on the sea-beach, not five feet from high-water mark, At the depth of 148 feet a strong flow of water was obtained, which spouted forth to a height of 30 feet. It was controlled with a “ goose- neck,” and utilized. One day while the agent was absent, the men around the well noticed fish in the waste water. On his re- turn, they called his attention to the fact, MISCELLANY. 759 and, on examination, the well was found to be filled with young trout, thousands of them being thrown out at every jet. These trout were all of the same size (about two inches long), and perfectly developed. The first examination was made to see whether they had eyes. These were found perfect. Now, there is no stream nearer than the Santa Clara River, several miles distant. Could these fish, then, have come from its head-waters by some subterranean outlet ? There are no trout in the lower portions of the stream. The temperature of the water is the same as that of the wells all around, viz., 64° Fahr., too warm, of course, for trout to live in it long. Atkins Charcoal Filters,—The Atkins system of filtering water is spoken of in terms of high commendation in Jron, from which journal we take the following descrip- tion of the system: The best and purest animal charcoal is ground and pulverized until it is brought into the finest possible state of comminution, and, thus prepared, it is mixed up with a definite proportion of Norway tar, and a compound of other com- bustible ingredients. The combined mate- rials are then thoroughly amalgamated with liquid pitch, and the whole kneaded up into a homogeneous plastic mass, which admits of being moulded into slabs or blocks of any required dimensions and shape. These blocks having been allowed to dry and harden, are subsequently carbonized by be ing subjected to a process of incineration by heat; and, in this manner, all the com- bustible ingredients are burnt out of the block, leaving nothing behind but the ani- mal charcoal in the form of a block of char- coal, permeated throughout by innumerable pores, admirably adapted for the mechanical infiltration of fluids, while subjecting them, in a minutely subdivided state, to the chem- ical absorptive and purifying action of the carbon itself. These carbon-blocks are chiefly cast in cylindrical forms, so arranged that the per- colation is from the external periphery in- ward, and the centre of the block is hollow, forming a tube whence the filtered water flows. In this way the bulk of the impuri- ties is deposited on the outside of the block, whence it may be removed by washing with

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760 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. hot water, or by scraping. Such filters, singly or in numbers, are placed in the bot- tom of a cistern, the central pipes of efflux being all connected together, and with one outlet. Where a large filtering capacity is required, a different principle is adopted, viz., a series of carbon-plates. In this case the water, in its passage from the inlet to the outlet, is caused to pass through a num- ber of frames, variously constructed, accord- ing to circumstances. Thus there may be, firstly, a frame, covered with fine wire gauze ; then separate frames, paneled with carbon-plates, with or without the interven- tion of a bed of pure loose animal charcoal, filling up the spaces between them; and there may be also a double frame, containing a sheet of felt compressed between two per- forated plates, made respectively of sheet- copper and zinc, which would exert a certain electrical action, and aid in the chemical ac- tion of precipitating impurities. The sys- tem may be used for filtering the water- supply of a town. Apart from this hygienic use, these car- bon-blocks may be employed for many in- dustrial purposes. Experiments have shown them to be efficacious in removing delete- rious gases, and other soluble substances held in solution in fluids. They are applied as filters for wines, oils, and syrups; and, above all, they merit attention as an adjunct to the feed-water apparatus of steam-boilers, inasmuch as efficient filtration affords the best, cheapest, and surest method for pre- venting incrustation in boilers. Crematicn.—An eccentric will, wherein the testator requested that his body might be consumed in a gas-retort, and thus made to contribute to the enlightenment instead of the poisoning of the world, has survived the long-forgotten subject of cremation. Without doubt, Mr. Trelawney’s hideously- graphic description of the burning of the body of Shelley has greatly contributed to prejudice the public mind against the clean- est and best method of getting rid of the “mortal coil.” But the ceremony at Spez- zia was conducted in the most bungling fashion, and a want of scientific appliances contributed to the incompleteness, and; therefore, to the horror of a simple opera- tion. A retort gets rid of the entire diffi- culty, and, both from a utilitarian, a scien- tific, a sanitary, and a poetic point of view, the mausoleum, decked with cinerary urns, possesses immense advantages over the damp and unwholesome graveyard, exhaling pestiferous odors, to which modern nations, for some inscrutable reason, are preposter- ously wedded.—Jrox Death of Dr. Forbes Winslow. — Dr. Winslow was born in London in 1810. He began his medical studies in New York; took the degree of M. D. at King’s College, Aberdeen, and became a member of the Royal College of Surgeons, London, in 1835, His first published works appeared in 1831, since which time he has made numerous important contributions to the literature of medicine, chiefly in the department of ner- vous and mental diseases. His most valu- able work in this line, “ The Obscure Dis- eases of the Brain, and Disorders of the Mind,” was published in 1860, and has since passed through several editions. He died in London, on March 4, 1874. The Eeonomy of Beer.—Prof. Max von Pettenkofer, the eminent Munich chemist, states that, to make a quart of good beer, there is required, at least, a pint of good barley, besides hops, etc. The product con- tains not a single trace of albumen, and only a very small percentage of alimentary principles: in short, it is only a condiment, not a food-stuff properly so called. The question now arises, Would it not be better to send this barley to the mill, and make of it a bread-stuff, instead of brewing from it a costly beverage, which contributes little or nothing to the system? Or, better still, Would it not be advisable to grow, in place of barley and hops, wheat and rye, either of which would give better bread than barley ? Prof. Pettenkofer holds that the need of mere condiments is no less imperative than the need of food-stuffs, properly so called, “ Butter and cheese,” says he, “ are neither as good nor as complete food- stuffs as milk, and yet butter and cheese are made, and will continue to be made, even though it were possible to transport milk in good condition to considerable dis- tances.” The same is to be said of barley and beer. Prof. Pettenkofer observes that Ee pee

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see ~eonene the consumption of beer is steadily increas- ing in spite of the advance in prices, and he is convinced that this state of things will continue, no matter what weight of argu- ment may be brought against it. “ Condi- ments of this kind,” says he, “ are often, no doubt, the occasion of real waste, but yet the majority of mankind can always, to their great profit, find, by observation and self- control, the proper amount of them to con- sume ” Sensation and Motion in Plants.—Treat- ing of the vital phenomena which are com- mon to plants and animals, the eminent French physiologist, Claude Bernard, ob- serves that Linnewus’s criterion of animal- ity, viz., sensibility and mobility, is not in accord with facts. There are many plant- forms on the boundary between the animal and the vegetable worlds, for instance, the zoospores of the algw, which have the pow- er of motion. Then the antherozoids, par- ticularly the edogonium, studied by Prings- heim, manifest the faculty not only of mo- tion in general, but even of motion toward a definite object—in other words, show all the appearances of voluntary movement. As instances of mobility in plants, the au- thor further cites the movements of the stamina of the Berberis (barberry), the Dro- sera, the Dioneea muscipula (fiy-catcher), and the oscillating sainfoin (Hedysarum gyrans). Sensibility too is found in several plants, The Jimosa pudica (sensitive-plant) is the most prominent instance of this. This plant reacts against any irritation by fold- ing up its leaves, which again are spread out soon after the exciting cause is removed. It is a curious circumstance that most of the agents which excite sensibility in ani- mals have a like effect on the mimosa : thus it is affected by sudden shock, by burning, by the action of caustic, by electrical dis- charges, etc. Nay, the same agents, such as chloroform and ether, which deaden sen- sibility, or assuage pain in animals, destroy the mimosa’s power of reaction. Vegetal anesthesia is produced by the same means as animal anesthesia. There are other plants besides the Jf- mosa pudica which manifest this curious property of reacting against irritation, for instance, the leguminose of the genera MISCELLANY. 761 Smithia, eschynomene, desmanthus, Robinia pseudacacia, and the Oscalis sensitiva of India. From all this it follows that the power of movement and sensibility are functional properties which cannot strictly serve as a distinction between the vegetable and animal worlds. Is Sex determined by Nutrition ?—Mr. Thomas Meehan exhibited to the Philadel- phia Academy of Natural Sciences speci- mens of the Juglans nigra (black walnut), with a view toshowing that sex in plants is the result of the grade of nutrition, the highest grades of nutrition or vitality pro- ducing the female sex, and the lower grades the male. Examining a black-walnut tree at the flowering season, even the superficial observer will perceive three grades of grow- ing buds. The largest buds make the most vigorous shoots. These seem to be wholly devoted to the increase of the woody system of the tree. Lower down the strong last- year shoots are buds not quite so large. These make shoots less vigorous than the other class, and bear female flowers on their apices. Below these are seen numerous small, weak buds, which either do not push into growth at all, or, when they do, bear simply the male catkins. As some natural- ists hold that the feeble condition of these lower shoots is the result of their bearing male flowers, Mr. Meehan invited attention to the specimens themselves as conclusively proving the contrary. He was fully satis- fied that any one, who would go out into the woods and fields for facts fresh from Nature, would see that there is not so great expen- diture of vital force in the production of male flowers as there is in that of female flowers, and thus all he had advanced on this subject was fully sustained. It will be remembered that, in our June number, we recounted the observations of Mrs. Mary Treat on the subject of controlling sex in butterflies, from which it appeared that butterfly-larve developed into male or female butterflies according as they were stinted in food, or liberally supplied with it, Besides the very interesting observations of Mr. Meehan, we have now further confirma tion of Mrs. Treat’s results in a paper com- municated to the Philadelphia Academy 'by Mr. Gentry. The latter author, in the sum-

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762 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. mer of 1871, had confined the larvz of va- rious species of moths, and neglected to supply them with food for four or five days. These larva had advanced toward their final change, possibly within a week or ten days. When the box was opened, the greater num- ber were found in cocoons, while the remain- der wandered about, as if in quest of food. The latter the author removed, to another box, where they were provided with abun- dance of food. After three or four days they began to assume the chrysalis form. The first batch proved to be males without exception, while the last batch proved, with but two exceptions, to be females. (The whole number in the two batches was about sixty.) Mr. Gentry then details further experi- ments made by him to decide this question, and states that the result was always the same. He adds the following facts, which came under his notice in the course of his observations and experiments: 1. That males are the invariable result when the larve are fed on diseased or innutritious food; 2. That in the fall, when the leaves have not their usual amount of sap, males are generally produced; 3. That more males are produced late in the season than fe- males ; 4. That the sexes, in early life, can- not be distinguished, the change being brought about, late in life, by the conditions of nutrition. Intensity and Patience required in Sci- entifie Work.—W hether in original work or in elaborating work already done, scientific labor, when conscientiously performed, is necessarily slow and exhausting. M. de Candolle, the great French botanist, has re- cently brought to a conclusion, with the sev- enteenth volume, his great “‘ Prodrome of Plants,” stopping at the completion simply of the Dicotyledones. It was begun by his illustrious father, Augustin Pyramus de Candolle, about 1816, who worked at it until his decease, in 1841. It was con- tinued by his son Alphonse, who called to his aid other famous botanists, his son Ca- simir among them. With true naiveté the author pleads necessity of stopping at the point now reached—“ ne tertiam botanicorum generationem occideret !"—lest the under- taking should kill off a third generation of botanists. In a supplemental pamphlet he gives his opinion that the Phanerogams, es- timated at 110,000 species, might, by dis- tributing the task among twenty-five botan- ists, be worked up in about fifteen or six- teen years. He says that in his father’s time one could elaborate at the rate of ten species a day, but that now a faithful mon- ographer (or specialist), under the modern requirements, can seldom exceed 300 or 400 species per annum—that is, about one species a day! Rationale of Double Flowers.—That the tendency in plants to produce double flow- ers is a natural one, and not exclusively evoked by the florist, is shown by Mr. Thomas Meehan, in a communication to the Philadelphia Academy of Natural Sci- ences. Many of the commonest wild flow- ers, which no one would think of cultivating, have double flowers in cultivation, which were no doubt originally found wild; for instance, various species of ranunculus. The author had himself placed en record the discovery, wild on the Wissahiekon, of a double Sazifraga Virginica, and Dr. James Darrach had found in the same loca- tion a double-trailing arbutus. There are in plants two methods by which double flow- ers are produced. The axis of a flower is simply a branch very much retarded in its development, and generally there are, on this arrested branch, many nodes between the series forming the calyx, or corolla, and the regular stamens and carpels, which nodes are entirely suppressed. But, when a double flower is produced, sometimes these usually suppressed nodes become de- veloped, in which case there is a great in- crease in the number of petals, without any disturbance in the staminal characters, But, at other times, there is no disturbance of the normal character of the axis. This was the case with the trailing arbutus discov- ered by Dr. Darrach. Land-Plants in Lower Silarian.—It has hitherto been suppesed that the Silurian age was one in which an absolutely un- broken ocean enveloped the earth, | Dr. Dawson made it probable that land-plants existed in the Upper Silurian, or latter Silu- rian age. Leo Lesquercux, in American — ~—e

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Journal of Science and the Arts, has well- nigh demonstrated that dry land existed in the Lower Silurian age. He communicates the discovery of two small specimens repre- senting branches or small stems of a species referable to Sigillaria, and found on Long- street Creek, near Lebanon, Ohio, in clay- beds positively referable to the Cincinnati group of the Lower Silurian, With the ex- ception of these Lebanon specimens, the geological formations of the United States have not afforded as yet any records of plants earlier than those of the Lower De- vonian, The Uses of Bees’ Wings.—At the late Convention of Bee-Keepers at Louisville, D. L. Adair read an essay on the various uses of the bee’s wings, in which he holds that, besides flying, the wing of the bee serves two or three other important ends. The horny frame, upon which the fine membrane of the wings is stretched, is composed of hollow tubes of a hard substance called chitine. These tubes are double, being one tube inside of another. The inner ones are extensions of the trachea, through which the air circulates in breathing ; between this and the other tube is a space through which the blood circulates. The blood is brought in contact with the air through the thin walls of the air-tubes, just as the air and blood are brought together in the hu- man lungs, and with the same effect. The nervous filaments in like manner pass to the wings ; they follow the respira- tory tubes and all the fine venations of the wing, terminating in every part of its sur- face in papilla, which in all animals are the vehicles through which sensations are perceived. Hence we may infer that the wings are the organs of some sensation. Are these nerve-filaments intended merely for noting tactile sensations? Mr. Adair is of the opinion that by means of them the bee is made conscious of odors. “Some naturalists have suggested the antenne as the organs of smell; but, as they appear to be poorly adapted to perform such an office, it is just about as likely that they smell with them as that they see with them. In- visible particles emanating from odorous bodies, coming in contact with the olfac- tory nerves, produce the sense of smell. MISCELLANY. 763 These atoms are mixed with and floating in the air, and, in order to collect them, a con- siderable volume of air must be made to pass over their surfaces—a thing which the wings certainly accomplish in an eminent degree.” The sense of hearing in bees has never been localized by naturalists, though some have supposed that the antenni are the or- gans of this sense also. “What appendage of the bee,” asks Mr. Adair, “ would be bet- ter suited to receive sound-vibrations than the thin, stiff membranes composing the wings?” The Lignite-Beds of the Recky Moun- tains.—The opinion having been advanced that the so-called lignite-beds of the Rocky Mountains have been formed by the heap- ing of drifted materials, and not by growth in situ, Mr. L. Lesquereux replies as follows, in Silliman’s Journal, to one of the argu- ments urged in favor of the opinion—viz., that the under-clays of the lignite-beds have no roots: “I can say,” he writes, “ from repeated and personal observations, that most of the lignite-beds of the West, which have passed under my examination, have the under-clays full of rootlets or of roots of the floating plants, which were the first, generally at least, to contribute to the for- mation of the bed of combustible material by their débris, At the Raton Mountains, at Cajion City, at Gehrung’s, near Colorado, at Golden, Marshall, Black Butte, ete., the coal is everywhere underlaid by chocolate- colored shale, often a compound of these roots or rootlets, so compact, indeed, that they cannot be determined, nor their forms distinctly recognized. Of course, the un- der-shales do not contain any roots (true roots of trees); the coal of the carbonifer- ous, too, never has any, for the good reason that trees do not grow in water, and that they only invade peat-bogs when the ground is solid enough to support them. And even then the roots grow horizontally, and do not descend deep into the matter which, generally impregnated by water, is to a de- gree inaccessible to atmospheric influence. The so-called roots of the clay-beds of the carboniferous measures, or the Slig- maria, are not roots, but floating leaves. And even their cylindrical stems are rarely

