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The Project Gutenberg eBook of POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY, April 1899, Vol. LIV, No. 6, edited by WILLIAM JAY YOUMANS
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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44544 ***</div>
<p class="center">
Established by Edward L. Youmans</p>
<h1>APPLETONS'<br/>
POPULAR SCIENCE<br/>
MONTHLY</h1>
<p class="center space-above spaced">EDITED BY<br/>
<big>WILLIAM JAY YOUMANS</big></p>
<p class="center space-above spaced">VOL. LIV<br/>
NOVEMBER, 1898, TO APRIL, 1899</p>
<p class="center space-above">NEW YORK<br/>
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br/>
1899
</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p class="center">
<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1899,<br/>
By</span> D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.<br/>
</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p class="center">
<span class="smcap">Vol. LIV.</span><span class="smcap rspace lspace">Established by Edward L. Youmans.</span><span class="smcap">No. 6.</span><br/>
</p>
<p class="center space-above"><big>APPLETONS'
POPULAR SCIENCE
MONTHLY.</big></p>
<p class="center">APRIL, 1899.</p>
<p class="center"><i>EDITED BY WILLIAM JAY YOUMANS.</i></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="center">CONTENTS.</p>
<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="CONTENTS">
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td><td align="right"><span class="smcap lowercase">PAGE</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">I.</td><td align="left">The Stuff that Dreams are made of. By <span class="smcap">Havelock Ellis</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_721">721</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">II.</td><td align="left">The Best Methods of Taxation. By the Late Hon. <span class="smcap">David A. Wells</span>. Part I</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_736">736</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">III.</td><td align="left">Mental Defectives and the Social Welfare. By <span class="smcap">Martin W. Barr</span>, M. D. (Illustrated.)</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_746">746</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">IV.</td><td align="left">The Wheat Problem again. By <span class="smcap">Edward Atkinson</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_759">759</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">V.</td><td align="left">The Coming of the Catbird. By <span class="smcap">Spencer Trotter</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_772">772</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">VI.</td><td align="left">Guessing, as Influenced by Number Preferences. By <span class="smcap">F. B. Dresslar</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_781">781</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">VII.</td><td align="left">Concerning Weasels. By <span class="smcap">William E. Cram</span>. (Illustrated.)</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_786">786</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">VIII.</td><td align="left">Care of the Throat and Ear. By <span class="smcap">W. Scheppegrell</span>, M. D.</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_791">791</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">IX.</td><td align="left">The Physical Geography of the West Indies. I. The Mammals of the Antilles. By Dr. <span class="smcap">F. L. Oswald</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_802">802</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">X.</td><td align="left">Iron in the Living Body. By <span class="smcap">M. A. Dastre</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_807">807</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">XI.</td><td align="left">The Malay Language. By Prof. <span class="smcap">R. Clyde Ford</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_813">813</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">XII.</td><td align="left">Life on a South Sea Whaler. By <span class="smcap">Frank T. Bullen</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_818">818</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">XIII.</td><td align="left">Sketch of Manly Miles. (With Portrait.)</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_834">834</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">XIV.</td><td align="left">Editor's Table: Science and Culture.—Survival of the Fittest</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_842">842</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">XV.</td><td align="left">Scientific Literature</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_845">845</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">XVI.</td><td align="left">Fragments of Science</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_854">854</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">XVII.</td><td align="left">Index to Vol. LIV</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_865">865</a></td></tr>
</table></div>
<p class="center space-above">
NEW YORK:<br/>
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,<br/>
72 FIFTH AVENUE.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="smcap rspace">Single Number, 50 Cents.</span><span class="smcap lspace">Yearly Subscription, $5.00.</span><br/>
</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p class="center"><small><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1898, by</span> D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.<br/>
Entered at the Post Office at New York, and admitted for transmission through the mails at second-class rates.</small><br/>
</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_721" id="Page_721">[Pg 721]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
<img src="images/illo_005_manly.jpg" width="400" height="514" alt="MANLY MILES." />
<span class="caption">MANLY MILES.</span>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span></p>
<p class="center"><big>APPLETONS' POPULAR SCIENCE
MONTHLY.</big></p>
<p class="center space-above">FEBRUARY, 1899.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2>THE STUFF THAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF.</h2>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By HAVELOCK ELLIS.</span></p>
<p>In our dreams we are taken back into an earlier world. It is a
world much more like that of the savage, the child, the criminal,
the madman, than is the world of our respectable civilized waking
life. That is, in large part, it must be confessed, the charm of
dreams. It is also the reason of their scientific value. Through
our dreams we may realize our relation to stages of evolution we
have long left behind, and by the self-vivisection of our sleeping life
we may learn to know something regarding the mind of primitive
man and the source of some of his beliefs, thus throwing light on the
facts we obtain by ethnographic research.</p>
<p>This aspect of dreams has not always been kept steadily in sight,
though it can no longer be said that the study of dreams is neglected.
From one point of view or another—not only by the religious
sect which, it appears, constitutes a "Dream Church" in Denmark,
but by such carefully inquisitive investigators as those who have been
trained under the inspiring influence of Prof. Stanley Hall—dreaming
is seriously studied. I need not, therefore, apologize for the fact
that I have during many years taken note from time to time and
recorded the details and circumstances of vivid dreams when I
could study their mechanism immediately on awakening, and that I
have occupied myself, not with the singularities and marvels of dreaming—of
which, indeed, I know little or nothing—but with their
simplest and most general laws and tendencies. A few of these laws
and tendencies I wish to set forth and illustrate. The interest of such
a task is twofold. It not only reveals to us an archaic world of vast
emotions and imperfect thoughts, but by helping us to attain a clear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_722" id="Page_722">[Pg 722]</a></span>
knowledge of the ordinary dream processes, it enables us in advance
to deal with many of the extraordinary phenomena of dreaming, sometimes
presented to us by wonder-loving people as awesomely mysterious,
if not indeed supernatural. The careful analysis of mere ordinary
dreams frequently gives us the key to these abnormal dreams.</p>
<p>Perhaps the chief and most frequent tendency in the mechanism
of dreaming is that by which isolated impressions from waking life
flow together in dreams to be welded into a whole. There is then
produced, in the strictest sense, a confusion. For instance, a lady,
who in the course of the day has admired a fine baby and bought a
big fish for dinner, dreams with horror and surprise of finding a
fully developed baby in a large codfish. The confusion may be more
remote, embodying abstract ideas and without reference to recent
impressions. Thus I dreamed that my wife was expounding to me a
theory by which the substitution of slates for tiles in roofing had
been accompanied by, and intimately associated with, the growing
diminution of crime in England. Amid my wife's rather contemptuous
opposition, I opposed this theory, pointing out the picturesqueness
of tiles, their cheapness, greater comfort both in winter and summer,
but at the same time it occurred to me as a peculiar coincidence
that tiles should have a sanguinary tinge suggestive of criminal bloodthirstiness.
I need scarcely say that this bizarre theory had never
suggested itself to my waking thoughts. There was, however, a real
connecting link in the confusion—the redness—and it is a noteworthy
point, of great significance in the interpretation of dreams, that that
link, although clearly active from the first, remained subconscious
until the end of the dream, when it presented itself as an entirely
novel coincidence.</p>
<p>The best simile for the mechanism of the most usual type of
dream phenomena is the magic lantern. Our dreams are like dissolving
views in which the dissolving process is carried on swiftly
or slowly, but always uninterruptedly, so that, at any moment, two
(often indeed more) incongruous pictures are presented to consciousness
which strives to make one whole of them, and sometimes succeeds
and is sometimes baffled. Or we may say that the problem presented
to dreaming consciousness resembles that experiment in which psychologists
pronounce three wholly unconnected words, and require
the subject to combine them at once in a connected sentence. It is
unnecessary to add that such analogies fail to indicate the subtle complexity
of the apparatus which is at work in the manufacture of
dreams.</p>
<p>It is the presence of the strife I have just referred to between
apparently irreconcilable groups of images, in the effort of overcoming
the critical skepticism of sleeping consciousness—a feeble skepticism,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_723" id="Page_723">[Pg 723]</a></span>
it may be, but, as many people do not seem to recognize, a real
skepticism—that the impressive emotional effects of dreams are often
displayed. It sometimes happens that two irreconcilable groups of
impressions reach sleeping consciousness, one flowing from a recent
stratum of memories, the other from an older stratum. A typical
form of this phenomenon often occurs in our dreams of dead friends.
Professor Sully remarks that in dreams of the dead "awareness of the
fact of death wholly disappears, or reduces itself to a vague feeling
of something delightfully wonderful in the restored presence."
That, however, as I have elsewhere shown,<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> is not the typical process
in dreaming of the dead; although in the later dreams of those who
often see their dead friends during sleep, the process is abbreviated,
and the friend's presence is accepted without a struggle—a very interesting
point, for it tends to show that in dreams, as in the hypnotic
state, the recollection of previous similar states of consciousness persists,
and the illusion is strengthened by repetition.</p>
<p>In typical dreams of a dead friend there is a struggle between
that stream of recent memories which represents him as dead and
that older stream which represents him as living. These two streams
are inevitably caused by the fact of death, which sets up a barrier between
them and renders one set of memories incongruous with the
other set. In dreams we are not able to arrange our memories chronologically,
but we are perpetually reasoning and striving to be logical.
Consequently the two conflicting streams of memories break against
each other in restless conflict, and sleeping consciousness endeavors
to propound some theory which will reconcile them. The most frequent
theories are, as I have found, either that the news of the friend's
death was altogether false, or that he had been buried alive by mistake,
or else that having really died his soul has returned to earth for
a brief space. The mental and emotional conflict which such dreams
involve renders them very vivid. They make a profound impression
even after awakening, and for some sensitive persons are too sacred to
speak of. Even so cautious and skeptical a thinker as Renan, when,
after the death of his beloved sister Henriette, he dreamed more than
once that she had been buried alive, and that he heard her voice calling
to him from her grave, had to still his horrible suspicions by the
consideration that she had been tended by experienced doctors. On
less well-balanced minds, and more especially in primitive stages of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_724" id="Page_724">[Pg 724]</a></span>
civilization, we can scarcely doubt that such dreams, resting as they
do on the foundation of consciousness, have had a powerful influence
in persuading man that death is but a transient fact, and that
the soul is independent of the body. I do not wish to assert that they
suffice to originate the belief.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p>
<p>While dreams are thus often formed by the molding together of
more or less congruous images by a feeble but still intelligent sleeping
activity, another factor is to be found in the involuntary wavering
and perpetually mere meaningless change of dream imagery.
Such concentration as is possible during sleep always reveals a shifting,
oscillating, uncertain movement of the vision before us. We are, as
it were, reading a sign-post in the dusk, or making guesses at the names
of the stations as our express train flashes by the painted letters.
Any one who has ever been subject to the hypnagogic imagery sometimes
seen in the half-waking state, or who has ever taken mescal,
knows that it is absolutely impossible to fix an image. It is this
factor in dreams which causes them so often to baffle our analysis. In
addition to the mere, as it were, mechanical flowing together of
images and ideas, and the more or less intelligent molding of them
into a whole, there is thus a failure of sleeping attention to fix definitely
the final result—a failure which itself may evidently serve to
carry on the dream process by suggesting new images and combinations.
I dreamed once that I was with a doctor in his surgery, and
saw in his hand a note from a patient saying that doctors were fools
and did him no good, but he had lately taken some <i>selvdrolla</i>, recommended
by a friend, and it had done him more good than anything,
so please send him some more. I saw the note clearly, not, indeed,
being conscious of reading it word by word, but only of its meaning
as I looked at it; the one word I actually seemed to see, letter by letter,
was the name of the drug, and that changed and fluctuated beneath
my vision as I gazed at it, the final impression being <i>selvdrolla</i>. The
doctor took from a shelf a bottle containing a bright yellow oleaginous
fluid, and poured a little out, remarking that it had lately come into
favor, especially in uric-acid disorders, but was extremely expensive.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_725" id="Page_725">[Pg 725]</a></span>
I expressed my surprise, having never before heard of it. Then,
again to my surprise, he poured rather copiously from the bottle on
to a plate of food, saying, in explanation, that it was pleasant to
take and not dangerous. This was a vivid morning dream, and on
awakening I had no difficulty in detecting the source of its various
minor details, especially a note received on the previous evening and
containing a dubious figure, the precise nature of which I had used
my pocket lens to determine. But what was <i>selvdrolla</i>, the most
vivid element of the dream? I sought vainly among my recent memories,
and had almost renounced the search when I recalled a large
bottle of salad oil seen on the supper table the previous evening; not,
indeed, resembling the dream bottle, but containing a precisely similar
fluid. <i>Selvdrolla</i> was evidently a corruption of "salad oil." I
select this dream to illustrate the uncertainty of dream consciousness,
because it also illustrates at the same time the element of certainty in
dream <i>subconsciousness</i>. Throughout my dream I remained, consciously,
in entire ignorance as to the real nature of <i>selvdrolla</i>, yet
a latent element in consciousness was all the time presenting it to
me in ever-clearer imagery.</p>
<p>While the confusions of dreaming are usually the union of unconnected
streams of imagery which have, as it were, come from
widely remote parts of the memory system to strike together at the
narrow focus of shaping consciousness, in some rarer cases the fused
images are really suggested by analogy and are not accidental.
Maury records successions of dream imagery strung together by verbal
resemblances; I have found such dreams rare, but other forms of
association fairly common. Thus I once dreamed that I was with a
dentist who was about to extract a tooth from a patient. Before
applying the forceps he remarked to me (at the same time setting
fire to a perfumed cloth at the end of something like a broomstick
in order to dissipate the unpleasant odor) that it was the largest
tooth he had ever seen. When extracted I found that it was indeed
enormous, in the shape of a caldron, with walls an inch
thick. Taking from my pocket a tape measure (such as I always
carry in waking life) I founds the diameter to be not less than
twenty-five inches; the interior was like roughly hewn rock, and
there were sea-weeds and lichenlike growths within. The size of
the tooth seemed to me large, but not extraordinarily so. It is well
known that pain in the teeth, or the dentist's manipulations, cause
those organs to seem of extravagant extent; in dreams this tendency
rules unchecked; thus a friend once dreamed that mice were playing
about in a cavity in her tooth. But for the dream first quoted
there was no known dental origin; it arose solely or chiefly from a
walk during the previous afternoon among the rocks of the Cornish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_726" id="Page_726">[Pg 726]</a></span>
coast at low tide, and the fantastic analogy, which had not occurred to
waking consciousness, suggested itself during sleep.</p>
<p>The following dream illustrates an association of quite a different
order: I imagined I was sitting at a window, at the top of a
house, writing. As I looked up from my table I saw, with all the
emotions naturally accompanying such a sight, a woman in her night
dress appear at a lofty window some distance off and throw herself
down. I went on writing, however, and found that in the course of
my literary employment—I am not clear as to its precise nature—the
very next thing I had to do was to describe exactly such a scene as
I had just witnessed. I was extremely puzzled at such an extraordinary
coincidence: it seemed to me wholly inexplicable. Such dreams,
reduplicating the imagery in a new sensory medium, are fairly common,
with me at all events, though I can not easily explain them.
The association is not so much of analogy as of sensory media, in this
case the visual image becoming a verbal motor image. In other cases
a scene is first seen as in reality, and then in a picture. It is interesting
to observe the profound astonishment with which sleeping
consciousness apperceives such simple reduplication.</p>
<p>It sometimes happens that the confused imagery of dreams includes
elements drawn from forgotten memories—that is to say, that
sleeping consciousness can draw on faint impressions of the past which
waking consciousness is unable to reach. This is a very important
type of dream because of its bearing on the explanation of certain
dream phenomena which we are sometimes asked to bow down before
as supernatural. I may illustrate what I mean by the following
very instructive case. I woke up recalling the chief items of a rather
vivid dream: I had imagined myself in a large old house, where the
furniture, though of good quality, was ancient, and the chairs threatened
to give way as one sat on them. The place belonged to one Sir
Peter Bryan, a hale old gentleman who was accompanied by his son
and grandson. There was a question of my buying the place from
him, and I was very complimentary to the old gentleman's appearance
of youthfulness, absurdly affecting not to know which was the
grandfather and which the grandson. On awaking I said to myself
that here was a purely imaginative dream, quite unsuggested by any
definite experiences. But when I began to recall the trifling incidents
of the previous day I realized that that was far from being the
case. So far from the dream having been a pure effort of imagination
I found that every minute item could be traced to some separate
source. The name of Sir Peter Bryan alone completely baffled me;
I could not even recall that I had at that time ever heard of any one
called Bryan. I abandoned the search and made my notes of the
dream and its sources. I had scarcely done so when I chanced to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_727" id="Page_727">[Pg 727]</a></span>
take up a volume of biographies which I had glanced through carelessly
the day before. I found that it contained, among others, the
lives of Lord <i>Peter</i>borough and George <i>Bryan</i> Brummel. I had
certainly seen those names the day before; yet before I took up the
book once again it would have been impossible for me to recall the
exact name of Beau Brummel, and I should have been inclined to say
that I had never even heard the name of Bryan. I repeat that I
regard this as, psychologically, a most instructive dream. It rarely
happens (though I could give one or two more examples from the
experience of friends) that we can so clearly and definitely demonstrate
the presence of a forgotten memory in a dream; in the case
of old memories it is usually impossible. It so happened that the forgotten
memory which in this case re-emerged to sleeping consciousness
was a fact of no consequence to myself or any one else. But
if it had been the whereabouts of a lost deed or a large sum of money,
and I had been able to declare, as in this case, that the impression
received in my dream had never to my knowledge existed in waking
consciousness, and yet were to declare my faith that the dream probably
had a simple and natural explanation, on every hand I should
be sarcastically told that there is no credulity to match the credulity
of the skeptic.</p>
<p>The profound emotions of waking life, the questions and problems
on which we spread our chief voluntary mental energy, are not
those which usually present themselves at once to dream consciousness.
It is, so far as the immediate past is concerned, mostly the
trifling, the incidental, the "forgotten" impressions of daily life
which reappear in our dreams. The psychic activities that are awake
most intensely are those that sleep most profoundly. If we preserve
the common image of the "stream of consciousness," we might say
that the grave facts of life sink too deeply into the flood to reappear
at once in the calm of repose, while the mere light and buoyant
trifles of life, flung carelessly in during the day, at once rise to the
surface, to dance and mingle and evolve in ways that this familiar
image of "the stream of consciousness" will not further help us to
picture.</p>
<p>So far I have been discussing only one of the great groups into
which dreams may be divided. Most investigators of dreams agree
that there are two such groups, the one having its basis in memories,
the other founded on actual physical sensations experienced at the
moment of dreaming and interpreted by sleeping consciousness. Various
names have been given to these two groups; Sully, for instance,
terms them central and peripheral. Perhaps the best names, however,
are those adopted by Miss Calkins, who calls the first group
representative, the second group presentative.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_728" id="Page_728">[Pg 728]</a></span></p>
<p>All writers on dreaming have brought forward presentative
dreams, and there can be no doubt that impressions received during
sleep from any of the external senses may serve as a basis for dreams.
I need only record one example to illustrate this main and most obvious
group of presentative dreams. I dreamed that I was listening to
a performance of Haydn's Creation, the chief orchestral part of the
performance seeming to consist chiefly of the very realistic representation
of the song of birds, though I could not identify the note
of any particular bird. Then followed solos by male singers, whom
I saw, especially one who attracted my attention by singing at the
close in a scarcely audible voice. On awakening the source of the
dream was not immediately obvious, but I soon realized that it was
the song of a canary in another room. I had never heard Haydn's
Creation, except in fragments, nor thought of it at any recent period;
its reputation as regards the realistic representation of natural sounds
had evidently caused it to be put forward by sleeping consciousness
as a plausible explanation of the sounds heard, and the visual centers
had accepted the theory.</p>
<p>It is a familiar fact that internal sensations also form a frequent
basis of dreams. All the internal organs, when disturbed or distended
or excited, may induce dreams, and especially that aggravated
kind of dreaming which we call nightmare. This fact is so
well known that such dreams are usually dismissed without further
analysis. It is a mistake, however, so to dismiss them, for it seems
probable that it is precisely here that we may find the most instructive
field of dream psychology. On account of the profoundly emotional
effect of such dreams they are very interesting to study, but this very
element of emotion renders them somewhat obscure objects of study.
I do not venture to offer with absolute certainty one or two novel suggestions
which dream experiences have led me to regard as probable.</p>
<p>Dreams of flying have so often been recorded—from the time of
St. Jerome, who mentions that he was subject to them—that they
may fairly be considered to constitute one of the commonest forms
of dreaming. All my life, it seems to me, I have at intervals had
such dreams in which I imagined myself rhythmically bounding into
the air and supported on the air. These dreams, in my case at all
events, are not generally remembered immediately on awakening
(seeming to indicate that they depend on a cause which does not usually
come into action at the end of sleep), but they leave behind them
a vague but profound sense of belief in their reality and reasonableness.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a>
Several writers have attempted to explain this familiar phenomenon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_729" id="Page_729">[Pg 729]</a></span>
Gowers considers that a spontaneous contraction of the
stapedius muscle of the ear during sleep causes a sensation of falling.
Stanley Hall, who has himself from childhood had dreams of
flying, boldly argues that we have here "some faint reminiscent atavistic
echo from the primeval sea"; and that such dreams are really
survivals—psychic vestigial remains—taking us back to the far past,
in which man's ancestors needed no feet to swim or float. Such a
theory may accord with the profound conviction of reality that accompanies
such dreams, though this may be more simply accounted
for, even by mere repetition, as with dreams of the dead; but it is
rather a hazardous theory, and it seems to me infinitely more probable
that such dreams are a misinterpretation of actual internal sensations.</p>
<p>My own explanation was immediately suggested by the following
dream. I dreamed that I was watching a girl acrobat, in appropriate
costume, who was rhythmically rising to a great height in the
air and then falling, without touching the floor, though each time she
approached quite close to it. At last she ceased, exhausted and perspiring,
and had to be led away. Her movements were not controlled
by mechanism, and apparently I did not regard mechanism as necessary.
It was a vivid dream, and I awoke with a distinct sensation of
oppression in the chest. In trying to account for this dream, which
was not founded on any memory, it occurred to me that probably I
had here the key to a great group of dreams. The rhythmic rising
and falling of the acrobat was simply the objectivation of the rhythmic
rising and falling of my own respiratory muscles under the influence
of some slight and unknown physical oppression, and this oppression
was further translated into a condition of perspiring exhaustion
in the girl, just as it is recorded that a man with heart disease
dreamed habitually of sweating and panting horses climbing
up hill. We may recall also the curious sensation as of the body being
transformed into a vast bellows which is often the last sensation felt
before the unconsciousness produced by nitrous oxide gas. When we
are lying down there is a real rhythmic rising and falling of the chest
and abdomen, centering in the diaphragm, a series of oscillations
which at both extremes are only limited by the air. Moreover, in this
position we have to recognize that the whole internal organism—the
circulatory, nervous, and other systems—are differently balanced from
what they are in the upright position, and that a disturbance of internal
equilibrium always accompanies falling. Further, it is possible
that the misinterpretation is confirmed to sleeping consciousness
by sensations from without, by the absence of the tactile pressure produced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_730" id="Page_730">[Pg 730]</a></span>
by boots on the foot, or the contact of the ground with the
soles; we are at once conscious of movement and conscious that the
soles of the feet are in contact only with the air. Thus in normal
sleep the conditions may be said to be always favorable for producing
dreams of flying or of floating in the air, and any slight thoracic
disturbance, even in healthy persons, arising from lungs, heart, or
stomach, and serving to bring these conditions to sleeping consciousness,
may determine such a dream.</p>
<p>There is another common class of dreams which, it seems fairly
evident to me, must also find their psychological explanation chiefly
in the visceral sensations—I mean dreams of murder. Many psychologists
have referred with profound concern to the facility and
prevalence of murder in dreams, sometimes as a proof of the innate
wickedness of human nature made manifest in the unconstraint of
sleep, sometimes as evidence of an atavistic return to the modes of
feeling of our ancestors, the thin veneer of civilization being removed
during sleep. Maudsley and Mme. de Manacéïne, for example, find
evidence in such dreams of a return to primitive modes of feeling.
It may well be that there is some element of truth in this view, but
even if so we still have to account for the production of such dreams.
For this we must, in part at least, fall back upon the logical outcome
of dream confusions, owing to which, for instance, a lady who has
carved a duck at dinner may a few hours later wake up exhausted by
the imaginary effort of cutting off her husband's head. But I think
we may find evidence that the dream of murder is often a falsely
logical deduction from abnormal visceral and especially digestive sensations.</p>
<p>I may illustrate such dreams by the following example: A lady
dreamed that her husband called her aside and said: "Now, do not
scream or make a fuss; I am going to tell you something. I have to
kill a man. It is necessary, to put him out of his agony." He then
took her into his study and showed her a young man lying on the
floor with a wound in his breast, and covered with blood. "But how
will you do it?" she asked. "Never mind," he replied, "leave that
to me." He took something up and leaned over the man. She
turned aside and heard a horrible gurgling sound. Then all was
over. "Now," he said, "we must get rid of the body. I want you
to send for So-and-so's cart, and tell him I wish to drive it." The cart
came. "You must help me to make the body into a parcel," he said
to his wife; "give me plenty of brown paper." They made it into
a parcel, and with terrible difficulty and effort the wife assisted her
husband to get the body down stairs and lift it into the cart. At
every stage, however, she presented to him the difficulties of the
situation. But he carelessly answered all objections, said he would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_731" id="Page_731">[Pg 731]</a></span>
take the body up to the moor, among the stones, remove the brown
paper, and people would think the murdered man had killed himself.
He drove off and soon returned with the empty cart. "What's this
blood in my cart?" asked the man to whom it belonged, looking
inside. "Oh, that's only paint," replied the husband. But the
dreamer had all along been full of apprehension lest the deed should
be discovered, and the last thing she could recall, before waking in
terror, was looking out of the window at a large crowd which surrounded
the house with shouts of "Murder!" and threats.</p>
<p>This tragedy, with its almost Elizabethan air, was built up out of
a few commonplace impressions received during the previous day,
none of which impressions contained any suggestion of murder. The
tragic element appears to have been altogether due to the psychic influences
of indigestion arising from a supper of pheasant. To account
for our oppression during sleep, sleeping consciousness assumes
moral causes which alone appear to it of sufficient gravity to be the
adequate cause of the immense emotions we are experiencing. Even
in our waking and fully conscious states we are inclined to give the
preference to moral over physical causes, quite irrespective of the
justice of our preferences; in our sleeping states this tendency is
exaggerated, and the reign of purely moral causes is not disturbed by
even a suggestion of mere physical causation.</p>
<p>There is certainly no profounder emotional excitement during
sleep than that which arises from a disturbed or distended stomach,
and is reflected by the pneumogastric to the accelerated heart and
the impeded respiration.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> We are thereby thrown into a state of uninhibited
emotional agitation, a state of agony and terror such as we
rarely or never attain during waking life. Sleeping consciousness,
blindfolded and blundering, a prey to these massive waves from below,
and fumbling about desperately for some explanation, jumps at
the idea that only the attempt to escape some terrible danger or the
guilty consciousness of some awful crime can account for this immense
emotional uproar. Thus the dream is suffused by a conviction which
the continued emotion serves to support. We do not—it seems most
simple and reasonable to conclude—experience terror because we
think we have committed a crime, but we think we have committed
a crime because we experience terror. And the fact that in such
dreams we are far more concerned with escape from the results of
crime than with any agony of remorse is not, as some have thought,
due to our innate indifference to crime, but simply to the fact that
our emotional state suggests to us active escape from danger rather
than the more passive grief of remorse. Thus our dreams bear witness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_732" id="Page_732">[Pg 732]</a></span>
to the fact that our intelligence is often but a tool in the hands
of our emotions.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p>
<p>I have had frequent occasion to refer to the objectivation of subjective
sensations as a phenomenon of dreaming. It is, indeed, so
frequent and so important a phenomenon that it needs some further
reference. In hysteria (which by some of the most recent authorities,
like Sollier, is regarded as a species of somnambulism), in "demon-possession,"
and many other abnormal phenomena it is well known
that there is, as it were, a doubling of personality; the <i>ego</i> is split up
into two or more parts, each of which may act as a separate personality.
The literature of morbid psychology is full of extraordinary and
varied cases exhibiting this splitting up of personality. But it is
usually forgotten that in dreams the doubling of personality is a
normal and constant phenomenon in all healthy people. In dreaming
we can divide our body between ourselves and another person.
Thus a medical friend dreamed that in conversation with a lady
patient he found his hand resting on her knee and was unable to remove
it; awakening in horror from this unprofessional situation he
found his own hand firmly clasped between his knees; the hand had
remained his own, the knee had become another person's, the hand
being claimed, rather than the knee, on account of its greater tactile
sensibility. Again, we sometimes objectify our own physical discomforts
felt during sleep in the emotions of some other person, or
even in some external situations. And, possibly, every dream in
which there is any dramatic element is an instance of the same splitting
up of personality; in our dreams we may experience shame or
confusion from the rebuke or the arguments of other persons, but the
persons who administer the rebuke or apply the argument are still
ourselves.</p>
<p>When we consider that this dream process, with its perpetual
dramatization of our own personality, has been going on as long as
man has been man—and probably much longer, for it is evident that
animals dream—it is impossible to overestimate its immense influence
on human belief. Men's primitive conceptions of religion, of morals,
of many of the mightiest phenomena of life, especially the more exceptional
phenomena, have certainly been influenced by this constant
dream experience. It is the universal primitive explanation of abnormal
psychic and even physical phenomena that some other person
or spirit is working within the subject of the abnormal experience.