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764 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. found in clay-beds; only their leaves fill them just as the radicles of water-plauts fill the clay of the Tertiary lignite. It is, how- ever, a fact that some of the lignite clay- beds, and those of the coal-measures, too, are clean or without admixture of vegetable remains, even of rootlets. But when the peat is beginning its growth at the surface of a somewhat deep basin of water, whose bottom has been rendered impermeable by the deposit of clay (which always precedes the deposit of woody materials), this sur- face-peat is often thick and compact before it is forced down and comes in contact with the clay; and, in that case, therefore, the clay is pure, or is not penetrated by roots or rootlets. There are, of course, some beds of impure lignite, whose origin is due to drifted wood, especially along large rivers. One is known at the mouth of the Rhone, in France. I have seen some deposits of the kind in Southeastern Arkansas, near the Wachita River. The great Red-River obstructions may become in time lignite- deposits, But all formations of this kind show their origin by their composition, viz., sand mixed with carbonized matter, sandy bottom, perforated, too, in various direc- tions by drifted stems, etc. Nothing of this kind has been observed in the beds of lig- nite of the West, at least not in those which have come under my examination.” Geology of the Land of Moab.—Late explorations in the land of Moab by Dr. Tristam have disclosed some interesting geological features in that region. The doctor’s observations were mainly confined to the highlands, which are in reality a set of terraces, or table-lands, rising to the eastward from the shores of the Dead Sea—attaining, in a distance of 85 miles, a height of between 4,000 and 5,000 feet. These table-lands are cut at right angles into deep gorges or ravines, by streams which now flow, or at some former time have flowed, westward into the Dead Sea. Some of the gorges are 1,800 feet deep, with perpendicular walls, from which a good idea of the geological structure of the region may be obtained. The surface of these highlands is eomposed of chalk, which rests upon a limestone formation, re- garded by some as nummulitic and by others as Jurassic. The chalk and lime- stone together are from 1,200 to 1,500 feet thick. The limestone is supported by new red sandstone, the line where they join being well defined. It is from this line of junc- tion that the hot springs, so celebrated in Roman times, gush forth. The water of these springs has a temperature varying from 100° to 143° Fahr. The salt-hills at the south of the Dead Sea, like the table. lands just spoken of, have been gouged out by the action of water, and present along their face numerous columns and pinnacles of salt, that are being rapidly worn down by the action of the weather, Etiology of Typhoid Fever. — Prof. I. Buckman writes to the Gardener's Chronicle concerning the discovery of a microscopic fungus in water, the drinking of which was suspected of developing cases of typhoid fe- ver. We give the main points of this com- munication. Some years ago Prof. Buck- man examined the spout of a pump which had supplied water to a family attacked by typhoid, It was found to be lined with ge- latinous matter. Under the microscope this substance was seen to contain some elegant branched confervoid or fungoid growths, in- termixed with which were minute ovoid cells, As these fungoids require nitrogen for their nourishment, the author inferred that the supply came from some neighboring cess- pool. He next went to the exit-drain of the town sewerage, and there found bits of sticks, leaves of water-plants, and the like, more or less covered with this same gelati- nous matter. The author next detected this fungus in water used by his own family, some of whose members were severely attacked with typhoid fever. A defective drain in the neighborhood of the dwelling having been set to rights, and the whole of the water pumped out, the water has since been of excellent purity. Having cited two other analogous cases, Prof. Buckman speculates as follows on the mode in which this fungus acts after having been admitted into the animal economy: “ How it acts it would be difficult to determine, but it is at least con- ceivable that the spores of the fungus may get into the circulation, and bring about changes in the fluids, after the manner of a eee rn er

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a were ew re yeast in beer; and, if so, the seeds of the fungus would be likely to develop rapidly, if they came in contact with milk, or water containing nitrogenous matter. ‘A little leaven would leaven the whole lump,’ and, as it appears to me, in this way much dis- ease may be accounted for. The micro- scope, then, will enable us to make out the presence or absence of this fungoid or con- fervoid matter in foul water, and my own observations confirm me in the view that, being present, it is highly dangerous, and, if its cause can be removed, and the water made pure, all danger from this source at once ceases, while if it cannot it should be at once disused, and pure water be sought for elsewhere,” A Sun-driven Engine.—G. A. Bergh, writ- ing in Poggendorff’s Annalen, on the appli- cation of solar heat as a motive power, says that the engine which is to serve for this purpose must employ some liquid with a very low boiling-point. There are several such liquids—sulphurous acid, methylic chloride, methylic ether, ete. Of all of these, sulphurous acid best deserves attention, as it has several useful properties for the end in view. It is not too difficult to condense, and it can be got at a moderate price. Now we have got the principle on which we must construct our solar engine, Con- ceive a vessel, filled with sulphurous acid, exposed to the sun’s rays; the tension of the sulphurous-acid vapor, if the tempera- ture of this vessel A exceeds that of the sur- rounding air by at least 10° to 20°, must be from one to three atmospheres higher than that of the sulphurous-acid vapor in another vessel, B, similarly filled with sulphurous acid, but which has only the temperature of the surrounding air. We can thus arrange an engine which agrees in principle with the steam-engine, with merely this differ- ence, that the water is replaced by sulphur- ous acid, and the fuel by the solar heat; while the vessel exposed to the sun’s rays represents the steam-boiler, the vessel kept at ordinary temperature may represent the condenser. The sulphurous acid condensed, after doing work in the vessel B, could easily be driven back, by a force-pump, into the vessel A. The capability of work of such & machine must naturally increase with the MISCELLANY. 765 amount of heat communicated to vessel A or be proportional to the surface exposed to the solar rays. An establishment, farnished with a ma- chine like this, might carry on its work while there was sunshine, but, in default of this, would be brought to a stand-still. True, the solar heat might be replaced by the heat of the air, if the temperature of the air were pretty high, and one had at hand a refrigerating substance like ice. But, as this is not always the case, the establishment should have, besides the sun- machine, an apparatus which might “store up” some of the work done by this. As such, Natterer’s apparatus for condensing carbonic acid might be used. If a supply of carbonic acid were kept in a large gas- ometer, the Natterer apparatus might be fed from this. In a wrought-iron vessel, thus filled with liquid carbonic acid, we should thus have an enormous store of me- chanical force, which might be made to re- place the action of solar heat in the sun- machine, partially or wholly. After work done, the carbonic acid, become gaseous again, might be collected in the gasometer. Or, again, the sun-machine, while in action, might drive an ice-machine, and might, in default of sunshine, profit by the ice it had produced, for maintenance of its working. The Movements of Drosera.—Prof. Asa Gray, commenting in the American Journal of Science on a paper by A. W. Bennett, on the movements of the glands of Drosera (sundew), remarks that the author’s descrip- tion of these movements does not do justice to the facts, as observed by Dr. Gray him- self. Mr. Bennett observed not only the bending in of the glands upon the body of the insect which lights on its leaf, but that “the sides of the leaf had also slightly curved forward, so as to render the leaf more concave.”” With us, says Dr. Gray, the leaves do much more than that. As well in Drosera rotundifolia as in D. longi- folia, the end of the leaf folds over upon the base, or nearly like a shut hand, thus fairly inclosing the captive insect. He adds that, when Mrs. Treat’s account of this infolding of the leaf was published, in 1871, the discovery was thought to be new. But he has since found that the in-

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766 folding of the leaf, as well as the intrusion of the glands, was discovered by Roth in 1779. The only real addition to our knowl- edge—this old knowledge, recently repro- duced—is that contained in the latter part of Mr. Bennett’s communication, which is to the effect that Drosera acts upon bits of raw meat just as upon a living insect, but is motionless toward inorganic bodies, and, in his experiments, to bits of wood and of worsted. Ia the published report of the communication no allusion is made to the history and record of all these discoveries, but Prof. Gray claims for Mr. Darwin the credit of having been the first to discover this difference of behavior of the drosera- leaf to different substances. He says that there are other still more curious observa- tions and experiments of Darwin’s upon Drosera and Dionea, which it is hoped will soon be published. Ocean-Steamships.—A writer in the Zven- ing Post notes some of the principal short- comings of the ocean-steamship of the pe- riod, and offers some practical suggestions as to the proper construction of a passenger- - steamer. The ocean-steamer of to-day is simply a huge freight-boat. She is some- what larger, and perhaps a trifle swifter, but certainly not any safer, than when she first crossed the Atlantic some thirty years ago. It would seem absurd if our railroads had no passenger-cars, and we had to travel about the country strapped on to the roof of a freight-car. Ocean-travel is quite as absurd, and even more dangerous, for our tier of state-rooms is strapped to the top of a heavy iron box, loaded with heavy freight, which, in the event of a sudden blow, goes to the bottom as if it were made of glass. According to the writer in the Post, the passenger-steamship should be of about the same length as at present, but broader and shallower, with lines adapted, not to carry- ing capacity, but to speed ; the chief novel- ty, however, being that the entire hull, ex- cepting the spaces required for engines and coal, would be filled up with very small air- and water-tight compartments or cells— enough to make the ship a gigantic life-pre- server, All the state-rooms and quarters would be on the main-deck. The cellular construction of the vessel would add great- THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. ly to her strength, while her lightness would admit, at least in ordinary weather, of great speed, and her model would greatly dimin- ish the rolling so provocative of sea-sick- ness, As regards the question of expense, while the first cost and daily outlay would net exceed those of the present style of steamer, the passenger-steamer could make twice as many trips in the year, for she would not only be actually faster, but would save much time between voyages which is now spent in discharging and receiving cargo; for the same reason, after landing her passengers, she could start again in a day or two on another trip. Such a vessel might be disabled by collision, but it is hardly possible that she could be sunk by any form of accident that we are fAmiliar with. Tarantism.—Tarantism is the title giv- en by physicians to an epidemic nervous disorder which prevailed in Italy, and more particularly in Apulia, during the middle ages. It was supposed to be caused by the bite of the tarantula, a species of spider found in Southern Europe, and very plen- tiful in the vicinity of the city of Taranto, whence it derives its name. The disorder, whether caused in the first instance by the bite of this spider or not, was capable of passing from subject to subject by a sort of sympathy, and thus the affection would spread to hundreds and thousands of the population, without distinction of sex or age. Analogous nervous diseases, known as St. Vitus’s dance, or St. Guy’s dance, prevailed in Germany, France, and England. A recent writer on “ Mental Disease,” W. A. F. Browne, gives the following account of these singular affections : “ Tn all these affections,” says he, “ which spread over great masses of the population, Teutonic and Celtic, children and octogena- rians alike, there were observed wild and exuberant excitement, delusion, and antipa- thies, with uncontrollable impulses to run or leap, all such movements ultimately pass- ing into dancing, which was generally aggra- vated, though sometimes mitigated, by mu- sic. These dancers were impelled some- times by imitation, sometimes by fanatical exaltation, sometimes by terror and the fear ae es a oa ' ‘

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et < Sand . PLLA — a -

- :

of being poisoned, and it was when under the latter emotion that harmony seems to have been most powerful and curative. Airs (tarantelle) have been preserved which were employed in arresting or moderating the frenzied rotations and leaps of those urged on by dread of the bite of the taran- tula, and by other causes; and that some interference was required is evident, for, although large numbers of those affected recovered, many resisted all coercion, and danced themselves to death.” The tunes which were regarded as reme- dial are said to have been of peculiar char- acter, and to have contained transitions from a quick to a slow measure, and to have passed gradually from a high to a low key. The sensibility to music was so great that, at the very first tones of their favorite mel- odies, the affected sprang up, shouting for joy, and danced on without intermission until they sank to the ground exhausted and almost lifeless. Although thus excitable, no external or audible music was requisite to suggest or sustain such movements. Ap- parently stimulated by some internal rhythm, the performers danced, sometimes with in- furiated, but always with measured steps, wheeling hand-in-hand in circles, not mere- ly from street to street, but from town to town, dropping down when exhausted, but having their places supplied by fresh re- cruits. When under this inspiration, the rudest of the victims exhibited gracefulness in dancing, and manifested displeasure when false notes were introduced into the music. Utilization of Sewage.—The following facts, with regard to the utilization of the sewage of the city of Paris, are taken from the official returns: At Clichy, a bend of the Seine forms a sandy, level peninsula, of some 5,000 acres. The barrenness of this peninsula is proverbial, and hence it was on this land that a portion of the city sewage was first directed, with a view to put the utility of this kind of fertilization to the severest possible test. The preliminary works were begun in 1868, and completed ' in May, 1869. From that time between 5,000 and 6,000 cubic yards of the sewage have been raised daily by engines of 40- horse power and centrifugal pumps, and of this two-thirds were received into tanks for

NOTES.

767 chemica] manipulation, the remainder being applied to a piece of land 12 or 15 acres in extent, At the end of several months the results of this experiment upon a naturally poor soil were such that the neighboring farmers asked to be included in the benefits derived from the sewage. Owing to the extreme permeability of the soil, 20,000 cubic yards of sewage could be annually absorbed per acre, and the farmers obtained crops of 70,000 Ibs. of cabbages, 60,000 Ibs. of carrots, and 150,000 Ibs. of turnips. All land suitable for irrigation rose in value. No evil effects on the health of the inhabit- ants could be detected, and a village sprang up around the works. A Parisian perfumer established his manufactory on the outskirts of the irrigated land, and obtained a supply of the sewage-water for his gardens of aro- matic herbs, more especially of peppermint. It is worthy of note, in this place, that the finest mignonette of Covent-Garden Mar- ket, London, has long been grown from sew- age-irrigated soil.