Certainly dreaming is not the sole source of such conceptions, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_733" id="Page_733">[Pg 733]</a></span>
they could scarcely have been found convincing, and possibly could
not ever have arisen, among races who were wholly devoid of dream
experiences. A large part of all progress in psychological knowledge,
and, indeed, a large part of civilization itself, lies in realizing
that the apparently objective is really subjective, that the angels and
demons and geniuses of all sorts that seemed at first to take possession
of the feeble and vacant individuality are themselves but modes of
action of marvelously rich and varied personalities. But in our
dreams we are brought back into the magic circle of early culture,
and we shrink and shudder in the presence of imaginative phantoms
that are built up of our own thoughts and emotions, and are really our
own flesh.</p>
<p>There is one other general characteristic of dreams that is worth
noting, because its significance is not usually recognized. In dreams
we are always reasoning. It is sometimes imagined that reason is in
abeyance during sleep. So far from this being the case, we may
almost be said to reason much more during sleep than when we are
awake. That our reasoning is bad, even preposterous, that it constantly
ignores the most elementary facts of waking life, scarcely
affects the question. All dreaming is a process of reasoning. That
artful confusion of ideas and images which at the outset I referred
to as the most constant feature of dream mechanism is nothing but
a process of reasoning, a perpetual effort to argue out harmoniously
the absurdly limited and incongruous data present to sleeping consciousness.
Binet, grounding his conclusions on hypnotic experiments,
has very justly determined that reasoning is the fundamental
part of all thinking, the very texture of thought. It is founded on
perception itself, which already contains all the elements of the ancient
syllogism. For in all perception, as he shows, there is a succession
of three images, of which the first fuses with the second, which
in its turn suggests the third. Now this establishment of new associations,
this construction of images, which, as we may easily convince
ourselves, is precisely what takes place in dreaming, is reasoning itself.</p>
<p>Reasoning is a synthesis of images suggested by resemblance and
contiguity, indeed a sort of logical vision, more intense even than
actual vision, since it produces hallucinations. To reasoning all
forms of mental activity may finally be reduced; mind, as Wundt
has said, is a thing that reasons. When we apply these general
statements to dreaming, we may see that the whole phenomenon of
dreaming is really the same process of image-formation, based on
resemblance and contiguity, which is at the basis of reasoning. Every
dream is the outcome of this strenuous, wide-ranging instinct to reason.
The supposed "imaginative faculty," regarded as so highly
active during sleep, is simply the inevitable play of this automatic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_734" id="Page_734">[Pg 734]</a></span>
logic. The characteristic of the reasoning of dreams is that it is
unusually bad, and this badness is due chiefly to the absence of memory
elements that would be present to waking consciousness, and to
the absence of sensory elements to check the false reasoning which
without them appears to us conclusive. That is to say—to fall back
on the excellent generalization which Parish has elaborately applied
to all forms of hallucination—there is a process of dissociation by
which ordinary channels of association are temporarily blocked and
the conditions prepared for the formation of the hallucination. It
is, as Parish has argued, in sleep and in those sleep-resembling states
called hypnagogic that a condition of dissociation leading to hallucination
is most apt to occur.</p>
<p>The following dream illustrates the part played by dissociation:
A lady dreamed that an acquaintance wished to send a small sum
of money to a person in Ireland. She rashly offered to take it over to
Ireland. On arriving home she began to repent of her promise, as
the weather was extremely wild and cold. She began, however, to
make preparations for dressing warmly, and went to consult an Irish
friend, who said she would have to be floated over to Ireland tightly
jammed in a crab basket. On returning home she fully discussed
the matter with her husband, who thought it would be folly to undertake
such a journey, and she finally relinquished it, with great relief.
In this dream—the elements of which could all be accounted for—the
association between sending money and postal orders which would
at once occur to waking consciousness was closed; consciousness was a
prey to such suggestions as reached it, but on the basis of these suggestions
it reasoned and concluded quite sagaciously. The phenomena
of dreaming furnish a delightful illustration of the fact that
reasoning, in its rough form, is only the crudest and most elementary
form of intellectual operation, and that the finer forms of thinking
only become possible when we hold in check this tendency to reason.
"All the thinking in the world," as Goethe puts it, "will not lead
us to thought."</p>
<p>It is in such characteristics as these—at once primitive, childlike,
and insane—that we may find the charm of dreaming. In our sleeping
emotional life we are much more like ourselves than we are in
our sleeping intellectual life. It is a mistake to imagine that our
moral and æsthetic instincts are abolished in dreams; they are often
weakened, but by no means abolished. Such a result is natural when
we remember that our emotions and instincts are both more primitive
and less under the dominion of the external senses than are our ideas.
Yet in both respects we are removed a stage backward in our dreams.
The emotional intensity, the absurd logic, the tendency to personification—nearly
all the points I have referred to as characterizing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_735" id="Page_735">[Pg 735]</a></span>
our dreams—are the characteristics of the child, the savage, and the
madman. Time and space are annihilated, gravity is suspended, and
we are joyfully borne up in the air, as it were, in the arms of angels;
we are brought into a deeper communion with Nature, and in his
dreams a man will listen to the arguments of his dog with as little
surprise as Balaam heard the reproaches of his ass. The unexpected
limitations of our dream world, the exclusion of so many elements
which are present even unconsciously in waking life, imparts a splendid
freedom and ease to the intellectual operations of the sleeping
mind, and an extravagant romance, a poignant tragedy, to our emotions.
"He has never known happiness," said Lamb, speaking out of
his own experience, "who has never been mad." And there are many
who taste in dreams a happiness they never know when awake. In
the waking moments of our complex civilized life we are ever in a
state of suspense which makes all great conclusions impossible; the
multiplicity of the facts of life, always present to consciousness, restrains
the free play of logic (except for that happy dreamer, the
mathematician) and surrounds most of our pains and nearly all our
pleasures with infinite qualifications; we are tied down to a sober
tameness. In our dreams the fetters of civilization are loosened, and
we know the fearful joy of freedom.</p>
<p>At the same time it is these characteristics which make dreams
a fit subject of serious study. It was not until the present century
that the psychological importance of the study of insanity was recognized.
So recent is the study of savage mind that the workers who
have laid its foundation are yet all living. The systematic investigation
of children only began yesterday. To-day our dreams begin
to seem to us an allied subject of study, inasmuch as they reveal within
ourselves a means of entering sympathetically into ideas and emotional
attitudes belonging to narrow or ill-adjusted states of consciousness
which otherwise we are now unable to experience. And they
have this further value, that they show us how many abnormal phenomena—possession,
double consciousness, unconscious memory, and
so forth—which have often led the ignorant and unwary to many
strange conclusions, really have a simple explanation in the healthy
normal experience of all of us during sleep. Here, also, it is true
that we ourselves and our beliefs are to some extent "such stuff as
dreams are made of."</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<blockquote>
<p>The harmonious and equitable evolution of man, says President Dabney,
of the University of Tennessee, "does not mean that every man must
be educated just like his fellow. The harmony is within each individual.
That community is most highly educated in which each individual has
attained the maximum of his possibilities in the direction of his peculiar
talents and opportunities."</p></blockquote>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_736" id="Page_736">[Pg 736]</a></span></p>
<h2>THE BEST METHODS OF TAXATION.</h2>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By the Late Hon. DAVID A. WELLS.</span></p>
<h3>PART I.</h3>
<p>This historical survey of tax experience among peoples widely differing
in their economic condition and social relations, and this
examination of the scope and practice of taxation, with especial reference
to the tax systems of the United States as defined and interpreted
by judicial authority, prepare the way for a discussion of the
best methods of taxation for a country situated as is the United States.
General as are the theoretical principles underlying taxation, the application
of these principles to existing conditions must be modified
to meet the long usage and inherited prejudice of the people, and
the form of production or manner of distributing wealth. This holds
true in the face of appearances so opposed to it as to defy definition
and acceptance. No less promising field for an income tax can be
pictured than British India, and few more promising fields than
France. Yet India has borne such a tax for years, while France will
not permit a true tax on income to be adopted as a part of its revenue
system. In the latter country the plea is made that the upper and
middle classes already pay under other forms of taxation more
than their due proportion of the public burdens, and an additional
and necessarily discriminating duty laid upon them will
only make this inequality the greater. Class interest may thus oppose
its veto to a change that promises to reduce the burdens of one
class of taxpayers at the expense of another; or may even oppose a
change that offers the chance of collecting a larger revenue with less
real difficulty and sacrifice on the part of the taxed. No opposition
can set aside even temporarily the great rules that clearly define a
tax from tribute, a legal and beneficial taking by the state of a certain
part of the public wealth from a demand that involves waste or
mischievous expenditure, for which the state or people derive no advantage
commensurate with the cost, or from which individuals obtain
a gain not defensible in justice, and at the expense of only one
part of the community.</p>
<p>After so many centuries of experiment, in which hardly a possible
source of state revenue has escaped attention, some knowledge
of the great principles of taxation might have been evolved. Unfortunately,
the experience of one nation is not accepted as containing
lessons applicable to the needs or conditions of another, and one generation
rarely appeals to history save to defend its own experiments.
Ignorance, half knowledge, which is quite as dangerous, and interest
guide or influence legislation, and those who predict failure or danger<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_737" id="Page_737">[Pg 737]</a></span>
are regarded as theorists, and denounced as unpractical. Nowhere
is the tendency to move independent of enlightened knowledge more
evident than in the United States. At every appearance of the tax
question, State and national legislatures are overwhelmed with
measures that have been tried in the past, and after a thorough test
condemned beyond any hope of defense.</p>
<p>Yet history shows the gradual disappearance of certain forms of
taxation which enjoyed great popularity for a time, and accomplished
the end of their creation in a crude and often cruel manner. Looking
over long periods of time, it is seen that some advances have been
made, rather from a change in the economic condition of the people
than from a true appreciation of the principles in question. The
development of popular liberty has been an essential factor, and the
alterations in tax methods require a close analysis of the causes leading
to the rise and dominance of political and constitutional principle.
While it is true that a popular uprising against fiscal exactions usually
marked the limit of endurance of an oppressive system, it is also true
that the same uprisings marked the completion of one stage of political
development, and the readiness or even the need of entering upon
a new stage. In one sense the progress of a people toward civilization
in its highest meaning may be illustrated by its fiscal machinery
and methods of obtaining its revenue from the people.
It will be of interest to glance at some of these passing phases
which have generally come down to a late day, and are still
to be found in activity in some of the most advanced states of
Europe.</p>
<p>The practice of farming out the revenues of a state or any part
of it has become nearly obsolete, and where it does exist is the mark of
a fiscal machinery as yet not fully developed. The opportunities and
temptation which the contract system offered for oppressing the taxpayers
were apparent long before the state was in a position to assert
its ability to make its own collections. In France the <i>fermiers généraux</i>
were a political factor, standing between the king and his
people, regarded as necessary to the former and as oppressors of the
latter. Their unpopularity, in part justified by their conduct, was
a not unimportant item in the arraignment of royalty by the people.
Wherever introduced, the farming of taxes proved in the long run
as unwise politically as it was unprofitable financially; and the only
reasonable defense for adopting it was the want of strength in the
state to command its own revenue—a want as likely to arise from
the dishonesty of its agents as from a political weakness. In early
times the most universal manner of supplying the treasury of the state,
the farming of taxes has become so rare as to be classed as a curiosity.
Italy still employs this machinery to collect her taxes on tobacco, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_738" id="Page_738">[Pg 738]</a></span>
Spain from necessity has mortgaged her taxes to the bank, with the
task of collecting them.</p>
<p>Of the same general character are the state lotteries, of which
some few and quite important instances may still be found in action.
Of the immorality of these instruments there can be little doubt, and
there is quite as unanimous an opinion as to their inefficiency as fiscal
instruments. Yet it is only within very recent years that state lotteries
have been discarded even in the most advanced countries. The
machinery of lotteries has often been modified, but, no matter how
altered in details, they all have appealed to the love of games of
chance. Adam Smith asserted that the "absurd presumption" of
men in their own good fortune is even more universal than the overweening
conceit which the greater part of men have in their own
abilities.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> Yet another assertion of the same writer is as true: "The
world neither ever saw, nor ever will see, a perfectly fair lottery, or
one in which the whole gain compensated the whole loss." Where
the state undertakes it, there is a profit generally assured to the
state, but that profit is by no means certain, and can not make good the
demoralization introduced among the people. State lotteries are still
a part of the revenue system in Italy and Austria (proper), where the
receipts are important, but show a decided tendency to diminish;
Hungary and Denmark, where they are of little moment; and in
Spain, where they are retained because of the general incapacity of
the administration to reach other and more profitable sources of
revenue. The experience of the State of Louisiana in connection with
a State lottery is too recent to require examination. It is not probable
that once abandoned such an instrument for obtaining money from
the people will be revived, save as a last resort.</p>
<p>The state monopoly in the manufacture and sale of an article for
fiscal purposes holds a place in European countries of high importance,
and is met elsewhere under conditions not so favorable to its
maintenance. As an example of the latter may be cited the colonial
policy of the Dutch in their possessions in the East. After the termination
of the trading companies, the Government undertook the
entire control of the colonies, and sought to make them a source of
revenue. The natives were to be taxed, but, having little of their own
to be taxed, and practicing no occupation that could of its own volition
become a profitable source of revenue, the state undertook to
organize industry, and, by creating an opportunity for employing the
labor of the natives, to receive the profits of production for its own
uses. The native chiefs were made "masters of industry" and collectors
of the revenue; and a certain part of the labor of the natives,
one day in every five, was decreed to the state. In order to derive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_739" id="Page_739">[Pg 739]</a></span>
a profit, this labor must be bestowed in cultivating some product as
find a market in international trade. Hence arose the importance
of the sugar, coffee, tobacco, and spice crops of these Dutch islands,
and for many years a handsome profit to the treasury was obtained
from the management and sales of product. With the great fall in
prices of sugar and coffee throughout the world, and the narrowing
of the market for cane sugar, the Government obtained a less income
each year, and has found it of advantage to relax the conditions surrounding
cultivation, and to throw the management of the plantations
more and more into private hands. To such an extent has this
transition been effected that the state can no longer be considered as
controlling a monopoly in product or sales, and is content with a revenue
from other sources, one that does not even cover the expenses incurred
in the colonial system. This experiment differs widely from
those industries undertaken with the aid or encouragement of the
state to be found in India. It was not with a fiscal object that they
were established, and not infrequently the state sacrifices revenue by
releasing them from tax burdens they would ordinarily endure. As
one of the few remaining instances of the direct participation of a
state in the production of products intended for foreign markets, yet
undertaken and maintained for fiscal reasons, the history of the Dutch
colonies in the East is instructive.</p>
<p>In Prussia the working of certain mines is in the hands of the
state, and was originally looked upon as an important contribution to
the income of the state. As in the Dutch experience, the changes in
production throughout the world have greatly reduced the returns
and made the income variable; yet there is little disposition to dispose
of these possessions. "The danger of mineral supplies being worked in
a reckless and extravagant manner without regard to the welfare of
future generations, and the dread of combinations by the producers of
such commodities as tin, copper, and salt, with the aim of raising
prices, have both tended to hinder the alienation of state mines."<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p>
<p>The more common form of state monopoly is that which occupies
a middle position, established for reasons of public safety or utility
as well as of revenue. The salt monopoly enforced in Prussia was only
abolished in 1867, and is still maintained in every canton of Switzerland.
The strongest plea in its defense has been the guarantee by
the state of the purity of the article sold, and this phase of the question
has superseded the revenue aspect. Few articles of prime necessity,
like salt, are subject to monopolies imposed by the state, and by
a process of elimination it is only articles of luxury or voluntary consumption
that are regarded as fit objects of monopoly for the benefit
of the state.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_740" id="Page_740">[Pg 740]</a></span></p>
<p>A tax imposed upon an article at a certain stage of its production
or manufacture may enforce the expediency or necessity of a state
monopoly. Where the supervision of the state agents must be so
close as to interfere with the conduct of the industry, the state intervenes
and itself controls the manufacture and sale. Tobacco has long
been subject to this fiscal <i>régime</i>, and, proving so productive of revenue,
there is little to be said against a monopoly by the state of its
manufacture and sale.</p>
<p>In Italy the tobacco monopoly is conceded to a company, but its
return of net revenue to the state is nearly as large as the revenue derived
from the taxes on real property (about thirty-eight million dollars
a year). Prussia imposes a charge on the home-grown tobacco by a tax
on the land devoted to its culture, but the return is very small, and
Bismarck wished to introduce a true tobacco monopoly, modeled
on that of France. But the conditions were opposed to his scheme,
for the use of tobacco is general throughout the empire, and a proposition
to increase its price by taxation or modify its free manufacture
and distribution excited a widespread opposition. France maintains
a full monopoly, and finds it too profitable to be lightly set aside
unless some equally profitable source of revenue is discovered to make
good the loss its abolition would involve.</p>
<p>While historical support is given to the maintenance of a monopoly
as in France, it is not probable that the system will find imitators in
other states, however tempting the returns obtained might seem.
Great Britain has by her insular position solved the problem in another
way. By interdicting the domestic cultivation of tobacco, all
that is consumed must be imported, and a customs duty offers a ready
instrument for making the plant, in whatever form it enters, contribute
its dues to the exchequer. In Russia, as in the United States,
where tobacco is a domestic product, the tax is imposed upon its
manufacture, and this method requires supervision but no monopoly
of the state.</p>
<p>The tobacco <i>régime</i> is defended almost entirely on fiscal grounds,
and as a monopoly, an extreme measure, has proved its value as an
instrument of taxation. Other reasons, of a moral character, are
urged to induce the state to monopolize the manufacture and sale of
distilled spirits. Both France and Germany have considered this
question, and, in spite of confident predictions of a large profit, have
decided not to undertake it. Russia, on the other hand, has taken
it up quite as much on social as on revenue grounds, and is gradually
securing a monopoly of the trade in spirits. The initial cost
of the undertaking is large, and, as the system has not yet been perfected,
it is too early to give a judgment on its availability as a financial
instrument.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_741" id="Page_741">[Pg 741]</a></span></p>
<p>The transit dues, once commonly used by different countries, have
been generally abandoned, and in China must they be sought for in
their original forms of vexatious and unprofitable force. They arose
from a desire to derive some benefit from a commerce permitted
grudgingly, and rarely attaining any high results. The same end was
sought by duties on exports, much employed when the country was
supposed to be drained of its wealth by what was sent out of it. The
conditions necessary for a successful duty on exports are not often
found, and only in a few countries are they now existent. In Italy,
South America, and Asia, exports of certain natural products are
taxed, and, as in the case of Brazil, yield a notable revenue. In
view of the rapid advancement of production in new countries and
of inventions in the old, whereby many natural monopolies have been
destroyed and competition made more general, such duties prove to be
more obstructive to trade than productive of revenue, and are rapidly
being abandoned. In spite of a formal prohibition of export duties
in the Constitution of the United States, they are sometimes suggested
in all seriousness.</p>
<p>In thus clearing the path of what may be called dead or dying
methods of recent tax systems, the advantages enjoyed by the United
States in their freedom from such survivals become more evident.
The practice of farming taxes never gained a foothold in any part of
the country. Lotteries have been occasional, and with two exceptions
have been conducted on a limited scale—that of Louisiana is
well known; an earlier instance is less known. During the Revolution
one of the means resorted to by the Continental Congress for
income was a lottery, but the attempt proved disastrous to all concerned,
and was finally abandoned even more thoroughly than was
the continental currency. State monopolies of production and sale
of any commodity have never met with favor, and stand condemned
in the desire for individual initiative. As sources of revenue, the
public lands, state control of the post office, and of such municipal
undertakings as the water and, in a very few cases, the gas
supply, has been employed, and in place of profit the mere cost of
management is sought. More than any country of continental Europe,
the United States has depended upon taxes, pure and simple,
unsupported or modified by state domains, state mines, state manufactures,
or state monopolies. Even Great Britain in her local
taxation is bound and hampered by precedent, and pursues a system
that is notoriously confused, costly, and vexatious. Long usage and
the erection of independent and conflicting authorities on principles
other than fiscal have imposed upon the local agents the duty of
assessing and collecting county and borough taxes which are as indefensible
in theory as they are difficult in practice.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_742" id="Page_742">[Pg 742]</a></span></p>
<p>From this weight of tradition and precedent the United States has
been almost entirely free, and it was possible to construct out of small
beginnings systems of Federal and State taxation at least reasonable
and consistent, producing an increasing revenue with the rapid development
of wealth and the larger number of taxable objects; and
so elastic as to adapt themselves to such changes as are inevitable in any
progressive movement of commerce or industry. That no such system
has resulted after a century of national life, and an even longer
term of local (colonial and State) activities, these papers have tended
to show. That the time is at hand when the problem of a thorough
reform of both State and Federal taxation must be met, current facts
prove beyond any doubt. If I have aided in a proper comprehension
of these problems, and, by collecting certain experiences in taxation
among other peoples and in different stages of civilization, contributed
toward a proper solution, the end of this work will have been
attained. It is not possible to introduce a complete change of policy
at once; it is not only feasible but necessary to indicate the direction
this change should take, and the ends to be secured in making them.
And first as to Federal taxation:</p>
<p>In a democracy like that of the United States, the continuance
of a mixed system of direct and indirect taxes is a foregone conclusion.
Not that there is an absence of change or modification in the
details of this double system, or in the application or distribution of a
particular impost or duty. To deny such modification is to deny any
movement in the body politic, or any progress in the industrial and
commercial economy of the people. There is a steady and continuous
movement in every direction, and the mere effort to escape taxation
results in a new adjustment of related facts. This development
has, partly through necessity and partly through a rising consciousness
of what a tax implies, been tending from indirect to direct
taxes. Ever restive under a rigid supervision by the state of private
concerns, there has been a wholesome opposition to inquisitorial taxes.
But this opposition has been carried too far, and is due more to the
ignorant and at times brutal disregard by the agents selected for enforcing
the law than to an appreciation of the injustice of the tax.
Whether in customs or excise, the same blunders of management
have been committed, and created a spirit in the people that is injurious
to their best interests. On the one hand, private enterprises have
been unduly favored by the removal of foreign competition, a favor
that is now disappearing through the remarkable development of
domestic competition. Thus taxes have been extensively used for
other purposes than to obtain revenue, and for private ends. On
the other hand, there has been created the feeling that taxation is
a proper instrument for effecting a more equal distribution of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_743" id="Page_743">[Pg 743]</a></span>
wealth among the people, and readily becomes an instrument of
oppression.</p>
<p>The almost absolute dependence of the Federal Government upon
the customs duties for revenue through a great part of its existence was
a striking fact. The simplicity of collection and the comparatively
moderate scale of duties, although considered high at the time of
imposition, gave this branch of the possible sources of revenue a magnified
importance. The development of the country was slow, and
at times greatly hampered by the tariff policy; but until about 1857
no other source of income was needed to meet the expenditures of
the Government in a time of peace.</p>
<p>In recent years this has all changed, and not for the better. The
immense development in manufactures and financial ability accomplished
since 1860 has made a tariff for protection an anachronism.
The political features of customs legislation have been pushed so far
as almost to overshadow the fiscal qualities. The wave of protectionism
that followed the abrogation of the commercial treaties of Europe
about 1880 has resulted in tariffs framed with the desire to injure the
commerce of other states rather than to meet the needs of a treasury.
In the United States this policy has been carried beyond that of Europe,
and the tariff now in existence is more protective than any
hitherto enforced, short of absolute prohibition of imports.</p>
<p>In more respects than one the tariff law of 1897 was an extreme
application of the protective policy. Each year the United States has
demonstrated its ability not only to meet the industrial competition
of the world on an equal footing, but to engage with it aggressively
and with complete success. It is not necessary to give the figures of
exports of manufactures to establish this fact; it is now beyond question.
To frame a measure of extreme protection was, therefore, to
overlook the most striking phase of the industrial situation existing in
the United States. With an ability to manufacture cheaply and on
a grand scale, and with a capacity to supply the demands of a market
larger than any home market, there was no foreign competition to
encounter, and the higher rates of duties meant nothing, either for
protection or for revenue. In carrying further into action a tariff
framed more for protection than for revenue, a twofold error was
committed. The provisions were so complicated as to make the application
difficult, and in applying these provisions inquisitorial and
vexatious regulations were necessary to assure even a reasonable fulfillment
of the requirements. In former tariff laws a general description
carried a large class of articles, and a uniform duty, usually <i>ad
valorem</i>, was collected. But under the demand for a more scientific
tariff, these general classes were broken up into a number of enumerated
articles, each one carrying a specific or mixed duty, and an omnium<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_744" id="Page_744">[Pg 744]</a></span>
or basket clause at the end to catch any article that could not be included
in any enumeration. This desire to fix specific rates upon
each imported commodity has been applied more generally in the
law of 1897 than in any previous tariff act. An examination of the
imports of manufactures of textile fibers will illustrate this increase
of complexity without any increase of revenue. Indeed, these classifications
and rates, being suggested by interested parties, have for
their object a reduction of imports, and as a rule a reduction in revenue
from them follows.</p>
<p>The second objection to the increasing complexity of the tariff
laws is to be found in the petty annoyances imposed upon importers
and others in enforcing the not always consistent provisions of the
law. These vexations are made all the more telling by the fact that
the administration of the law is apt to be in the hands of those who are
openly hostile to foreign importations, and therefore regard the importer
in an unfriendly spirit. The power given to the customs
agents is enormous, and it is not remarkable that it is abused. The
demand for samples, the appraisement of articles, the classification
of new or compound commodities, all offer room for controversy,
which is not always decided by an appeal to the courts of justice.
In special instances, where a section of the law has been framed in
behalf of a special interest, the attempt to enforce it becomes petty
tyranny of the most intolerable kind.</p>
<p>In operation the law soon exhibited its failure as a revenue measure.
Although duties were generally increased, the more important
articles taxed yielded a smaller revenue than under lower rates.
The aggregate collections under the bill did not meet the expectations
of its sponsors, and for two reasons: first, because the higher duties
discouraged imports; and secondly, the demand for imported articles
was steadily decreasing under the expanding ability of home manufactures
to meet the needs of the market. No measure short of a
direct encouragement to importations can change this situation, or
prevent the further shrinkage in the use of foreign manufactures.
It follows that the tariff, unless radically altered, can no longer be depended
on for a return sufficient to defray one half of the rapidly
increasing expenditures of the national Government. By refusing
to impose moderate duties on articles of general consumption, revenue
is sacrificed; by insisting upon imposing protective duties where little
revenue can be had, the tariff is converted into a political weapon.
Its dangerous qualities are strengthened by turning these duties
against the products of certain countries, a policy specially fit to invite
reprisals.</p>
<p>Even the framers of this latest tariff entertained the belief that
some provision should be made for breaking its full effect. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_745" id="Page_745">[Pg 745]</a></span>
familiar scheme for reciprocity treaties, under which moderate concessions
in some of the duties could be made, was retained; but France
was the only power that could have an object in seriously entertaining
the proposition to enter into a negotiation. No real reduction
in duties could be given to Germany or any other country, and it
has become a recognized fact that Germany does not hesitate to seize
an opportunity to exclude the products of the United States, and on
the same grounds as support the high duties in the American tariff.
The system of drawbacks has ceased to be of much moment in our
customs policy, and in the export interest in canned goods finds its
chief exercise. Nor does a privilege to manufacture in bond affect
more than one article of importance—ores of lead containing silver.
No matter how it is regarded, the tariff of 1897 was not framed for
revenue, and in experience has not proved sufficiently productive to
meet its share of the expenditures of Government. The animus of
its sponsors in attaining the immediate political object sacrificed the
more important and permanent object of revenue.</p>
<p>Were the true object of customs duties—revenue—to be kept in
view in tariff legislation, it would be a simple matter to devise a
measure that would be satisfactory and highly productive of revenue.
In the fifteen hundred or more articles enumerated in the tariff
schedules, more than fourteen hundred are nonproductive, or yield so
small a return as to have in the aggregate no appreciable effect on
the total receipts. The number left after so large an exclusion can
be still further reduced without reducing the revenue one tenth;
and it is from a small number of articles, hardly twenty-five, that the
great part of the customs revenue is obtained. By reducing the rates
of duties on these to a point of highest revenue efficiency, at which the
import is not interfered with and yet not encouraged, a higher return
could be had than from the existing complicated, overloaded,
and political compilation of duties, usually imposed for any reason
other than what they will bring into the treasury.</p>
<p>When, therefore, the best methods of Federal taxation are
broached, the reform of the tariff stands first in importance. It is
necessary to bring it more into line with the industrial conditions of
to-day, which call for foreign markets rather than a domestic or
closed market; and for a liberal commercial policy in place of one that
regards the products of other countries, whether imported in the
crude or manufactured forms, as constituting a menace to American
labor and American interests. It calls for a systematic and intelligent
revision, which shall throw out such duties as are no longer of
service even for protection, and to reduce those that are hostile to the
products of other countries and bear in themselves the seeds of reprisals
in the future. Now that the United States is going into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_746" id="Page_746">[Pg 746]</a></span>
great markets with its manufactures, and obtaining a foothold against
all competitors, the invitation to retaliation holds a danger far greater
to its own interests than any that can be inflicted on other peoples.
The greater the advances made the more readily will recourse be had
to reprisals and hostile legislation; and in support of every act appeal
may be had to examples set by the United States.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2>MENTAL DEFECTIVES AND THE SOCIAL WELFARE.</h2>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By MARTIN W. BARR, M. D.</span>,</p>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap lowercase">CHIEF PHYSICIAN, PENNSYLVANIA TRAINING SCHOOL FOR FEEBLE-MINDED CHILDREN, ELWYN, PA.</span></p>
<p>Periods of extraordinary efflorescence or fruitage are followed
by exhaustion and sterility not infrequently demanding the free
use of the pruning knife; and, just as we remark how frequent is
idiocy the offspring of genius, so do we find the same seeming paradox,
of mental defect in rank and increasing growth the product of this
most wonderful nineteenth century.</p>
<p>True, science has contributed to numbers by revealing as mental
defectives the many "misunderstood," "the backward," "the feebly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_747" id="Page_747">[Pg 747]</a></span>
gifted," as well as by showing what was once esteemed moral perversion
to be moral imbecility; but a truth to which science also
attests is, that unstable nerve centers uniting and reacting through
successive generations, producing various forms of neuroses, evidenced
in insanity, moral and mental imbecility, idiocy and epilepsy, do
show the influence of a highly nervous age.</p>
<p>Our last census reports, although necessarily uncertain and unreliable,
yet show ninety thousand mental defectives, not including
the insane. Unrecognized and unacknowledged cases swell the number
easily to one hundred thousand within our present borders—how
many we are going to annex remains to be seen; but this is an enemy
that attacks not our frontiers but our hearthstones. We have
reached that point when we must conquer it, lest it should conquer
us, and the means to this end may be summed up in three words—separation,
asexualization, and permanent sequestration. "Diseases
desperate grown by desperate appliances are relieved, or not at all,"
and we must recognize that heroic measures now are as essential to
the welfare of the unfortunate as to society, which will then naturally
adjust itself to new conditions. Viewing the separation and massing
of these irresponsibles—innocent victims of ignorance, debauchery,
or selfish lust—men will come to realize that a greater crime than
taking is the giving of such life; and so a greater reverence for
the sacredness of marriage, a deeper sense of the great responsibilities
of parenthood, will do more to avert this evil than the most stringent
marriage laws. That the present demands some restraint upon the
ignorant and the indifferent there can be no doubt, and laws preventing
the marriage of defectives and of their immediate descendants
would go far to stem the tide of harmful heredity.</p>
<p>But what to do with those now in our midst is the vital question!
They must be provided for in a way that shall insure safety to society,
economy to the State, and protection and happiness to the individual.
The answer found in the experience of half a century is, briefly,
asylums for the helpless—training schools and colonies for those capable
of becoming helpful. These in very name and nature being
widely separate, just as separate as titles and names indicate, should
be their working systems. Work among the feeble-minded, a philanthropic
movement directed first toward the idiot, soon found a limit
in dealing with a subject not trainable and but slightly if at all improvable.
Thence, diverging and broadening as idiocy became better
understood and imbecility in various phases became recognized, it
found its true province in strengthening and encouraging feeble intellects,
arousing and stimulating indolent and weak wills, and in
training and directing into healthful channels the abnormal energy
of those destitute of the moral sense. How wide the divergence can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_748" id="Page_748">[Pg 748]</a><br /><a name="Page_749" id="Page_749">[Pg 749]</a></span>
readily be seen, as also how entirely incompatible with union must
be work further apart in reality than is the training of an imbecile
and a normal child.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 748px;">
<img src="images/illo_033_excitable.jpg" width="748" height="384" alt="Excitable Idiot. Practically unimprovable. - Apathetic Idiot. Practically unimprovable. - Idio-Imbecile. But slight hope of improvement." />
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="illo caption">
<tr><td><span class="smcap"><b>Excitable Idiot.</b></span><br />Practically unimprovable.</td>
<td><span class="smcap"><b>Apathetic Idiot.</b></span><br />Practically unimprovable.</td>
<td><span class="smcap"><b>Idio-Imbecile.</b></span><br />But slight hope of improvement.</td></tr>
</table></div>
<p>For the idiot, who not only can not be trained, but who in many
cases is unimprovable even in the simplest matters of self-help, nothing
is needed but that care and attention found in every well-regulated
nursery of delicate children, the <i>sine qua non</i> being regular hours,
simple nourishing food, frequent baths, and tender mothering. As
many are paralyzed, blind, lame, or epileptic, it is desirable that the
dormitories, well ventilated, be on the same floor with the living rooms
and of easy access to bathrooms and playgrounds. Covered and
carefully guarded porches should afford the much-needed fresh air
and outdoor life in all weathers. These, with cheerful, sunny playrooms,
provided with simple toys and furnished with bright decorations
varying with the season, will contribute the maximum of pleasure
for this life of perpetual infancy. Low vitality, general poverty of
the whole physical make-up, the prevalence of phthisis and epilepsy
and kindred diseases require the daily inspection of a physician, while
the comfort and well-being of the whole, both workers and children,
are insured by a capable and sympathetic house mother.</p>
<p>The character of attendants is of the first importance, as these are
they who live with the children; it should combine that firmness, tenderness,
and balance that constitute an even temperament, capable
of recognizing and meeting an occasion without loss of self-control.
The duties involve not only the care of the idiots, but the training and
direction of idio-imbeciles as aids, and this dealing with natures often
wholly animal, requires a certain refinement and dignity of character—at
least an entire absence of coarseness—while a knowledge of the
simpler manual arts, and if possible of drawing and music, will do
much to soften and brighten these darkened natures. As these qualities
are valuable as well as rare, the remuneration should be in proportion;
certainly sufficient to induce permanency and to compensate
for such isolation. A life of constant wear and tear demands also
regular periods of rest, and the corps therefore should be sufficiently
large to give relief hours daily as well as vacations.</p>
<p>The idio-imbecile, but one remove from his weaker brother, to
whose wants he may be trained to minister, finds here his fitting place,
and the domestic service of these asylums may be largely drawn
from this class and also from that of the low-grade imbecile. Working
as an aid, never alone, always under direction, he finds in a
monotonous round of the simplest daily avocations his life happiness,
his only safety from lapsing into idiocy, and therefore his true home.</p>
<p>The relief to the home, the actual benefit to the State in this
housing and care of the idiot and idio-imbecile can never be fully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_750" id="Page_750">[Pg 750]</a></span>
estimated. It is reckoned, however, in a general way that for every
idiot sequestrated the energies of two if not four normal persons are
returned to society.</p>
<p>Imbecility, mental or moral, congenital or accidental, is either an
inherent defect or an irrecoverable loss, an incurable disease for which
hospitals can do nothing, nor can reformatories form again that which
never has been formed. Could language be made clear enough to
enable the public mind to grasp this fact, the work of training schools,
the only hope of the imbecile, would then be simplified, and people
might be willing to accept what they can give, in the only way in
which it can be given, to be of any permanent value. As it is, the
few charlatans who profess to train and in a few years send out an
imbecile ready to take a high-school or college course not only deceive
those from whom they may gather a few thousands, but their representations,
coupled with that of a sensational press, effectually impede
the progress of a work which must eventually find its true place
in the system of public education.</p>
<p>Influenced by these misrepresentations, parents come with profound
idiots and high hopes of a course of training (here is one of the
misfortunes of an idiot asylum within a training school), and simply
refuse to accept a negative to their expectations. Again—to waifs and
strays, high-grade imbeciles, developing after years of labored training
proficiency in music, drawing, or some one of the industrial arts,
friends will suddenly crop up and, dazzled by what seems phenomenal
genius, seek to withdraw them just as they become useful to the community.
Little do they know of the weak will, indolent nature,
and utter lack of "go," that forbid competition with normal labor
and must forever be subject to the will of another; still less of the weak
physical build that is kept intact only by watchful care, and which
would succumb to any undue hardship. So much for the difficulties
that beset the work. Now as to the work itself.</p>
<p>As this must vary according to the status of the individual, a
careful study and a correct diagnosis are of primary importance in
order that the work may be fitted to the child, not the child to the
work. The plan pursued is as follows: A thorough examination—physical,
mental, and moral—is first made by the chief physician in
connection with papers properly filled out giving personal and family
history. He is then sent to the hospital for a fortnight to insure
immunity from disease. There, while perfectly free and unrestrained
among his fellows, he is under constant observation of the nurses;
these observations, carefully noted, are returned to the chief physician,
who turns both over to the principal of schools, designating the
grade in which he is to enter for probation. Here under different
environment he is again tested for some weeks and finally placed.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_751" id="Page_751">[Pg 751]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 748px;">
<img src="images/illo_036_high.jpg" width="748" height="394" alt="High-grade Imbecile. - High-grade Imbecile. Very improvable—can read, write, draw, etc. - Low-grade Imbecile. Only slightly improvable." />
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="illo caption">
<tr><td><span class="smcap"><b>High-grade Imbecile.</b></span></td>
<td><span class="smcap"><b>High-grade Imbecile.</b></span><br />Very improvable—can read, write, draw, etc.</td>
<td><span class="smcap"><b>Low-grade Imbecile.</b></span><br />Only slightly improvable.</td></tr>
</table></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_752" id="Page_752">[Pg 752]</a></span></p>
<p>It is hard for the uninitiated to understand that the grade, be it
high, middle, or low, is not associated with promotion and advancement
as in schools for normal children. On the contrary, it signifies
the quality and status of the individual, his limitations, his
possibilities, and consequently determines almost unfailingly the training
for his life work; not by any hard-and-fast lines, but by a general
mapping out of means which experience has proved will best insure
his development, because best suited to his needs. Every latitude is
allowed and, as the comfort of both the teacher and the entire class
depends upon each going to his own place, there is easy and natural
transference according to the necessity indicated by either progress
or retrogression; but the varied occupations in each grade give ample
scope for indulgence of individual proclivity in the means of development,
and it is found that the original diagnosis, based upon experience,
rarely errs.</p>
<p>The motto of the schools—"We learn by doing; the working
hand makes strong the working brain"—shows manual training to be
the basis of the scheme of development, varied for each grade to suit
the intelligence. Thus classified, various occupations are arranged
and presented with the double intent of securing all-round development,
and of giving at the same time opportunity for choice according
to individual bent, the child being gradually permitted to devote
himself more exclusively to that in which he shows a tendency to
excel, and to gain a certain automatic ease in what shall prove the
initial of a life employment. A knowledge of writing and of numbers
is acquired incidentally as a necessary part of these occupations
in daily practice, and arithmetic, taught with objects, is chiefly counting,
separating into fractional parts, and practical measurements.
Books are used rather as a convenient means of attracting and holding
attention while inducing habits of consecutive thinking than for
a knowledge of facts to be memorized. Those who can learn to read
gain naturally a means of self-entertainment, of self-instruction,
hence a certain amount of culture, so long as protected in an institution
from indiscriminate and pernicious literature.</p>
<p>The low-grade imbecile, but a slight degree removed from the idio-imbecile,
is, like him, totally incapable of grasping artificial signs or
symbols. He can therefore never learn to read or write; figures have
no meaning for him, nor numbers, beyond the very simplest counting
acquired in the daily repetition of some simple task such as knitting,
netting, braiding rope, straw, or knotting twine. The excitation of
interest in these, which will also give hand and arm power, the arousing
of the sluggish, indolent will, through the stimulus of pleasurable
emotions, the physical development by means of the various drills and
the moral influence of refined, orderly surroundings—these, together<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_753" id="Page_753">[Pg 753]</a><br /><a name="Page_754" id="Page_754">[Pg 754]</a></span>
with some practical work of house, garden, or farm, which forms part
of the daily routine, are all that school life can do for him.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 748px;">
<img src="images/illo_038_moral.jpg" width="748" height="430" alt="Moral Imbecile of High Grade. - Moral Imbecile of Middle Grade. - Moral Imbecile, Low Grade." />
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="100%" summary="illo caption">
<tr><td><span class="smcap"><b>Moral Imbecile<br />of High Grade.</b></span></td>
<td><span class="smcap"><b>Moral Imbecile<br />of Middle Grade.</b></span></td>
<td><span class="smcap"><b>Moral Imbecile,<br />Low Grade.</b></span></td></tr>
</table></div>
<p>From this preparation he passes to the industrial department,
where he receives training in that occupation which the school has
indicated for him, becoming in his limited way a useful and contented
member of a community which should be his life home. As
both of these types develop either extreme docility or perversity—the
one quiet, gentle, obedient, following any suggestion even of a comrade's
stronger will; the other obstinate, indolent, often brutal and
cruel—the necessity for constant guardianship is therefore self-evident.</p>
<p>When we consider that the training of a high-grade imbecile takes
four times the period commonly allotted to a normal child, some idea
of the vital energy expended on the training of the lower grades may
be found in the following example:</p>
<p>I find in our museum of educational work a little ball which I
am inclined to regard the most valuable thing in the whole collection.
The boy who made it was a low-grade imbecile. His hand against every
man, he fancied every man's against him. Always under strict custodial
care, that he might harm neither himself nor others, he would
vent his spleen in tearing his clothing. His teacher, a woman of
rare patience and devotedness, sat beside him one day, tearing strips
of old linen and laying them in order. "See, Willie, let us make
some pretty strips and lay them so." His wonder grew apace at seeing
her doing what he had been reproved for doing; at once he responded,
and a new bond of sympathy was established between them.
She was playing his game—the only one, poor little lad, that he was
capable of—and he joined in.</p>
<p>"Now, we will draw out the pretty threads and lay them in rows."
For weeks the boy found quiet pastime in this occupation, and the
violent nature grew quieter in proportion. One day the teacher said,
"Let us tie these threads together and make a long string." It took
him months and months to learn to tie those knots, but meanwhile
his attendants were having breathing space. "Now we will wind
this into a pretty ball, and I will cover all you make for the boys to
play with"; and a new occupation was added to his meager list.</p>
<p>The next link in this chain of development was a lesson in knitting.
Again, through months of patient teaching, it was at last accomplished,
and the boy to the day of his death found his life happiness
in knitting caps for the children, in place of tearing both them
and their clothing. You see the teacher was wise enough to utilize the
natural activities of the child and divert evil propensities into healthful
channels. Had she brought knitting and bright yarn or anything
foreign to him first, it would in truth have been fitting new cloth to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_755" id="Page_755">[Pg 755]</a></span>
old garments and the rent would have been widened: his obstinacy
would have been aroused, and he would have continued to tear to
the end of the chapter.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
<img src="images/illo_040_high.jpg" width="600" height="459" alt="High-grade Imbeciles" />
<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">High-grade Imbeciles (Feebly Gifted) at Sloyd Work.</span></span>
</div>
<p>The imbecile of middle grade receives that fuller presentation of
work suited to fuller capacity. Some time is devoted to the three
"Rs," as it is found that attention may be aroused and concentrated in
the phonetic drills, more especially if associated with pictures, and
the drawing of the objects named free-hand; thus eye, ear, and hand
are encouraged to work simultaneously. Those who accomplish
finally the reading of short simple stories not only enjoy evenings in
the library, but may be enabled to glean suggestions for the various
handicrafts for which they are being trained. This effort at quick
observation and original thinking is further carried forward in the
ambidextrous movements of free-hand drawing, designing, and
sketching from life—finding ready and practical application in the
daily use of tools. The value of the rule and the try-square is tested
in the manufacture of the various useful articles in both paper and
wood included under the head of sloyd, and "a boy can not learn to
take a straight shaving off a plank," says Ruskin, "or to drive a fine
curve without faltering, or to lay a brick level in the mortar, without
learning a multitude of other matters which life of man could never
teach him."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_756" id="Page_756">[Pg 756]</a></span></p>
<p>Equally useful to the girl in the workroom as to the boy in the
shop is this training of a ready eye, this quick intuition of balance and
proportion, this practice of obedience of hand and arm to brain, until
it becomes automatic. To both, therefore, the value of such preparation
will be incalculable. It is noticeable that boys of this grade
turn out as good workers in the ordinary crafts of shoemaking, carpentering,
and house painting as those of higher grade who, although
capable of grasping more intelligently the details of work, yet do not
bring to it that energy and perseverance of one who finds in it "this
one thing I do." With the imbecile of high grade, able to accomplish
studies equal to about the first intermediate of the public schools, there
is a diffusion of interest; the intelligence broadens rather than deepens
during the school period in natural response to environment. With
greater grasp of numerical values and of letters he attains proficiency
impossible to the lower grades in drawing, in music, in printing, and
in cabinet work. Other industries will probably be provided for him
as the demand increases, for it must be remembered that this is a
class whose needs have been the last to be recognized in a work begun,
as I have before said, for the idiot. Regarded as queer, unlike
other children—unable to keep up—he has, after an unsuccessful trial
at school, been kept at home, in some cases an aid, in others a tyrant,
to those relatives charged with his care.</p>
<p>Changed conditions of both family and school, fortunately for
him, combine to render this no longer possible, as absence of proper
training is always certain to result in deterioration. The pressure
upon the primary schools in the struggle for higher education leaves
no time to contend with dull, backward children. In the family the
care-takers grow fewer in proportion as the home-makers become
home-winners, and so these feeble ones are a burden instead of an
aid in the ordinary household offices.</p>
<p>The next hope is a training school where, with false hopes fostered
by ignorance and sensationalism, they are entered, and after a
few years, a time all too short for any lasting benefit, a sentimentality
equally stupid withdraws them from that guardianship absolutely
essential, with just that little knowledge which will render them
more dangerous to society, because less recognizable—an evil element
perpetuating an evil growth. Under both conditions these unfortunates
have suffered from that lack of constant care and supervision
which should be theirs from the cradle to the grave.</p>
<p>The separation of backward children in the schools and the placing
of them in special classes for special training is the first step in
the right direction. Here, after sufficient time for observation and
diagnosing by teacher and physician, the defectives so adjudged will
naturally drift to the training schools for the feeble-minded; these,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_757" id="Page_757">[Pg 757]</a></span>
if relieved of the odium as well as the care of their helpless population,
will then be encouraged to arrange for this brighter class of
defectives industries which will provide not only for development and
happiness, but will largely aid in maintenance. The recognition of
the necessity for this weeding out of the schools, having place first
on the Continent, next in England, and later in our own country,
marks an era in the national as well as in the special schools. Both
will be benefited largely, and formal expression of this, found in the
addition to our National Educational Association of a department
representing the training of all classes of defectives, is one of the most
encouraging signs of the times.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
<img src="images/illo_042_middle.jpg" width="600" height="473" alt="Middle-grade Imbeciles." />
<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Middle-grade Imbeciles.</span></span>
</div>
<p>The same experience which dictates the separation of the idiot
from the imbecile, the backward from the normal child, urges also
that a permanent sequestration would tend alike to the safety and
happiness of the normal and abnormal classes. The experiment made
of preparing and sending out into the world these irresponsibles has
proved, to say the least, not encouraging, and the advisability of their
permanent detention has become self-evident.</p>
<p>The heads of training schools here are a unit in urging that provision
be made for those who have reached the limit of school progress.
That experience has reached a similar conclusion in England is testified<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_758" id="Page_758">[Pg 758]</a></span>
in the munificent gift lately made to the Royal Albert Asylum,
and by the opinion of its superintendent, Dr. T. Telford-Smith, thus
clearly expressed:</p>
<p>"It is yearly more noticeable that the public mind is coming
gradually but surely to recognize the threefold value of the work of
such institutions as the Royal Albert Asylum. The educational
and the custodial aspects early
aroused the sympathies of the
charitable; but the preventive aspect
is another which must force
itself upon all who thoughtfully
consider the subject. The far-reaching
and inexorable law of
heredity is written large for those
who study the imbecile."</p>
<p>The following paragraph,
from a daily paper, shows that, in
America at least, public opinion
and the acts of the legislature
have become ripe for action:</p>
<p>"The State of Connecticut is
about to try a curious experiment
in social legislation, having passed
a law forbidding any man or
woman, imbecile or feeble-minded,
to marry under forty-five
years of age, the penalty being
imprisonment for not less than
three years; and persons aiding
and abetting are also liable. The
hope of the legislature is to keep
down dégenerate families."</p>
<p>That this experiment is wise
and justifiable who can doubt?</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 290px;">
<img src="images/illo_043_low.jpg" width="290" height="600" alt="Low-grade Imbeciles. No. 1, obstinate,
perverse, indolent; No. 2, gentle and
obedient." />
<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Low-grade Imbeciles.</span><br />
No. 1, obstinate, perverse, indolent;<br />
No. 2, gentle and obedient.</span></div>
<p>To glance at another and
sadder, but not less real, side of
the same question, can any one doubt but that the adolescent and adult
female imbecile needs lifelong care and protection? Surely the noble
gift to the asylum by Sir Thomas Storey of a home for forty such cases
is a wise, far-seeing, and statesmanlike act.</p>
<p>It is greatly to be hoped that this noble example may be speedily
emulated on both sides of the sea, and that each State may shortly
possess, in addition to its training school, its own colony farm with all
the industries of a village, drawing its workers from the well-directed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_759" id="Page_759">[Pg 759]</a></span>
energies of a carefully guarded community. Cottages, each with its
house mother, would insure that sense of home, and that affectionate
and sympathetic oversight so essential to this society composed of
those who are always children, while measures, which science has
already pointed out and experience proved as advisable, might, if protected
by wise legislation, permit less vigilance on the part of care-takers
and consequent happiness because of greater freedom to its
members.</p>
<p>It is a happy coincidence that Massachusetts, the pioneer State in
the work among the feeble-minded, should in its fifty-first year celebrate
the beginning of its second half century by the inauguration of
this most eventful step in the onward progress of the work. The
training school at Waltham has lately purchased sixteen hundred and
sixty acres of land for the establishment of a colony which is to have
natural and healthful growth from the fostering care of the parent
institution.</p>
<p>As these colonies increase, drawing from society a pernicious element
and transforming it under watchful care into healthful growth,
may not in time the national Government, finding these homes of
prevention a more excellent way than prison houses of cure for ill, be
induced to provide a national colony for this race more to be commiserated
because of a childhood more hopeless than that of the two
others in our midst on whom so much has been expended?</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2>THE WHEAT PROBLEM AGAIN.</h2>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By EDWARD ATKINSON.</span></p>
<p>In a recent article in the North American Review, Mr. John Hyde,
the statistician of the United States Department of Agriculture,
a gentleman of very high authority and repute, presents this problem
in such terms as to throw a doubt upon the validity of any forecast
of the potential increase in the product of wheat, or, in fact, of any
crop in this country. Without referring to myself by name, he yet
makes it very plain that he does not attach any value to my recent
forecast of wheat production printed in the Popular Science Monthly
for December, 1898.</p>
<p>On the other hand, he rightly says that since Tyndall's address to
the British Association for the Advancement of Science in 1874 no
treatise presented to that association has excited so general an interest
or provoked so much unfavorable criticism as Sir William Crookes's
recent utterances on the subject of the approaching scarcity in the
supply of wheat.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_760" id="Page_760">[Pg 760]</a></span></p>
<p>Mr. Hyde disclaims any intention to give his own views, but yet
no one can read his treatise without noting a substantial agreement
with Sir William Crookes, perhaps almost unconsciously to himself.
In his closing paragraph he says: "To discuss the extent to which
under conceivable conditions the United States may, <i>notwithstanding
the somewhat dubious outlook</i>, still continue to contribute to the food
supply of other nations, would be little more than speculation."</p>
<p>The Italics are my own.</p>
<p>I venture to point out that the use of the word "speculation" is
an example of many instances. Like a dog, one may give a word a
bad name, yet it may be a good dog and a very good word when
rightly used. In the true and very innocent meaning of the word
"speculation" we find exactly what the public has a right to expect
and even to demand from the Department of Agriculture. In Webster's
Dictionary I find that, when used in such a connection as this
problem of the potential of this country in farm productions, the word
"speculation" stands for "a mental view of anything in its various
aspects and relations; contemplation; intellectual examination."</p>
<p>If any "mental view" has yet been taken in the Department of
Agriculture of the proportion of the land of this country which may
be termed "arable," I have yet to find the record. If any "contemplation"
has been devoted to the proportions of this arable land
which may be devoted to different crops in each section, I have been
remiss in not securing the reports. If any "mental view" has been
taken of the relative area now devoted to each principal crop, and
that which may be so devoted hereafter in order to meet the prospective
demand upon the land, either for the supply of our own population
or of other nations, where is the record? If there is no such
"speculation" now of record, is it not time that a true agricultural
survey corresponding to our geologic and geodetic surveys should be
entered upon? I have reason to believe that such surveys have been
made by many European states in which all the arable land in some
kingdoms is classified, listed, and so recorded that any one wishing to
know the best place for any special product can get the information
by reference to the proper department of the Government.</p>
<p>I have had occasion to make several studies of this kind. In order
to inform myself on the potential of the South in the production
of cotton, I undertook a study of the physical geography and climatology
of the cotton States and of other cotton-producing countries
nearly forty years ago. The results of this research were first given in
Cheap Cotton by Free Labor, published in 1861. In that pamphlet
and in many treatises following, finally in an address in Atlanta, in
1880, a true forecast or "speculation" or "intellectual examination"
will be found of the production of the cotton fiber, the potential<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_761" id="Page_761">[Pg 761]</a></span>
of the future and of the cotton-seed-oil industry, then almost unheard
of in this country. In 1880 I also entered upon my first "speculation"
(not in the market) on the lines of a "contemplation" or
forecast of the effect of agricultural machinery applied to our wheat
land, coupled with the prospective reduction in the cost of carrying
wheat to England, upon the condition of the American farmer and
the British landlord. That forecast of prosperity to our farmers in
the supply of bread at low cost to our kin beyond the sea has been
justified at every point and in every detail. I therefore ventured to
review Sir William Crookes's address, and I am well assured that what
Mr. Hyde now calls a "somewhat dubious outlook" is subject to no
doubt whatever as to our ability to continue our full supply for domestic
consumption and export for the next century.</p>
<p>Let me now repeat again what I have often said: statistics are
good servants, but very bad masters. I long since ceased to put any
great reliance upon averages of crops, wages, or products covering
wide areas and varying conditions, unless I could find out, <i>first</i>, the
personal equation of the man who compiled them; <i>second</i>, ascertain
what he knew himself about the subject of which his statistics or
figures were the symbols; and, <i>third</i>, unless I could verify these great
averages from one or more typical areas of farm land, or from one or
more representative factories or workshops, of the conditions of which
I could myself obtain personal information.</p>
<p>General statistics and averages of farm products and earnings I
regard with more suspicion than almost any others because of the immense
variation in conditions.</p>
<p>I have sometimes almost come to the conclusion that so many of
the figures of the United States census are mere statistical rubbish as
to throw a doubt on nearly all the schedules. Yet without accurate
statistics on many points, many of them yet to be secured, the conduct
of our national affairs must become as uncertain as would be the
conduct of any great business corporation without a true ledger account
and a trial balance. Hence the necessity for a permanent
census bureau and for a careful "speculation" or "intellectual" and
intelligent examination and "contemplation" or study of the facts
about our land by which our future welfare must be governed.</p>
<p>A good beginning has been made by the authorities of many
States, yet more by the body of well-trained men in charge of the
Agricultural Experiment Station, in whose support too much can
not be said. To them I appealed when trying to get an adequate conception
of our potential in wheat.</p>
<p>When we think of the blunders which have been made in very
recent years, we may well have some suspicion that we may still be
very ignorant on many points about our own country. Who really<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_762" id="Page_762">[Pg 762]</a></span>
knows very much about the great middle section of the South, what
is called the "Land of the Sky," comprising the upland plateaus and
mountain sections of Virginia, North and South Carolina, Georgia,
Alabama, eastern Tennessee, and Kentucky? Within this area, as
large as France and twice as large as Great Britain, will be found
timber and minerals equal to both the countries named, and a potential
in agriculture equal to either, as yet very sparsely populated.</p>
<p>Yet under a craze for centrifugal expansion we are now in danger
of trying to develop tropical islands far away, already somewhat
densely peopled, where white men can not work and live, to our detriment,
danger, and loss, while we fail to see that if we expand centripetally
by the occupation and use of the most healthy and productive
section of our own country, we may add immensely to our prosperity,
our wealth, to our profit without cost and without militarism.
This sparsely settled Land of the Sky is greater in area and far greater
in its potential than the Philippine Islands, Cuba, and Porto Rico
combined. Verily, it seems as if common sense were a latent and
sluggish force, often endangered by the noisy and blatant influence of
the venal politician and the greed of the unscrupulous advocates of
vassal colonies who now attempt to pervert the power of government
to their own purposes of private gain.</p>
<p>Witness the blunders of the past:</p>
<p>We nearly gave away Oregon because it was held not to be worth
retaining.</p>
<p>When the northern boundary of Wisconsin was being determined,
it was put as far north as it was then supposed profitable farming could
ever extend, excluding Minnesota, now one of our greatest sources of
wheat.</p>
<p>The Great American Desert in my own school atlas covered a
large part of the most fertile land now under cultivation.</p>
<p>What blunders are we now making for lack of "speculation"
or "intellectual examination" as to the future of American farming
and farm lands?</p>
<p>On one point to which Mr. Hyde refers I must cry <i>peccavi</i>. He
rebukes the editor of the Popular Science Monthly for admitting an
article in which a potential of 400,000,000 bushels of wheat is attributed
to the State of Idaho. The total depravity of the type-writing
machine caused the mechanism to spell Montana in the letters
I-d-a-h-o. What I imputed to Idaho is true of Montana, if the Chief
of the Agricultural Experiment Stations of Montana is a competent
witness, if all its arable land were devoted to wheat. It will be
observed that I mentioned Idaho incidentally (meaning Montana),
taking no cognizance of the estimate given, because it was at present
of no practical importance.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_763" id="Page_763">[Pg 763]</a></span></p>
<p>I have expressed my distrust of great averages in respect to agriculture
and farm products.</p>
<p>In illustration of this fallacy, the figures presented by Mr. Hyde
will now be dealt with. It is held that in 1930, which is the year
when Sir William Crookes predicts starvation among the bread-eating
people of the world for lack of wheat (as if good bread could
only be made from wheat), the population of this country may be
computed at 130,000,000. The requirements of that year for our
own consumption Mr. Hyde estimates at 700,000,000 bushels of
wheat, 1,250,000,000 bushels of oats, 3,450,000,000 bushels of corn
(maize), and 100,000,000 tons of hay; and, although other products
are not named by him, we may assume a corresponding increase.</p>
<p>Subsequently Mr. Hyde gives the present delusive average yields
per acre of the whole country, and then throws a doubt on the future
progress of agricultural science, saying, "Whatever agricultural science
may be able to do in the next thirty years, up to the present time
it has only succeeded in arresting that decline in the rate of production
with which we have been continually threatened." Without
dealing at present with this want of and true consideration of or
"speculation" upon the progress made in the last decade under the
lead of the experiment stations and other beginnings in remedying
the wasteful and squalid methods that have been so conspicuous in
pioneer farming, let us take Mr. Hyde's averages and see what demand
upon land the requirements of 1930 will make, even at the present
meager average product per acre.</p>
<p>Mr. Hyde apparently computes this prospective product as one
that will be required for the domestic consumption of 130,000,000
people by ratio to our present product. He ignores the fact that our
present product suffices for 75,000,000, with an excess of live stock,
provisions, and dairy products exported nearly equal in value to all
the grain exported, and in excess of the exports of wheat. If we can
increase proportionally in one class of products, why not in another?