NOTES. An Honor to Pror. Henry.—Prof. Jo- seph Henry, secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, has received from the French Government a superb porcelain vase, as a testimonial of his services as the United States representative of the commission on the international standard metre.—Journal of the Telegraph. New Fossi. Man.—In the Revue Scien- tifique for December, it is stated that a third skeleton of a troglodyte has been dis- covered by M. Riviére, in the caves of Men- tone. This new skeleton, judging from the various and numerous implements by which it was surrounded, lived at an epoch far more remote than that assigned to the skele- ton now in the Museum of Paris. The in- struments of warfare and other objects found with it, though composed of flint and bone, are not polished. They are only sharpened, and, by their coarse execution, appear to belong to the paleolithic age. On the upper part of the skeleton was a large number of small shells, each pierced with a hole, which appeared to have formed a collar or bracelets. No — nor any bronze object was found.— In an article on “Furs and their Wear- ers,” published in the December Porciar Science Monruty, the fur-seal of Alaska and the sea-otter were inadvertently con- founded. In a letter kindly calling atten-

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768 tion to the error, Mr. F. M. King, of White- stone, L. I., who has been on the spot and knows the two animals, points out a few of their characteristic differences. The sea- otter is rarely seen on land, but eats, sleeps, and is said even to bring forth its young in the water. It is provided with a tail, has legs with webbed feet, and handles its food with its fore-paws, and is in fact an olter. The fur-seal breeds on shore, and is cap- tured mostly out of the water. It has nei- ther legs nor paws, but flippers like all the other seals, Tue death of the great German anato- mist, Max Schultze, is announced. He was in the prime of life, and had just experi- enced the satisfaction of seeing his labora- tory at Bonn—the amplest and most ele- gantly-constructed in Europe—finished, un- der his direct supervision. His death isa great loss to biological science. A writer in the American Naturalist suggests that one of the most important uses to which the Yellowstone National Park can be put is, “ the preservation from extinction of at least the characteristic mammals and birds of the West, as far as they can be domiciled in this section.” A Geran engineer proposes to combine hard ingots, or blocks of steel, in the pro- cess of casting, with laminz of soft steel or wrought-iron, in such a manner that the latter, in undergoing the rolling process, may assume an internal position, thus com- bining a certain amount of elasticity, duc- tility, and toughness, in the interior, with a hard exterior to withstand wear and abra- sion, A cEeMETERY is now being searched at Luzarches, in the vicinity of Paris, where articles of the times of polished stone have been found. Hatchets, knives, scissors, arrow-points, and delicately-worked blades, made of flint, have been discovered ; also awls of bone from various animals; and, on the remains of a female skeleton, a kind of medallion with two holes was seen, which probably formed part of a necklace. Sev- eral skulls have been examined by Dr. Broca, who will communicate the results of his investigations to the Anthropological Society of Paris, Ir is stated that, at the recent Scientific Congress at Rome, two Neapolitan physi- cians submitted to the meeting a liquid preparation for stopping instantaneously the flow of blood from wounds of every description. A commission of physicians have performed experiments with it in one of the Roman hospitals, and have reported on it as one of the happiest of recent dis- coveries, and as particularly serviceable on the field of battle. THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. A curious addition was lately made to the aquarium of the Paris Jardin d’Accli- matation, viz., a polyp of the Medusa kind. The day after its admission to the compart- ment assigned to it, all the other animals in the same tank were found to be dead. An analysis of the water showed the reason of this strange mortality—the polyp had changed the water to vinegar. The so- called vinegar-polyp has the power of pro- ducing in itself alcohol, which is soon trans- formed into vinegar; this, however grateful it may be to the polyp that produces it, is fatal to other aquatic creatures. The poi- sonous Medusa was at once removed from the basin and put in a tank by itself, where it will be permitted to carry on its cheap vinegar-manufacture as long as it pleases. An exhibition of appliances adapted to economize fuel is to be held in Manchester, England. The exhibition will comprise: 1. Appliances which may be adapted to exist- ing furnaces, etc., whereby an actual saving is effected in the consumption of fuel. 2, Appliances which may be adapted to exist- ing furnaces, etc., whereby waste heat is utilized. 38. New steam-generators and fur- naces, boilers and engines, specially adapt- ed for saving fuel, and appliances whereby waste products are utilized, the radiation of heat prevented, etc. A variety of simi- lar apparatus for manufacturing, agricul- tural, and domestic purposes, will also be exhibited. The exhibition promises to be interesting and instructive. Aw institution of novel character was recently founded in France. The Villa Emilia, at Meudon, half-way between Paris and Versailles, was thrown open on January lst, to explorers of any nationality, to young men who propose making scientific voy- ages, and to all who wish and are able to encourage them. The expenses of the in- stitution are to be defrayed by an associa- tion. The property already embraces instru- ments and laboratories, scientific books, etc. Free courses and lessons will be given, and travelers may leave their collections there, to be kept till their return. Gifts of money will be made to those who may serve the so- ciety in certain specified ways. The associa- tion, “Cercle des Explorateurs,” as it is called, will have its Gazette, giving news of explorers, and there will be two meetings, in spring and fall. Those wishing to join the society are desired to communicate with its originator, M. Méhédin, Meudon, Seine et- Oise. Dr. Ferrer has received a grant from the Royal Society, for the purpose of en- abling him to pursue his investigations on the brains of monkeys, etc. The results of his researches will, in due time, be em- bodied in a paper which will be read before that society.

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INDEX. — PAGE Sa Cee Be Bi iis cacesccecccssdcausvennsssbéannes 729 Agassiz, Prof. Louis R., his Death = " “ Autopsy of “ “ “ Biographical Notice. ” nas . His Successor Age, The, of Ice. (Illustrated) Alchemy, its Future Alcohol Alternations in the Intensity of Diseases Ancient Well in Illinois Animals, The sthetic Sense in Antioch, Rebuilding of Ashes, Leached, as a Fertilizer Asphaltum in West Virginia Atmospheric Electricity and Ozone Baryta, Uses of ES OE ccdncndvcdcecesased eonuhendanesnescaneeeasaul ee Body and Mind, Relations of Books noticed : “Civilization considered as a Science ” (by Harris) “Chronos: Mother Earth’s Biography ” (by Wood) “Conservation of Energy ” (by Balfour Stewart) “Elements of Physical Manipulation ” (by Pickering)..... oc osecenus “Philosophy of Evolution” (by Lowne)............... secéeisuenen “Workshop Appliances * (by Shelley) * Logic of Accounts” (by Folsom) “ Antiquities of the Southern Indians ” (by g ones) “Man and Apes” (by Mivart) * Dictionary of Medical Science ” (by Dunglison) “ Theory of Evolution of Living Things ” (by Henslow).............. “The New Chemistry ” (by Cooke) A “The Bible and the Doctrine of Evolution ” (by Smythe) “ Sex in Education ” (by Clarke) “Religion and Science ” (by Le Conte) “Our Common Insects” (by Packard) “ Descriptive Sociology ” (by Spencer) “ Autobiography of John Stuart Mill.”............ 0 cece ene eeeecees “ British Marine Algw ” (by Grattann) “ Proportions of Pins used in Bridges” (by Bender) “ Comparative Anatomy of the Domesticated Animals” (by Chauvean). 246 VOL. 1v.—49

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770 INDEX, Books noticed : — “Statistics of the World ” (by Schem)...........cccccccccccssceces 631 Cr ccc cc enmsbidecoveseceus, otebeeses 874 “Origin and Metamorphoses of Insects ” (by Lubbock).............. 628 “ Henslow’s Botanical Charts” (by Youmans)................00000: 628 Pe ED COT BUI pwc ncccccccccasnceccces ceceesoseess 629 “The Atmosphere ” (by Flammarion)...............ceeeeeeeeeeees 245 ee nT ~ CO BINOOD,. co cccccccccccsocccccoscceesece 751 “* Animal Locomotion” (by Pettigrew)............csccesececcececs 753 “Prang’s Natural History Series of Colored Chromos”’............. 754 ED Gt Sc cupccsetsecdvcbvscoesecesvesensets 755 “Insects of the Garden ” (by Packard) cin ekdldekesheenceeseesuabes 755 “ Manual of Physical Geography ” (by White)..................... 756 ? Ci OOD... icadcnddddvuewdiesébecceeeséetee 756 “Legal Responsibility in Old Age” (by Beard).................... 757 “Pages: Geography © (by Teena). ooo ccccccoccvccccvcccccccces’s 757 “The Birth of Chemistry ”- (by Rodwell)................eceeeeeeees 757 “Essays on Educational Reformers” (by Quick).................... 758 ie ..iceietincenxcebbheeesebesdonsdededuneesees 193 apt kbthbibt sbtbcdoevetebeeesesecedeesssscsoceces 253 Brain, A New Method with the....... Sbddddonddddaddcdcstdeeseceests 188 i, . V.chbbehbbstUedecduecedadectccuseccececeeesssss 114 Carboniferous Strata, their Constitution.................cee eee eeeeees 508 i tsi cheep ceeds cneseisdteeebeeseencesesuceqsocesees 881 Chemistry of the Rocks, what it teaches...............cceeeeseeceeees 694 Chromosphere, The, and Solar Prominences. (Illustrated).............. 885 i cits eneteahenhbe bhneees cbtcbhaeeeiasésccbecs 250 re ee er Cn ea cccstenescccnscceodsedeososeses 470 Concerning Serpents. (Illustrated)..............cceececcccccceecceess 257 Constellation, Past and Future of a. (Illustrated)..................006- 291 Constitution of Carboniferous Strata... ........ccce cece cee seeeeeeneces 508 Cooling and Contraction of the Earth’s Crust..............c0eeeeeeeees 255 Correlation of Vital with Chemical and Physical Forces................ 156 EE fa rcccaccecegessees 6oecnenddeo<es0eces pbeeccese 633, 744 icc. ccaesdaseaxdsoneenwwens seen 400h6eesgeks GesKeeskeedsese 452 Cites sin RULiE eee eked 6ach eugene sewhhs he ee eens es oes 760 Oryptograph ...... ........ Ditdnenccecsdepenniadestsachenebestaanh 125 De: <cctabewsedbsseoonepesences envenotaessebsenanas 115 CC bndasacconscccdevnssadeesshediettededneescctdes 592 De Candolle’s Great Work...............2seeeeeees ddSsecdsccecesiss 762 Dental Plates, New Material for...............0000: Riiecdedebiousaeers 507 MDG Sobel 6 666 00 decdssctcakedcekensasosdcvccsesvésicbdde 251 OR OD adda siccdensveccrvbscddblasidcccdestecsive sects 592 Premeepetiom OF TG 6666 6csccccccccccccccuccucccccucccoess sOsedeawe 430 Draper, Dr. J. W., Sketch of. (Portrait)..........ccceccececcceseccces 361 Drosera, Movements Gevcaticcscrciseasdadecccccendede tobsedssosedus 765 Education, Liberal, in the Nineteenth Century...............-seeeeeee- 1 Education, Scientific, Requirements Of..........cseeeeeecseceeeeeeeees 208 Seeenmnem, Tilator, Cf WFGmee 003 isis cs cc ccecccccccicsccdcocsccecdepeee 748

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INDEX. 771 PAGE Nia ndnnt nnccedadancndadeeaiiles bdadedacdiauciboonn 581 Emotional Language of the Future..........ccccccccccscccccsecvcvess 819 ID Gi ins un caeesSunndcdgeaqatadesasadisdesasaneeenn 430 Se GE IRs oc ccc cccsuctedcccdencciaaessetaes Soueceonses 631 Evolution and the Origin of Life............cccceccescccsecceuscevees 713 SC, MD, GUE CIT, iis dace cacnckeacce antics ashabaeenanen 824 SN OE CUE soc cdeteccceccccccsncesesssseesuasansenean 231 Baperenentes em Living Amba. ....00ccccccccvtcccccscsésvsbssevvees 750 BOR, GEE SUSE GE inc vk cece ccccccvencsbucrvspevethsedsissbann 879 , . CI once cecvccwccee- ccscncdsncdaddaccthuntect 587 DO, Mo cicccscedcesncesccussenc ctndestescensanilleen 686 Fe NR cccccccnndddccevscncesossisnensscnciapenmmpeee 639 EE STOTT TTT Tt 762 Forces, Correlation of Vital, with Chemical and Physical............... 156 Wocak of Mature. (iRastrated)........-cesivecaricccescecsscssesoss ance Oe French Association for the Advancement of Science.................+.. 125 Furs and their Wearers. (Illustrated)............00seceeeceeees eeeeee 148 ee Be occ ccvcccccepucccessccccensuscsecesebsetéeuueheunl 602 Ceemeees, Gee, GRE TOPGONEIIM. 0 0c cc cc ccccccctevcssccotvensnscesaenas 824 Geographical Work, A Year of............ 96qnecenenedneanaemmeaen 735 GIT GE GPGRGEE. 0 0% cc cccccccccccccccseces: cncnbasssacnansenne 492 I PIN I nto nncdne6ecccsseesackatsasbeneaenensnitaeeenael 510 GI, Ss onc cccccencescessncececeuscecacssaseuecnctansonmen 880 Grape-vime BUghS. ....cccccccccsccccccccccvccccccccsvesscoccsscsese 881 Great Oemotery tm Oslorade. ....cccccccccccsccccccccceccsctcccoscocs 470 GeewG GRE DOC OE TB. ccc cccccccccccccscccsaweecocapessperasees 828 Growth of Salmon, (Tllustrated).............cee cece ec eee cece eeeeeees 27 Haeckel’s Moners. (Illustrated)....... preccusubdcdésaunss cbsueeedbeas 181 Health and Oomfort in House-building.............0000ceecceeeeeeeeee 69 Bee, GORE, oc ncccccccccccsecccsepeccensoussasssessageusess 635 TAUGEEA, PRGRGUORD OF... cc ccccccccccesessccccscseuccsosscesdeess 55 Heredity and Race-Improvement.............0ceceeeeeeeeeeeeeeeenees 170 Hooker, Dr. J. D., Sketch of. « (Portrait)...........ccccccccccccscccees 237 House-building, Health and Comfort im... . 2... 5.2... ceceee eee ee eeeeee 69 Huxley, Prof., Sketch of. (Portrait)...........cceceeeccceceeeceeeeces 7389 Hiypmetions fe Animals... .cccccccccccscccccccccccccecssevescess eee 75 Toa, The Ame of (iibastvabed)....ccccccccccccccccccccccecccsccccecens 641 Images and Shadows. (lIllustrated)............eccceseedecceceeeeeeees 665 Improved Deep-Sea Sounding Apparatus... .........-.eeecceececeeeeeee 255 Improvements in Street-Sprinkling..........0.....eceeeeeeeeeeee eee 124 Tg EPPPTTPPTTTTTTTITITITITITT Trire iti i TL 849 Inland Seas, their Physical Conditions................ Melssels iveedGe 878 Bemeete, Chdie TEAM, 2 wc cccccccccccccccccssccoctcccsesevcsesedes 882 Gg APPT CITITTTTITITITIT TT Lite 88 ND OF GG TMI oc cc vccccccvecusscswevcncdontenases ocuckense 126 Per rie oii 433 Land-Plants in Lower Silurian........ Pe ee Serre 762