Whichever pays best will be produced and exported.</p>
<p class="center"><i>1897 and 1930 compared.—Data of 1897.</i></p>
<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Crop production">
<tr><td> </td>
<td>Products.</td>
<td>Average per acre.</td>
<td>Area required.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Maize</td>
<td align="right">1,902,967,933 bushels.</td>
<td align="right">23.8 bushels.</td>
<td align="right">125,150 square miles.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Wheat</td>
<td align="right">530,149,168<span class="h">bus</span>"<span class="h">hels</span></td>
<td align="right">13.4 <span class="h">bush</span>"<span class="h">els.</span></td>
<td align="right">61,660<span class="h">squ</span>"<span class="h">re m</span>"<span class="h">iles</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Oats</td>
<td align="right">698,767,809<span class="h">bus</span>"<span class="h">hels</span></td>
<td align="right">27.2 <span class="h">bush</span>"<span class="h">els.</span></td>
<td align="right">40,200<span class="h">squ</span>"<span class="h">re m</span>"<span class="h">iles</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Hay</td>
<td align="right">60,664,770 <span style="margin-right: 1.5em;">tons.</span></td>
<td align="right">1.43<span class="h">bush</span>"<span class="h">els.</span></td>
<td align="right">66,290<span class="h">squ</span>"<span class="h">re m</span>"<span class="h">iles</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="3"> </td>
<td align="left">——————————</td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2">Total in square miles</td>
<td> </td>
<td align="right">293,300 square miles.</td></tr>
</table></div>
<p>All other farm crops carry the total to less than 400,000 square
miles now under the plow, probably not exceeding 360,000.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_764" id="Page_764">[Pg 764]</a></span></p>
<p>Prospective demand of 1930, at the same meager average product
per acre, without progress in agricultural science:</p>
<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Crop production">
<tr><td> </td>
<td>Crop called for.</td>
<td>Per acre.</td>
<td>Area required.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Maize</td>
<td align="right">3,450,000,000 bushels.</td>
<td align="right">23.8 bushels.</td>
<td align="right">226,600 square miles.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Wheat</td>
<td align="right">700,000,000<span class="h">bus</span>"<span class="h">hels</span></td>
<td align="right">13.4 <span class="h">bush</span>"<span class="h">els.</span></td>
<td align="right">81,600<span class="h">squ</span>"<span class="h">re m</span>"<span class="h">iles</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Oats</td>
<td align="right">1,250,000,000<span class="h">bus</span>"<span class="h">hels</span></td>
<td align="right">27.2 <span class="h">bush</span>"<span class="h">els.</span></td>
<td align="right">70,800<span class="h">squ</span>"<span class="h">re m</span>"<span class="h">iles</span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Hay</td>
<td align="right">100,000,000 <span style="margin-right: 1.5em;">tons.</span></td>
<td align="right">1.43<span class="h">bush</span>"<span class="h">els.</span></td>
<td align="right">109,400<span class="h">squ</span>"<span class="h">re m</span>"<span class="h">iles</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="3"> </td>
<td align="left">———————————</td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2">Total in square miles</td><td> </td><td align="right">488,400 square miles.</td></tr>
</table></div>
<p>Assuming all land under the plow in 1930 in the ratio as above,
the area of all now in all crops 400,000 square miles—an excessive
estimate—that year (1930) will call for 667,000 square miles of
arable land in actual cultivation.</p>
<p>I have been accustomed to consider one half our national domain,
exclusive of Alaska, good arable land in the absence of any "speculation"
on that point in the records of the Department of Agriculture;
but from the returns given by the chiefs of the experiment stations
and secretaries of agriculture of the States hereafter cited, that estimate
may be increased probably to two thirds, or 2,000,000 square
miles of arable land out of a total of 3,000,000 square miles, omitting
Alaska.</p>
<p>Assuming that we possess 2,000,000 square miles of arable land,
capable at least of producing the present meager average product
cited above, the conditions of 1930 will be graphically presented on
the following diagram:</p>
<p class="center"><i>Prospective Use of Land in the Year 1930 on Present Crop Average.</i><br />
(Arable land assumed to be 2,000,000 square miles in the outer lines of the diagram)</p>
<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="2" summary="prospective use of land">
<tr><td class="center bor_bottop_yes bor_side_yes">Oats,<br /> 70,800<br /> sq. miles.</td>
<td rowspan="2" class="center bor_top_yes bor_side_yes">Wheat,<br />81,600<br /> sq.miles.</td>
<td rowspan="2" class="center bor_top_yes bor_side_yes">Hay,<br /> 109,400<br /> sq. miles.</td>
<td rowspan="3" class="center bor_top_yes bor_side_yes">Miscellaneous.<br /> Roots, cotton,<br /> tobacco, etc.,<br /> 168,600 sq. m.<br /> Excessive.</td>
<td rowspan="3" class="center bor_top_yes bor_side_yes">Maize,<br /> Indian corn,<br /> 226,600<br /> sq. miles.</td>
<td rowspan="3" class="center bor_top_yes bor_side_yes">Wheat<br /> for<br /> export,<br /> 143,000<br /> sq. miles.<br /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="bor_left_yes"> </td></tr>
<tr><td class="bor_left_yes"> </td>
<td class="bor_top_yes"> </td>
<td class="bor_top_yes"> </td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="3" class="bor_left_yes"> </td>
<td class="bor_top_yes"> </td>
<td class="bor_top_yes"> </td>
<td class="bor_top_yes bor_right_yes"> </td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="4" class="bor_left_yes" align="left">Arable land unassigned</td>
<td colspan="2" class="bor_right_yes" align="right">1,200,000 square miles.</td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="4" class="bor_left_yes" align="left">Deduct for cities, towns, parks, and reserves of all kinds</td>
<td colspan="2" class="bor_right_yes" align="right">200,000<span class="h">squ</span>"<span class="h">re m</span>"<span class="h">iles</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="4" class="bor_left_yes"> </td>
<td colspan="2" class="bor_right_yes" align="left">—————</td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="4" class="bor_left_yes">Reserve for future use</td>
<td colspan="2" class="bor_right_yes" align="right">1,000,000<span class="h">squ</span>"<span class="h">re m</span>"<span class="h">iles</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="6" class="bor_bottom_yes bor_side_yes" align="left">Forest, mountain, arid, etc., not counted, about 1,000,000 square miles,<br />
not included in these lines or squares.</td></tr>
</table></div>
<blockquote>
<p>No reduction on area cultivated on prospective improvement in the present methods of
farming, although it may be assumed that the prospective increase of crop per acre will
exert great influence.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>If the facts should be in 1930 consistent with Mr. Hyde's "speculation"
it would therefore appear that our ability to meet the domestic
demand of 1930 with proportionate export of cattle, provisions,
and dairy products, and to set apart a little patch of land for the
export of 1,226,000,000 bushels of wheat raised at the rate of only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_765" id="Page_765">[Pg 765]</a></span>
13.4 bushels per acre from 143,000 square miles of land will be met
by the cultivation of not exceeding 700,000 square miles out of
2,000,000 available.</p>
<p>I should not venture to question the conclusions emanating from
the Department of Agriculture, or the deductions of so eminent a
scientist as Sir William Crookes, had I not taken the usual precaution
of a business man in studying a business question. I went to
the men who know the subject as well as the figures on which statistics
are to be compiled.</p>
<p>Being supplied by the Popular Science Monthly with one hundred
proofs of the first nine and a half pages of the December article in
which the terms of the problem are stated, I sent those proofs to the
chiefs of the experiment stations and to the secretaries of agriculture
in all the States from which any considerable product of wheat
is now or may be hereafter derived; also to many makers of wheat
harvesters; to the secretaries of Chambers of Commerce, and to several
economic students in the wheat-growing States. This preliminary
study was accompanied by the following circular of inquiry:</p>
<blockquote><p class="right"><span class="smcap">Boston, Mass.</span>, <i>October 5, 1898</i>.</p>
<p><i>To the Chiefs of the Agricultural Experiment Stations and others in
Authority</i>:</p>
<p>Calling your attention to the inclosed advance sheets of an article
which will by and by appear in the Popular Science Monthly, I beg
to put to you certain questions.</p>
<p>If the matter interests you, will you kindly fill up the blanks below
and let me have your replies within the present month of October,
to the end that I may compile them and give a digest of the results?
I shall state in the article that I am indebted to you and others for the
information submitted.</p>
<p>Area of the State of....................... square miles.</p>
<p>1. What proportion of this area do you believe to be arable land
of fair quality, including pasture that might be put under the plow?</p>
<p class="right">Answer ................... square miles.</p>
<p>2. What proportion is now in forest or mountain sections which
may not be available for agriculture for a long period?</p>
<p class="right">Answer ................... square miles.</p>
<p>3. What has been done or may be done by irrigation?</p>
<p class="right">....................................................................
....................................................................
....................................................................</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_766" id="Page_766">[Pg 766]</a></span></p>
<p>4. What proportion of the arable land above measured should you
consider suitable to the production of wheat under general conditions
such as are given in the text, say, a stable price of one dollar per bushel
in London?</p>
<p class="right">Answer ................... square miles.</p>
<p>5. To what extent, in your judgment, is wheat becoming the cash
or surplus crop of a varied system of agriculture as distinct from the
methods which prevail in the opening of new lands of cropping with
wheat for a term of years?</p>
<p class="right">....................................................................
....................................................................
....................................................................</p>
<p>What further remarks can you add which will enable me to elucidate
this case, to complete the article and to convey a true impression
of the facts to English readers?</p>
<p class="right">....................................................................
....................................................................
....................................................................</p>
<p>Your assistance in this matter will be gratefully received.</p>
<p class="right">
<span style="margin-right: 3em;">Respectfully submitted,</span><br />
<span class="smcap">Edward Atkinson</span>.</p></blockquote>
<p>To this circular I received twenty-four detailed replies, containing
statistics mostly very complete; also many suggestive letters, in every
case giving full support to the general views which I had submitted
in the proof sheets. It has been impossible for me to give individual
credit within the limits of a magazine article to the gentlemen who
have so fully supplied the data. Space will only permit me to submit
a digest of the more important facts in a table derived from these
replies:</p>
<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="agricultural data from survey">
<tr><td rowspan="2">Name.</td><td colspan="3"><span class="smcap lowercase">FROM RETURNS MADE TO MY INQUIRY.</span></td><td rowspan="2">From United<br />States report<br />in wheat,<br />1897.</td></tr>
<tr><td>Area of State.</td><td>Arable.</td><td>Suitable to<br />wheat</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Minnesota</td><td align="right">84,287</td><td align="right">66,000</td><td align="right">50,000</td><td align="right">7,189</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">South Dakota</td><td align="right">76,000</td><td align="right">42,500</td><td align="right">40,000</td><td align="right">4,187</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">North Dakota</td><td align="right">74,312</td><td align="right">50,000</td><td align="right">50,000</td><td align="right">4,300</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Illinois</td><td align="right">56,000</td><td align="right">54,000</td><td align="right">20,000</td><td align="right">2,292</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Missouri</td><td align="right">68,000</td><td align="right">64,000</td><td align="right">64,000</td><td align="right">2,448</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Wisconsin</td><td align="right">56,000</td><td align="right">35,000</td><td align="right">35,000</td><td align="right">961</td></tr>
<tr><td> </td><td align="right">——————</td><td>—————</td><td>—————</td><td>—————</td></tr>
<tr><td> </td><td align="right">414,599</td><td align="right">311,500</td><td align="right">259,000</td><td align="right">21,372</td></tr>
<tr><td> </td><td align="right">===========</td><td align="right">=========</td><td align="right">=========</td><td align="right">=========</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Texas</td><td align="right">269,694</td><td align="right">200,000</td><td align="right">100,000</td><td align="right">700</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">California</td><td align="right">158,360</td><td align="right">54,000</td><td align="right">30,000</td><td align="right">5,062</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Montana</td><td align="right">145,310</td><td align="right">30,000</td><td align="right">25,000</td><td align="right">109</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Idaho</td><td align="right">87,000</td><td align="right">30,000</td><td align="right">15,000</td><td align="right">192</td></tr>
<tr><td> </td><td align="right">——————</td><td>—————</td><td>—————</td><td>—————</td></tr>
<tr><td> </td><td align="right">660,364</td><td align="right">314,000</td><td align="right">170,000</td><td align="right">6,063</td></tr>
<tr><td> </td><td align="right">===========</td><td align="right">=========</td><td align="right">=========</td><td align="right">=========</td></tr>
<tr><td>Total</td><td align="right">1,074,963</td><td align="right">625,500</td><td align="right">429,000</td><td align="right">27,435</td></tr>
</table></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_767" id="Page_767">[Pg 767]</a></span></p>
<p>I do not give the data of the Eastern and Southern States, and I
have selected only the most complete data of the other States, choosing
the more conservative where two returns have been made from one
State.</p>
<p>The foregoing States produced a little over one third of the wheat
crop of 1897. They comprise a little over one third the area of the
land of the United States, excluding Alaska.</p>
<p>The list covers States like Illinois, Minnesota, and Wisconsin, now
very fully occupied relatively to Texas, Montana, and Idaho, as yet
but sparsely settled.</p>
<p>Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Nebraska, Oregon, and
Washington combined far exceed the above list in wheat production;
but, as I have no complete data from these States, I can only say that
the national or census statistics, as far as they go, develop corresponding
conditions to those above given. The very small product of
Texas and Montana, even of Idaho, as compared with the claimed
potential, will attract notice, and perhaps excite incredulity. But
let it be remembered that in 1880 the Territory of Dakota yielded
less than 3,000,000 bushels of wheat, while in 1898 the two States
of North and South Dakota, formerly in one Territory, claim to have
produced 100,000,000 bushels. Perhaps it will then be admitted
that the potential of Montana, and even of Idaho, may be attained in
some measure corresponding to the reports from those States; but as
yet their product is a negligible quantity, as that of Dakota was only
twenty years since.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_768" id="Page_768">[Pg 768]</a></span></p>
<p>Again, let it be remembered that Texas will produce a cotton crop,
marketed in 1898-'99, above the average of the five ante-war crops of
the whole country, and nearly equal to the largest crop ever grown
in the United States before the war. Texas could not only produce
the present entire cotton crop of the United States but of
the world, on but a small part of her land which is well suited to
cotton. When these facts are considered, perhaps the potential of
that great State in wheat and other grain, in cattle and in sheep, as
well as in cotton, may begin to be comprehended.</p>
<p>The writer is well aware that this treatment of a great problem
is very incomplete, but it is the best that the leisure hours of a very
busy business life would permit. If it discloses the general ignorance
of our resources, the total inadequacy of many of our official statistics,
the lack of any real agricultural survey, and the necessity for a reorganization
and concentration of the scientific departments of the Government
as well as of a permanent census bureau, it will have served a
useful purpose.</p>
<p>If it also serves to call attention to the meager average crops and
the poor quality of our agriculture as a whole down to a very recent
period, it may suggest even to those to whose minds the statistics of
the past convey but gloomy and "doubtful views" of the future, that
the true progress in scientific agriculture could only begin when substantially
all the fertile land in the possession of the Government had
either been given away or otherwise distributed. So long as "sod
crops" and the single-crop system yielded adequate returns to unskilled
farmers, no true science of agriculture could be expected, any
more than a large product of wool can be hoped for in States where
it has been wittily said that "every poor man keeps one cur dog, and
every d—d poor man keeps two or more."</p>
<p>Finally, if I shall have drawn attention to the very effective
work which is being done in the agricultural experiment stations
by men of first-rate ability, I shall have drawn attention to a great
fact. This work has already led to a complete revolution from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_769" id="Page_769">[Pg 769]</a></span>
old practice of maltreating land, and to the renovation of soils that
had been partially exhausted. Governor Henry A. Wise, of Virginia,
long since condemned the old methods of Southern agriculture by telling
his hearers, "The niggers skinned the land and the white men
skinned the niggers." We are changing all that by new and progressive
methods. I hope that in this recognition of the work of the
experiment stations I shall have made some return for the attention
which has been given to my inquiry by so many of my correspondents
that the space assigned me forbids a list of my authorities being given
by name.</p>
<p>When the suggestion is made from the Department of Agriculture
that all that science has yet accomplished has been to stop a tendency
to a lessened production from the land now under the plow, and
when it is even suggested that in 1930 the present meager average of
crops per acre may still exist, it seems to me that little credit is given
to the good work already accomplished in the short period in which
the separate Department of Agriculture has been represented in the
Cabinet, especially in the last five or six years, while the suggestion
itself shows very little consideration of the great work of the experiment
stations.</p>
<p>Unless it can be proved that my correspondents and myself have
entered into a conspiracy to mislead the public in dealing with the
potential of this country in wheat production, nearly all the deductions
from the figures of the past must be considered mere statistical rubbish.
These statistics cover sections and States in which wheat should never
be grown or attempted in competition with the true wheat soils and
climate. As well might misplaced iron furnaces, built to boom city
lots where there are no favorable conditions for the production of
iron, be included in an average and held up as a standard of our potential
in iron and steel production.</p>
<p>In my efforts to discover the rule of progress in the arts and occupations
of the people of this country, it has become plain that in
ratio to the application of science and invention to every art the quantity
of product is increased, the number of workmen is relatively
diminished, the price of the product tends to diminish, while the
wages or earnings of those who do the work are augmented.
I have investigated many branches of industry, and find evidence
conclusive to my own mind that such is the law of industrial development.
This rule is subject to temporary variations under the
restriction of statutes. In my own judgment, the so-called protective
principle or policy of interference with commerce by imposing
fines on foreign imports has retarded the progress of the specially
protected arts, and has in some measure obstructed the diversity
of manufactures; but the opposite policy of absolutely free trade in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_770" id="Page_770">[Pg 770]</a></span>
our domestic traffic over a greater area and among a much larger
number of people than have elsewhere secured their own liberty has
been so much more potent in its progressive influence as to have lessened
the evils of the restrictions on foreign trade.</p>
<p>According to my observation, all the efforts to regulate railroad
charges by State legislation and under the interstate commerce act
have greatly retarded the progress of the railway, and have deprived
great States, notably Texas, of any service at all commensurate to the
demand which might otherwise have been supplied to the mutual
benefit of the owners of the railways and the inhabitants of the State.
The most serious retarding influence, especially evil in its effect upon
farmers, was the useless panic of 1893, caused by the silver craze—that
is to say, by the effort to enact a force bill by which the producers
of our great crops would have been compelled to accept money
of half the purchasing power of that to which their industry had been
long adjusted. This caused a temporary paralysis of industry, in
which I think none suffered so much as the farmers of the country.</p>
<p>But admitting these temporary variations, I find the same rule
governing the products of the farm that governs the mine, the factory,
and the workshop—namely, a lessening of the number occupied in
ratio to the product; a great reduction in the cost of labor; an increased
return in due proportion of the skill and intelligence of the
farmer; a rapid reduction in the farm mortgages, ending at the present
date in making the farmers of the grain-growing States the creditors
of the world, especially those occupied upon wheat.</p>
<p>But in the development of this progress we find the reverse of
the practice in the factory and the workshop. The most important
applications of science and invention led first to what might be called
the manufacture of wheat on an extensive method of making a single
crop on great areas of land. That phase has about spent its force; the
great farms are in process of division; the single-crop system has about
ended; the intensive system of making a larger product from a lessened
area with alternation and variation in crops is rapidly taking the
place of former methods.</p>
<p>Therefore, while many branches of manufacturing tend more and
more to the collective method, the tendency in agriculture is more
and more to individualism in dealing with the land itself, coupled
with collective ownership in the more expensive farm machinery, in
creameries, cheese factories, and the like. We are apparently at a
halfway stage in this revolution of agriculture. The intelligent and
intensive methods of breeding cattle and sheep is also rapidly taking
the place of the semibarbarous conditions of the ranch.</p>
<p>If these points are well taken, the very suggestion that we must
compute the land which should be under the plow in 1890 in order to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_771" id="Page_771">[Pg 771]</a></span>
supply the needs of 130,000,000 people on the basis of the imperfect
statistics and inadequate data of the past, becomes almost an impertinence.
It is much more probable that the 400,000 square miles which
now meet the needs of 75,000,000 people, with an enormous excess
for export, will in 1930 still suffice for the domestic supply of
130,000,000 people, with a proportionate export corresponding to the
present.</p>
<p>If the product of the farms of the West now yielding the largest
crops, or of the renovated lands of the South now yielding the best
crops, be taken as the average standard of the near future, as they
should be, then it may be true in 1930, as it is now, that one fifth of
the arable land of this country when put under the plow will still
suffice for all existing demands, the remainder of our great domain
extending the promise of future abundance and welfare to the yet
greater numbers who will occupy the land a century hence.</p>
<p>I may add that in the course of a very friendly correspondence
with Sir William Crookes, while we are still at variance in our estimates
of the area which may be converted to the production of wheat
in this country without trenching upon any other product, we are
wholly at an agreement on a most material point. I quote from one
of his letters: "Under the present wasteful method of cultivation
there will be in a limited number of years an insufficient supply of
wheat. Apply artificial fertilizers judiciously, and the supply may
be increased indefinitely." I would only venture to add to the judgment
of so eminent a writer the words "or natural," to the end that
the paragraph should read, "Apply artificial or natural fertilizers
judiciously, and the supply can be increased indefinitely."</p>
<p>Many years ago I was asked among others, "What would be the
next great discovery of science or invention?" To which I replied,
"A supply of nitrogen at low cost." Has not that discovery been
made in the recent development of the functions of the bacteria which,
living and dying upon the leguminous plants, dissociate the nitrogen
of the atmosphere and convert it through the plant to the renovation
of the soil? Is not the invention of methods of nitrifying the soil by
distributing the germs of bacteria one of the most wonderful discoveries
of science ever yet attained? Can any one yet measure the
potential of any given area of land in any part of this country in the
production of any one of its great crops? That there is a limit may
be admitted. Can any one venture to say that any of our average
crops yet approach beyond a small fractional measure the true limit
of production, whatever it may be, either in cotton, maize, wheat, or
any other product of the soil?</p>
<p>In this, as in many other developments of the theory of evolution,
the factor of mental energy, which is the prime factor in all material<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_772" id="Page_772">[Pg 772]</a></span>
production, may have been or is almost wholly ignored. We are
ceasing to treat the soil as a mine subject to exhaustion, but we have
as yet made only a beginning in treating it as an instrument of production
which will for a long period respond in its increasing product
in exact ratio to the mental energy which is applied to the cultivation
of the land.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2>THE COMING OF THE CATBIRD.</h2>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By SPENCER TROTTER.</span></p>
<p>In southeastern Pennsylvania there comes a day in February that
brings with it an indefinable sense of joyousness. A southerly
wind wanders up the Delaware with a touch of the spring in its air
that quickens, for the first time, the slumbering life. It is then that
those mysterious forces in the cells of living things begin their subtle
work—hidden in the dark, underground storehouses of plants and the
sluggish tissues of animals buried in their winter sleep. On such
a day the ground hog ventures from his burrow, some restless bee is
lured from the hive to wander disconsolate over bare fields, a snake
crawls from its hole to bask awhile in the sunshine, and one looks
instinctively for the first breaking of the earth that tells of the early
crocus and the peeping forth of daffodils. The southerly wind is
more apt than not to be a telltale, for with all its springtime softness
it is drawing toward some storm center, near or remote, that will inevitably
follow with rough weather in its sweep. The country folk
rightly call such a day a "weather breeder," and even the ground hog
knows its portent in the very sign of his shadow. Come as it will,
the day is really a day borrowed in advance from the spring, as though
to hearten one through all the dreary days that will follow and, in
starting the growing forces of vegetation, to make ready for the season's
coming.</p>
<p>With this forerunner of the year come the harbingers of the bird
migration. With the rise of the temperature to sixty or over, a well-marked
bird wave from the south spreads over the Delaware Valley.
On this balmy, springlike day we hear for the first time since November
the croaking of grackles as a loose flock wings overhead or
scatters among the tree tops. A few robins may show themselves,
and the mellow piping of bluebirds lends its sweet influence to
the charm of such a day. There is a sense of uncertain whereabouts
in the bluebird's note, a sort of hazy, in-the-air feeling that suggests
sky space. It does not seem to have the tangible element by which
we can locate the bird as in the voices of the robin and the song sparrow.
It is on such a day as this that song sparrows are first heard—cheery<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_773" id="Page_773">[Pg 773]</a></span>
ditties from the weather-beaten fences and the bare, brown
tangle of brier patches. The day may close lurid with the frayed
streamers of lofty cirrus clouds streaking across the sky—the vaporous
overflow of a coming storm—or a week of the same bright weather
may continue with the wind all the while blowing softly out of the
south, but sooner or later the inevitable winter storm must close
this foretaste of the spring.</p>
<p>A decided wave of rising temperature usually reaches the Delaware
Valley from the middle to the last of March, maintaining itself
longer than the February rise, and ushering in a well-marked bird
wave. It is about this time that the vanguard of the robin migration
scatters over the country. The grackles or crow blackbirds, which
have been more or less in evidence since their first appearance in February,
begin renovating the old nests or laying the foundations of new
ones in the tops of tall pines. The shrill call of the flicker sounds
through the woods, and before the end of the month one is sure to
hear the plaintive song of the field sparrow. This is about the time
that the spicebush shows its yellow blossoms through the grays and
browns of the spring underwoods, and the skunk cabbage unfolds its
fresh, green leafage in rank abundance along the boggy course of
woodland rills. A week earlier the streaked yellow and purple of its
fleshy spathes shows here and there in the oozy ground by the side
of the folded leaf spikes. It is just at this time, too, that one must
go to the woods for the first spring wild flowers—bloodroot, hepatica,
anemones, and the yellow dog-tooth violet—if one would get the real
freshness of spring into his soul. The crows, that all through the
winter filed away each evening in straggling lines of flight toward
the distant roost, have broken ranks, and go rambling in small groups
through the woods and over the fields of green winter wheat. Like
the grackles, they have thoughts of courtship and the more earnest
business of family cares. The liquid notes of meadow larks sound
clear and sweet in the greening fields and pastures, and small flocks
of vociferous killdeers scatter in wheeling flight over the newly
plowed lands. In tangle covers the rustle of dead leaves here and
there tells of the whereabouts of a flock of fox sparrows halting in
their northward pilgrimage. The pewee is back, inspecting her last
year's house under the span of some old bridge, and the melancholy
voice of the dove is borne on the air from the fence rows and cedars
along the farther side of fields.</p>
<p>After the 1st of April the tide of migration sets in with force,
and the earlier waves bring several species of summer birds—those
that come to build and breed in our woods—that rarely if ever make
their appearance before this time. It is an interesting fact that none
of the migrants that make their first appearance in April are ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_774" id="Page_774">[Pg 774]</a></span>
found in the Delaware Valley during the winter, though several, if
not all, of the species that come on the March waves are occasionally
met with in the winter months. It appears, further, that the winter
quarters of certain birds which are summer residents with us and some
that are transient, passing on to more northern breeding grounds, lie
not so very far to the south. If the last of March has been marked
by warm weather lapping over into the first days of April, then one
may expect soon to hear the familiar notes of the chipping sparrow
from the swelling branches of garden shrubbery and the trees about
the lawn, and a brown thrasher is sure to be heard volubly proclaiming
his arrival from some near-by tree top. Among the budding
sprigs of thickets the elusive chewink breaks into occasional fragments
of song, and from the red-blossomed maples and the jungle of
pussy willows and alders that fringe the meadow brook the metallic
creaking notes of the red-winged blackbirds sound not unpleasingly.
This jargon of the red-wing has a true vernal ring about it, suggesting
the fresh green of oozy bogs and the loosening up of sap.</p>
<p>From the middle to the last of April there are several big waves
of migration that bring many of the summer residents as well as some
transient species, forerunning the greater waves that are to follow in
May. On certain warm April days the barn and the bank swallows
appear, and the chimney swifts are seen scurrying to and fro above
the trees and house tops. These are genuine signs of the coming
summer, for swallows and swifts feed only on the minute gnats and
other ephemera that develop under conditions of warm temperature.
Whoever knows of a martin box that year after year is visited by its
colony has an unfailing source of delight at this time in watching the
lovely birds. The martins are very prompt in their arrival, rarely
coming before the 1st of April nor later than the 10th. We are
aware for the first time that the house wren has come back by the
voluble song that greets us some morning from the branches just
beyond our window—a song that only the lover of his own rooftree
can fully appreciate, for the wren's chant, more than any other bird
song, seems to voice the home instinct in a man. By the last week
of April the woods are fast closing up their vistas in a rich profusion
of unfolding leafage. The umbrellalike leaves of the May apple are
scattered everywhere through the woods and fields, forming conspicuous
patches of green. During this last week of the month a few
straggling thrushes make their appearance—the hermit thrush with
its russet tail, the veery, and the wood thrush. The first two are transients,
flitting through the underwoods or rustling among fallen leaves
in search of their insect food. To hear the incomparable matins and
vespers of the hermit one must follow to the bird's breeding range on
the wooded slopes of the Appalachians or farther into the deep recesses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_775" id="Page_775">[Pg 775]</a></span>
of the Canadian forests. The wood thrush breeds with us,
and the melody of its notes adds a peculiar charm to our groves and
woodlands that would leave an unfilled blank in the choir if the bird
were a transient like the hermit or the veery.</p>
<p>From the 1st to the 10th of May a succession of bird waves
comes from the south of such vast proportions as to the number of
individuals and variety of species that all the previous migratory
waves seem insignificant in comparison. It is the flood tide of the
migration, bringing with it the host of warblers, vireos, orioles,
tanagers, and thrushes that suddenly make our woods almost tropical
in the variety of richly colored species and strange bird notes. It
would take a volume to describe the wood warblers, sylvan nymphs
of such bizarre color patterns and dainty forms that one is fain to
imagine himself in the heart of some wondrous forest of a far-away
land. Their curious dry notes, each different in its kind and expression,
yet all of the same insectlike quality; their quick, active
motions, now twisting head downward around the branches, prying
into every nook and cranny in their eager search for food, or fluttering
about the clusters of leaves, add to the strange effect. Their
names, too, are richly stimulative to the color sense—the black-throated
green, the black-throated blue, the chestnut-sided, the bay-breasted,
the black and yellow, the cerulean, the Blackburnian, the
blue-winged yellow, the golden-winged, the blue-yellow-backed or
parula warbler, and the Maryland yellow-throat are each suggestive
of a wealth of coloring. Others have names that carry us to southern
realms, like the myrtle and the palm warblers; and others again tell
of curious habits, as the worm-eating warbler, the hooded fly-catching
warbler, and the black and white creeping warbler that scrambles
about the tree trunks like a true creeper. There is nothing in all the
year quite like the May woods. Then, if never again, you can step
from your dooryard into an enchanted forest. The light yellowish
effects of new green in the feathery masses of the oak catkins and
the fresh, unfolding leafage of the forest trees are a rich feast to the
eyes. Against this wealth of green the dogwood spreads its snow-white
masses of bloom. In sunlit spaces of greenness the scarlet flash
of a tanager, the rich blue coloring of the indigo bird, newly arrived
from its winter quarters in South America, and the glimpse of a
rose-breasted grosbeak among the high tree tops are strangely suggestive
of a tropical forest. The ear, too, is charmed with a multitude
of curious notes. The weird cries of the great-crested flycatcher
among the topmost branches, and the loud chant of the ovenbird
with its rising cadence coming from farther depths of the wood are
two of the most characteristic bird voices of the May woodlands. If
one would have the famous song of the mocking bird in this sylvan<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_776" id="Page_776">[Pg 776]</a></span>
carnival he has only to loiter in the nearest grove to hear the wonderful
performance of the catbird. The catbird is the real harbinger
of summer. He is familiar throughout the countryside, liked or
disliked according to the dispositions of folks, but when he appears
amid the May-day throng every one knows that summer has come.