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err creer

ee ee

772 INDEX,

Language, Emotional, of the Future. ...............cececccetecccccees

et NED « « 00s 600 cc'ccenuiébue cececesedccebiitactabh 509 in cldccepedwadabownnancawsiesecdenhs chgababmabnes 242 Liberal Education in the Nineteenth Century....................0ee0es 1 ; Lignite-Beds of the Rocky Mountains..................ccccceceecccees 763 es 5 sb eendnnee cnbsbeedwebave séeucecsbecledaen 637 i. cntukdudecakesveusevcbbiekusiibesss de ciebeddeals 627 Localization of the Faculty of Speech...............cccccccccccccvcccs 125 Dia NE GE, CONNIE. ccccscbsssebecwcccctécsecssbboos 109 no. cebabanensedecseavebeeerebbuscosacancteens ASRS 5 Ene io 000s sees nous sideenwesdoescete ceneunetwes LLL.) bcbheb shacks teeteneniueneceteneedeevebiscs 251 aaah ahh case etciesutueusst ube Ghbkedeen csconeonsé 759 rr Mss. «vedas ddueebeedec Gees cosscnecesdawes 254 Mantis, or Praying Insect. (Illustrated).................. cc cece cccceee 710 Mars by the Latest Observations. (Illustrated)..................0000es 187 oa hndde dd binwasssbnesdede «wesseesesestcoen 494 oP eee CUNIONOTR 6 6 5c ccdndcvccecccesececvscenceocces 493 ii od eid cab eenaensenenete sees eeseenkek 509 nd dic cghenupeeukateebeneekedehesscosenceets es 507 ER, cicadas icuekeebscmed bas deeacsseses sasecede 382 rs cc ccecunsndedue ob eonadaes cegeesecoes be 868 i ol era dbkbabenebenaeedecose seencéecnecie 253 oe ne ccs cdaecenactesenebecanocenes 328 Minerals, Spang Collection of........ RApAncteeeeeenoeneceeeseees 483 Modern Optics and Painting. (Mlustrated)..................020000: 415, 572 a es iin cckternecunesineseeeedenckstecnssecnes 764 i eke cecckb eke oka dudeuneegetseeses sveesaes cece 276 ES, CN, oo vs cco ccnpedecdscosesesceccenéocees 181 { Seenow, US Breeding Habits... cccccccccccccccciccccccccccece 744 ' i. Wecdaeinenbeaheeaddse 06h see sebees 880 7 ENED SEED ea Oe REP 382 ccc wihs cckacgebeorteseseseesseseweseee . 183 EL vnc esG ad saceneunseesstasensteeosstonéec 632 cs ccnesadieecdladesteenadieds wee6Geeennneeyess s 433 VE ehh ee ee eee 127, 256, 383, 511, 639, 767 | ee Ph. <. cecdceueessws necsencocccceseetee 704 ie nct a neceicadhbheehaadashseseded beeeandcats 766 3 . ee a. as het cbahanh ibs edun cbbee condense o4 254 4 Optics, Modern, and Painting. (Illustrated)....................05; 415, 572 i rh On . cca naccnssbnskdseseccesanseeuboees 713 i} Origin of the Potato-Disease.... . i ccCcneieednthe nobeenhahatsees swe 123 i} Our Ancestors on the Goose-Question. (Illustrated).................... 565 | Ozone and Atmospheric Electricity. ...........cc.cceeeeececccccececes 456 Hl Painting and Modern Optics. (Illustrated).................00eeeeee 415, 572 | EE TE ccuascecdcensbssbcesieedetnaseceseua 627 ats Stee ence inches actecnansstiaw es camemeeel 251 EEC POOR OO TET

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9 oOo © Ct -7 -71 Co em LO NO re Se CO w ie, Mh a ee ed i te i _ Se tr Ol GUD. spc cnadeoceuaabitcntscscesenceeecetceidennn Past and Future of a Constellation. (Illustrated)...................46- 291 PE GPs PUD s cccccccccnsecsseciscccéesoscecsbesesaebins 656 eIILE GEas connccaduiseceshsbsebeséncsesssnecbssonibes 55 ND Ticino 0ctccisccpcecdstdndsceessesseceneeaien 881 Physical Conditions of Inland Seas... ..........cccccccscccscccesceces 878 Phgalads Cametitatien 60 Biatbe. occ ccccccescccccscccccccesecsapenches 498 Pr 39 Plants, Animal-like Functions of..............sscccssssccccccccsecess 882 PUD OF OW GeRRc cc ccccccsccccescccvvessescescosseadenennn 632 PURINE, GUE Gon cnc cceccccccccccccccacsccétccsccvcvetdoneee 128 PO, SO We 6 6a ooik'h ib oda cdccccccccdsenednescsicewes 687 DOUG Ma oc cetcccecscscccccsccecccssccsespesiosnewabee 231 Praying Insect, or Mantis. (Illustrated)...............eeeeeceeeeeeees 710 Prediction, A Scientific, verified....... bcccee cctecscusssecescteuanbien 253 Preparations for the Coming Transit of Venus............0...ceeeeeeees 212 Primary Concepts of Modern Physical Science................. 92, 219, 349 POUT O BIG onc ccccccdncccavscccecessecscendsécceumseon 116 Fuestes, &.-B., Gaten 6, (POE. occ cccviccccetsccccccosccsivess 486 PORT 66 CAG ont ncwed secewsecccessscéeessetaieaee 30 Public Instruction and Sanitary Science... ............cceeeceeeccecees 421 Quicker than Lightning. (Illustrated)............cccccssccccccccccces 805 CNB. ooo nbs cee cudtcukbh paednd vis salnesacddamseneeaeeee 380 ea SOURIS, TUSTIN GUE 6 dno 0 0000secctnnnbansebbetebaneseaen 170 Radicalism, Conservatism, and the Transition of Institutions............ 129 Raspberry, Garden, its American Origin..................eeeeeeeeeees 510 Pein, Gh Epteete om. Cibambrabed hs... ..ccccccccccccccseseneesubnaenen 344 PE GE MINE 0 co cccccdccccesesnesvcesesaceessobaneoennee 126 I, cn cccdccccccnccesseccesqeendeebhanesensenen 639 Se OS SET GUE DENN. oc cccccncccncccccsssdenescseesoebewseeln 111 PT ed HO GS POND cov ccvcovcccccccsdanBeasstageceseeen 254 DC ici cccdadusidccessnccedeceseaseeates 295, 402, 541 Requirements of Scientific Education... .............eseeeeeeeeeeecees 208 PS NE, TU Cs oc cc cece cs ccccstedabusccecessteetan 39 Rumford’s Discoveries in Thermodynamics. ...............0020eeeeeees 758 ee eee 27 DD canccanenadesubennesceteecccesecsspeiaeninasnn cian 511 Sanitary Science and Public Instruction................-eeeeeeeeeeeees 421 Science, its Influence on Philosophy... ...........cccceccscccccccecsces 619 Science, Education, and Aristocracy...........cccccccsccccccccccccecs 480 SRUORAD IE We le b sen cccws cdncencecccadchAbechascés popcesseaene 635 Science, Physical, Primary Concepts of..............-eeeeseees 92, 219, 349 Scientific Education, Requirements of...............--seeeecccceceecs 208 EY BANNED, contccccaccccsceccacesuducussubbbuckoseneseecones 242 Se RUM WORE occ cnceccnccadtaetvetenecesecesocavecden 253 SEED ONE MA. SEOs ocrncetccstcésbecdacneibtsdeiacdbinmedente 241 ementien ant ceoties Se Pdasis. 0. .ccccccsccndskvcececscsecevescenl 761 eS Ue ccdhssccccocsccaccancccccncssinswsaceuanunell 250 Serpents. (Illustrated)........ peadsdcocccesccccsgéciboansedee 257

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774 INDEX, PAGE A, -cccccsnaas 0400vensseesesbesitigsseteensaveell 507 EE Gls occ cncgtbasendheeoenédeonennsedeessceabdwes 767 ay an on mmenmeemed by Wetrition. ... ccccccccccccccccccsccescesesees 761 TD 36 ade ee eecndddnatecednassedbagebanseeeies 80 rnin, COORED,. ..cccccocccssecccesososenetediuss 665 Shark, The Shovel-nosed. (Illustrated).............cecceeeceee eecees 65 i on odiydhn0s6debhoene ass ceeseenbhsseedsncsudeahues 581 I Ras cn ceeccecesdaubebndébue coccsveuaeuan 508 Solar Prominences, The Chromosphere and. (Illustrated)............... 885 Sounding Apparatus, Improved..................... erreT tT rere 255 re i, «5 6c005b0cenee ee sees ecovesssupediwebes 483 Speech, Localization of the Faculty of........ ‘sesgesiesetosnicimebes 125 Spencer and the Women....... Os Sade eecennsceceeconsceacnscss aut 746 EE I occas badadnwedbdeccesessdes sscenceeelll 621 Street-Sprinkling, Improvements in................ceeeeeeceeeeeeeeees 124 ESE ES ee Te 129, 242, 295, 402, 492, 541 otis naGitsedecetetpncesanesscess becccacesee 123 kn kk cep diereedeedebededensssnceedeusandeeban 639 i tnces wikkerddnias Shodiiedndeeseebeostsagteneett 127 et ae cn ae eeehiene esi kai 765 i iccichns ctongdugetgbiybetesetsoceenesensbes 88 iin iad oe ec ebk banctlaeeedtssccnededses s0dedbuaa 766 I cine 5s. ceabnowaeeeeenes vee hcetcnbenh baannill 193 SEES ee 510 ei Eo oe nes wad ccneesbwesenwanuad 276 ak cs oe ecccnsecccsesocscestsee .» 1296 Transit of Venus, Preparations for the Coming ...................++- 212 Nee Me eso. Ss) el eawi Seeecesencsscceseoun 759 Nee sg oN i evensessccoeeceses 764 ant a endidnhandheds +ébcbencecesccnens cae 879 En CMGRTVEROTT. cccccccccccccececcescceccccccccscs 7 Re ad cdcdddapemscduesecetcessteseponnece 882 IR EY 510 ChE. dncacéhosebseddadssneae, s00scecesscoesensy 672 Walking, Swimming, and Flying. (Illustrated)....................005- 528 Ne seach eb ecdekeeesesteearccenseoeces 6387 Rede stent edaddes egcsaedbadeevneeheosccessageens 759 “ Water turned to Blood.” (Illustrated).... .........-.-ceeeeeeeeeeees 202 ts MEP hccendcetadccssnevenete cheeeonecsscccenes o¢ 252 rn, cio oa us ce cdenneee eonanieeeensonene 252 What the Chemistry of the Rocks teaches... .......0...cceeeeeeeeeeee 694 Worn and InGuence of Tee MOnmrezy.......cccccsccccccescsccccccesece 747 i ca, Cece ieccatarebensdeededeonsveusseseseetes 760 World, The, before the Introduction of Life. (Ilustrated)............. .. 618 Ge CREO TEGO Sc cc cccivsdcccvccccccsvcoesecocssessaes 735 mesemite Valley of Glacial Origin........ccccccccccccccccccccccsscesess 122 END OF VOL, IV.

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MALAVO-POLYNESIAN RACES, Climate.—Very equable and salubrious. Temp. ranges from 60° to 88° fp. Usual daily INORGANIC ENVIRONMENT. Division I. variation 10°. Rain falls on about 40 days in the year; generally clear at other times. Surface.—A group of thirteen islands with an estimated area of some 6,000 sq. miles. Vol- sand plantations. Mountains sometimes rise to canic; frequent eruptions destroying vi i n. Valleys fertile. Few navigable rivers ; water scarce. elevation, and a Few good harbours. OPERATIVE. LA- OPERATIVE TIVE. Indus- trial Partial sub- division of la- REGU|| nerally o valuable or useful metals. | Sample Table of Spencer's Descriptive Sociology: SAVAGE RACES. ORGANIC EN VIRONMENT. between a mouse and a rat. nishing feathers for decoration. Fish tolerably ab of prey, and none more ferocious than the Vegetal.—Less valuable and abundant than i the Southern Islands. Taro, sweet-potatoes, and yams. Also nuts, plantains, sugar-cane, a species of eugemé raspberries. Animal.—Few. Quadrupeds—hogs, and dogs, also an animal Good many birds; some wild hog, from every noxious and poisonous animal, excepting Se BUCT URBA L. POLITICA Hereditary monarchy ; with turbulent feudal chiefs, formerly inde- pendent kings. Occasional national deliberative meetings. REGUtLAT1 iV E. ECCLESIASTICAL. CE CIVIL. MILITARY. Ecclesiastical vernment only par- | PROFES- SIONAL. g0-| MUTILA~ TIONS. cocoa- 3 Strawberries and et FUNERAL RITES, tet SAN D WICH SOCIOLO(CAL ENVIRONMENT. No adjacent fi islands, or differe at} a state of mutual ostility. between 100,000 an/200,000. of them fur- No beasta Entirely free REMONIAL. LAWS OF INTERCOURSE. | HATS AND CBTOMS. races: but natives of different ions of same island, frequently in Population estimated at SLANODERBS. PHYSICAL CHARACTERS. Rather above the middle stature; well-formed, with fine muscular limbs ; open countenance, and features frequently resembling those of Europeans. Gait graceful, sometimes stately. Hair black, or brown, strong, often curly. Complexion olive, sometimes reddish-brown. Ruling classes physically more powerful. mar ULATIOV E.z R SENTIMENTS. IDEAS. ZSTHETIC. MORAL. SUPERSTITIONS. KNOWLEDGE. AND WRITTEN. | P DU CHANGE. | TyQ Law partially separated from Custom. Alphabet con- sists of 17 let- rs — 5 vowels and 12 conso- nants. Every word and syllable Decimal notation — forty being made the basis of calculation. tially separated from Political — the king sometimes acting as high-priest. Priests a distinct class. Office heredi- tary. Every person not meeting with a violent death sup- posed to be destroyed by an unpropitious deity (or by the effect of sorcery). The future life supposed to resemble the present. Barter. | fined not con- hum sidered labou tl both parties had bour, in addi- tion to that between the sexes. Very cleanly in person and food. Shown in appreciation of beauty of flowers, and in simple con Marks .of distinction. ‘a Killa pig when —— generally mo- Feather in| ratifyiig peace. siz and colour with rank;'| dw corpulency ; quantity of cloth- ing. govern- ment little sepa- rated from Funerals performed in secret. Body get disposed of by burial (ga- tural caves preferred), burning, or into the sea. Inferior Medi- cine-men. Astrolo- gers. Prophets. DOMESTIC. Tatooin g. Loss of from one to four of front teeth, on Partly sepa- rated from Civil; inferior chief sometimes com- manding. PUBLIC, 1. King, royal family, land prime minister. 2. Governors of the MARITAL, | FILIAL. | Strong desire for ap- probation shown in social Chiefs Vaious games and anusements— |Gambing, boxing, Quipus used in a form seemingly not inferior to that of the Peruvians. | Men.—Oceu- | pations mainly /Politi- out - door and/cal. laborious ; sub-| Chiefs divided direct —Among the most | superior classes |com- | into house-car- mercial trunsac- ‘ penters, canoe- \ builders, turm-/|tions, ers, fishermen. and im- —Inferior | pose class mainly | taxes labourers, and working on the|tolls. soil, Middle artizan class, receive wages. Lower class in Women.— Superior class ; occupations 'mainly in-door }and compara- , tively light. [state of —Inferior (serfdom, labour | attached |to the sol L | Local differ-| Slave- ' entiation of | class, | occupations— lmale & Near con- sanguineous marriages fre- quent in the |Jroyal family. Contract | |generally made by parents of both parties, lor by man and parents of wo- man. | appa- |rently through female. The father death over Polygamy Chief allowed in all ranks, but practised only by chiefs. minate his suc- cessor, nation must be Divorce easily ob- tained. by th king. Kinship has power} of lifeand his children. may no- but nomi- confirmed different islands, and chiefs of large divisions, (Many of them descend. ants of those who were independent kings in Cook’s time, and before consolidation of the whole into one kingdom.) 3. Chiefs of districts or villages, and priests. 4, Labouring classes, Evidence of the former independent govern- ments, and of the com- mon people maintaining their rights by arms. Land owned by govern- ment, to which district and village chiefs pay rent. Chiefs either sub- let the land, or cultivate it by means of serfs. become law. King and chiefs are the legislators; and have each a number of attendants who execute their orders. existence of a number of! Dicta of former kings Army not a distinct class. Herald sent round to the va- rious districts before war to summon to arms, after war to an- nounce peace. Considerably organized. Each chief led his own men, and was subject to the commander - in - chief. Army generally drawn up according to a definite plan. Men armed on the principle of division of la- bour. Battles commonly a suc- cession of ~par- tial engage- ments ; but some- times the whole army except the reserve was en- for their services. or remove tabu. Burial - places tuted men. Im the army; and slain offered to them. Tabu, both general and particular, occa- sional and permanent. Imposed __ either sending round Medicine-men, gene- rally priests and. sor- cerers. Receive a fee Women occasionally have power to lay on also the temple, or pantheon; where the images of dead chiefs are worshipped. Games and ceremonies insti- in honour of departed and deified Animal and human sacrifices; offerings or food, &c.; prayers and other propitiatory rites. of war - gods taken to battle with players and musi- cians. are of fenc- ing-mas- ters. the by the Strolling Itinerant A sort the death of a chief, sitting posture. Provisions with the body, placed over the for some time Part of a canoe times placed near with superstitious verence. Bodies (part or w! sometimes thrown volcanoes, or into sea; in the belief the de ence on the those regions. worship. chiefs and priests buried in a horizontal posture; common people in a buried grave. Bones of distinguished persons separated ftom the flesh, and preserved exert a beneficial if Burial - places §f the great (morais) ¢losely connected with religious Expressionsofgrief— the removal of all ornaments above the waist. Owner of anything, when| asked to whom it belongs, .|says “It is yours and mine.” the} Salutations between equals. — Touching noses; compli- mentary inquiries. Guests carry away the rem- nants of the feast that has been provided for them. re ) Signs of respect te» higher wrestling, playing ranks.—Prostration, standing, at bovis, singing, dancirg. ceremmy. Women ido nd eat with men. Simple marriage ng to the eye in simple but gay personal adornment, in cloth painted with considerable variety of colours and a great variety of mathe- matical patterns, and in staining on utensils. A flat occiput con- sidered beautiful. Shown little in mono- tonous vocal music and simple percussive instru- mental music. Shown much more in simple dances, chiefly of a dramatic nature, of considerable variety, and supported with a won- derful degree of spirit and vivacity. Shown also in epic songs ; in laments, manifesting considerable) poetic feeling; and in a} variety of tales, chiefly) usages. remarkable for co and refinement. Civil, friendly, and kind to each other and to stran- gers. Hospitable; yet in a less degree Tahitians. strong; yet infanticide formerly prevailed to a fearful extent. Gene- rally inclined to steal. terminates with la vowel. Monosyllables about 5 per! cent. Dissyl- lables about 42. Trisyllables about 20 per cent. Reduplication | of two syllables| frequent. Agglutinate. Copious, and capable of ex-| pressing ideas with great force| and precision. Partly hiero- glyphic; partly pictorial signs, Straight lines, micircles,con- tric rings, with dots, rude limitations of men, &c., cut in the rocks by tra- vellers, to indi- Kings and principal chiefs supposed to be descended from the gods; and become deified after death. (The morai— burial-place —also the temple.) Spirits of de- parted relatives regarded as tutelar agents. Relics of deified men worshipped; images made to commemo- rate them, and also wor- shipped; games and cere- monies in their honour. Mythology resembles that of other Polynesians. Tra- ditions refer to Night, or a chaotic state, the origin of the world, and even of the greater part of the gods. The gods form a hierarchy : each presides over some special class of natural phenomena; the volcanic deities being among the highest. They are of both sexes: some are in the form of a shark. They fight, have games and dances, and| live much as the natives) Division of the year into months, with sepa- rate names (closely con- nected with religious worship); and into nights, also named. than affection v ‘aD Acquainted with the medicinal properties of a good many herbs and roots. In surgery less advanced than the Tahi- tians. Medicinal herbs said to have been given by the gods, through »a deified man. expressed themselves satisfied An ap- pointed referee. | farmers, fisher- female, | men. Some | labour ' districts famous/on the Bodily mutilations of mythological. various kinds. Dirges. On chief’s death there is a general outbreak’ into all sorts of lawless! excesses — fighting,| (murder, debauchery. | cate how far they had wan- dered, the direc- tion they had taken, and the number of the arty. Cities of Refuge for protection of offenders. for manufucture|land for _ Justice administered. ,of mats and|the leither by retaliation on! cloth; others) benefit |the part of the a Sham fights. for various of their |parties ; or by an appeal Stone fortifi- kinds of food. |con- \to the chief, the g0-| cations, querors. lvernor, or the king. herald of the priest, or by affixing a mark to the thing tabued. Breaches of tabu! punished by death. Say gracc. do. The volcanic deities! are an immigrant race. Vague notion of an active beneficent Power; but the! gods are, for most part, actively maleficent. goged at once. omen serve as porters and nurscs. Ee TAHITIANS. PHYSICAL CHARACTERS. Generally above middle stature (especially the upper classes, whose physical characters at once distinguish them from the lower orders). Limbs well-formed. More distinguished by activity and endurance than strength. Graceful and stately in gait. Colour olive, bronze, or reddish brown. Hair shining black or dark brown. Countenance open and . pre ssing. Facial angle approaching that of Europeans. Byes seldom large, but full, bright, and jet black; cheek-bones not high; nose rectilinear or aquiline, with often a fulness about nostrils ; mouth in general well-formed; teeth entire and white. Beauty, especially among women, quickly fr’: MALAYO-POLYNESIAN RACES. SOCIOLOGICAL ENVIRONMENT. Adjacent foreign tribes—other Polynesians ; separated by partial barriers—ocean ; partially civilized, and gene- rally ful. Adjacent tribes of same race, inhabiting different districts of the island, or neighbouring islands; frequently in a state of mutual hostility. ORGANIC ENVIRONMENT. Vegetal.—Luxuriant. Great abundance of plants yielding food, and suitable for building, clothing, &c.; most, if not all, that are cultivated, growing in a wild state—bread-fruit, taro, yams, sweet- potatoes, arrow-root, plantains, bananas, sugar-canes. The several varieties of bread-fruit, and same variety in different parts of the island, ripen at different seasons; so that there are few months of the year when ripe food is not to be had. Animal.—Comparatively few species. Quadrupeds—Swine, d rats. Bats. Land-birds not numerous—Owls, paroquets, en my Water-fowl more abundant. Turtles numerous. Abundance of fish, including sharks. Aunts apparently the only troublesome animal. Seam UCTURBA L. INORGANIC ENVIRONMENT. Climate.— Average height of thermometer in shade 74° Fh. Mild and healthy. Thunder- storms and hurricanes pretty frequent. Moderately moist. Impulsi so acute painful, soy fectly unex very fond Surface.—Comprises a group of islands, the largest ot which (Tahiti) is 108 miles in cir- and dance. cumference ; surrounded by coral reefs. Mountainous and rocky; scenery rich and varied. Most of the mountains covered to summit with trees. Valleys well watered, and extremely fertile; affording an easy subsistence to natives. ee U LAT IOV SE. OPERATIVE. se G@uULA TIV GF, LAN- GUAGE, SPOKEN AND WRITTEN. iz SENTIME T 8. * CEREMONIAL. Religious worship, conduct of affairs of state, and all social intercourse, characterized by ceremonious observances. POLITICAL. Hereditary monarchy ; closely interwoven with religion. Actual influence over turbulent chiefs neither powerful nor permanent. REGU OPERATIVE! LA- TIVF. ECCLESIASTICAL. IDEA 8. LAWS OF INTERCOURSE. maou | | | PROFES- SIONAL. MUTILA- TIONS. N KNOWLEDGE. CUSTOMS. ZSTHETIC. SUPERSTITIONS. Spirits of departed ap-| Decimal notation. No pee in dreams supposed | name for a number higher i Ss the seal paaee: The/than million; but can i also appeared in/easily count higher. Use in counting pieces of ideas of death;/|leaf-stalk; setting apart a short piece for each ten, and a longer for each hundred, &. Compute time, some- times by generations; generally by years. Year Yaivided into 12 or 18 moons, and into seasons, or alf-years; moons into 30 days ; each day and moon having distinct names. Time reckoned by nights. A Indus- — | MILITARY. youmnal, nim trial go-||_ Law beginning to separate from Custom. vern- ! ment DOMESTIC. } Tittle peril Political Land of chiefs culti- vated by serfs. Supe- rior chiefs kept canoe- builders; inferior chiefs employ- ed hi 4 work- men. Chiefs com- bined for the erection of pub- licbuild- Only partially sepa- __frated from Political ; the king being some- times high-priest ; and highest sacerdotal dig- nities often possessed by a member of the royal family; priests were also chiefs. Priests (who were generally also the doc- tors and sorcerers) a distinct class. Office hereditary in all its departments.’ Belong to all ranks of society. Each priest officiates in the rank to which he belongs. Men perform the office for both sexes; but each sex has its own priests. Temples, or oratories (mares), used also as ief|burial-places : they are isjuational, local, or do- uota of men to}mestic. army, during} Idols of the war; and farm-jand also of the de- ers must render{parted; enveloped in military service}sacred cloth. when landlord] Worship consisted requires it. of prayers, offerings (of e ing valu- able), sacrifices, hu- man and others. Sea- sons of worship, stated Considerable division of la- bour in addition to that between the sexes. Men. — Dis- tinct occupa- tions the middle classes. | —House-car- ete, tome rs, farm- ers, fishermen. Ten conso- nantal sounds. - Abounds in vowel sounds. t Most syllables consist of a consonant and a vowel; both PUBLIC. Shown in remarkable personal cleanliness. Shown in a love of; flowers, and other beau- tiful natural objects, in personal adornment; and in the graceful imitations of natural objects in — of their ~~ own less in carving, which they do not excel.jin A flat nose considered a mark of beauty. ‘ Concrete marks of distinc- ion—Th i f at Ps possession of su corp 3; long finger-nails ; quantity of clothing; cere- monial dresses, and insigni of authority — fans, ‘Ee. 5 size and beauty of canoe, as well as the number of rowers; number of bales of cloth. Chief often fed by attend- ants. Ranks among Areois denoted by differences in tatooing. Marks of respect—Uncover- ing the body as low as the waist in presence of the king and in = neighbourhood of} his residence ; ii on hands and ieees, Easton, or sitting cross-legged ; kiss- ing the hand; presentation of wreaths of one’s hair. i Doctors and sor- cerers (gene- rally be- longing to the priest- hood). Pro- phets formerly existed. Areois, a sort or strolling theatrical company. Public orators. Heralds. Bards. } Tatoo-| Bodies of chiefs em- ing; re- clo’ Imoval of hair from limbs ; eradi- eating or rw — beard ; reducing the eye- brows. Circum- cision. Flatten the noses of chil- dren. MARITAL. | FILIAL. ture on a bier, small house, wi precincts of the ortemple. W, pl near the body; and @ small altar ge before it, on which were placed offerings y wad &e. If deceased was of high rank, a coe appointed to on the corpse, and pest food to its mouth seve ral times daily, After decay of body, te bones were buried with in the family temple, oF (sometimes) on top. of most inaccessible moumr tains, ; Bodies of middle and lower classes buried i® & sitting posture shallow p Ah og . Rank heredi- The father magistrate in his family. or gentry and farmers. (The most numerous and —o 38. mmon people. (Including slaves ac- quired in war.) Each rank subdivided into numerous classes. Regal establishment, maintained by produce of hereditary royal estates, and by require- ments, legal and arbi- trary, made on the people. Prime minister and a few chiefs act as advisers to the king. National assemblies held. Power of chief supreme in his own district; and ter than that of the ing over the whole. Each chief magistrate in his own district ; the king nominal magistrate of the whole. Private property re- cognized between sub- jects, but all subordinated to the rights of the king. Justice pond with adult male ulation. neipient stand- ing army —a number of men famous for valour, strength, or address in war, generally in attendance on king or chief, and called “fighting-men.” Herald gent round to sum- Among up- lasses Some spirits eaten by the gods, others deified. No be- lief in future punishments. The heaven most familiar was situated near a moun- tain in Raiatea; but in- Women,— Make bark cloth, weave among others mats. by regular courtship. Considerable division of la- | bour in making a ieee dow some laying down the | woe and build- ‘mg the hull; me making and fixing the ails; some fas- Polygamy extensively practised. Among the higher chiefs it is rather a system of con- cubinage. Divorce easily obtain- ed. But among upper classes the re- lationship was nominal] continued lon after it had actually ceased, consent, visited with de- finite punishment— Mili banishment, seizure (for theft).