As a countryman once said to me: "You can't place any dependence
on the robin—it may snow the very day he comes; but a catbird never
makes a mistake—it's summer with him for sure."</p>
<p>The passing on of the great warbler waves to the north and the
ending of the migration likewise mean the passing of the spring. It
is summer any time after the 15th of May, or, to be more accurate,
after the last of the migratory warblers, thrushes, and tanagers have
passed beyond our woods. To a New-Englander summer will come
a little later, nearer the true almanac date of June 1st. To a dweller
in Virginia the last of April is the passing of spring and the advent
of summer.</p>
<p>Some ten or more years ago several enthusiastic ornithologists living
in the neighborhood of Philadelphia began keeping records of the
times of arrival of the different species of birds, and at the same time
noted the conditions of temperature in relation to the abundance of
individuals. After several years of these observations they were able
to see clearly that these bird waves were directly related to the waves
of rising temperature marking the advent of warm spells of weather.
One of the most significant facts deduced from these observations was
the remarkable regularity in the first appearance of certain species.
For example, the Baltimore oriole in eight years of observation never
arrived before the 1st of May, and only twice later than the 4th—viz.,
once on the fifth and once on the 7th. The list on the opposite page
shows the date of first arrivals extending over a period of eight years,
from 1885 to 1892.<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p>
<div class="center">
<table border="1" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Arrival of Birds">
<tr><td align="left"> </td><td>1885.</td><td>1886.</td><td>1887.</td><td>1888.</td><td>1889.</td><td>1890.</td><td>1891.</td><td>1892.</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Flicker</td><td align="left"> April 10</td><td align="left">Mar. 24</td><td align="left"> Mar. 26</td><td align="left"> Mar. 30</td><td align="left"> Mar. 28</td><td align="left"> Mar. 26</td><td align="left"> Mar. 30</td><td align="left"> April 2</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Chimney swift</td><td align="left"> April 22</td><td align="left"> April 23</td><td align="left"> April 22</td><td align="left"> April 20</td><td align="left"> April 15</td><td align="left"> April 22</td><td align="left"> April 16</td><td align="left"> April 27</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Hummingbird</td><td align="left"> April 29</td><td align="left"> May 12</td><td align="left"> May 12</td><td align="left"> May 14</td><td align="left"> .......</td><td align="left"> May 7</td><td align="left"> May 11</td><td align="left"> .......</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Kingbird</td><td align="left"> May 6</td><td align="left"> May 11</td><td align="left"> May 7</td><td align="left"> May 6</td><td align="left"> May 6</td><td align="left"> May 14</td><td align="left"> May 1</td><td align="left"> May 4</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Crested flycatcher</td><td align="left"> May 2</td><td align="left"> May 12</td><td align="left"> May 3</td><td align="left"> May 1</td><td align="left"> May 8</td><td align="left"> May 1</td><td align="left"> April 30</td><td align="left"> May 3</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Pewee</td><td align="left"> April 3</td><td align="left"> Mar. 20</td><td align="left"> Mar. 21</td><td align="left"> Mar. 22</td><td align="left"> Mar. 27</td><td align="left"> Mar. 27</td><td align="left"> Mar. 31</td><td align="left"> April 3</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Wood pewee</td><td align="left"> May 6</td><td align="left"> May 15</td><td align="left"> April 30</td><td align="left"> May 13</td><td align="left"> May 12</td><td align="left"> May 14</td><td align="left"> May 6</td><td align="left"> May 17</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Red-winged blackbird</td><td align="left"> Mar. 4</td><td align="left">Feb. 19</td><td align="left">Feb. 19</td><td align="left"> Feb. 21</td><td align="left">Mar. 13</td><td align="left"> Mar. 12</td><td align="left"> Feb. 25</td><td align="left"> Mar. 9</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Meadow lark</td><td align="left"> .......</td><td align="left"> Feb. 10</td><td align="left"> Mar. 19</td><td align="left"> Mar. 21</td><td align="left">Mar. 14</td><td align="left"> Mar. 12</td><td align="left"> Feb. 23</td><td align="left"> Mar. 17</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Baltimore oriole</td><td align="left"> May 5</td><td align="left"> May 4</td><td align="left"> May 2</td><td align="left"> May 2</td><td align="left"> May 7</td><td align="left"> May 1</td><td align="left"> May 1</td><td align="left"> May 3</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Purple grackle</td><td align="left"> Mar. 16</td><td align="left"> Mar. 7</td><td align="left"> Feb. 19</td><td align="left"> Feb. 21</td><td align="left"> Mar. 2</td><td align="left"> Feb. 13</td><td align="left"> Feb. 18</td><td align="left"> Mar. 6</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Chipping sparrow</td><td align="left"> April 8</td><td align="left"> April 9</td><td align="left"> April 8</td><td align="left"> Mar. 31</td><td align="left"> Mar. 29</td><td align="left"> April 8</td><td align="left"> April 13</td><td align="left"> April 4</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Field sparrow</td><td align="left"> April 11</td><td align="left"> April 7</td><td align="left"> April 9</td><td align="left"> April 2</td><td align="left"> Mar. 29</td><td align="left"> Mar. 13</td><td align="left"> Mar. 15</td><td align="left"> Mar. 26</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Chewink</td><td align="left"> April 22</td><td align="left"> April 23</td><td align="left"> April 27</td><td align="left"> April 18</td><td align="left"> April 11</td><td align="left"> May 1</td><td align="left"> April 18</td><td align="left"> April 24</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Indigo bird</td><td align="left"> May 16</td><td align="left"> May 11</td><td align="left"> May 7</td><td align="left"> May 12</td><td align="left"> May 12</td><td align="left"> May 10</td><td align="left"> May 8</td><td align="left"> May 10</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Scarlet tanager</td><td align="left"> May 9</td><td align="left"> May 12</td><td align="left"> May 5</td><td align="left"> May 8</td><td align="left"> May 9</td><td align="left"> May 4</td><td align="left"> April 28</td><td align="left"> May 3</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Barn swallow</td><td align="left"> April 22</td><td align="left"> April 19</td><td align="left"> April 21</td><td align="left"> April 12</td><td align="left"> April 22</td><td align="left"> April 19</td><td align="left"> April 19</td><td align="left"> April 24</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Red-eyed vireo</td><td align="left"> May 7</td><td align="left"> May 11</td><td align="left"> May 4</td><td align="left"> April 29</td><td align="left"> May 5</td><td align="left"> April 30</td><td align="left"> May 2</td><td align="left"> May 3</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Black-and-white warbler</td><td align="left"> April 30</td><td align="left"> May 4</td><td align="left"> April 27</td><td align="left"> April 21</td><td align="left"> April 20</td><td align="left"> April 30</td><td align="left"> April 24</td><td align="left"> May 1</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Yellow warbler</td><td align="left"> May 6</td><td align="left"> May 4</td><td align="left"> May 2</td><td align="left"> May 5</td><td align="left"> May 11</td><td align="left"> May 1</td><td align="left"> May 8</td><td align="left"> May 4</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Myrtle warbler</td><td align="left"> May 2</td><td align="left"> April 10</td><td align="left"> May 2</td><td align="left"> April 25</td><td align="left"> April 20</td><td align="left"> April 27</td><td align="left"> April 18</td><td align="left"> April 7</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Black-throated green warbler</td><td align="left"> May 2</td><td align="left"> May 11</td><td align="left"> May 5</td><td align="left"> April 26</td><td align="left"> May 5</td><td align="left"> May 2</td><td align="left"> April 19</td><td align="left"> April 30</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Ovenbird</td><td align="left"> April 30</td><td align="left"> May 3</td><td align="left"> April 29</td><td align="left"> April 30</td><td align="left"> May 3</td><td align="left"> May 3</td><td align="left"> April 29</td><td align="left"> April 30</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Maryland yellow-throat</td><td align="left"> April 29</td><td align="left"> April 24</td><td align="left"> April 28</td><td align="left"> April 30</td><td align="left"> May 6</td><td align="left"> April 30</td><td align="left"> May 1</td><td align="left"> May 3</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Chat</td><td align="left"> May 2</td><td align="left"> May 12</td><td align="left"> May 5</td><td align="left"> May 5</td><td align="left"> May 11</td><td align="left"> May 5</td><td align="left"> May 1</td><td align="left"> May 3</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Redstart</td><td align="left"> May 2</td><td align="left"> May 4</td><td align="left"> May 3</td><td align="left"> May 1</td><td align="left"> May 4</td><td align="left"> May 3</td><td align="left"> April 29</td><td align="left"> April 30</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Catbird</td><td align="left"> May 2</td><td align="left"> May 4</td><td align="left"> May 3</td><td align="left"> May 5</td><td align="left"> May 5</td><td align="left"> May 5</td><td align="left"> May 4</td><td align="left"> April 30</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Brown thrasher</td><td align="left"> April 24</td><td align="left"> April 25</td><td align="left"> April 28</td><td align="left"> April 15</td><td align="left"> April 22</td><td align="left"> April 30</td><td align="left"> April 19</td><td align="left"> April 30</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">House wren</td><td align="left"> May 3</td><td align="left"> April 27</td><td align="left"> April 24</td><td align="left"> April 28</td><td align="left"> April 14</td><td align="left"> April 30</td><td align="left"> April 19</td><td align="left"> May 5</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Wood thrush</td><td align="left"> May 2</td><td align="left"> May 1</td><td align="left"> May 1</td><td align="left"> May 1</td><td align="left"> May 3</td><td align="left"> April 30</td><td align="left"> April 23</td><td align="left"> May 2</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Veery</td><td align="left"> .......</td><td align="left"> May 11</td><td align="left"> April 25</td><td align="left"> May 3</td><td align="left"> May 6</td><td align="left"> May 2</td><td align="left"> April 28</td><td align="left"> May 4</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Hermit thrush</td><td align="left"> April 13</td><td align="left"> April 7</td><td align="left"> April 9</td><td align="left"> April 3</td><td align="left"> April 10</td><td align="left"> April 13</td><td align="left"> April 12</td><td align="left"> April 3</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Robin</td><td align="left"> Mar. 7</td><td align="left"> Mar. 10</td><td align="left"> Feb. 28</td><td align="left"> Feb. 19</td><td align="left"> Mar. 7</td><td align="left"> Feb. 26</td><td align="left"> Feb. 24</td><td align="left"> Mar. 9</td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">Bluebird</td><td align="left"> Mar. 18</td><td align="left"> .......</td><td align="left"> Feb. 17</td><td align="left"> Feb. 21</td><td align="left"> Mar. 8</td><td align="left"> Feb. 23</td><td align="left"> Feb. 17</td><td align="left"> Mar. 9</td></tr>
</table></div>
<p>Another fact of great interest which bears on the south-to-north
movement of migrating birds, and which these observations very
clearly brought out, was the earlier appearance of individuals of various
species at points nearer the river, the first arrival of the same
species at points back from the river being, in many instances, several
days later. The first report of the arrival of a given species usually
came from a low, marshy tract of land immediately bordering the
western shore of the Delaware. The second report came from a
locality several miles back of the eastern shore of the river, but situated
in the low plain of the river valley and within tide-water limits.
The third report came from a place some miles back from the river
on the uplands, but near the head of a stream emptying into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_777" id="Page_777">[Pg 777]</a></span>
Delaware from the west. The last two places to report arrivals were
situated farther up the river and some distance back from it. All
this confirms the general idea that in migrating most, if not all, of
the various land birds follow river valleys and invade the upland
districts, lying back from either side, by way of the smaller tributaries.</p>
<p>The fact of greatest importance resulting from these observations
was that relating to temperature. It was found that there was always
a marked increase in the number of individuals of a given species following
a warm wave of temperature as marked by a decided rise of
the thermometer. The following graphic representation, based on
the abundance from day to day of three common and easily observed
species—the brown thrasher, chipping sparrow, and flicker—affords
an interesting illustration of the relative movements of the two waves.
It will be understood that the numbers in the extreme left-hand
column refer to the relative abundance of individuals of the three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_778" id="Page_778">[Pg 778]</a></span>
species collectively. The inside column refers to temperature. The
period of observation was twenty days, as shown by the line across the
top of the figure.<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
<img src="images/illo_063_a.jpg" width="600" height="461" alt="A graph of A, migration; B, temperature." />
<span class="caption">A, migration; B, temperature.</span>
</div>
<p>The advent of spring is marked by the northward progression of
the isotherm of 42.8° F., which is the initial temperature required to
awaken the dormant reproductive and germinating activities in animals
and plants. With the gradual invasion of the United States,
from the south northward, by temperatures above this, there passes
over the different regions the ever-old but ever-new panorama of the
spring with its opening blossoms, its unfolding green, and its waves
of migrating birds. The restlessness produced by the periodic development
of the reproductive function under the stimulus of increased
temperature causes the highly organized bird life to spread out from
its winter quarters, wherever those may be, and follow the zone of
new green that steadily widens northward with its increase of food
supply in the form of myriads of insects. The comparative regularity
in the recurrence of this phenomenon year after year is attested by
the observations just noted. Each species has a certain, definite
physiological relation to temperature, and its migratory movement
toward the breeding ground is determined by the movement of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_779" id="Page_779">[Pg 779]</a></span>
isotherm of this temperature. Just as warm a spell of weather may
occur in early April as in the first week of May, but it does not represent
the permanent summer rise; and the majority of the warblers,
the catbird, the tanager, the rose-breasted grosbeak, the two species of
oriole, the vireos, and the kingbird, are rarely if ever seen in abundance
in the Delaware Valley before the 1st of May. The migratory
movement of such species is as regular as any other periodic phenomenon
in Nature.</p>
<p>It is hard to realize the enormous multitude of birds that form a
so-called "wave." During the whole period of migration there is
a general northward movement of all the migratory species, but under
the influence of warm spells of weather this more or less uniform
movement rises into a vast wavelike sweep of birds. These bird
waves, as already noted, <i>follow</i> the rise of temperature appearing at
any given locality about a day or two after the first day of the warm
spell. Many species of land birds migrate at night—such, for example,
as the orioles, tanagers, warblers, vireos, wrens, the majority
of the finches, the woodpeckers, and the thrushes, excepting the robin.
During the passing of one of the May waves the darkness overhead is
alive with flying birds. One may stand for hours at a time and hear
the incessant chirping and twittering of hundreds of birds calling to
one another through the night as though to keep from getting separated.
The great mass of individuals are probably guided by these
call notes.</p>
<p>The usually accepted notion that birds migrate from south to
north in traveling to their breeding grounds is largely true of shore
birds and waterfowl, but among many of the species of land birds
conditions of topography tend to deflect a direct northward movement.
The Atlantic coast plain, reaching up into southern New
Jersey, and the Mississippi basin, each offers a broad south-to-north
highway for birds leaving the Gulf shores of the United States on
their northward journey in the spring. A great majority of species
find in the wilderness of the Appalachian highland, from the Catskills
to Georgia, breeding grounds quite as well adapted to their needs as
the forests of Maine and Canada. Large numbers of birds, according
to their regional relations, will constantly turn from the Atlantic
coast plain up the numerous rivers, which become great highways of
migration, leading to the highlands. The northward movement has
thus a large westerly deflection on the Atlantic slope of the middle
United States. It is also quite certain that many birds winter in
favorable localities on the Atlantic coast plain much farther north
than is generally supposed. This is especially true of the holly thickets
among the coastwise sand dunes of southern New Jersey and the
cedar swamps and pine barrens in the vicinity of Cape May. Many<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_780" id="Page_780">[Pg 780]</a></span>
of the finches, the marsh wrens, red-winged blackbirds, meadow larks,
thrashers, and myrtle warblers are frequently seen in these localities
through the winter. I spent one first day of February some years ago
among the dunes below Atlantic City, N. J. At Philadelphia
that morning it was bleak winter weather, but two hours later we
found ourselves in a warm expanse of sunlight on the seaward beaches.
The balmy air was filled with bird notes, and the holly thickets and
bay bushes fairly swarmed with myrtle warblers. It seems to be a
fact that many birds thus make comparatively short migratory movements
between the seacoast plain and the mountains, up and down the
river valleys.</p>
<p>The phenomenon of the migrating bird has always appealed in a
wonderful manner to the human mind. The guiding geographical
sense that all animals, and wild animals and birds in particular, possess
is peculiarly attractive to men of civilized society, because they have
largely lost this same natural instinct of direction, and now look
upon it in wonderment. Birds have very sure landmarks; their senses
are keen for noting features of topography. They undoubtedly know
the Potomac, the Susquehanna, the Delaware, the Hudson, and the
Connecticut, and never confuse one with another. They know to
which side the sea lies and that the rivers flow down from a wild,
wooded region where there are plenty of food and the best possible
places to raise their young. All these facts get fixed in their brains.
The bird's brain-cell structure is built on these lines and is only waiting
to get the impressions of the first migratory experience. They keep
in with one another, follow their chirpings in the night, learn to
tell the Hudson from the Delaware, or where this or that stretch of
woodland lies, just as they learned when first out of the nest how to
tell good from bad sorts of food, or how to find their way about the
home woods, and that an owl or a fox was an undesirable acquaintance.
In the fall migration the young birds follow the older ones in the
general movement southward, and are often belated, showing that
the impulse to leave their birthplaces is forced upon them, rather
from necessity than choice, and is not the well-developed instinct impressed
by former experience which their elders seem to possess. The
old birds who have bred and reared these young ones set the example
of early departure which the birds of the year through inexperience
are tardy in appreciating. The habit waits upon experience.</p>
<p>Each year, from midwinter, when the first warmth of advancing
sunlight calls to the sleeping life, on to the first fervid heat of the
reproductive summer, we have the joyous pageant of the spring.
This steady waxing of the new light appealed to the pagan mind of
western Europe with a far deeper sense than the modern mind can
appreciate. To our rude ancestors it was the goddess Eástre, bountiful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_781" id="Page_781">[Pg 781]</a></span>
in her gift of warmth and the magic of reproductive life, that each
year came with the light to drive away the frost giants. And with
the goddess, whom we still love to picture as a maiden tripping lightly
through the budding groves in her wind-blown garments, came the
birds. It was the cuckoo that brought the summer with "daisies
pied and violets blue," and to-day, when its voice is heard for the
first time in the year, every one knows that summer has come again
to the hedgerows of England and the lands of the Rhine. So with
us across the Atlantic, summer comes when the catbird first pours out
its babel of sweet notes in green woodland ways and the tangled nooks
of old gardens.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2>GUESSING, AS INFLUENCED BY NUMBER PREFERENCES.</h2>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By F. B. DRESSLAR.</span></p>
<p>About two years ago a certain progressive clothing company of
Los Angeles, California, procured a very large squash—so
large, indeed, as to attract much attention. This they placed uncut
in a window of their place of business, and advertised that they would
give one hundred dollars in gold to the one guessing the number of
seeds it contained. In case two or more persons guessed the correct
number, the money was to be divided equally among them. The
only prerequisite for an opportunity to guess was that the one wishing
to guess should walk inside and register his name, address, and his
guess in the notebook kept for that purpose.</p>
<p>The result of this offer was that 7,700 people registered guesses,
and but three of these guessed 811, the number of seeds which the
squash contained.</p>
<p>It occurred to me that a study of these guesses would reveal some
interesting number preferences, if any existed, for the conditions were
unusually favorable for calling forth naïve and spontaneous results,
there being no way of approximating the number of seeds by calculation,
and very little or no definite experience upon which to rely for
guidance. It seemed probable, therefore, that the guesses would
cover a wide range, and by reason of this furnish evidence of whatever
number preference might exist. It is undoubtedly safe to
assume, too, that the guesses made were honest attempts to state as
nearly as possible best judgments under conditions given; but even
if some of the guesses were more or less facetiously made, the data
would be equally valuable for the main purpose in hand.</p>
<p>According to the theory of probability, had there been no preference
at all for certain digits or certain combinations of digits within<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_782" id="Page_782">[Pg 782]</a></span>
the limits of the guesses, one figure would occur about as often as another
in units' or tens' place. It was argued, therefore, that any
marked or persistent variation from such regularity in such a great
number of cases would reveal what might be termed an unconscious
preference for such numbers or digits for these places.</p>
<p>The purpose of this study, then, was to determine whether or not
there existed in the popular mind, under the conditions offered, any
such preferences.</p>
<p>After the very arduous and tedious task of collating and classifying
all the guesses for men and women separately had been done, the
following facts appeared:</p>
<p>In the first place, marked preference is shown for certain digits
both for units' and tens' places. This statement is based on a study of
the 6,863 guesses falling below one thousand. Of these, 4,238 were
made by men and 2,625 were made by women. By tabulations of
the digits used in units' place by both men and women, the following
facts have been determined: 800 used 9, while but 374 used 8; 1,070
used 7, and 443 preferred 6; 881 used 5, and only 295 preferred 4;
862 chose 3, while 331 used 2; 577 ended with 1, while 1,230 preferred
0 as the last figure.</p>
<p>A tabulation of the figures used in tens' place shows, save in the
case of 2 and 3, where 2 is used oftener than 3, the same curious
preferences, but in a much less marked degree. To go into detail,
850 chose 9 for tens' place, while 559 took 8; 907 used 7, while
only 637 selected 6; 748 took 5, while only 536 used 4; 601 used
3, and 634 chose 2; 728 used 1, as against 872 who used 0.</p>
<p>Were it not that the selections here in the main correspond with
the preferences shown in units' place, the significance of these figures
would be much less important; but the evidence here can not
wholly be ignored when taken in connection with the facts obtained
in the preferences shown in the case of the figures occupying
units' place.</p>
<p>We are enabled, then, as a result of the study of these guesses,
to say that under the conditions offered, aside from a preference of
0 over 1 to end the numbers selected, digits representing odd numbers
are conspicuously preferred to those representing even numbers.
How far this will hold under other conditions can not now be stated,
but the facts here observed are of such a nature as to suggest the possibility
of an habitual tendency in this direction. However, further
investigations can alone determine whether or not this bias for certain
numbers is potent in a general way.</p>
<p>The curve on the next page, exhibiting the results noted above,
shows at a glance the marked and persistent preference for the odd
numbers.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_783" id="Page_783">[Pg 783]</a></span></p>
<p>It will be noticed that of the digits preferred, 7 surpasses any
of the others. Not only, then, do we tend to select an odd number
for units' place when the guess ranges between one and a thousand,
but of these digits 7 is much preferred. In connection with this fact
one immediately recalls all he has heard about 7 as a sacred number,
and its professed significance in the so-called "occult sciences." I
think one is warranted in saying from an introspective point of view
that there is a shadow of superstition present in all attempts at pure
guessing. There appears to be some unexpressed feeling of lucky
numbers or some mental easement when one unreasoned position is
taken rather than any other.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
<img src="images/illo_068.jpg" width="600" height="399" alt="Choice of Digits in Tens' and Units' Places (Men and Women)" />
<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Choice of Digits in Tens' and Units' Places (Men and Women).</span><br />
<br />Vertical distance shows the number of times the figure on the horizontal line immediately
below was used.</span></div>
<p>It is impossible on the evidence furnished by this study to give
more than hints at the probable reason for the preference here indicated.
But it is worth while to glance backward to earlier conditions,
when the scientific attitude toward all the facts of life and mind
was far more subordinated to supernatural interpretations than it
is to-day. In this way we may catch a thread which still binds us
to habits formed in the indefinite past.</p>
<p>The Greeks considered the even numbers as representative of the
feminine principle, and as belonging and applying to things terrestrial.
To them the odd numbers were endowed with a masculine
virtue, which in time was strengthened into supernatural and celestial
qualities. The same belief was prevalent among the Chinese. With<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_784" id="Page_784">[Pg 784]</a></span>
them even numbers were connected with earthly things, partaking
of the feminine principle of Yang. Odd numbers were looked upon
as proceeding out of the divine and endued with the masculine principle.
Thirty was called the number of earth, because it was made
up by the addition of the even numbers 2, 4, 6, 8, and 10. On the
other hand, 25, the sum of the five odd numbers 1, 3, 5, 7, and 9, was
called the number of heaven.</p>
<p>It is generally true that, as lower peoples developed the need of
numbers and the power to use them, certain of these numbers came
to be surrounded with a superstitious importance and endued with
certain qualities which led at once to numerical preferences more or
less dominant in all their thinking connected with numbers.</p>
<p>It would certainly be unjustifiable to conclude from the evidence
at hand that the preferences shown in the guesses under consideration
are directly traceable to some such superstition; and yet one can
scarcely prevent himself from linking them vaguely together.
Especially is this true when some consideration is given to a probable
connecting link as shown in our modern superstitious notions. I
have found through a recent study of these superstitions that where
numbers are introduced, the odd are used to the almost complete exclusion
of the even. For example, I have collected and tabulated
a series of more than sixty different superstitions using odd numbers,
and have found but four making use of the even. Besides these specific
examples there are many more which in some form or another
express the belief that odd numbers have some vital relation with
luck both good and bad.</p>
<p>It would be impossible to define precisely or even approximately
just what sort of a mental state the word "luck" stands for, but one
element in its composition is a more or less naïve belief in supernatural
and occult influences which at one time work for and at
another time against the believer. In its more pronounced forms,
the belief in luck lifts itself into a sort of a blind dependence upon
some ministering spirit which interposes between rational causes and
their effects. In a way one may say that the more or less vague and
shadowy notions of luck which float in the minds of people to-day are
but the emaciated and famishing forms of a once all-embracing superstition,
and that these shadows possess a potency over life and action
oftentimes beyond our willingness to believe.</p>
<p>There is another interesting and somewhat curious thing to be
noticed in connection with these guesses. There is a persistent tendency
to the duplication of digits, or, if one thinks of the numbers as
at first conceived in terms of language, a tendency to alliteration.
For example, the numbers 111, 222, 333, 444, 555, 666, 777, 888,
and 999 occur oftener by sixty-seven per cent than any other combination<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_785" id="Page_785">[Pg 785]</a></span>
possible in the tens thus represented. That is to say, other
things equal, one would have a right to expect 334 or 332 to occur
as often as 333. But the fact is, in this particular case, 333 occurred
forty-eight times, while the other two put together occurred only
three times. Here, however, we have the combined influence of the
preference for the odd over the even and the digital sequence. Still,
if we select 444, we find that this number, made up though it is of three
digits in general least selected of all, the preference for alliterative
effect is strong enough to make the number occur 28 times to 14
times for both 443 and 445. If we take 777, we find that it was used
more times than all the other combinations from 770 to 779 inclusive,
put together.</p>
<p>Therefore, under conditions similar to those presented for these
guesses, one would be safe to expect these duplicative or alliterative
numbers to occur much oftener than any other single number in the
series.</p>
<p>It would evidently be unsafe to generalize upon the basis of this
study, notwithstanding the large number of guesses considered.
However, it seems to me that the results here obtained at least suggest
a field of inquiry which promises interesting returns. If it be
true, as here suggested, that odd numbers are preferred by guessers,
advantage could be taken of this preference in many ways. Furthermore,
as I suspect, it may be that this probable preference points to
a habit of mind which more or less influences results not depending
strictly on guessing. It has been shown, for example, that the length
of criminal sentences has been largely affected by preferences for 5
or multiples of 5—that is to say, where judges have power to fix the
length of sentence within certain limits, there is a strong probability
that they will be influenced in their judgments by the habitual use
of 5 or its multiples. Here it would seem that unconscious preference
overrides what one has a right to consider the most careful and
impartial judgments possible, based upon actual and well-digested
data.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></p>
<p>Another thing is noticeable in these guesses. The consciousness
of number beyond 1,000 falls off very rapidly. The difference in
the values of 1,000 and 1,500 seems to have had less weight with the
guessers than a difference of 50 had at any place below 1,000. And
so, in a way, 1,000 seems to mark the limit of any sort of definite
mental measurement. This fact is more and more emphasized as the
numbers representing the guesses increase until one can see there
exists absolutely no conception of the value of numbers. For example,
many guessed 1,000,000, while several guessed more than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_786" id="Page_786">[Pg 786]</a></span>
10,000,000. Guessing means, with many people, no attempt at any
sort of reasonable measurement, but rather an attempt to express their
guess in such a way as to afford them the greatest amount of mental
relief. And this relief can not be wholly accomplished without satisfying
number preferences. Therefore, guessing is likely to exhibit,
in a greater or less degree, some habitual lines of preference subject
to predetermination. It may be that much practical advantage has
been taken of these facts in games of chance where number selections
play an important part.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2>CONCERNING WEASELS.</h2>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> WILLIAM E. CRAM.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
<img src="images/illo_071.jpg" width="600" height="437" alt="A weasel" />
</div>
<p>Why is it that while popular fancy has attributed all sorts of
uncanny and supernatural qualities to owls and cats, and that
no ghost story or tale of horrid murder has been considered quite
complete without its rat peering from some dark corner, or spider
with expanded legs suddenly spinning down from among the rafters,
no such grewsome association has ever attached itself to the weasels,
creatures whose every habit and characteristic would seem to suggest
something of the sort? Now, fond as I am of cats, I should never
think of denying that they are uncanny creatures, to say the least.
But, suppose it was the custom of our domestic tabbies to vanish abruptly
or even gradually on occasion, like the Cheshire cat after its
interview with Alice,
that would at least
furnish some excuse
for the general prejudice
against them, but
would really be no
more than some of our
commonest weasels do
whenever it serves
their purpose. I remember
one summer
afternoon I was trout-fishing
along a little
brook that ran between pine-covered hills. As I lay stretched on the
bank at the foot of a great maple I saw a weasel run along in the
brush fence some distance away. A few seconds later he was standing
on the exposed root of the tree hardly a yard from my eyes. I
lay motionless and examined the beautiful creature minutely, till suddenly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_787" id="Page_787">[Pg 787]</a></span>
I found myself staring at the smooth greenish-gray root of
the maple with no weasel in sight. Judging from my own experience,
I should say that this is the usual termination of any chance
observations of either weasels or minks.</p>
<p>Occasionally they may be seen to dart into the bushes or behind
some log or projecting bank, but much more frequently they vanish
with a suddenness that defies the keenest eyesight.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
<img src="images/illo_072.jpg" width="600" height="366" alt="A weasel" />
</div>
<p>In all probability this vanishing is accomplished by extreme rapidity
of motion, but if this is the case then the creature succeeds in doing
something utterly impossible to any other warm-blooded animal of
its size. Mice, squirrels, and some of the smaller birds are all of them
swift enough at times, but except in the case of the humming bird
none of them, I believe, succeed in accomplishing the result achieved
by the weasels. The humming bird, in spite of its small size, leaves
us a pretty definite impression of the direction it has taken when it
darts away; but when a
mink, half a yard in length
and weighing several
pounds, stands motionless
before one with his dark
coat conspicuous against almost
any background, and
the next instant is gone
without a rustle or the
tremor of a blade of grassA weasel, it
leaves one with an impression of witchcraft difficult to dispel; and
best appreciated when one sees it for one's self. Nor is the everyday
life of the weasel quiet or commonplace; his one object in life apparently
is to kill, first to appease his hunger, then to satisfy his thirst for
warm blood, and after that for the mere joy of killing.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
<img src="images/illo_073.jpg" width="600" height="392" alt="A weasel" />
</div>
<p>The few opportunities I have had for observing these animals
have never shown them occupied in any other way, nor can any hint
of anything different be gained from the various writers on the subject,
while accounts of their attacking and even killing human beings
in a kind of blind fury are too numerous and apparently well
authenticated to be entirely ignored. These attacks are said usually
to be made by a number of weasels acting in concert, and the motive
would appear to be revenge for some injury done to one of their number.
There seems to be something peculiar about the entire family
of weasels. The American sable or pine marten is said to have strange
ways that have puzzled naturalists and hunters for years. In the
wilderness no amount of trapping has any effect on their numbers,
nor do they show any especial fear of man or his works, occasionally
even coming into lumber camps at night and being especially fond of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_788" id="Page_788">[Pg 788]</a></span>
old logging roads and woods that have been swept by fire; but at the
slightest hint of approaching civilization they disappear, not gradually,
but at once and forever, and the woods know them no more. If there
is anything in the theory of the survival of the fittest, why is it that not
one marten has discovered that, like other animals of its size, it could
manage to live comfortably enough in the vicinity of man? The
mink and otter still follow the course of every brook and river
and manage to avoid the keen eyes of the duck hunter, while for
six months in the
year their paths
are sprinkled with
steel traps set
either especially
for them or for
the more plebeian
muskrat. If a
pair of sables
could be persuaded
to take up
their quarters in
some parts of New
England they could travel for dozens of miles through dark evergreen
woods with hollow and decaying trees in abundance, while at present
there are almost no traps set in a manner that need disturb creatures of
their habits. Partridges, rabbits, and squirrels, which form their principal
food, are nearly if not quite as abundant as before the country was
settled, so that it would certainly not require any very decided change
of habits to enable them to exist, but evidently the root of the matter
goes deeper than that, and, like some tribes of Indians, it is impossible
for them to multiply or flourish except in the primeval forest.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
<img src="images/illo_074.jpg" width="600" height="277" alt="A weasel" />
</div>
<p>The common weasel or ermine, which is the only kind I have seen
hereabouts, would seem to have everything on its side in the struggle
for existence, and when one happens to be killed by some larger inhabitant
of the woods it must be due entirely to its own carelessness.
Nevertheless, they do occasionally fall victims to owls and foxes, and
I once shot a red-tailed hawk that was in the act of devouring one.
Still, these casualties among weasels are probably few and far between.
Fortunately, however, they never increase to any great extent.
Occasionally in the winter the snow for miles will be covered
with their tracks all made in a single night, and then for weeks not a
track is to be seen; but usually they prefer to hunt alone, each having
its beat a mile or more in length, over which it travels back and forth
throughout the season, passing any given point at intervals of two
or three days. This habit of keeping to the same route instead of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_789" id="Page_789">[Pg 789]</a></span>
wandering at random about the woods is characteristic of the family,
the length of the route depending to a certain extent on the size of
the animal. The mink is usually about a week in going his rounds,
and may cover a dozen miles in that time, while the otter is generally
gone a fortnight or three weeks. When it is possible the ermine prefers
to follow the course of old tumble-down stone walls, and lays its
course accordingly. In favorable districts he is able to keep to these
for miles together, squeezing into the smallest crevices in pursuit of
mice or chipmunks. All the weasels travel in a similar manner—that
is, by a series of leaps or bounds in such a way that the hind feet
strike exactly in the prints made by the fore paws, so that the tracks
left in the snow are peculiar and bear a strong family resemblance.
On soft snow the slender body of the ermine leaves its imprint extending
from one pair of footprints to the next, and as these are from
four to six feet apart, or even more, the impression left in the snow
is like the track of some extremely long and slender serpent with pairs
of short legs at intervals along its body. I have said that the ermine
is the only true weasel I have found in this vicinity, but this is not
strictly true, at least I hope not. One winter I repeatedly noticed
the tracks of an exceedingly large weasel—so very large, in fact, that
I was almost forced to believe them to be those of a mink. The impression
of its body in the snow was quite as large as that made by a small
mink, but the footprints themselves were smaller, and the creature
appeared to avoid the water in a manner quite at variance with the
well-known habits of its more amphibious cousin, while, unlike the
common weasel, it never followed stone walls or fences. I put my
entire mind to the capture of the little beast, and set dozens of traps,
but it was well along in the month of March before I succeeded. It
proved to be a typical specimen of the Western long-tailed weasel,
though I can find no account of
any other having been taken east
of the Mississippi. Its entire
length was about eighteen inches;
the tail, which was a little over
six, gave the effect at first glance
of being tipped with gray instead
of black, but a closer inspection showed that the black hairs were
confined to the very extremity and were partly concealed by the
overlying white ones; the rest of the fur was white, with a slight
reddish tinge, and much longer and coarser than that of an ermine.
Since then I have occasionally seen similar tracks, but have
not succeeded in capturing a second specimen. In all probability
the least weasel is also to be found here if one has the
patience to search carefully enough; none, however, have come under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_790" id="Page_790">[Pg 790]</a></span>
my observation as yet. All the small weasels that I have seen have
proved on close inspection to be young ermines with thickly furred
black-tipped tails; in the least weasel the tail is thinly covered with
short hair and without any black whatever. Late in the autumn
or early in the winter the ermine changes from reddish-brown to
white, sometimes slightly washed with greenish-yellow or cream color,
and again as brilliantly white as anything in Nature or art; the end
of the tail, however, remains intensely black, and at first thought
might be supposed to make the animal conspicuous on the white background
of snow, but in reality has just the opposite effect. Place
an ermine on new-fallen snow in such a way that it casts no shadow,
and you will find that the black point holds your eye in spite of yourself,
and that at a little distance it is quite impossible to follow the
outline of the weasel itself. Cover the tail with snow, and you can
begin to make out the position of the rest of the animal, but as long
as the tip of the tail is in sight you see that and that only. The ptarmigan
and northern hare also retain some spot or point of dark color
when they take on their winter
dress, and these dark
points undoubtedly serve the
same purpose as in the case of
the ermine.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
<img src="images/illo_075.jpg" width="600" height="237" alt="A weasel" />
</div>
<p>An old hunter, one of the
closest observers of Nature I
have ever known, once told
me that female minks hibernated
in winter in the same
manner as bears, though it
was his belief that, unlike
the bears, they never brought
forth their young at that season. At first I refused to take the
slightest stock in what he said; the whole thing appeared so
absurd and so utterly at variance with the teachings of those
naturalists who have made the closest possible study of the habits<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_791" id="Page_791">[Pg 791]</a></span>
of minks. Since then, however, I have kept my eyes open for
any hint that might have the slightest bearing on the subject, and
to my surprise have found many things that would seem to point to
the correctness of the old hunter's theory. To begin with, he said
that late in the winter he had repeatedly known female minks to
make their appearance from beneath snow that had lain undisturbed
for days or even weeks, the tracks apparently beginning where he
first observed them, the difference in size between the two sexes being
sufficient to make it easy to distinguish between their tracks at a
glance; and, moreover, since he first began trapping he had noticed
that while the sexes were about equally abundant in the autumn, the
females always became very scarce at the approach of winter and
remained so until spring, when they suddenly increased in numbers
and became much the more abundant of the two.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
<img src="images/illo_075a.jpg" width="600" height="480" alt="A weasel" />
</div>
<p>This is also the experience of trappers in general, and may be
verified by any one who cares to take the trouble to look into the
matter. Evidently no one has ever discovered a mink in a state of
hibernation; at any rate, no such case appears ever to have been reported;
but this does not necessarily prove that it is not a regular habit
among them.</p>
<p>The cry of the mink is seldom heard, even in places where they
are fairly abundant, as they have evidently learned that the greatest
safety lies in silence. It is a peculiarly shrill, rattling, whistlelike
scream, that can be heard at a considerable distance.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2>CARE OF THE THROAT AND EAR.</h2>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> W. SCHEPPEGRELL, A. M., M. D.,</p>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap lowercase">PRESIDENT WESTERN OPTHALMOLOGIC AND OTO-LARYNGOLOGIC ASSOCIATION, NEW ORLEANS, LA.</span></p>
<p>Hygiene is that branch of medical science which relates to
the preservation and improvement of the health. As the prevention
of disease is more important than its cure—in fact, superior
to all methods for its cure—this is a subject which demands our most
earnest attention. Hygiene is not limited to the preservation and improvement
of the health of the individual, but includes that of whole
communities. As, however, the health of a community depends upon
the state of the health of the various families composing it, and this
again of its members, the proper understanding of the hygienic laws
by each individual is of the utmost importance.</p>
<p>For some reason, however, the subject of hygiene or the prevention
of disease does not create the enthusiasm caused by methods advocated
for its cure. A Koch, who publishes to the world a supposed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_792" id="Page_792">[Pg 792]</a></span>
means of curing tuberculosis, or a Behring, who introduces the
serum therapy of diphtheria, arouses an interest which is limited
only by the four corners of the world. The modest worker in sanitation,
however, who explains the means of the development of these
diseases, and the conditions and laws by means of which they may be
prevented, is looked upon without interest and frequently with disfavor.
But in spite of these conditions, the laws of hygiene are gradually
becoming more farspread, and their influence is felt more with
each advancing year.</p>
<p>The nose, throat, and ear are so intimately connected with the
other parts of the body that their health depends to a large extent
upon the condition of the system in general. The laws of hygiene and
their application which refer to the body in general are also applicable
to these parts, and whatever condition benefits the former will
have a useful influence on the upper respiratory passages, and, inversely,
any injurious effect will injure the health of these organs.</p>
<p>The physiology of this region is of much importance. Formerly
the nose was considered principally in its relation to the organ of
smell. This is a most important function, as it is a constant sentinel
over the air we breathe and the food we eat. It is a curious
circumstance that many of the functions that are referred to the
organ of taste really belong to that of smell. In eating ice cream,
for instance, the sense of taste simply informs us that it is sweet
or otherwise, but the flavor is perceived only by the sense of
smell. A proof of this is that where this function is destroyed, all
ability in this direction disappears, and the patient thus affected will
frequently complain that his sense of taste is defective, not realizing
that it is the sense of smell which performs this act.</p>
<p>The nose, however, has a much more important function to perform—viz.,
in respiration. Strange to say, however, this has only
recently been realized, and it is even yet not well understood. You
have all observed that, when you had a severe "cold" which prevented
nasal breathing, the next morning the mouth and throat
were dry and parched and frequently inflamed, the voice sometimes
hoarse, and there was a general feeling of depression. While the
progress of the inflammatory process may be a factor in this, still the
mechanical obstruction of the nose from any cause whatsoever will
have a similar effect. In patients in whom, for various reasons,
an artificial opening has been made in the trachea, the air of the room
has to be heated to an almost intolerable point and saturated with
moisture, or severe bronchial inflammation will soon develop in the
patient, simply because the nose has not taken an active part in the act
of respiration. These effects, therefore, clearly demonstrate that the
nasal passages have an important function to perform in the breathing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_793" id="Page_793">[Pg 793]</a></span>
process. Summarized in a few words, it is simply to warm, moisten,
and clean the air which we inhale.</p>
<p>The healthy nostrils are anatomically and physiologically so
formed that when the current of air passes through them it will have
been freed of its mechanical impurities, warmed to within a few degrees
of the temperature of the body, and moistened to saturation.
This has been experimentally demonstrated.</p>
<p>The opening of the passage of the ear into the throat has several
objects, the most important being ventilation and the adjustment of
the atmospheric equilibrium. This passage leads outward until it
enters the cavity of the middle ear, which is closed by the drum on
the outside, thus separating it from the external canal of the ear. We
know that atmospheric pressure varies at different times and in different
altitudes. It is much less, for instance, at the top of a mountain
than at the seaside. The opening into the throat allows the air
to enter, and adjusts the atmospheric pressure within the ear to these
various external conditions. Those of you who have ascended Lookout
Mountain by means of the incline cable car may have noticed the
adjustment taking place by a peculiar click when different altitudes
were reached.</p>
<p>So intimately are the nose, throat, and ear connected that it is
unusual to find one affected to any considerable extent without the
others being involved. While the rules of hygiene in general are
applicable to the nose, throat, and ear, there are certain special conditions
which deserve consideration. One of the most common causes
of injurious effects to the nose, throat, and ear is the so-called "cold."
The cold in this connection is, of course, understood to be simply the
cause, the condition itself being a peculiar inflammation of the parts
concerned. As cold is so frequently a cause of diseases of these parts,
it would be well to consider under what circumstances it develops and
the best mode of prevention.</p>
<p>I have often noticed that persons who suffer most frequently and
severely from colds usually insist that they exercise the greatest care
to avoid exposure. They have dressed in the warmest clothing,
wrapped the neck in the heaviest mufflers, remained in the closest
rooms, and avoided every draught, and yet they continually "take
cold." The street urchin, on the other hand, with only two or three
garments and without shoes, and who lives out of doors, suffers less
frequently from this affection.</p>
<p>"Colds" have truly been called a product of modern civilization.
The trouble was rare among the aborigines and is more common
among the cultured than among the laboring classes. If we make a
plant an exotic, we must keep it in the conservatory, and even here it is
not free from danger. On the other hand, if we wish to harden it and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_794" id="Page_794">[Pg 794]</a></span>
make it proof against atmospheric and climatic changes, we must prepare
it by judicious exposure for these conditions. The warm clothing
which is thought to be a protection against cold is frequently the
most fertile cause. It relaxes the body, moistens the skin, and the
perspiration which is induced especially prepares the unresisting body
for its attacks. This applies especially to warm covering around the
neck, to which the air has periodic access. Except in unusually
severe weather, the throat requires no more covering or protection
than the face.</p>
<p>The method of having only two systems of underclothing, the
heavy to be worn until it is quite warm, and <i>vice versa</i>, is also a
source of danger. There should be three changes: one of the lightest
texture for the warm weather of summer, a medium for spring and
fall, and the pure wool for winter, which in this climate need not be
very heavy. Waterproof shoes, rubbers, furs, etc., are not recommended
for customary use, and should be worn only when absolutely
indicated.</p>
<p>The best preventive of recurrent colds is the judicious use of the
sponge or cold shower bath. The ordinary bath should usually be of
a temperature not disagreeable to the body, but after the question of
cleanliness has been attended to, an application, either by means of a
sponge or shower, of ordinary cold water should be made. This
should be of short duration, and friction with a coarse towel follow
at once. When properly conducted, a reaction sets in so that
there is no danger from this, and the toning effect of the method is
of the utmost value in the prevention of colds. This applies, of
course, only to persons in ordinarily good health. Even in these
cases there are rare occasions in which this method is not advisable,
and it may on general principles be stated that it should not be used
by persons who do not react promptly. As stated, however, the application
of cold water should be only momentary. The daily application
of cold water to the throat and chest is also a useful practice
for strengthening these parts.</p>
<p>In addition to these means there are certain injurious conditions
that it would be well to avoid. One almost universally present in
large cities is that of dust. The constant inhalation of the small particles
of sand and of organic impurities of which dust is composed has
an irritating effect on the delicate lining of the nose and throat, which
may develop a chronic inflammation, resulting in injury to both the
throat and ear. This evil, however, can be prevented by the artificial
watering of our streets.</p>
<p>Excessive tobacco smoking produces injurious effects in the nose
and throat. Of all forms of smoking, the cigarette is the most injurious,
and allowing the smoke to pass through the nostrils the most dangerous.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_795" id="Page_795">[Pg 795]</a></span>
Occasionally ladies inhale the smoke of a closed room where
the male members of the household are smoking, and this is injurious
to a delicate throat.</p>
<p>Loud and excessive talking is sometimes a factor in throat diseases.
The former is more apt to be exercised in transit in our steam
or electric cars, and members of the theatrical profession realize this
so well that they rarely use their voice while traveling. In excessive
talking, in addition to the mechanical wear and tear of the throat,
the respiration is usually spasmodic, a combination that is likely to
lead to evil results. At puberty, when the voices of boys and girls are
changing, the former sometimes almost an octave and the latter usually
a note or two, special care should be taken of the voice, and singing
or vocal exercises should be discontinued until the change has been
finally established.</p>
<p>The effect of singing on the throat is of much interest, but it is
one of such an extensive character that it can be only casually referred
to here. The exercise required in singing improves the healthy
throat in the same manner that exercise benefits the body in general.
The diseased throat, however, may be injured by this practice, as no
form of vocal culture can remedy a mechanical interference in its
action. The method of singing is also of the utmost importance; an
erroneous one may not only injure a promising voice, but may also
have a bad effect on a normal throat. The subject of register requires
careful consideration. The placing of the voice in the wrong register
is fruitful of evil; the ambition of the singer to reach a few notes
higher or lower than her range may also work severe injury to the
throat.</p>
<p>The throat may be improved or strengthened by any of the forms
of exercise, especially the out-of-door, which have been advised for the
health in general. In addition to this, breathing exercises are of
special value. These consist of taking deep inhalations through the
nose, holding the breath for a few seconds and then gently expiring
it, the body in the meanwhile being free from all restraint from tight
clothing. The practice of this exercise for five minutes mornings and
evenings will have a remarkable effect in developing the chest and
throat.</p>
<p>In order to anticipate serious complications, children should be
taught to allow their mothers to examine their throats freely and
without resistance. I feel especially the importance of this subject,
as I have frequently seen children almost sacrificed on account of
the nervous dread of having their throats examined, or by their inability
to control themselves. The method is exceedingly simple: the
child is placed facing a bright window, and the handle of a spoon
placed on the tongue and so depressed that the posterior part of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_796" id="Page_796">[Pg 796]</a></span>
throat can be distinctly seen. At first this may be difficult, but the
child soon becomes accustomed to the manipulation and the throat
may then be examined without difficulty. Another advantage of this
procedure is that the mother becomes familiar with the normal appearance
of the throat, and can easily note any change due to disease.</p>
<p>In view of the important function of the nose in warming, cleaning,
and moistening the inspired air, the greatest care should be taken
to teach children to breathe through the nostrils. When only a portion
of the air enters through the mouth, the irritation is not as
marked as when all the air is inhaled in this manner, but it nevertheless
develops a condition of chronic irritation which is easily recognized
by one familiar with its appearance, and which may lead to important
complications. In many cases, mouth breathing is not due to habit,
but to some obstruction in the nostrils or throat. These cases form a
proper subject for the consideration of the physician. After the removal
of any existing obstruction, children will sometimes, from force
of habit, continue to breathe through the mouth, but this can usually
be overcome by attention and firmness on the part of the parents.</p>
<p>The prevention of grave throat diseases, such as diphtheria, necessarily
forms a subject of much interest to the public in general and to
mothers in particular. The causation of this disease has been much
cleared up in later years, and we now know that the important factor is
a bacillus—a small organism of the vegetable kingdom—which is the
cause of this disease and a necessary material for its propagation.
Bacteriologic investigations have shown that the so-called "membranous
croup" is in by far the largest number of cases identical with
diphtheria, and the same precautions which apply to the latter should
therefore also be carried out in this disease.</p>
<p>As diphtheria is strictly an infectious disease, and one which must
be directly or indirectly contracted from a similar case, there is no
sanitary reason why this dreaded malady in the course of time should
not be entirely eliminated from the earth. In view of the fact that
diphtheria is so frequently present in our larger cities, this may appear
at present a Utopian idea. It is not so many years ago, however,
when smallpox was almost universal, and yet we now but rarely have
it in our midst. Not only is this the case, but the health authorities
are severely criticised when a number of these cases exist, as indicating
that there has been a lack of watchfulness in carrying out certain well-known
means of prevention.</p>
<p>While we have at the present time no means of inoculation that
will permanently protect against infection from diphtheria, still it
is not of such an infectious character as smallpox, as the cases are
usually limited to children, and its spread may therefore be more
easily prevented. Not only should children who have had diphtheria<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_797" id="Page_797">[Pg 797]</a></span>
be prevented from returning to school until infection is no longer
possible, but other children of the same household should also be kept
at home. A few years ago a certain school in this city was rarely
without a case of diphtheria among its pupils for many months. I
am convinced that had the principal of the school or the parents insisted
upon the other children of the infected household remaining
at home, the spread in this direction would have been arrested and
much suffering avoided.</p>
<p>When a patient has recovered from diphtheria, thorough disinfection
is a most important measure. Unfortunately, however,
many persons consider it a hardship if articles which can not be disinfected
are destroyed, and many will even use every endeavor to
prevent the representatives of the Board of Health from carrying out
their regulations. In this way the germ of the disease remains on the
premises, and under suitable conditions again finds another victim
in the household. To illustrate this, I recall an instance some years
ago in which I was called in consultation to see a most malignant case
of diphtheria. The little patient fortunately recovered, and the
premises were thoroughly disinfected, the parents being anxious to
avoid any repetition of the dreaded malady. Five months later, however,
a younger child became ill, and was found to have diphtheria.
In view of the vigorous efforts which had been made to disinfect the
house thoroughly, and of the fact that the child could not have contracted
it elsewhere, not having left its home for several weeks, the
cause at first appeared a mystery. Careful inquiry, however, soon
elicited a fact which clearly explained the case. The first patient
had used a mouth-organ just before its illness, and when this was
abandoned, the toy was carelessly thrown on the top of a bookcase,
the nature of the child's illness at the time not being known. The
second child, just before its illness, had accidentally found this toy
and used it frequently. This experience explains the necessity of
disinfection in all its details, and also illustrates the tenacious character
of the germ which produces this disease.</p>
<p>Our knowledge of the specific cause of scarlet fever is not as complete
as that of diphtheria, but we have much useful information
which is of importance from a hygienic standpoint. As in diphtheria,
the specific poison is probably produced in the throat of the
patient, and may therefore be spread by the dried secretion from
the mouth and throat. The most common means of contagion, however,
is the skin, which peels off in the later stage of the disease,
infection being produced by the inhalation into the nostrils of some
of the diseased particles.</p>
<p>A predisposing factor which applies alike to diphtheria and all
other throat affections is the abnormal condition of the nose and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_798" id="Page_798">[Pg 798]</a></span>
throat. When these important parts are in an unhealthy condition,
where mouth breathing exists and other conditions inimical to normal
health, the patient is more predisposed to all forms of maladies of this
region, and the attack when developed is more apt to be of a serious
character. The more ordinary forms of sore throat, such as tonsilitis,
are frequently due to defects in the sanitary conditions and surroundings
of the home. While modern sanitary plumbing, when properly
constructed, adds much to the convenience of the household, it is a certain
menace to all its members if, through improper construction or defective
ventilation, decomposing matter collects in the waste pipes
and vitiates the atmosphere of the rooms. Many recurrent cases of
tonsilitis are due to this cause. Even the ordinary stationary washstands
may be a source of danger, especially in the bedroom, unless
thoroughly ventilated and care exercised that the traps are not filled
with decomposing matter. A physician of large experience in this
city is so imbued with the danger of this form of plumbing that he
condemns it <i>in toto</i>. When well constructed and well ventilated,
however, they can not be the source of danger in the household.</p>
<p>Tuberculosis, which is responsible for so enormous a mortality,
frequently also affects the throat as well as the lungs. Although it
usually originates within the chest, it sometimes finds its primary
origin in the throat, and in a large percentage of cases the throat affection
forms a complication of tuberculosis of the lungs. In spite of the
numerous remedies which have been advocated for the cure of this
disease, it must be admitted that our chief reliance is in proper nourishment
and climatic effects, and that hygiene is the sheet-anchor which
will eventually rescue us from this terrible foe of the human race.</p>
<p>Recent investigations tend to prove more and more that tuberculosis
is inherited in but rare cases; that inheritance is simply a predisposing
factor, and that the real cause is infection. As an illustration
of this, all have seen instances in which there had been
apparently no cases in a family for ten or fifteen years, when from
some cause one case develops, and this is soon followed by other cases
in the same family. Whatever rôle heredity may play in these cases,
this simply shows that the first case produced the infectious material
which found a suitable soil in the other members of the family and
developed a similar disease. The inheritance theory has been the
source of much injury by causing members of the afflicted family to
submit to the apparently inevitable instead of instituting measures
for its prevention. The infectious product in tuberculosis is not the
breath, as is so frequently believed by the laity, but simply the expectoration
which comes from the diseased lungs or throat. When
this is allowed to come in contact with clothing or other material in
the room, it becomes dry and loads the atmosphere with a dust which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_799" id="Page_799">[Pg 799]</a></span>
contains the infectious bacillus, which may cause a similar disease in
a person predisposed by heredity or sickness to this affection.</p>
<p>The germ of tuberculosis is the seed, and the predisposed person
the soil, and it requires a combination of both to develop the disease.
To illustrate the necessity of suitable conditions for the development
of plants—for it is now almost universally admitted that the germ of
tuberculosis is a micro-organism which belongs to the vegetable
kingdom—I remember some years ago, while in North Europe, seeing
in a hothouse a plant which is here commonly known as the "four
o'clock." The gardener in charge of the conservatory considered it
a remarkable plant, but difficult to propagate, and stated that it was
absolutely impossible to raise it out of doors. In this part of the
world, however, we know that this plant grows so easily that once
established in a garden it is difficult to keep it within limits. In both
of the cases we have the same seed, the difference being only in the
soil and the conditions favorable for its development. The absence
of either the seed or the soil will absolutely prevent tuberculosis,
and if the laws of hygiene are properly carried out, both in destroying
the seed and in preventing the formation of a suitable soil, favorable
effects will soon be shown.</p>
<p>Hygiene in regard to patients demands simply that the infectious
character of the expectoration be destroyed. The vessels for this
purpose should contain some disinfecting solution, should be cleaned
regularly, and handkerchiefs, towels, or other material with which
the expectoration has come in contact should be sterilized by being
placed for at least half an hour in boiling water. This is necessary
not only for those in the same room with the patient, but also for the
patient, as it is quite possible that a former expectoration may produce
reinfection of the patient himself.</p>
<p>Another method of contracting tuberculosis is by means of animals,
such as cows, used for food and milking, which are known to
be subject to this disease. It has been shown in some localities that
one cow out of every twenty-five was affected with tubercular disease.
This suggests the importance of having competent veterinarians to
examine not only the meat which is sold, but also the cows used for
milking purposes. Where there is the slightest doubt as to the nature
of the meat or milk, the former should be thoroughly cooked and the
latter sterilized before using.</p>
<p>In this connection it would be well to refer to the subject of spitting
in street cars and in public places. While this nuisance is the
subject of danger to every one in the street cars, especially in winter,
when the windows are closed and a large amount of impurities is inhaled,
it is more particularly so to ladies, whose skirts, in spite of
every care, are soiled by the filthy expectoration, thus making them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_800" id="Page_800">[Pg 800]</a></span>
subject not only to the inhalation in the car, but also to carrying the
infectious material to their homes.</p>
<p>The danger of this condition is not merely speculative. It has
been bacteriologically demonstrated that the organisms of various
contagious diseases thus find a lodging place in our cars and public
places, and experiments on animals, in which the inoculation has developed
diseases, have shown that these organisms retain their vitality
in these places and may propagate disease under favorable conditions.</p>
<p>A factor in the spread of diseases of the throat and mouth that
should not be overlooked is kissing. Unfortunately, this matter has
usually been treated with much levity, and where a sanitarian is bold
enough to condemn the habit he is frequently made the subject of
all forms of ridicule in the public press.</p>
<p>The tender lining of the lips, mouth, and throat, and its large
blood supply, make it peculiarly susceptible to contagion, and I have
no doubt that the habit of kissing is responsible for many cases of infection.