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TABLE 1x. oe plaka (8s wii ‘a an Pass TSLANDERBS. oa learning to WwW Pree CAL ENVIRONMENT. IN TELLECTUAL CHARACTERS. ; fond of the marvellous; inventive as well as imitative ; read and write, and for commerce. EMOTIONAL CRARAOTERS. PHYSICAL CHARACTERS. Good disposition ; mild, docile, industrious. Rather above the middle stature; well-formed, with fine muscular limbs ; open countenance, and features es: resembling those of Europeans. Gait graceful, sometimes stately. ir black, or brown, strong, often curly. Complexion olive, sometimes reddish-brown. Ruling classes physically more pewerful. CEREMONIAL. REGULATI V E. SENTIMENTS. IDEAS. U NC 72 ON A Lb. FUNERAL RITES, a LAWS OF INTERCOURSE. | HATS AND CBTOMS. STHETIC. MORAL. SUPERSTITIONS. KNOWLEDGE. Funerals performedinj Marks t. generally|Feather cloaks, siz and colour wi ning, or o the sea. Inferior iefs and priests buried a horizontal postune; mmon people in a ting posture. Provisions h the body, buried ced over the x above the waist. some time of a cance some- nes placed near the ve, Bones of distingui ms se from flesh, and preser¥ed h superstitions Te- ence. hal) Bodies (part or w prrmhy st 8 into canoes, or into the ; in the belief that departed a beneficial igfh- s on the gud of 3@ regions. § burial - places @f the t (morais) closdy rected with reli gious ship. xpressions of grief—| ily mutilations of us kinds. Dirge chief’s death there general outbreak! all sorts of lawless) ; fighting, | mentary inquiries. been provided for them. der, debauchery. of distinction, — Killa pig when ratifyiig peace. Be ug secpalency 1 quantity of cloth-| Signs of respect tw higher wrestlng, playing ranks.—Prostration, standing, at bovis, singing, the removal of al] ornaments Owner of anything, when ceremmy. Women asked to whom it belongs,\do nd& eat with says “It is yours and mine.” Salutations between equals. — Touching noses; compli- Guests carry away the rem- nants of the feast that has Very cleanly in person and food. Shown in appreciation of beauty of flowers, and in simple -_ ‘pealing to eye ‘simple but gay personal ‘adornment, in cloth painted with considerable \variety of colours and a igreat variety of mathe- matical patterns, and in staining on utensils. A flat occiput con- sidered beautiful. Shown little in mono- tonous vocal music and simple percussive instru- mental music. Vaious games anusements— 'Gambing, boxing, dancig. P each | Simple marriage gers. men. Shown much more in simple dances, chiefly . a dramatic nature, considerable variety, and su with a won- degree of spirit and vivacity. Shown also in epic poe in laments, manifesting considerable poetic feeling; and in a! variety of tales, chiefly mythological. | | | | friendly, in a less Tahitians. emai povailed fearful extent. Gene- rally inclined to steal. Women generally mo- dest. Strong desire for ap- probation in| by social usages. Chiefs The future life supposed remarkable for wr | and refinement. Civil, , and kind tojsupposed other and to stran-|from the gods; and become itable; yet deified after death. (The than}|morai — burial-place —also shown affection very ticide} toa Decimal notation — forty being made the basis of calculation. Every person not meeting with a violent death sup- to be destroyed by an unpropitious deity (or the effect of sorcery). Quipus used in a form seemingly not inferior to to resemble the present. [that of the Peruvians. Kings and principal chiefs to be descended! Division of the year into months, with sepa- rate names (closely con- nected with religious worship); and into the temple.) Spirits of de- nights, also named. parted relatives regarded as tutelar agents. Relics of deified men worshipped; images made to commemo- rate them, and also wor- shipped; games and cere- monies in their honour. Mythology resembles that lof other Polynesians. Tra- ditions refer to Night, or a chaotic state, the origin of the world, and even of the oe part of the gods. 'The gods form a hierarchy : each presides over some pppecial class of natural phenomena; the volcanic deities being among the highest. They are of both sexes: some are in the form of a shark. They fight, have games and dances, and) live much as the natives! do. The volcanic deities! are an immigrant race. Vague notion of an active beneficent Power; but the! gods are, for most part, actively maleficent. Acquainted with the medicinal properties of a good many herbs and roots. In surgery less advanced than the Tahi- tians. Medicinal herbs said to have been given by the gods, through a deified man. TAH TRIAN S. AND WRITTEN. Alphabet con- sists of 17 let- rs — 5 vowels and 12 conso- nants. Every word and syllable terminates with vowel. Monosyllables about 5 per cent. Dissyl- lables about 42. Trisyllables about 20 per cent. Reduplication of two syllables frequent. Agglutinate. Copious, and capable of ex- pressing ideas with great force and precision. Partly hiero- glyphic ; partly pictorial signs. Straight lines, semicircles,con- a —_— -_—_—_— OPERATIVE. PROCESSES. LAND- WORKS REARING, ETC. Cooking| Domestic same as at/ animals— Society | Dogs, fowls. | Islands. Make | Cultivated intoxicat- plants— ing drinks| Taro, sweet- from the potato, dracena, |yam, sugar- sweet po-|cane, &. tato, &e. Use nuts} Planta- strung on tions, with a rush for hedges. light. Gardens Make round cloth from) houses. bark, like | Irrigation Tahitians. |very exten- Paint jsively prac- cloth by |tised. Digi stamping |the soil by it with a/means of ‘bamboo. | pointed Glaze it| sticks. byrubbing it with a| shell. Stain EX- | PRO- DUC- ARTS. CHANGE. TION. Crooked paths, a foot or more wide, from one vil- lage to another. Artifi- cial for- tifica- tions built of stone. Aque- ducts of stone, and clay. Artifi- cial fish- ponds. Barter. | Con- i ifined to not con- human sidered labour. binding till both parties had expressed themselves satisfied. | An ap- pointed referee. the calabashes by draw- | ing the | with a stone or hard wood, steeping themin | colouring mixture, land then \baking them. PRODUCTS. HABITATIONS, ETC, IMPLEMENTS. ASTHETIC PRODUCTS Permanent dwell- ing-houses, general] clustered towns or villages near the sea. Resemble externally the roof a barn placed on the Pe and covered top to bottom, Sometimes raised on ts. No windows. loor covered with dry grass and mats. Mere huts for the poorer classes. Natural caves also dwelling- houses. Work - shops for Fish. building and repair- ing canoes. PE Hye 3 Spears, clubs, or halberds, wood- en daggers, jave- lins, slings. Canoes, single|j and double, well- made, and highly finished; from 12 to 60 or 70 feet long. Mats, lines, fish-hooks, of hard wood and bone. Earthen pans, for ion of salt water. Gourd-| shells for holding, food and water. .|Sharp stick for digging. . |ducts.— Cloth scented Personal Adornment. —Feather -caps and cloaks. For women, necklaces or ruffs of coloured feathers, shells, or twisted hair. Brace- lets of boar’s tusks, or shells. Flower garlands. Decoration of Pro- and painted with va- rious colours and a great variety of pat- terus. Carvings on in-| struments and wea- pons. Calabashes orna- mented with rhomboids, stars, circles, &c. Dances.—Simple ; ac- |companied with chant- ing or singing; dra matic, representing incidents in life of royal family, &c. { usic. — Vocal: monotonous. Instru- mental: drums; two sticks. Chiefly for beat- ing time to the dances. Literature. — Epics, sung by regular bards, relating to achieve- ments of kings, &. Laments, invocations ; | at the end of each. TABLE X. INTELLECTUAL CHARACTERS. curious and inquisitive. Compared with other Polynesians, and possess considerable mechanical invention and Seen of Sesion. for amy to read, write, and count; as ign manners. surprising amount of patient manifested by some of their meudiatenen EMOTIONAL CHARACTERS. Impulsive; but emotions of short duration, and apparently not so acute as ours. Display of emotions, both pleasurable and painful, sometimes takes the form of bodily mutilations. Per- fectly unembarrassed in address. Lively, good-natured, cheerful, very fond of laughter, jesting, humour and conversation, song and dance. Sympathetic, but merciless when roused. PHYSICAL CHARACTERS. Generally above middle stature (especially the upper classes, whose Ihysical characters at once distinguish them from the lower orders). imbs well-formed. More distinguished by activity and endurance than strength. Graceful and stately in gait. Colour olive, bronze, or reddish brown. Hair shining black or dark brown. Countenance open and , SOCIOLOGICAL ENVIRONMENT. Adjacent foreign tribes—other Polynesians ; separated by partial barriers—ocean ; partially civilized, and gene- rally peaceful. Adjacent tribes of same race, inhabiting different districts of the island, or neighbouring islands; frequently NMENT. nce of plants yielding food, 3 most, if not all, that are -fruit, taro, yams, sweet- sugar-canes, The several in different parts of the imih well t there are few months of Quadrupeds—Swine, dogs, ~Owls, paroquets, pigeons. herous. Abundance of fish, nly troublesome animal. E. in a state of mutual hostility. prepossessing. Facial angle approaching that of Europeans. Eyes seldom large, but full, bright, and jet black; cheek-bones not high ; nose rectilinear or aquiline, with often a fulness about nostrils; mouth in general well-formed ; teeth entire and white. Beauty, especially among women, quickly fr K OP 2.0128: 4.38. U N moe OU LATIV &E. CEREMONIAL. ip, conductof affairs of state, and all social intercourse, characterized by ceremonious observances. SENTIME LAN- TS. GUAGE. O PROCESSES. PERAT ; RITES. LAWS OF INTERCOURSE. HABITS AND CUSTOMS. DIS- TRIBU- TION. SPOKEN AND WRITTEN. ' , aoe ts of the mare, |monial long of clothing dresses, and to Evidence of for- | Sawcbones at enemies kept as ;\customs connected with the Areoi ;| institution. in carving, in which they do not excel. A flat nose considered a mark of beauty. Appa- tly ibut- ing agency. Took yearly voyages to other jislands for the purpose of ex- Ten conso- nantal sounds. — Abounds in vowel sounds. Most syllables consist of a consonant and a vowel; both syllables and ;}words always end with a i th ingclo’ een boos filled with oil, distinct reckoned by nights. Ap-/by copiousness, parently no division be-jvariety, tween months and da. cision, ing}purity. . LAND- WORKS. REARING, ETC. Ex- | DUC. GE.| TION. —__ -_—_— Barter. Hired workmen paid in pigs and cloth, in ARTS. Domestic animals.— Pigs, dogs, and fowls. Cultivated wer , oD read-fruit, Distilla- ~ |yams, taro, tion |sweet- taught by |potato, “= arrow - root, nders. |plantains Make r &e. ava. Pre- serve Inclosed bread- plantations ferment- jdens. Trees|hi .~ planted in se ar-|rows. tificial light. Cloth sometimes painted by pressing upon it ferns and Rocky fortress- im- es roved by art, as places of | defence. Chan- nels cut for pur- Prepare several excellent made- dishes. “4 or boiling ing food. irriga- tion. Irrigation practised. poses of|i HABITATIONS, ETC.) FOO F UT ‘ ae fits ~ i lf Ae it Mt i 4. Es E B fy 5. B i flay x - 43 “ fl [staf Y. = sTUEFER jet | E ~ F F F | E ff z s . : EB: i i s uty i : — ’ i i 25 : » & B