Last year I noticed a lady coming from a house from which
a diphtheria flag was flying, who walked to the corner to take the
street car, when a nurse with a small child approached. The lady
without hesitation stooped down and kissed the little child. As it is
well known that a healthy person may transmit a disease without incurring
the disease himself, this lady voluntarily risked the danger
of inflicting this disease upon the innocent child. It is not an uncommon
thing for nurses to kiss the children under their charge,
and here in New Orleans even the colored nurses sometimes practice
this habit, occasionally with the permission of the parents. In fact,
a fashionable lady on one occasion told me, when I remonstrated with
her about this, that she feared to hurt the feelings of the old nurse,
who had been a valuable servant in the family for many years.</p>
<p>How often this habit is productive of evil results is of course
only speculation. I recall, however, an instance in which two small
children of one family developed a specific disease which originated
in the mouth and affected the whole system. Examination proved
this to have been caused by a nurse, a white woman, who had been
in the habit of kissing the children. If women will voluntarily incur
risks by using kissing as a form of salutation in all stages of acquaintanceship,
I would at least request that the innocent children be spared
the possible consequences.</p>
<p>The subject of the hygiene of the ear is so intimately connected
with conditions influencing the nose and throat, which have already
been explained, that but few words are needed to cover this part of
my subject. In general, the best care of the ear is to leave it alone.
Ear scoops are injurious; the ear should be cleaned simply on the
outside, and nothing, as a rule, should be inserted into the external<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_801" id="Page_801">[Pg 801]</a></span>
canal. I have seen many cases of abscess and the most severe inflammation
due to endeavors to clean the ear with the omnipresent hairpin
and other objects used for this purpose. The use of cotton in the
ear in general is to be condemned. It produces an artificial condition
in the outer canal of the ear which reduces its physical resistance
and makes it more liable to injury from exposure. The ear
is sometimes injured by the entrance of cold water. This happens
occasionally during ordinary bathing, but more frequently in outdoor
bathing and in swimming. In surf bathing, where the water
is thrown up with considerable force, it is much more liable to
enter the external orifice of the ear, and severe inflammation may
originate from this cause.</p>
<p>Salt water has been claimed to be more injurious than fresh, but
my personal experience leads me to believe that it is more a question
of temperature than of the quality of the water. Some years ago a
large reservoir was built by an educational institute near this city, the
water, which was quite cold even in summer, being supplied by an
artesian well. The tank was used for bathing purposes, but earache
soon became so frequent among the boys that the use of the reservoir
for this purpose had to be entirely abandoned. In ordinary bathing,
the entrance of water into the ear can easily be avoided. In swimming
or surf bathing it is advisable to use a pledget of lamb's wool
to close the opening of the ears. Ordinary cotton soon becomes
saturated and is of no use in this connection, but the wool, which is
slightly oily, forms an excellent protection in these cases.</p>
<p>The "running ear" is a diseased condition which should not be
tampered with by the inexperienced, but which should not be neglected.
The old idea that the child will outgrow it, or that it is a
secretion of the head which if interfered with would prove dangerous,
has been fruitful of many cases of deafness and even more serious
complications.</p>
<p>Another condition to which I would call your attention is the incipient
development of deafness in children. Where the capacity
of hearing is quickly lowered from the normal to fifty per cent, it is
so striking that the patient is much distressed and even confused.
But when this change takes place insidiously from day to day, it is
frequently not observed by either the patient or those around him
until it has greatly advanced. Children thus affected hear only with
difficulty and by straining certain small muscles of the ear, which
soon become fatigued, and the child becomes listless and inattentive.
I have seen numerous cases in which children have been severely punished
for inattention, when this was due to defective hearing. Watchfulness
and early attention in these cases will frequently prevent the
more serious forms of deafness.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_802" id="Page_802">[Pg 802]</a></span></p>
<h2>THE PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY OF THE WEST INDIES.</h2>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> F. L. OSWALD.</p>
<h3>I.—THE FAUNA OF THE ANTILLES: MAMMALS.</h3>
<p>The study of the geographical distribution of plants and animals
has revealed facts almost as enigmatical as the origin of life itself.
Water barriers, as broad as that of the Atlantic, have not prevented
the spontaneous spread of some species, while others limit their
habitat to narrowly circumscribed though not geographically isolated
regions.</p>
<p>Tapirs are found both in the Amazon Valley and on the Malay
Peninsula; the brook trout of southern New Zealand are identical
with those of the Austrian Alps. Oaks and <i>Ericacea</i> (heather plants)
cover northern Europe from the mouth of the Seine to the sources of
the Ural; then suddenly cease, and are not found anywhere in the
vast Siberian territories, with a north-to-south range rivaling that of
all British North America.</p>
<p>But still more remarkable is the zoölogical contrast of such close-neighborhood
countries as Africa and Madagascar, or Central America
and the West Indian archipelago. The Madagascar virgin woods
harbor no lions, leopards, hyenas, or baboons, but boast not less than
thirty-five species of mammals unknown to the African continent,
and twenty-six found nowhere else in the world.</p>
<p>Of a dozen different kinds of deer, abundant in North America
as well as in Asia and Europe, not a single species has found its way
to the West Indies. The fine mountain meadows of Hayti have
originated no antelopes, no wild sheep or wild goats.</p>
<p>In the Cuban sierras, towering to a height of 8,300 feet, there
are no hill foxes. There are caverns—subterranean labyrinths with
countless ramifications, some of them—but no cave bears or badgers,
no marmots or weasels even, nor one of the numerous weasel-like creatures
clambering about the rock clefts of Mexico. The magnificent
coast forests of the Antilles produce wild-growing nuts enough to
freight a thousand schooners every year, but—almost incredible to
say—the explorers of sixteen generations have failed to discover a
single species of squirrels.</p>
<p>The Old-World tribes of our tree-climbing relatives are so totally
different from those of the American tropics that Humboldt's traveling
companion, Bonplant, renounced the theory of a unitary center
of creation (or evolution), and maintained that South America must
have made a separate though unsuccessful attempt to rise from
lemurs to manlike apes and men. Of such as they are, Brazil alone
has forty-eight species of monkeys, and Venezuela at least thirty.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_803" id="Page_803">[Pg 803]</a></span>
How shall we account for the fact that not one of the large West
Indian islands betrays a vestige of an effort in the same direction?</p>
<p>More monkey-inviting forests than those of southern Hayti can
not be found in the tropics, but not even a marmoset or squirrel-monkey
accepted the invitation. In an infinite series of centuries
not one pair of quadrumana availed itself of the chance to cross a
sea gap, though at several points the mainland approaches western
Cuba within less than two hundred miles—about half the distance
that separates southern Asia from Borneo, where fourhanders of all
sizes and colors compete for the products of the wilderness, and, according
to Sir Philip Maitland, the "native women avoid the coast
jungles for fear of meeting Mr. Darwin's grandfather."</p>
<p>The first Spanish explorers of the Antilles were, in fact, so amazed
at the apparently complete absence of quadrupeds that their only
explanation was a conjecture that the beasts of the forest must have
been exterminated by order of some native potentate, perhaps the
great Kubla Khan, whose possessions they supposed to extend <i>eastward</i>
from Lake Aral to the Atlantic. The chronicle of Diego Columbus
says positively that San Domingo and San Juan Bautista
(Porto Rico) were void of mammals, but afterward modifies that statement
by mentioning a species of rodent, the <i>hutia</i>, or bush rat, that
annoyed the colonists of Fort Isabel, and caused them to make an
appropriation for importing a cargo of cats.</p>
<p>Bush rats and moles were, up to the end of the sixteenth century,
the only known indigenous quadrupeds of the entire West Indian
archipelago, for the "Carib dogs," which Valverde saw in Jamaica,
were believed to have been brought from the mainland by a horde of
man-hunting savages.</p>
<p>But natural history has kept step with the advance of other sciences,
and the list of undoubtedly aboriginal mammals on the four
main islands of the Antilles is now known to comprise more than
twenty species. That at least fifteen of them escaped the attention
of the Spanish creoles is as strange as the fact that the Castilian cattle
barons of Upper California did not suspect the existence of precious
metals, though nearly the whole bonanza region of the San Joaquin
Valley had been settled before the beginning of the seventeenth century.
But the conquerors of the Philippines even overlooked a
variety of elephants that roams the coast jungles of Mindanao.</p>
<p>Eight species of those West Indian <i>incognito</i> mammals, it is true,
are creatures of a kind which the Spanish zoölogists of Valverde's
time would probably have classed with birds—bats, namely, including
the curious <i>Vespertilio molossus</i>, or mastiff bat, and several
varieties of the owl-faced <i>Chilonycteris</i>, that takes wing in the gloom
preceding a thunderstorm, as well as in the morning and evening twilight,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_804" id="Page_804">[Pg 804]</a></span>
and flits up and down the coast rivers with screams that can
be heard as plainly as the screech of a paroquet. The <i>Vespertilio
scandens</i> of eastern San Domingo has a peculiar habit of flitting from
tree to tree, and clambering about in quest of insects, almost with
the agility of a flying squirrel. There are times when the moonlit
woods near Cape Rafael seem to be all alive with the restless little
creatures; that keep up a clicking chirp, and every now and then
gather in swarms to contest a tempting find, or to settle some probate
court litigation. San Domingo also harbors one species of those prototypes
of the harpies, the fruit-eating bats. It passes the daylight
hours in hollow trees, but becomes nervous toward sunset and apt
to betray its hiding place by an impatient twitter—probably a collocution
of angry comments on the length of time between meals.
The moment the twilight deepens into gloom the chatterers flop out
to fall on the next mango orchard and eat away like mortgage brokers.
They do not get fat—champion gluttons rarely do—but attain a
weight of six ounces, and the Haytian darkey would get even with
them after a manner of their own if their prerogatives were not
protected by the intensity of their musky odor. The above-mentioned
<i>hutia</i> rat appears to have immigrated from some part of the world
where the shortness of the summer justified the accumulation of large
reserve stores of food, and under the influence of a hereditary hoarding
instinct it now passes its existence constructing and filling a series
of subterranean granaries. Besides, the females build nurseries, and
all these burrows are connected by tunnels that enable their constructors
to pass the rainy season under shelter. They gather nuts,
<i>belotas</i> (a sort of sweet acorns), and all kinds of cereals, and with their
<i>penchant</i> for appropriating roundish wooden objects on general principles
would probably give a Connecticut nutmeg peddler the benefit
of the doubt.</p>
<p>They also pilfer raisins, and a colony of such tithe collectors is a
formidable nuisance, for the <i>hutia</i> is a giant of its tribe, and attains a
length of sixteen inches, exclusive of the tail. It is found in Cuba,
Hayti, Jamaica, Porto Rico, Antigua, Trinidad, the Isle of Pines,
Martinique, and two or three of the southern Bahama Islands, and
there may have been a time when it had the archipelago all to itself.
The Lucayans had a tradition that their ancestors found it on their
arrival from the mainland, and in some coast regions of eastern Cuba
it may still be seen basking in the sunlight—</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Sole sitting on the shore of old romance,"<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>and wondering if there are any larger mammals on this planet.</p>
<p>Its next West Indian congener is the Jamaica rice rat, and there
are at least ten species of mice, all clearly distinct from any Old-World<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_805" id="Page_805">[Pg 805]</a></span>
rodent, though it is barely possible that some of them may have
stolen a ride on Spanish trading vessels from Central America.</p>
<p>Water-moles burrow in the banks of several Cuban rivers, and two
genera of aquatic mammals have solved the problem of survival: the
bayou porpoise and the manatee, both known to the creoles of the
early colonial era, and vaguely even to the first discoverers, since
Columbus himself alludes to a "sort of mermaids (<i>sirenas</i>) that half
rose from the water and scanned the boat's crew with curious eyes."</p>
<p>Naturally the manatee is, indeed, by no means a timid creature,
but bitter experience has changed its habits since the time when the
down-town sportsmen of Santiago used to start in sailboats for the
outer estuary and return before night with a week's supply of manatee
meat. The best remaining hunting grounds are the reed shallows
of Samana Bay (San Domingo) and the deltas of the Hayti swamp
rivers. Old specimens are generally as wary as the Prybilof fur seal
that dive out of sight at the first glimpse of a sail; still, their slit-eyed
youngsters are taken alive often enough, to be kept as public pets in
many town ponds, where they learn to come to a whistle and waddle
ashore for a handful of cabbage leaves.</p>
<p>Fish otters have been caught in the lagoons of Puerto Principe
(central Cuba) and near Cape Tiburon, on the south coast of San
Domingo, the traveler Gerstaecker saw a kind of "bushy-tailed dormouse,
too small to be called a squirrel."</p>
<p>But the last four hundred years have enlarged the list of indigenous
mammals in more than one sense, and the Chevalier de Saint-Méry
should not have been criticised for describing the bush dog of
Hayti as a "<i>canis Hispaniolanus</i>." Imported dogs enacted a declaration
of independence several centuries before the revolt of the
Haytian slaves, and their descendants have become as thoroughly
West Indian as the Franks have become French. A continued process
of elimination has made the survivors climate-proof and self-supporting,
and above all they have ceased to vary; Nature has accepted their
modified type as wholly adapted to the exigencies of their present
habitat. And if it is true that all runaway animals revert in some degree
to the characteristics of their primeval relatives, the ancestor of
the domestic dog would appear to have been a bush-tailed, brindle-skinned,
and black-muzzled brute, intermittently gregarious, and
combining the burrowing propensity of the fox with the co-operative
hunting <i>penchant</i> of the wolf.</p>
<p>Fourteen years of bushwhacker warfare have almost wholly exterminated
the half-wild cattle of the Cuban sierras, but the bush dog
has come to stay. The yelping of its whelps can be heard in thousands
of jungle woods and mountain ravines, both of Cuba and
Hayti, and no variety of thoroughbreds will venture to follow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_806" id="Page_806">[Pg 806]</a></span>
these renegades into the penetralia of their strongholds. Sergeant
Esterman, who shared the potluck of a Cuban insurgent camp in the
capacity of a gunsmith, estimates the wild-dog population of the province
of Santiago alone at half a million, and predicts that in years to
come their raids will almost preclude the possibility of profitable cattle-breeding
in eastern Cuba.</p>
<p>Still, the <i>perro pelon</i>, or "tramp dog," as the creoles call the
wolfish cur, is perhaps a lesser evil, where its activity has tended to
check the over-increase of another assisted immigrant. Three hundred
years ago West Indian sportsmen began to import several breeds
of Spanish rabbits, and with results not always foreseen by the agricultural
neighbors of the experimenters. Rabbit meat, at first a
luxury, soon became an incumbrance of the provision markets, and
finally unsalable at any price. Every family with a dog or a trap-setting
boy could have rabbit stew for dinner six times a week, and
load their peddlers with bundles of rabbit skins.</p>
<p>The burrowing coneys threatened to undermine the agricultural
basis of support, when it was learned that the planters of the Fort
Isabel district (Hayti) had checked the evil by forcing their
dogs to live on raw coney meat. The inexpensiveness of the expedient
recommended its general adoption, and the rapidly multiplying
quadrupeds soon found that "there were others." The Spanish
hounds, too, could astonish the census reporter where their progeny
was permitted to survive, and truck farmers ceased to complain.</p>
<p>In stress of circumstances the persecuted rodents then took refuge
in the highlands, where they can still be seen scampering about the
grassy dells in all directions, and the curs of the coast plain turned their
attention to <i>hutia</i> venison and the eggs of the chaparral pheasant and
other gallinaceous birds. On the seacoast they also have learned to
catch turtles and subdivide them, regardless of antivivisection laws.
How they can get a business opening through the armor of the larger
varieties seems a puzzle, but the <i>canis rutilus</i> of the Sunda Islands
overcomes even the dog-resisting ability of the giant tortoise, and in
Sumatra the bleaching skeletons of the victims have often been mistaken
for the mementos of a savage battle.</p>
<p>Near Bocanso in southeastern Cuba the woods are alive with capuchin
monkeys, that seem to have escaped from the wreck of some
South American trading vessel and found the climate so congenial
that they proceeded to make themselves at home, like the ring-tailed
colonists of Fort Sable, in the Florida Everglades. The food supply
may not be quite as abundant as in the equatorial birthland of their
species, but that disadvantage is probably more than offset by the
absence of tree-climbing carnivora.</p>
<p>Millions of runaway hogs roam the coast swamps of all the larger<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_807" id="Page_807">[Pg 807]</a></span>
Antilles, and continue to multiply like our American pension claimants.
The hunters of those jungle woods, indeed, must often smile
to remember the complaint of the early settlers that the pleasure of
the chase in the West Indian wilderness was modified by the scarcity
of four-footed game, and in the total number (as distinct from the
number of species) of wild or half-wild mammals Cuba and Hayti
have begun to rival the island of Java.</p>
<p class="center">[<i>To be continued.</i>]</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2>IRON IN THE LIVING BODY.</h2>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> M. A. DASTRE.</p>
<p>Iron occurs, in small and almost infinitesimal proportions, in
numerous organic structures, in which its presence may usually
be detected by the high color it imparts; and in the animal tissues
is an important ingredient, though far from being a large one. It
is essential, however, that the animal tissues, and particularly the
liquids that circulate through them, should be of nearly even weight,
else the equilibrium of the body would be too easily disturbed, and
disaster arising therefrom would be always imminent. Hence the
iron is always found combined and associated with a large accompaniment
of other lighter elements which, reducing or neutralizing its superior
specific gravity, hold it up and keep it afloat. Thus the molecule
of the red matter of the blood contains, for each atom of iron, 712
atoms of carbon, 1,130 of hydrogen, 214 of nitrogen, 245 of oxygen,
and 2 of sulphur, or 2,303 atoms in all. Existing in compounds of
so complex composition, iron can be present only in very small proportions
to the whole. Though an essential element, there is comparatively
but little of it. The whole body of man does not contain more
than one part in twenty thousand of it. The blood contains only five
ten-thousandths; and an organ is rich in it if, like the liver, it contains
one and a half ten-thousandths. When, then, we seek to represent
to ourselves the changes undergone by organic iron, we shall
have to modify materially the ideas we have formed respecting the
largeness and the littleness of units of measure and as to the meaning
of the words abundant and rare. We must get rid of the notion that
a thousandth or even a ten-thousandth is a proportion that may be
neglected. The humble ten-thousandth, which is usually supposed
not to be of much consequence, becomes here a matter of value.
Chemists working with iron in its ordinary compounds may consider
that they are doing fairly well if they do not lose sight of more than
a thousandth of it; but such looseness would be fatal in a biological<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_808" id="Page_808">[Pg 808]</a></span>
investigation, where accuracy is necessary down to the infinitesimal
fraction. The balances of the biologists must weigh the thousandth
of a milligramme, as their microscopes measure the thousandth of a
millimetre.</p>
<p>The great part performed by iron in organisms, what we may
call its biological function, appertains to the chemical property it
possesses of favoring combustion, of being an agent for promoting
the oxidation of organic matters.</p>
<p>The chemistry of living bodies differs from that of the laboratory
in a feature that is peculiar to it—that instead of performing its reactions
directly it uses special agents. It employs intermediaries
which, while they are not entirely unknown to mineral chemistry,
yet rarely intervene in it. If it is desired, for example, to add a
molecule of water to starch to form sugar, the chemist would do it
by heating the starch with acidulated water. The organism, which
is performing this process all the time, or after every meal, does it in
a different way, without special heating and without the acid. A
soluble ferment, a diastase or enzyme, serves as the oxidizing agent
to produce the same result. Looking at the beginning and the end,
the two operations are the same. The special agent gives up none of
its substance. It withdraws after having accomplished its work, and
not a trace of it is left. Here, in the mechanism of the action of these
soluble ferments, resides the mystery, still complete, of vital chemistry.
It may be conceived that these agents, which leave none of
their substance behind their operations, which suffer no loss, do not
have to be represented in considerable quantities, however great
the need of them may be. They only require time to do their work.
The most remarkable characteristic of the soluble ferments lies, in
fact, here, in the magnitude of the action as contrasted with infinitesimal
proportion of the agent, and the necessity of having time
for the accomplishment of the operation.</p>
<p>Iron behaves in precisely the same way in the combustion of
organic substances. These substances are incapable at ordinary temperatures
of fixing oxygen directly, and will not burn till they are
raised to a high temperature; but in the presence of iron they are
capable of burning without extreme heat, and undergo slow combustion.
And as iron gives up none of its substance in the operation,
and acts, as a simple intermediary, only to draw oxygen from the
inexhaustible atmosphere and present it to the organic substance, we
see that it need not be abundant to perform its office, provided it
have time enough. This action resembles that of the soluble ferments
in that there is no mystery about it, and its innermost mechanism
is perfectly known.</p>
<p>Iron readily combines with oxygen—too readily, we might say,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_809" id="Page_809">[Pg 809]</a></span>
if we regarded only the uses we make of it. It exists as an oxide in
Nature; and the metallurgy of it has no other object than to revivify
burned iron, remove the oxygen from it, and extract the metal.
Of the two oxides of iron, the ferrous, or lower one, is an energetic
base, readily combining with even the weakest acids, and forming
with them ferrous or protosalts. Ferric oxide, on the other hand, is
a feeble base, which combines only slowly with even strong acids
to form ferric salts or persalts, and not at all with weak acids like
carbonic acid and those of the tissues of living beings. It is these
last, more highly oxidized ferric compounds that provide organic
substances with the oxygen that consumes them, when, as a result of
the operation, they themselves return to the ferrous state.</p>
<p>Facts of this sort are too nearly universal not to have been observed
very long ago, but they were not fully understood till about
the middle of this century. The chemists of the time—Liebig,
Dumas, and especially Schönbein, Wöhler, Stenhouse, and many
others—established the fact that ferric oxide provokes at ordinary
temperatures a rapid action of combustion on a large number of substances:
grass, sawdust, peat, charcoal, humus, arable land, and animal
matter. A very common example is the destruction of linen by
rust spots; the substance of the fiber is slowly burned up by the
oxygen yielded by the oxide. About the same time, Claude Bernard
inquired whether the process took place within the tissues, in
contact with living matter in the same way as we have just seen it
did with dead matter—the remains of organisms that had long since
submitted to the action of physical laws—and received an affirmative
answer. Injecting a ferric salt into the jugular vein of an animal, he
found it excreted, deprived of a part of its oxygen, as a ferrous salt.</p>
<p>This slow combustion of organic matter, living or dead, accomplished
in the cold by iron, represents only one of the aspects of its
biological function. A counterpart to it is necessary in order to
complete the picture. It is easy to perceive that the phenomenon
would have no bearing or consequence if it was limited to this first
action. With the small provision of oxygen in the iron salt used up,
and, if reduced to the minimum of oxidation, the source of oxygen being
exhausted, the combustion of organic matter would stop. The
oxidation obtained would be insignificant, while the oxidation should
be indefinite and unlimited, and it is really so.</p>
<p>There is a counterpart. The iron salt, which has gone back to
the minimum of oxidation and become a ferrous salt, can not remain
long in that state in contact with the air and with other sources of the
gas to which it is exposed. It has always been known that ferrous
compounds absorb oxygen from the air and pass into the ferric state;
we might say that we have seen it done, for the transformation is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_810" id="Page_810">[Pg 810]</a></span>
accompanied by a characteristic change of color, by a transition from
the pale green tint of ferrous bases to the ochery or red color of
ferric compounds.</p>
<p>We can understand now what should happen when the ferruginous
compound is placed in contact alternately with organic matter
and oxygen. In the former phase the iron will yield oxygen to the
organic matter; in the second phase it will take again from the
atmosphere the combustible which it has lost, and will be again where
it started. The same series of operations may be continued a second
time and a third time, and indefinitely, as long as the alternations of
contact with organic matter and exposure to atmospheric oxygen
are kept up, the iron simply performing the part of a broker. The
same result will occur if atmospheric air and organic matter are constantly
together; the consumption will continue indefinitely, and the
iron will perform the part of an intermediary till one of the elements
of the process is exhausted.</p>
<p>This explanation was necessary to make clear the solution of the
mystery of slow or cool combustion, the existence of which has been
known since Lavoisier, without its mechanism being understood.
That illustrious student gave out the theory that animal heat and
the energy developed by vital action originated in the chemical reactions
of the organism, and that, on the other hand, the reactions that
produce heat consisted of simple combustions, slow combustions, that
differed only in intensity from that of the burning torch. The development
of chemistry has shown that this figure was too much simplified
from the reality, and that most of these phenomena, while they
are in the end equivalent to a combustion, differ greatly from it in
mechanism and mode of execution. By this we do not mean to say
that all the combustions are of this character, and that there do not
exist in the organism a large number of such as Lavoisier understood,
and of such as the combustions effected by the intervention of iron
furnish the type of. Lavoisier's successors, Liebig among them, tried
to find reactions conformed to this type. Their attempts were unsuccessful,
but they had the happy result of revealing, if not the
real function of iron in the blood, at least that of the red matter in
which it is fixed.</p>
<p>The question of the presence of iron in the coloring matter of
the blood gave rise to long discussions. Vauquelin denied it. He
made the mistake of looking for iron in the form of a known compound,
in direct combination with the blood, while later researches
have shown that it is found almost exclusively in the red matter that
tinges the globules, in a complicated combination that escapes the
ordinary tests; or, according to a usual method of expression, it is
dissimulated. Liebig also failed to find this combination, and it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_811" id="Page_811">[Pg 811]</a></span>
not till 1864 that Hoppe-Seyler succeeded in obtaining it pure and
crystallized. But Liebig had already perceived its essential properties,
and was able to point out approximately its functions as early as
1845; yet the single fact that there was no assimilation possible between
this substance and the salts of iron, cut this question off into
a kind of negative suspense. Different from these compounds, it
could not behave like them, and accomplish slow combustions of the
same type. It is a remarkable fact, and one that illustrates well how
iron preserves through all its vicissitudes some trace of its fundamental
property of favoring the action of oxygen on substances,
that this composition, so special and so different from the salts of
iron, behaves nearly as they do. While it is not of itself an energetic
combustible, it is, according to Liebig's expression, "a transporter
of oxygen"—a luminous view, which the future was destined
to confirm. Although the transportation is not produced by the
mechanism supposed by Liebig, but by another, the general result
is very much the same from the point of view of the physiology of
the blood. The coloring matter of the blood conveyed by the globules
fixes oxygen in contact with the pulmonary air, and distributes
it as it passes through the capillaries upon the tissues. The globule
of blood brings nothing else and distributes nothing else, contrary
to the opinion that had been held before. The theory of slow combustion
effected through iron, while not absolutely contradicted in
principle, was not entirely confirmed in detail, so far as concerned
iron, or the more prominently ferruginous tissue.</p>
<p>No search was made for other tissues or organs presenting more
favorable conditions, for no others were known that had iron in
themselves. The liver and the spleen were supposed to receive it
from the blood under the complicated form in which it exists there,
or under some equivalent form. It was not, therefore, supposed till
within a very few years that the two conditions were realized in any
organ that were required to secure a slow combustion by iron—that
is, combinations resembling ferrous and ferric salts with a weak
acid and a source of oxygen. The doubt has been resolved by
recent studies. The liver fulfils the requirement. It contains iron
existing under forms precisely comparable to the ferrous and ferric
compounds, and is washed by the blood which carries oxygen in a
state of simple solution in its plasma and of loose combination in its
globules. Thus all the conditions necessary for the production of
slow combustion are gathered here, and we can not doubt that it takes
place. A new function is therefore assigned to the liver, and it becomes
one of the great furnaces of the organism.</p>
<p>Compounds of iron are so abundant in the ground and the water
that we need not be surprised when we find them in various parts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_812" id="Page_812">[Pg 812]</a></span>
of plants, and particularly in the green parts. Their habitual presence
does not, however, authorize the conclusion that this metal is
necessary to the support and development of vegetable life. Some
substances, evidently indifferent, foreign, and even injurious, if they
exist abundantly in a soil, may be drawn into roots through the
movement of the sap, and fix themselves in various organs. This
occurs with copper in certain exceptional circumstances when the
soil is saturated with its compounds, and if such a condition should be
found to be repeated over a large extent of country, we might be
led, by analysis alone of its vegetable productions, to the false conclusion
that copper was an essential or even necessary constituent of
them. But the value of the part performed by an element can not be
determined by analysis alone. Direct proofs are necessary for that,
methodical and comparative experiments in cultivation in mediums
artificially deprived or furnished with the element the importance of
which we wish to estimate. This has been done for combinations
of iron, and the utility of that metal, especially to the higher plants,
has been made thereby to appear.</p>
<p>If iron is absent from the nutritive medium the plant will wither.
If we sprout seeds in a solution from which this metal has been carefully
excluded, the development will follow its regular course as long
as the plant is in the condition properly called that of germination,
or while it does not have to draw anything from the soil. The stem
rises and the first leaves are formed as usual. But all these parts
will continue pale, and the green matter, the granulation of chlorophyll,
will not appear. Now, if we add a small quantity of salt of iron
to the ground in which the roots are planted, or a much-diluted solution
is sprinkled on the leaves and the stem, the chlorotic plant will
recover its health and take on its normal coloration. Experiments of
this sort make well manifest that iron is necessary to green plants,
and they show, besides, the bearing of its action, and that what is
most special and most characteristic in the phenomena of vegetable
life may be traced exactly to the organization of that green matter.
It was long thought that if iron was necessary for the formation of
chlorophyll, it was because it had a part in its constitution. We
know now that this is not so. The metal does nothing but accompany
the chlorophyll in the granulation in which it is found.</p>
<p>The influence which iron exerts in the development of the lower
plants, like the muscidenes, was illustrated with great precision in a
study made about thirty years ago by M. Raulin, who experimented
with the common mold (<i>Aspergillus niger</i>), to determine the coefficient
of importance of all the elements that have a part in its vegetation.