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: Sample Table of pencer’s Deseriptive Sociology. A N C I E N T E R U V I A N so Division Il.| Decayed Civilizations. ORGANIC ENVIRONMENT. ENVIRONMENT. PHY8ic . : 1. Coast Region: V. ion only on the banks of the streams. Luxuriant The Yuncas of the Coast widel uite different of the country : * Vegetation only pal aborigi are widely “yi q m9 = al river vallefe of high fertility. candst granite, porphyry. pe the sea vapours are densest (end of June). Most of tropical plants of the = Rates regions ~! Quitu, Rainless region extending to about 7,000 ft. above level of the #68] Mean annual temperature, 72°. Frequent earthquakes. able. . iehuas — Ynoas? — Canas, Chancas, ; n exte: to a ps sono test ‘ iiioa cen 4 manda, wo village 2. Sierra: In the northern low valleys all the intertropical plaats and Apparently no intercourse with foreign lags high chee Pt idl See canta doce granite, and pé ry. In wet oe (November to May) weather a wD a parts maize, fruit-trees, herbs in abundance. In the Colles i ae . y variable, in the dry season sunny and cheerful by aywand dry and frosty by night (30° or under). rages Z . 3. Montafia: Immense vegetation of all kinds. Andes. Plains tra low hills. Maxi 86°, minimum 74°. 8. The Montaia : To the east of the ” as jaguar, bear, deer, llama, alpaca, guanaco, vicuha, wild boar INORGANIO BN @RONMENT. Fauna: puma, j fox, alligator, tortoise, condor, myriads of sea-birds, &c. i i the tocene fossil vicufia of Corocoro). A diminutive race, followed by the Yuncas, who in some valleys (Chimu, &c.) arrived at considerable civilization. Some traces 0 ous civilization. In the Sierra there are so traces of an older civilization. Afteran in Popalation of the Coast very ancient (middings omhempeen ne Yncas, according to the native tradition about a.p. 1000. Spanish Conquest from 151. STRUCTURAL. OPERATIVE. | REGULATIVE. 1 REGULATIVE. REGU OPERATIVE! LA- The Ynca government, TIVE.||and absorbing likewise the somewhat ee cope + hee possible violence, ° ss basis of toleration of national usages, ts main insti ; Some division) Indus- the Sun, active service in peace and war).| Its patting i influence spread along the royal roads ;}vernment not separat- of labour, be- | trial the process of assimilation went on by course. Sierra was the centre of organization j/ed from political. yond that be- |govern- the outlying were less acted upon. The Yneca, as first- i Corpses scrupulously} Marks of distinction: The tween the sexes) ant sans —_ ~ of = Sun, | office cared for. king alone privileged to wear identi- officiated at great ; i i Men and —_|eal_ with civil MILITARY. |festivals of the Sun. |; ; iy month all in- new co-ope- | politi- Priests gave advice in i queens deposited in aldown to the eyes), a cer-|habitants of a rated in agri- |cal. Gade matters. The temple at Tampu, the|tain gold ornament, &c. No) Village feasted time. Therefore great it-|to express numbers to culture, and pinstesiiens |e te militers| ores of Cuzco 8 embalmed bodies placed|one allowed to wear the hair|together be- ome tention paid to dreams ad/any extent required. /#"¢Y both carried | Labour —_ tary} sacred lace. — medically} vi in front of the figure of|s0 short as he. The heir-|fore their | a. their interpretation. loads. mspect- |] wARITAL | PILIAL GENERAL. usanedl comms The high priest, treated the Sun in the great/apparent wore a small yellow |Curacas, and i Soul considered imme- ed by ee the a appointing the sub- temple at Cuzco. The|fringe. A great emerald injexercised tal. Common belief ina Men made |govern- ’ : | ‘The Cwracas From the de- |ordinate priests, uncle : in |bodies of other people|the hair-dress was the distin- themselves in 0068 () jgeneral resurrection as a shoes, wove fine ment, Traces of Sons " = slead thei curions’ statisti-/or brother of the jaw |marvellously preserved|guishing mark of the sove-|military and continuation of present lit. cloth, spun being promiscuity ; depen- “ regulative, with|reta in © ¥ cal reports the king, or at least aj; ir |by natural action of the|reigns of Quito; a circlet of public games. Therefore great care taken cords, kc. partly at - ee "Bike: 1. King (Ynca) mate eonpeiiel 1 =p ae a ae dry air of the Sierra or| wool, adorned with gold and), Marriage to Preserve nail-pairing, y “a : ae ain : : : . e TO, . ilver, ancient fes .. and to put Women per- |tribute Regulation | _Disei- “4 - of the Sun,regard- 1 comply _— to be contribut- aaleits of the "ee : ee coca ree . The/| public, as _- baguthon tana they ght te j , : formed house- |(by the ||by the Yncas :/pline as respect. val pry ed by each vil- Jor the Sun at Cuzco ped in many coverings,|Yncas had the largest celebrated at de: found easily. (Atahuallpa’s| whole. i hold work, spun|“com- |]At a certain watched ut land hi hest . es of the . lage as soldiers | were Yncas; also the the Ynca kings andjear-holes (Orejones). the same time ec horror lest he might be|vi all wool and /|mon time mar- over by pr party ciat- omel ‘ne and porters. ——_ | principal priest in each : : queens in princely at-jimitate the kings most for a great burnt thus gets its explana- eotten for law ”, ria geable the au- ved } 5 If under a cer- em y ” Regular divi- province to maintain tire. closely in their badges was|Many fami- ’ tion.) weaving, wove |partly //young men | thorities, /80 _ he was bound to Ri “vy ei sion ofarmy, {conformity with ‘oi Different customs of|the greatest honour granted |lies. rig i The Amautas asserted|into weeks. No naming the coarser spent in/}(24) and " gee aitvice of the h gut of ib~ {based upon deci- Cuzco), the otliers ign |burying in the several|to vassals. The orders dis- The bride- — i- |there were three worlds :|of da cloth, &c. support-|/women (18 to| Legiti- ; : a ac- /mal numeration. being relations of the ‘ec-[provinces. With theltinguished by the materials groom served & , Sree IE upper, lower, and lowest ing 20) assembled | mate heir he Ynoas, tracing) know ged. Great order {Curacas. i the graves were|of dress and ornaments,|few days for | In their opinion|of ten months.) Here and jneigh- |/and were of the ligrees to a king|Sons eo ing ®/ (different hair- | The numerous priests round hn towers;/Three kinds of cloth for|thebride.Cere- the good went to the there the re- [bours |/married, those|/crown privileged fol-| time at Cuzco. /dresses and uni- | officiated in the temples] near Quito, tumuli of|common people, chiefs, and|monies: both LOU first, and were rewarded) Observation of sol- verse observed (by the | fof the royal the first- the first one ?). Local tribes forms). Body Jin weekly rotation. Yncas. Gold, silver, coca, &c.,|parties fasted ngurning. a life of rest of mind|stices, equinoxes, and/#ounds. with the bro- |/family by the |born son vileges. They offered the sacri- ry reserved to the use of the/two days, “a ~ ; body in the house ofjeclipses, but no know- , ing the dignity of the|Yncas, and those to whom|drank toge- Sun ; the wicked went|ledge of their causes] Language - guard. faris by therly Ynea, the of the c purace , the former allowed to re- Heads of 10, fices, and announced di- reason of scar- |law”), ||common principal | burning sovereigns of the con-|tain their vinations from omens, interred. With the/they granted it. Separate ther some to the last, and were pun-/Eclipses regarded as « ingly i i by a life of suffering|sign of wrath for some/#weet by pre- city of men ?). |and, people by the |wife ; in |bridges, &e., j|quered districts. Their) former customs sessions, Geena dete H Ge bette leet for ¥. alchi A : tolls, |relati direc - uancas es|bridges, one for Yncas and/¢4 , livery es — oo ative & pues : 4. Co ] vente to ~ dl They were not the were sewed in sheep-|Curacas, one for commonalty. . in the house of Supay the/offence, on the part of|dominance of was acquainted | Private, ||Curacas. failure, | trespassing aes twp keepers of knowledge. skins, and preserved in|A lance with a banner planted/|put a certain i Lord of the Dead. The/the Sun, or of illness, on[/Yowels. Ac- with the do- {a8 being||Consent of janother jupon fields or |divided in lineages. a ° Human sacrifices. the ho Near|as a sign of the royal pre-|shoe on the future life believed to/the part of the Moon.jcent generall mestic handi- |support-||the parents _/legiti- dwellings by 6. Slaves ( Yanacuna) ?|laws of the their people, but} Peculiar dress (?) ga sy olny foot of the : be physical. The common|Alsoobservation of Venus,|D the penulti- crafts andthe |ed by required, and | mate son | travellers, . : ‘ Yneas. commanders of [Socret language (?). erved square tombs con bride. i i i belief recognized only one|the Pleiades, and some/™ate syllable. making of supply |falso of the of the attempting to The inhabitants regis- the blood royal Virgins of the Sun. : : : : dug, in some cases| Titles: The descendants of} Festival of . i world to come. Upa marca,|other stars. ‘ arms. of raw ||parties (?). |Ynea get access to tered in groups of 10,60,) A judge in | placed over oops Y ; Constructive Special arti- |mate- The heir of |(chosen |the virginsof |100, 500, 1,000, super- each village, them. Com- oa se wom A ve ion within the houses. The|the founder of the monarchy the Yuca i.e.,dumb land, beyond a} The earth supposed : . : ~Aeyer A i i ices in i course at fes- iver; the place where|to be above the water,|Character : zans for special |ials, or,||the crown by the the Sun or the |intended by officers from appointed by /mander-in-chief vow of chastity, with- ve j oe — = : Yn = pty knighthood tivals. The ny ae are oy Coast | which = ton Maes by the agglutinative arts, and skilled|in years|/married his |grandees)|royal concu- among them. Chiefs ofjthe crown, —igenerally the lout being secluded. of the mountains ; those|lords) or Yntip Churi (= |(piercing of Indians of thelislands, &c., were supposed sun at night. (polysynthetic). workmen in |f scar- |Jeldest (half ?) |adopted /bines (the 10,000. The decurions}obliged to Ynea, or the Estates and numer- of Loxa, &c. at secret|children of the Sun). The/the ears). Lyrical Coast more to be the regions of the the service of |city, sister, and =| by her, or|whole family assisted their people, re-|settle the case [heir-apparent. | ous temples of the|; : ’ Difference of ou : ’ ~ * -?¢ I : : i > = only| The youth lascivious ther aS and| Rainbow recognized as the Yncas, compen-||failing such the eldest|of the culprit porting their necessities| within five Subordinate Sun, with halls of the — fF ans Lge sone g apecomaty aes. pas d hae ee to than those of a. belief in ay Ae, derived wt the sun/gender express- Curacas, and sated by||sister the most|relation |put to death), [to the superior officers,|days, or to refer) officers ap- Moon, Stars, Thunder mounds of th P . ; ; : : : ed by distinct seh eer “> : . ee ’ t e of|name of the king: Awacchw-|worship the the Sierra, migration of souls. (The/(device of the Yncas). y the tempt, [tit |foarly related Jot pare [or abeting i [nah over theobere it to a sper pointed for it. Lge” Conta. temple" ** Lote" lat of ngars ton oueo (= fiend of Poo) of| Sun, oer the nobler acne balired. tad the) SN mara: _ or ee ee fuene elas mi ko. |the number of births and|ing to its im- Military roads at Cuzco. : children, |of Guayaquil construct-|the queen: mamanchic (= |the king, and more souls of the d went} Land ured byjre “eo ip, , ot stores. ||Those of royal|descent |Other punish- jdeaths. (Likewise regis-|portance. No | with depdts (of Huacas : things sa-| that ed tombs with vaulted our mother). — to sow maize. the common jto a great lake, where they |cords. tas A sex O Homacona fidence ined marcy e--|mentst fog. ies Ket at the ges efitigat could |orms lth, [Cratythcuucar"'| (MUL, fis the Chinchagpat The Tac kings Maney 2) at. Pe ee Ts ene tod note] Pleraiy do a a idee le ae peer tener) - Cet epee sears fort.|(t¥ins monstrosities, re, ledcoveel them 'fteay santhy chewed the fheo;|vel of the Among The often- |bodies of the new-born.) |shown in the arts, _ [noted in diffe. cloth. Conse- able the fourth d he OH po lo tent wd ffi . resenting thelvillage. No y Ter &ec.), or other relation more slightly with sand, &c.,|it was not lawful to look at it.| Yncas at the repeated ac- Fetichism and ancestor-| Abundance of medi-jrent ways. To ay ome offence ~ - t with une the oid ‘en general oma enilennedi. fi id fe srti- with the deity (idols, healthy '&c. The corpses had|To touch the king without weaning of cusation of worship. Any striking|cinal plants made use of.j¢*press 4 great eo — —_ wu ‘oh cas ~ e Greatest =o its on : PMfonthly pared . G ortl-l offerings, tombs, land do generally a sitting pos-/being an Ynca or specially|the first-born . falsehood is {thing might be taken up|They made powder of|quantity the Sean em, a8 with|seve crime, jenforcing uire- cations. Garri- | abodes of gods, &c.). ture; the faces were allowed was sacrilege. The|son (shaving partly to and considered conopa| plants, al eos aga ee r rer . . : water. ashings. nination 1 ’ i bute, f th al i ; + : , - . ; Each province re clas mah hes ioe wate ond fi road and its depots, de. “nd + sheen : oa a Family Sierra towards east, on/ten crop of hair). for by by __ |it became god of the family. | Ointments. Plasters. ee ey furnished that |°f slaves|/bidden. No |pendent |inhabitants ex- Lastly, the kingdom newly conquered _ os Ge — Marks(?).|the Coast towards the : : ae oo Se -— + ” sdb ee ~ The added. Inclu- produce for (?) intermar- customs |terminated). [was divided into four} Accountants |districts. Royal Pree: + Beara a if Casten- sea. x... — oe pegs : oa a ation. _—s pl _ am os wt ment ~ dl - y “4 eicerdpener which it was Flage between ofinherit-| Blsephomess | aE tg os ane go geo banner, Ban- Jwith the Indians of} the | _ With the Yncas and|whole body, raising the eyes| vest festivals. _ Great devo-|the other stalks, and there-|ing at the tongue andjsive plurals of — pty | ‘ay Reet hee be se linjured hus- over councils P war, of|intendents of nat one Tarma the most religi-| chiefs they buried their|to heaven, stooping to the| Chief amuse- tion to the fore worshipped (sarama-|the heightened colour, jthe —, a ahebi of the the rt to ver the ear might kill|justice, and of Privancion agricultural Martial music, {CUS Persons were asked | concu-|fvourite servants and/ground, raising the hands)ments: drink- Yneas. mas). In _ the emerald) Skill shown in prepar- _ . 2e0 yee nner wap d sng moony as wife "ad a asian tho King’sllabour. Well exdaed te on for the benefit (?).| Wives, provisions, trea- ap y= yy ing and vw —- : ete were poisons. a ell : ae =) " cil of . of others. : sures, &c. Others air (paid only to -|dancing. ery kind- was highest us passes = — — the 1‘. Goosh eave oom ta il lia a ¥* — Three great festivals| caused themselves tojcamac, Sun, and king). A hearted (few fall things might become _ Geogra phy : maps with oe eee to nee local ex- ge a a in vad hace Agneta veel ed the at Cuzeo:— ; be buried at favourite|sacrifice of hairs of the eye-| They rose quarrels) and |Auwaca. lines raised on them to}another, - ex- pertness in par- habitati wile, tne ‘oie pre cis te Gane a 1. Yutip Raymi places of the deceased. | brows abridged to a gesture. jearly, took ‘ grateful. Strong chiefs were wor-|mark boundaries and pera me a ae vo ae nie ay No /manner upwards = (solemn feast of the Signs of reverence: strip-| the oD pry shipped. The malquis)localities. wae wor por A a of — ave ee rivatehunting| All higher appoint- Military laws Sun) in June, for Mourning rites per-|ping off the sandals and bear-|meal at 8 or 9 Although |(mummies) of the ancestors, - ag : 7 a k ledged Eo ba inoue ments conferred upon very severe thanksgiving. Rigor- formed by the people|ing a load on the back. Kiss-|in the morn- i the usual and figures representing) History : ponaeae Me a ioe’ ~ | : lanta- ~ sister's Agrarian | ¥ncas exclusively. In all . The an weed act fast before, no fire and by special (female)|ing hands, feet, and face.|ing, supped : Indian vices jthem, became the mainjevents made up in briefjsuc nsi- tions of people r = ah a a stant snort a allow ed to 1 lighted, general sexual mourners: lamentations,| Begging for work a courtesy |before sunset, ; (except idle- objects of worship. Like- statements by the Amau- tions. om Curncas had | acce of |Iindian received|ence made to the king. in the villages, fesinne®._ Rolight- sad music, songs, sacri-|due to ladies by inferior (fe-|and went to ctw. tena anor peer, “ined , Syntes ve trans lanta many wives /desce . a tupu of Visitations and travels bet in thede [8 of the sacred fire. fices, cutting off the|male) visitors. — bed early. observed as origin) adored. : aid of knots by the Finn The ti of : Sone bell the| by fi : maizeland of the king. pots on the 2. Cuoqui-raym, hair of the women not| Signs of submission : hav-|They did not F wee wih the | Sun worship was intro-| Quipesemages. oo of skilled labo rincipaly |wales), land another foe roads or in when the maize seed killed, putting ashes on,|ing the hands tied and ropes/drink during : oo. joaed ty yee, adjective and Silver and gold nae pal - each boy, a b High judges in the tents. Any ag a —s we ae me a a ~~. nant . fooling the , =i local po substantive - ated. iaitef towns of proviness ree the |Pzy for its pro D of own body, &c. These| green ug an m- . whi e c were eal nang ieee sess beontifel When s boy (usually the governors). Disputes be- smapaty of the Seo Sep- occur before the burial, | leaves. a = par A —— ioe paced. a op c= must “= er irls married, the [tween provinces settled by the kiny,|inhabitants - ~ ; proach capers 9 Thod é d " Sloth at € e. rept 4 father handed jor a F - of the blood royal sent by wr with |@™ber, for expiation. in in-| bringing a = — ay pony he oe a 2 ner ~ eed always chica. Best in all pro- one tupu over jhim. Visitations of judges. death. No pil- The superseded re- ‘ r- alg completa : - conquerors |tichism and ancestor-wer- x hag ma” The comma- | Land divided into three parta: of theljsested tro. fligions subsisting as * "The|viting todrink (also a saluta-, oe” poe oe aes, Sas before the sub Mowe a Ynea. The nity gave a huacas, of the Ynca, and of the people./yinces, when |?°P ular beliefs under ,| tion between equals). a on tie aan “the stautive. woven at Poma- common dwelling to = The chase a i privilege ; the mines @/ conquest in- 4 MB B t peal: ie alte “aie ean ; 1 married couple.|royal monopoly. tended and on. ing heme Descripti ae a not allowed to te Brotherly The tribute consisted in personal labour, |special —|WeTe other priests s in thi (140-75 pokey —_ The best have more A and the uce of it. offence commit- holding in peer i rnd “ robably artizans assem- than one wife. ; Unskilled labour: cultivating the lands|ted, Deser- -~ >. i cailiien the wow tian on No writing of the Sun, and the Ynea, and those who tion punished and godderen, half-extinct notions of elder ’ (eurly hiero- led at Cuzco. Women of | , L ee noble rank | each village to jcould not work themselves (performed in| with death. mainly for soothsay- : : va A ing. The : ). yp were in liberal help each other.|common); repairing public works; per-/ Women, married}: riest of the A : . d and indepen- ‘o removal |sonal service in palaces Mer a 3/and unmarried, a at. Pachacamae f nected with religion (as is rly a dent positions; making shoes, clothes, &c., for the soldiers| were allowed to bien endl A - shown by the belief in a means of nu thoseof the - i another|and those who could not work themselves.| accompany the some political punishment of the wicked). jou, em- Skilled labour : skilled workmen had to} armies, power. Strong belief in sooth- joyed us « |people were su hattheYncas,Cwracasandtemples| The officers saying, signs, &c. Meteors nemonic very much kept registers as signs of a great symbol. subjected to of the dead and . misfortune approaching. ony ~ c wounded. ; Some tribes beiieved that m- their ancestors came out of fountains, rocks, lakes. continuous crusades from the province of Cuzco, ECCLESIASTICAL, CEREMONIAL. : MENTS. IDEAS. in the Collao, in some Coast valleys, established itself on the PROPES- [HABITS AND||| gota RELIGIOUS IDEAS AID FUNERAL RITES. | LAWS OF INTERCOURSE. | nous, , pom Believe that the sul| Knowledge withheld leaves the body durhg|from the common people. sleep, and the thins dreamed of are what it ses} They used decimal |the Coast in the world in the mem-|notation, and were able a iF é dup i F F 1 : K 5 is a 3 iF i ifr i laa g &. 1 | hereditary. paid the common [provinces |rebellion (the |ments—collection of tri-|reports of the jsons, mostly at Conopas : household generally turned in the|Ynca gave his replies by at-|off the first be accounted | (household god) ; inherited, | in dants. common F ef Elst é : i fig if

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tatoes, Ko. L. I V E, RIASTICAL, ANCIENT ORGANIC ENVIRONMENT. ¢ Region : Vegetation only on the banks of the streams. Luxuriant sea vapours fre densest (end of June). Most of tropical plants : In the northern low valleys all the in plan Huancas, p the higher parts maize, fruit-trees, herbs in abundance. In the civilized races, aia: Immense vegetation of all kinds. jpuma, jaguar, bear, deer, lama, alpaca, guanaco, vicufa, wild boar or, tortoise, condor, myriads of sea-birds, &c. : SOCIOLOG. Principal aborigi @sGerent troca the’ ial the Centre }), the Coll owed by the Yuncas, who in some valleys (Chimu, &c.) arrived at considerable civilization. Some traces ¢ PERUVI ENVIRONMENT. The Yuncas of the Coast are widely the four Andes regions of Quitu, — Yuoas? — Canas, Chancas, ous civilization. In the Sierra there are so traces of an older civilization. After an intermediate period of barbarism, a new civilization was founded by the Yncas, according to the native tradition about 4.p. 1000. Spanish Conquest from 151. Apparently no intercourse with foreign A N 8a PHYSICAL CHARACTERS. ichuas : Short stature; square shouldered and broad Peay small hands and feet, and comparatively large head. Hair black. Little beard. Aquiline nose, thick lips, small chin; rather high ¢check-bones, horizontal eyes with arched brows. Forehead high, but somewhat receding. ‘ Collas: Shorter stature, coarser features. EMOTIONAL OB Friendly to one another, Me Good-humoured and gentle), a a - ae whole range of Sierra and Coast, from Quito to Chili, by the mUNOTIONA kL. REG ULATIV &. OPER AT 1V &E. CEREMONIAL. PROCESSES. PRODUCTS. PROFES-|MUTILA- SIONAL.| TIONS. go pparat- FUNERAL RITES. |HABITS AND LAWS OF INTERCOURSE. CUSTOMS. first- Priestly Root p Breati special. |nose bled Sun. lized sub- ®@ Sun, office of the cared for. kings and/across the forehead, hanging deposited in ajdown to the eyes), a cer- The} mon (The temple at Tampu, the|tain gold ornament, &c. No pzCO ®/people |Huanca- jembalmed bodies Com- sacrifices. |queens A great emerald in was the distin- | ther mark of the sove-|military and House | and vice very |Coast. All were chiefs of Tumbez. The/public, as ery wrap- . Amay-|able to n each ntain! men, gods, tire. and, as itjoriginally the littera- | tion.) iests) tours, round many Yncas had _ the Ynea kings and/ear-holes tas, wise |their queens in princely at-jimitate the kings most/for a great closely in their badges =e md fami- , ~ on, Different customs of|the greatest honour ~—- The brides aC the] wTacas- [accept- > therswere, [asa sign |burying in the several|to vassals. ‘The vinces. With the|tinguished by the materials|groomserved « the graves were|of dress and ornaments, stone towers;|Three kinds of cloth for official fof subjec- _ celebrated at To|the same time few - for the bride.Cere- aples} Hara-| Ears |near Quito, tumuli of|common people, chiefs, and|monies: both 0 a. vecs, seas + CF1- | bards. ly Royal (bored jing the dignity of the musi- lips and jinterred. With cians, |20se- i angel bodies i- [rings of [were se in sheep- S the skins, i me ns, &. the edge. pucama- () on a the tion of Yneas. Gold, silver, coca, &. reserved the of and those to whom the ted it. Se io Bg for Yncas and Curacas, one for commonalty. - = A lance age a banner planted ys pre- |Huanca- /th houses. as a sign of the royal pre- f served {[Villcas), |Riobamba, &c., deep, m?). ithe Hairs |square tombs were Sun. | knots, on the dug, in some royal) and kept [chin within the houses 2 lup the [pulled Indians of Cuzco placed With-|+-adition jout. the dead chiefs in niches of their | Some /of the mountains ; those AMC?! mean- tribes of Loxa, &c., at secret ings. com- places on the heights ; f the Account. | pressed those of Truxillo piled nder, ants, &c, [the heads mounds of the figure of mple of the a loaf of sugar; those children, |of Guayaquil construct- sa- that ed tombs with vaulted their, they roofs; the Chinchas put 4 might the dead on cane beds, ities, become and covered them tion| more slightly with sand, &c.,|it was not lawful to look at it. id le, ee &c. The corpses had/To touch the king without do Titles : The descendants of the founder of the monarchy (and some of his followers ?) lords) or Yntip Churi (= children of the Sun). sovereign called Sapa (= only one), the queen Ceoya. Sur- name of the king: Auacchu- euyae (= friend of Poor); of the queen: mamanchie (= The Ynca kings haughty to their subjects, and very grave. They rarely showed the face; generally a sitting pos-|being an Ynca or specially more ture; the faces were allowed was sacrilege. The) jwork. /generally turned in the Ynca gave his replies by at-|off the first Family Sierra towards east, on)tendan Marks(?).|the Coast towards the sea, Salutations of veneration : Bowing the head and the whole body, raising the eyes to heaven, stooping to the as the hands and opening them and kissing the air (paid only to Pacha- camac, Sun, and king). A sacrifice of hairs of the eye- brows abridged to a gesture. Signs of reverence: strip- ping off the sandals and bear- ing a load on the back. Kiss- ing hands, feet, and face. ing for work a courtesy due to ladies by inferior (fe- Signs of submission : hav- ing the hands tied and ropes round the necks, bearing green boughs leaves. They did not ap- roach a superior without inging a t. 7 longs : spitting. Sign of complacency: in- viting to drink (also a saluta- .| tion between equals). the With the Yncas and chiefs they buried their of concu-| favourite servants and bines (?).|¥ives, provisions, trea- () sures, &c. Others caused themselves be buried at favourite places of the deceased. Mourning rites per- formed by the people and by special (female) mourners: lamentations, sad music, songs, sacri- hair of the women not killed, puttin and not of own body, &c. Th soul, which was sup- posed to return. ( All palaces but one of a deceased up; in this a sort of *f Fe F : E F E FE f parties fasted put a certain shoe on the foot of the bride. Festival of the Ynca novices in knighthood (piercing of the ears). The youth promised to worship the Sun, to serve the king, and to sow maize. Great festi- val of the Yneas at the weaning of the first-born son (shaving crop of hair), Two name- givings. Sow- ing and har- vest festivals. Chief amuse- ments: drink- ing and dancing, They rose early, acipal the princi mes at 8 or 9 in the morn- ing, supped before sunset, and went to bed early. They did not drink during the meal, but afterwards. Many feasts. to wear| Three or fringe| four times a month all in- habitants of a village feasted placedjone allowed to wear the hair|together be- medicallyjvillcas jin front of the figure of|so short as he. The heir-|fore their treated [pulled the Sun in the great/apparent wore a small yellow by old out three/temple at Cuzco. The/frin uncle women. }teeth in betes lk other people|the erbal- jeach jaw |marv Y preserved |guishing 7 past lists of of thair by natural action of the|reigns of Quito; a circlet of|public games. per ot|the children |dry air of the Sierra or|wool, adorned with gold and) M AlllYneas fasaser- |the hot sand of thejsilver, that of the ancient /festival Curacas, and exercised themselves in ae. INTELLECTUAL CHARACTERS. ve, uninventive, stro Inhabitants of the Sierra more in those of the Coast. imitative. ng than | 42STHETIC PRODUCTS, MENTS. IDEA 8. . RELIGIOUS IDEAS AID as SUPERSTITIONS. Moral state | [Believe that the sml| Knowledge withheld higher on leaves the body durhg|from the common people. the Sierra sleep, and the this ‘ than at the [dreamed of are what it ses) They used eager Coast, in the Jin the world in the mem-|notation, and were able North than inj/time. Therefore great it-|to express numbers to the South. [tention paid to dreams aid|any extent required. ° their interpretation. Cannibali Soul considered imme-| Years marked by the extirpated by |tal. Common belief in a/solstices i the spreading /general resurrection as althat of the summer—|language In some provinces course at fes- tivals. The Coast more lascivious Very kind- Nonstes (few quarrels) and grateful. Although the usual Indian vices (except idle- ness) were observed as well with the Peruvians, their altruistic feeling, the gentleness and absence of covetous- conquerors a favourable impression. were tolerated.| future ; life promiscuous jworld to come. Upa marca, sexual inter- |i.¢, dumb land, beyond a Indians of the ness, gave the/ther of the first Ynea), fe- to preserve nail-pairings, to be the regions of the other world. Here and Canches believed that the souls of the deceased went thought that they came Fetichism and ancestor- invested with power over mas). In the emerald! rald was highest god. Thus all things might become (mummies) of the ancestors, and figures representing all conquered provinces, while the local cults were fully tolerated. As the Sun a not only asa celes- thal body but =e man (fa- tichism and ancestor-wor- ship are united. Besides the sun, the moon, some stars, the thunder, the earth, the sea were wor- shipped. Ynca Yupanqui (1439-75) proclaimed an universal creator, probably grafting the new idea on half-extinct notions of elder gods (Viraccocha). Some moral ideas con- nected with religion (as is shown by the belief in a punishment of the wicked). Strong belief in sooth- suying, signs, &c. Meteors as signs of a great misfortune approaching. Some tribes believed that their ancestors came out o: fountains, rocks, lakes. Myths of giants and dwarfs. ‘our was sacred number. Chicha thrown into the channels and rivers to have rain. At sowing festivals great noise of arms was made to prevent diseases} of the plants. They would not expose their teeth to the rainbow for fear they should decay. The super- stition of “eating souls” existed. Belief that one of two twins is child of the ray, &c, continuation of present li.) December 22nd), and the go Therefore great care taken|divided into months, marked by the} § hairs, &c., and to put then|new moon, with inter- together, that they might be|calary days to adjust the found easily. (Atahuallpa’s| whole. horror lest he might be|vided into two halves|Secret burnt thus getsits explana-|by the increasing andjf the north. Hutsof tile. Made} wild and nume-|tame beverages, | selection at |W#y8- especially {the great Cultivatedjover the Spinning|In colder spindles of quinuas andjof the The earth supposed] Constructive great river; the place where|to be above the water, ter: the huacas are ; the Coast/which is entered by the/@gglutinative islands, &c., were supposed sun at night. Rainbow recognized as} Difference of} Jean there belief in the trans-|derived from the sun migration of souls. (The| (device of the Yncas). Land measured by to a great lake, where they | cords. Some knowledge from, and entered into the| chemistry and mechanics bodies of the new-born.) {shown in the arts. Abundance of medi- worship. Any striking/cinal plants made use of. thing might be taken up|They made powder of and considered conopa| plants, mixed also several (household god) ; inherited, |in it became god of the family.|Ointments. Unusually fertile stalks of Warm baths. Purges maize, &c., were considered|and bleedings. They re- cognized illness by look- the other stalks, and there-|ing at the tongue and fore worshipped (sarama-|the heightened colour. Skill shown in prepar- country of Manta an eme-|ing poisons. Geography : maps with huaca. lines raised on them to Strong chiefs were wor-|mark boundaries and shipped. The malquis| localities. proficiency | afus (two in weaving) varieties of ing. Wove| Numerous not on the | vegetables, |guide- | Noarched vaults, No dish ‘but vaults of the without sim- | pepper. Bridges ‘straw roofs, like uchy, the ple distaits.| Coca (in the}of stone, | bells, in some even the sex of uniting. Door- ways hung with tered overall the provinces along water. Washings. the royal roads i interior. Open fountains in the Orchards. Baths. History: records of them, became the main|events made up in brief] objects of worship. Like-|statements by the Amau- wise pacarinas (places of|tas, and preserved with origin) adored. aid of knots Sun worship was intro-| Qui . duced by ibe Yon into peiaat must be under. on ee implements : harpoons, bad fish-hooks, before the sub- row. Squares. means of nume- Samplng. Metal- workers used certain hard stones for anvils. Marvellous F Hig BEE . |IMPLEMENTs.| W®4- PONS. No iron. Offen- Instruments | sive : of very long copper Combs of | small thorns.’ g8), Pins of metal, |bows and for fastening arrows women’s (not large knobs of scales. Look-| metal — of |(with five ts). Tiles for ya inding corn. ist of silver ~“y of and bronze. Hearths of |‘? for'blowing {S208 or blowing the fire (tubes, ee air-holes in the furnaces). Nu- fastened inleather, and each merous sorts |to a cord of drinking a cubit vessels of long. gold, silver, Thro and clay (with| 9: the handles in the! middle, and | horses, mouth at one ae. end). Low ine} egs stools. Bed together. clothes (no Heated mattresses). [stones Tapestry. wen Napkins. io — Sacks. Bags. |used as Litters. fire-balls. The furniture of the Yuca Defen- ee iene of goldand =| nal silver. shields Balsas of t ds (rafts of jackets bamboo, &e.), [ft with desk, “git cotton, moveable keel. Ronashs | Substitutes : calabashes, | Plates put in a net, pieces of and rolled up bundles of —_ rushes; a board (like a saddle) served folds of the swimming boatman to place his head anny on. Thick 7 canes were used as oars. Fishing small nets. Personal adornments :| ouny women of ood i oyal put ver- milion in a line from | to the temyies, (Tat-| tooing in Quito and on the northern coast.) Dif- ferent hair-dresses of the several provinces. chiefs near Guayaquil fastened bits of gold on the teeth). Bracelets. Collars. small gold beads worn by the Indians of Guay- Object adornments : Walls carved into hu- lastered, painted or ined with plates of gold and silver. ralds let into the Bricks and roofs paiut- ed. Pottery made in every natural form. grotesque forms and hu-| morous designs. Com-| binacion of animate and| re ap forms. The} i of the pottery! of the Coast re 3 fish, &c.) differed from! Weapons adorned with ing. Patterns woven in stuffs. Cloth decorated with feathers. Figures) stamped on thin gold| plates. Gold vases de- corated with jewels. Historical paintings. | Stone and gold figures Flowers, fruits, leaves of beaten gold. Stone = doorways (like Architecture symme- trical. Several periods way in each province ; always connected with singing. The dan rmanent. Dances o sexes. Stately dance of the Yncas. Music: Each song tune. Drums sounded ee four or five reeds tied in a row, each one hav- ing the point higher Harsh singing. Literature : Songs in measured verses with- out rhyme, to record Plays performed.