When the iron was removed from a medium that had been
shown capable of giving a maximum crop of that mold, the plants<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_813" id="Page_813">[Pg 813]</a></span>
languished, and the return fell off immediately to one third. Estimating
the quantity of metal that produces this effect, it was found
that the addition of one part of iron was sufficient to determine the
production of a weight of plant nearly nine hundred times as great.
The suppression of the iron further caused an irreparable loss, for
when it was sought to remedy the wilting of the plants by restoring
the iron which had been taken from the medium—an experiment
which had been successful with higher plants—the attempt was a
failure, and the plants could not be prevented from perishing.</p>
<p>These facts are full of interest in themselves, and they further
show well the necessity or utility of iron in plant life, but they
teach us no more. They reveal nothing of the mechanism of the
action, and if we wish to penetrate further in the matter we always
have to turn to animal physiology.—<i>Translated for the Popular
Science Monthly from the Revue des Deux Mondes.</i></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2>THE MALAY LANGUAGE.</h2>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> R. CLYDE FORD,</p>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap lowercase">PROFESSOR OF GERMAN LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE, ALBION COLLEGE.</span></p>
<p>A gentleman who had lived for several years among the
Indians of the Canadian northwest said that he went among
them believing they were an untutored race. But when they told
him of a dozen kinds of berries growing in a locality where he knew
but two, brought him flowers he could not find after careful search,
and around their council fires showed as deep an insight into the
mysteries of life as the <i>savants</i> of his university, then he concluded
they could no longer be called untutored.</p>
<p>And why should they be? Is there no culture or civilization
outside of the enlightenment of Europe or America? And because
a civilization does not exactly fit the grooves in which most of the
world has moved, may it not be a real civilization for all that? If
such is possible, then we vote the Malays a cultured people. Of
course, their culture is not like our own; it knows no railroads, no telegraphs,
boasts of no intricate political machinery, has no complicated
social despotisms. Native princes rule for the most part over peaceful
states, and politics means no more than the regulation of quiet village
life. But what need of railroads, when the rivers are avenues of trade
and communication? Why telegraphs, when the world is bounded by
the jungle horizon? Or why, in short, severe civil and social enactments,
when the common <i>Wahlspruch</i> of life is, "Fear disgrace rather
than death"? Such a civilization, we admit, is a humble one; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_814" id="Page_814">[Pg 814]</a></span>
it also has the advantage of being a happy one. And where contentment
dwells, where honesty prevails, where the home is a stronghold,
there are culture and civilization, even though they may not coincide
with our own.</p>
<p>The Malays are not barbarians, and their language by its grace
and adaptability has shown its right to be. To-day it is the mother
tongue of more than forty millions of people, and the <i>lingua franca</i>
of Chinamen, Hindus, European, and natives. It is spoken from
Madagascar to the distant islands of the Pacific, and from the Philippines
to Australia. With it one can barter in Celebes and sell in
Java; converse with a sultan in Sumatra or a Spaniard in Manila.
Moreover, it is soft and melodious, rich in expression, poetical in
idiom, and simple in structure—a language almost without grammar
and yet of immense vocabulary, with subtle distinctions and fine
gradations of thought and meaning; a language that sounds in one's
ears long after <i>Tanah Malayu</i> and the coral islands and the jungle
strand have sunk into hazy recollection, just as they once dropped out
of sight behind one's departing ship.</p>
<p>Malay is written in the Arabic character, which was adopted with
Mohammedanism, probably in the thirteenth century. Anciently,
the Malays used a writing of their own, but it is not yet clearly settled
what it was. There are now thirty-four characters employed, each
varying in form, according as it is isolated, final, medial, or initial.
Naturally, the Arabic influence over the language has been a marked
one; the priest who dictates in the religion of a people is a molder
and shaper of language. We have only to recall the Catholic Church
and the influence of the Latin tongue in the mouths of her priests to
know that this is so. Many Arabic words and phrases have been
adopted, but more in the language of literature than in that of everyday
speech. A large number of expressions of court and royalty, and
terms of law and religion, are Arabic; also the names of months, days,
and many articles of commerce and trade; nevertheless, the language
of common speech is still Malay.</p>
<p>Another influence, also, has been felt in the Malay—that of the
Sanskrit language. The presence of many Sanskrit words has caused
some very ingenious theories to be constructed in proof that the Malays
were of Indian origin, and such word fragments the survival of the
primitive tongue. Such theories, however, have not stood the test of
philology, and the fact still remains that the language is essentially
unique, with an origin lost in the darkness of remote antiquity. However,
Sanskrit influence has been much greater, and has penetrated
much deeper into the elemental structure of the language than the
Arabic. In fact, the aboriginal language, before it felt the animating
spirit of the Aryan tongue, must have been a barren one, the language<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_815" id="Page_815">[Pg 815]</a></span>
of a primitive man, a fisherman, a hunter, a careless tiller of the soil.
As Maxwell says in his Manual of the Malay Language, the Sanskrit
word <i>hala</i> (plow) marks a revolution in Malayan agriculture and,
one may say further, Malayan civilization. What changed the
methods of cultivating the soil, changed the people themselves. It
is probable that this change came through contact with people to
whom Sanskrit was a vernacular tongue, but whether through conquest
by the sword or by religion is hard to tell. Perhaps it was by both.
At any rate, it was deep and strong, and left a lasting impression on
the language. Sanskrit names fastened on trees, plants, grain, fruits,
household and agricultural implements, parts of the body, articles of
commerce, animals, metals and minerals, time and its division and
measurement, family relationships, abstract conceptions, warfare, and
fundamental ideas of religion and superstition. Such a conquest
must have been an early and tremendous one.</p>
<p>Strangely enough, Malay is almost a grammarless tongue. It has
no proper article, and its substantives may serve equally well as
verbs, being singular or plural, and entirely genderless. However,
adjectives and a process of reduplication often indicate number, and
gender words are added to nouns to make sex allusions plain. Whatever
there is of declension is prepositional as in English, and possessives
are formed by putting the adjectives after the noun as in Italian.
Nouns are primitive and derivative, the derivations being formed by
suffixes or prefixes, or both, and one's mastery of the language may be
gauged by the idiomatic way in which he handles these <i>Anhängsel</i>.
Adjectives are uninflected.</p>
<p>The use of the pronouns involves an extensive knowledge of Oriental
etiquette—some being used by the natives among one another,
some between Europeans and natives, some employed when an inferior
addresses a superior and <i>vice versa</i>, some used only when the
native addresses his prince or sovereign; and, last of all, some being
distinctly literary, and never employed colloquially. Into this maze
one must go undaunted, and trust to time and patience to smooth out
difficulties.</p>
<p>Verbs, like nouns, are primitive and derivative, with some few
auxiliaries and a good many particles which are suffixed or prefixed
to indicate various states and conditions. These things are apt to be
confusing, and when the student learns that a verb may be past,
present, or future without any change in form, he does not know
whether to congratulate himself or not. Prepositions, too, are many
and expressive; conjunctions, some colloquial, some pedantic.</p>
<p>We now come to a peculiarity which Malay has in common with
other Indo-Chinese languages—the "numeral co-efficients," as Maxwell
calls them, which are always employed with a certain class of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_816" id="Page_816">[Pg 816]</a></span>
objects, just as we say "head" of horses, "sail" of ships, etc. They
are very many as compared with English, and very idiomatic in their
use. For instance, the Malay says, "Europeans, three <i>persons</i>,"
"cats, four <i>tails</i>," "ships, five <i>fruits</i>," "cocoanuts, three <i>seeds</i>,"
"spears, two <i>stems</i>," "planks, five <i>pieces</i>," "houses, two <i>ladders</i>,"
and so on to fifteen or twenty different classes of articles or objects.
By some this has been regarded as a peculiarity of the languages of
southeastern Asia; but the same thing may be noticed in the Indian
languages of our own continent.</p>
<p>As a language Malay is easily learned and has much to repay for
so doing. It is full of wonders and surprises—among other things is
the natural home of euphemism, where a spade is called anything
but a spade. For instance, to die is beautifully expressed in Malay as
a return to the mercy of Allah. The language is decidedly rich in
poetical expression and imagery. A neighbor is one whom you permit
to ascend the ladder of your cottage, and your friend is a sharer
of your joys and sorrows. Interest is the flower of money, a spring
is an eye of water, the sun the eye of day, and a policeman all eyes.
A walk is a stroll to eat the wind, a man drunk is one who rides a
green horse, and a coward a duck without spurs. A flatterer is one
who has sugar cane on his lips, a sharper is a man of brains, a fool a
brain-lacker.</p>
<p>In his proverbs also the Malay shows a matchless use of metaphor
and imagery, his words having the softness of the jungle breeze, and
at the same time the grimness of the jungle shades. Nowhere does
the nature of his race or the peculiar genius of his language show
out better than in these terse, pithy sayings which the Malay uses to
sweeten his speech or lend effectiveness to it. The real Malay is a
creature of the forest or the sea, whence he draws his livelihood, and
it is but natural that he should envelop his daily and perhaps dangerous
life with homely philosophy. He loves the freedom which
he enjoys; take him away from it and he eats his heart out in homesickness.
"Though you feed a jungle fowl from a golden plate, it
will return to the jungle again." In his humble life he has discovered
that blood, be it good or bad, counts for something, and he thinks of
the forest lairs; "a kitten and small, but a tiger's cub." He is beset
with dangers by sea and land; often he is between the devil and the
deep. "One may escape the tiger, and fall into the jaws of the
crocodile." He recognizes the inevitable, and draws what consolation
he can. "When the prow is wrecked the shark gets his fill"—a
very stoical recognition of ill winds. "For fear of the ghost he
hugs the corpse," is often the solution of his dilemma. Sometimes
he indulges in drollery, but is never unphilosophical. "To love one's
children, one must weep for them now and then; to love one's wife,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_817" id="Page_817">[Pg 817]</a></span>
one must leave her now and then." The language is full of such
expressions; they are the natural products of the speech of a poetical
and Nature-loving folk. Without attempting a classification we give
a few of the most characteristic proverbs, drawing largely on a collection
made in the Malay Peninsula by W. E. Maxwell, at one time
British resident there:</p>
<blockquote><p>
Will the crocodile respect the carcass?<br />
Follow your heart, death; follow your feelings, destruction.<br />
You find grasshoppers where you find a field.<br />
Earth does not become grain.<br />
Don't grind pepper for a bird on the wing.<br />
The flower comes, age comes.<br />
When the father is spotted, the son is spotted.<br />
The plant sprouts before it climbs.<br />
When he can't wring the ear, he pulls the horn.<br />
The creel says the basket is poorly made.<br />
Ask from one who has,<br />
Make vows at a shrine,<br />
Sulk with him who loves you.<br />
When the house is done the chisel finds fault.<br />
As the crow goes back to his nest (no richer, no poorer).<br />
Whoever eats chilies burns his mouth.<br />
Because of the mouth the body comes to harm.<br />
If you are at the river's mouth at nightfall, what's the use of talking of return?<br />
A broken thread may be mended, but charcoal never.<br />
The pea forgets its pod.<br />
As water rolls from a <i>kladi</i> leaf.<br />
A shipwrecked vessel may float again, a heart once broken is broken forever.<br />
It is a project, and the result with God.<br />
He carries a torch in daylight.<br />
A slave who does well is never praised; if he does badly, never forgiven.<br />
It rains gold afar, but stone at home.<br />
What if you sit on a cushion of gold with an uneasy mind!<br />
When money leaves, your friend goes.<br />
If you dip your hand into the fish tub, go to the bottom.<br />
Whoever digs a hole falls into it himself.<br />
If your legs are long, have your blanket long.<br />
Like a frog under a cocoanut shell, he thinks he sees the sky.<br />
If you can't get rattan, bind with roots.<br />
The plantain does not bear twice.<br />
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_818" id="Page_818">[Pg 818]</a></span>He sits like a cat, but leaps like a tiger.<br />
The tortoise lays a thousand eggs and tells no one; the hen lays a single egg and tells all the world.<br />
Those will die of thirst who empty the jar when it thunders in a dry time.<br />
Handsome as a princess, poisonous as a snake.<br />
Small as an ant, wise as a mouse-deer.</p></blockquote>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2>LIFE ON A SOUTH SEA WHALER.<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></h2>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> FRANK T. BULLEN.</p>
<p>Cachalots, or sperm whales, must have been captured on the
coasts of Europe in a desultory way from a very early date, by
the incidental allusions to the prime products spermaceti and ambergris
which are found in so many ancient writers. Shakespeare's
reference—"The sovereign'st thing on earth was parmaceti for an inward
bruise"—will be familiar to most people, as well as Milton's
mention of the delicacies at Satan's feast—"Grisamber steamed"—not
to carry quotation any further.</p>
<p>But in the year 1690 the brave and hardy fishermen of the northeast
coasts of North America established that systematic pursuit of
the cachalot which has thriven so wonderfully ever since, although it
must be confessed that the last few years have witnessed a serious
decline in this great branch of trade.</p>
<p>For many years the American colonists completely engrossed this
branch of the whale fishery, contentedly leaving to Great Britain and
the continental nations the monopoly of the northern or arctic fisheries,
while they cruised the stormy, if milder, seas around their own
shores.</p>
<p>As, however, the number of ships engaged increased, it was inevitable
that the known grounds should become exhausted, and in
1788, Messrs. Enderby's ship, the Emilia, first ventured round Cape
Horn, as the pioneer of a greater trade than ever. The way once
pointed out, other ships were not slow to follow, until, in 1819, the
British whale ship Syren opened up the till then unexplored tract
of ocean in the western part of the North Pacific, afterward familiarly
known as the "Coast of Japan." From these teeming waters alone,
for many years an average annual catch of forty thousand barrels of oil
was taken, which, at the average price of £8 per barrel, will give some
idea of the value of the trade generally.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_819" id="Page_819">[Pg 819]</a></span></p>
<p>From the crushing blow of the civil war the American sperm-whale
fishery has never fully recovered. When the writer was in
the trade, some twenty-two years ago, it was credited with a fleet of
between three and four hundred sail; now it may be doubted whether
the numbers reach an eighth of that amount. A rigid conservatism of
method hinders any revival of the industry, which is practically conducted
to-day as it was fifty or even a hundred years ago; and
it is probable that another decade will witness the final extinction
of what was once one of the most important maritime industries in
the world.</p>
<p>In the following pages an attempt has been made—it is believed
for the first time—to give an account of the cruise of a South Sea
whaler from the seaman's standpoint. Its aim is to present to the
general reader a simple account of the methods employed and the
dangers met with in a calling about which the great mass of the
public knows absolutely nothing.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p>At the age of eighteen, after a sea experience of six years from the
time when I dodged about London streets, a ragged Arab, with wits
sharpened by the constant fight for food, I found myself roaming the
streets of New Bedford, Massachusetts.</p>
<p>My money was all gone, I was hungry for a ship; and so, when a
long, keen-looking man with a goatlike beard, and mouth stained with
dry tobacco juice, hailed me one afternoon at the street corner, I
answered very promptly, scenting a berth. "Lookin' fer a ship,
stranger?" said he. "Yes; do you want a hand?" said I anxiously.
He made a funny little sound something like a pony's whinny, then
answered: "Wall, I should surmise that I want between fifty and sixty
hands, ef yew kin lay me onto 'em; but, kem along, every dreep's a
drop, an' yew seem likely enough." With that he turned and led
the way until we reached a building, around which was gathered one
of the most nondescript crowds I had ever seen. There certainly did
not appear to be a sailor among them—not so much by their rig,
though that is not a great deal to go by, but by their actions and speech.
However, I signed and passed on, engaged to go I knew not where,
in some ship I did not know even the name of, in which I was to receive
I did not know how much or how little for my labor, nor how
long I was going to be away.</p>
<p>From the time we signed the articles, we were never left to ourselves.
Truculent-looking men accompanied us to our several boarding
houses, paid our debts for us, finally bringing us by boat to a ship
lying out in the bay. As we passed under her stern, I read the name
Cachalot, of New Bedford; but as soon as we ranged alongside, I
realized that I was booked for the sailor's horror—a cruise in a whaler.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_820" id="Page_820">[Pg 820]</a></span>
Badly as I wanted to get to sea, I had not bargained for this, and
would have run some risks to get ashore again; but they took no
chances, so we were all soon aboard. Before going forward, I took a
comprehensive glance around, and saw that I was on board of a vessel
belonging to a type which has almost disappeared off the face of the
waters. A more perfect contrast to the trim-built English clipper
ships that I had been accustomed to I could hardly imagine. She was
one of a class characterized by sailors as "built by the mile, and cut
off in lengths as you want 'em," bow and stern almost alike, masts
standing straight as broomsticks, and bowsprit soaring upward at an
angle of about forty-five degrees. She was as old-fashioned in her
rig as in her hull. Right in the center of the deck, occupying a space
of about ten feet by eight, was a square erection of brickwork, upon
which my wondering gaze rested longest, for I had not the slightest
idea what it could be. But I was rudely roused from my meditations
by the harsh voice of one of the officers, who shouted, "Naow then,
git below an' stow yer dunnage, 'n look lively up agin!" Tumbling
down the steep ladder, I entered the gloomy den which was to be
for so long my home, finding it fairly packed with my shipmates.
The whole space was undivided by partition, but I saw at once that
black men and white had separated themselves, the blacks taking the
port side and the whites the starboard. Finding a vacant bunk by the
dim glimmer of the ancient teapot lamp that hung amidships, giving
out as much smoke as light, I hurriedly shifted my coat for a
"jumper" or blouse, put on an old cap, and climbed into the fresh
air again. Even <i>my</i> seasoned head was feeling bad with the villainous
reek of the place. I had hardly reached the deck when I was
confronted by a negro, the biggest I ever saw in my life. He looked
me up and down for a moment, then opening his ebony features in
a wide smile, he said: "Great snakes! why, here's a sailor man for
sure! Guess thet's so, ain't it, Johnny?" I said "yes" very curtly,
for I hardly liked his patronizing air; but he snapped me up short with
"yes, <i>sir</i>, when yew speak to me, yew blank limejuicer. I'se de
fourf mate of dis yar ship, en my name's Mistah Jones, 'n yew jest
freeze on to dat ar, ef yew want ter lib long 'n die happy. See,
sonny?" I <i>saw</i>, and answered promptly, "I beg your pardon, sir, I
didn't know." "Ob cawse yew didn't know, dat's all right, little
Britisher; naow jest skip aloft 'n loose dat fore-taupsle." "Ay, ay,
sir," I answered cheerily, springing at once into the fore-rigging and
up the ratlines like a monkey, but not too fast to hear him chuckle,
"Dat's a smart kiddy, I bet." On deck I could see a crowd at the
windlass heaving up anchor. I said to myself, "They don't waste
any time getting this packet away." Evidently they were not anxious
to test any of the crew's swimming powers. They were wise, for had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_821" id="Page_821">[Pg 821]</a></span>
she remained at anchor that night I verily believe some of the poor
wretches would have tried to escape.</p>
<p>The anchor came aweigh, the sails were sheeted home, and I returned
on deck to find the ship gathering way for the heads, fairly
started on her long voyage.</p>
<p>Before nightfall we were fairly out to sea, and the ceremony of
dividing the crew into watches was gone through. I found myself
in the chief mate's or "port" watch (they called it "larboard," a
term I had never heard used before, it having long been obsolete in
merchant ships), though the huge negro fourth mate seemed none too
well pleased that I was not under his command, his being the starboard
watch under the second mate.</p>
<p>I was pounced upon next morning by "Mistah" Jones, the fourth
mate, whom I heard addressed familiarly as "Goliath" and "Anak"
by his brother officers, and ordered to assist him in rigging the "crow's-nest"
at the main royal-mast head. It was a simple affair. There
were a pair of cross-trees fitted to the mast, upon which was secured a
tiny platform about a foot wide on each side of the mast, while above
this foothold a couple of padded hoops like a pair of giant spectacles
were secured at a little higher than a man's waist. When all was
fast one could creep up on the platform, through the hoop, and, resting
his arms upon the latter, stand comfortably and gaze around, no
matter how vigorously the old barky plunged and kicked beneath him.
From that lofty eerie I had a comprehensive view of the vessel. She
was about three hundred and fifty tons and full ship-rigged—that is to
say, she carried square sails on all three masts. Her deck was flush fore
and aft, the only obstructions being the brick-built "try-works" in
the waist, the galley, and cabin skylight right aft by the taffrail. Her
bulwarks were set thickly round with clumsy-looking wooden cranes,
from which depended five boats. Two more boats were secured bottom
up upon a gallows aft, so she seemed to be well supplied in that
direction.</p>
<p>The weather being fine, with a steady northeast wind blowing, so
that the sails required no attention, work proceeded steadily all the
morning. The oars were sorted, examined for flaws, and placed in the
boats; the whale line, Manilla rope like yellow silk, an inch and a half
round, was brought on deck, stretched, and coiled down with the greatest
care into tubs holding, some two hundred fathoms, and others one
hundred fathoms each. New harpoons were fitted to poles of rough
but heavy wood, without any attempt at neatness but every attention
to strength. The shape of these weapons was not, as is generally
thought, that of an arrow, but rather like an arrow with one huge barb,
the upper part of which curved out from the shaft. The whole of
the barb turned on a stout pivot of steel, but was kept in line with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_822" id="Page_822">[Pg 822]</a></span>
the shaft by a tiny wooden peg which passed through barb and shaft,
being then cut off smoothly on both sides. The point of the harpoon
had at one side a wedge-shaped edge, ground to razor keenness; the
other side was flat. The shaft, about thirty inches long, was of the
best malleable iron, so soft that it would tie into a knot and straighten
out again without fracture. Three harpoons, or "irons" as they
were always called, were placed in each boat, fitted one above the other
in the starboard bow, the first for use being always one unused before.
Opposite to them in the boat were fitted three lances for the purpose of
<i>killing</i> whales, the harpoons being only the means by which the boat
was attached to a fish, and quite useless to inflict a fatal wound. These
lances were slender spears of malleable iron about four feet long, with
oval or heart-shaped points of fine steel about two inches broad, their
edges kept keen as a surgeon's lancet. By means of a socket at the
other end they were attached to neat handles, or "lance poles," about
as long again, the whole weapon being thus about eight feet in length,
and furnished with a light line, or "lance warp," for the purpose of
drawing it back again when it had been darted at a whale. The
other furniture of a boat comprised five oars of varying lengths
from sixteen to nine feet, one great steering oar of nineteen feet, a
mast and two sails of great area for so small a craft, spritsail shape; two
tubs of whale line containing together eighteen hundred feet, a keg of
drinking water, and another long, narrow one with a few biscuits, a lantern,
candles and matches therein; a bucket and "piggin" for baling,
a small spade, a flag or "wheft," a shoulder bomb gun and ammunition,
two knives, and two small axes. A rudder hung outside by the
stern.</p>
<p>With all this gear, although snugly stowed, a boat looked so loaded
that I could not help wondering how six men would be able to work
in her; but, like most "deep-water" sailors, I knew very little about
boating. I was going to learn.</p>
<p>The reports I had always heard of the laziness prevailing on board
whale ships were now abundantly falsified. From dawn to dark work
went on without cessation. Everything was rubbed and scrubbed
and scoured until no speck or soil could be found; indeed, no gentleman's
yacht or man-of-war is kept more spotlessly clean than was the
Cachalot.</p>
<p>On the fourth day after leaving port we were all busy as usual
except the four men in the "crow's-nests," when a sudden cry of
"Porps! porps!" brought everything to a standstill. A large school
of porpoises had just joined us, in their usual clownish fashion, rolling
and tumbling around the bows as the old barky wallowed along, surrounded
by a wide ellipse of snowy foam. All work was instantly
suspended, and active preparations made for securing a few of these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_823" id="Page_823">[Pg 823]</a></span>
frolicsome fellows. A "block," or pulley, was bung out at the bowsprit
end, a whale line passed through it and "bent" (fastened) on to
a harpoon. Another line with a running "bowline," or slip noose,
was also passed out to the bowsprit end, being held there by one man
in readiness. Then one of the harpooners ran out along the back
ropes, which keep the jib boom down, taking his stand beneath the
bowsprit with the harpoon ready. Presently he raised his iron and
followed the track of a rising porpoise with its point until the creature
broke water. At the same instant the weapon left his grasp, apparently
without any force behind it; but we on deck, holding the line,
soon found that our excited hauling lifted a big vibrating body clean
out of the smother beneath. "'Vast hauling!" shouted the mate,
while, as the porpoise hung dangling, the harpooner slipped the ready
bowline over his body, gently closing its grip round the "small" by
the broad tail. Then we hauled on the noose line, slacking away the
harpoon, and in a minute had our prize on deck. He was dragged
away at once and the operation repeated. Again and again we hauled
them in, until the fore part of the deck was alive with the kicking,
writhing sea pigs, at least twenty of them. All hands were soon busy
skinning the blubber from the bodies. Porpoises have no skin—that
is, hide—the blubber or coating of lard which incases them being covered
by a black substance as thin as tissue paper. The porpoise hide of
the bootmaker is really leather, made from the skin of the <i>Beluga</i>, or
"white whale," which is found only in the far north. The cover was
removed from the "try-works" amidships, revealing two gigantic pots
set in a frame of brickwork side by side, capable of holding two hundred
gallons each—such a cooking apparatus as might have graced a
Brobdingnagian kitchen. Beneath the pots was the very simplest of
furnaces, hardly as elaborate as the familiar copper hole sacred to
washing day. Square funnels of sheet iron were loosely fitted to the
flues, more as a protection against the oil boiling over into the fire than
to carry away the smoke, of which from the peculiar nature of the
fuel there was very little. At one side of the try-works was a large
wooden vessel, or "hopper," to contain the raw blubber; at the other,
a copper cistern or cooler of about three hundred gallons capacity, into
which the prepared oil was baled to cool off, preliminary to its being
poured into the casks. Beneath the furnaces was a space as large as
the whole area of the try-works, about a foot deep, which, when the
fires were lighted, was filled with water to prevent the deck from
burning.</p>
<p>It may be imagined that the blubber from our twenty porpoises
made but a poor show in one of the pots; nevertheless, we got a barrel
of very excellent oil from them. The fires were fed with "scrap," or
pieces of blubber from which the oil had been boiled, some of which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_824" id="Page_824">[Pg 824]</a></span>
had been reserved from the previous voyage. They burned with a
fierce and steady blaze, leaving but a trace of ash. I was then informed
by one of the harpooners that no other fuel was ever used for
boiling blubber at any time, there being always amply sufficient for
the purpose.</p>
<p>We were now in the haunts of the sperm whale, or "cachalot,"
a brilliant lookout being continually kept for any signs of their appearing.
One officer and a foremast hand were continually on watch
during the day in the main crow's-nest, one harpooner and a seaman in
the fore one. A bounty of ten pounds of tobacco was offered to whoever
should first report a whale, should it be secured; consequently
there were no sleepy eyes up there.</p>
<p>At last, one beautiful day, the boats were lowered and manned,
and away went the greenies on their first practical lesson in the business
of the voyage. There were two greenies in each boat, they being
so arranged that whenever one of them "caught a crab," which of
course was about every other stroke, his failure made little difference
to the boat's progress. They learned very fast under the terrible imprecations
and storm of blows from the iron-fisted and iron-hearted
officers, so that before the day was out the skipper was satisfied of our
ability to deal with a "fish" should he be lucky enough to "raise"
one. I was, in virtue of my experience, placed at the after oar in the
mate's boat, where it was my duty to attend to the "main sheet" when
the sail was set, where also I had the benefit of the lightest oar except
the small one used by the harpooner in the bow.</p>
<p>The very next day after our first exhaustive boat drill, a school
of "blackfish" was reported from aloft, and with great glee the
officers prepared for what they considered a rattling day's fun.</p>
<p>The blackfish (<i>Phocæna sp.</i>) is a small toothed whale, not at all
unlike a miniature cachalot, except that its head is rounded at the
front, while its jaw is not long and straight, but bowed. It is as
frolicsome as the porpoise, gamboling about in schools of from twenty
to fifty or more, as if really delighted to be alive. Its average size
is from ten to twenty feet long and seven or eight feet in girth; weight,
from one to three tons. Blubber about three inches thick, while the
head is almost all oil, so that a good rich specimen will make between
one and two barrels of oil of medium quality.</p>
<p>We lowered and left the ship, pulling right toward the school, the
noise they were making in their fun effectually preventing them from
hearing our approach. It is etiquette to allow the mate's boat first
place, unless his crew is so weak as to be unable to hold their own;
but as the mate always has first pick of the men this seldom happens.
So, as usual, we were first, and soon I heard the order given, "Stand
up, Louey, and let 'em have it!" Sure enough, here we were right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_825" id="Page_825">[Pg 825]</a></span>
among them. Louis let drive, "fastening" a whopper about twenty
feet long. The injured animal plunged madly forward, accompanied
by his fellows, while Louis calmly bent another iron to a "short warp,"
or piece of whale line, the loose end of which he made a bowline with
round the main line which was fast to the "fish." Then he fastened
another "fish," and the queer sight was seen of these two monsters
each trying to flee in opposite directions, while the second one ranged
about alarmingly as his "bridle" ran along the main line. Another
one was secured in the same way, then the game was indeed great.
The school had by this time taken the alarm and cleared out, but the
other boats were all fast to fish, so that didn't matter. Now, at the
rate our "game" were going, it would evidently be a long while before
they died, although, being so much smaller than a whale proper,
a harpoon will often kill them at a stroke. Yet they were now so
tangled or "snarled erp," as the mate said, that it was no easy matter
to lance them without great danger of cutting the line. However,
we hauled up as close to them as we dared, and the harpooner got a
good blow in, which gave the biggest of the three "Jesse," as he
said, though why "Jesse" was a stumper. Anyhow, it killed him
promptly, while almost directly after another one saved further trouble
by passing in his own checks. But he sank at the same time, drawing
the first one down with him, so that we were in considerable danger of
having to cut them adrift or be swamped. The "wheft" was waved
thrice as an urgent signal to the ship to come to our assistance with
all speed, but in the meantime our interest lay in the surviving blackfish
keeping alive. Should <i>he</i> die and, as was most probable, sink,
we should certainly have to cut and loose the lot, tools included.</p>
<p>We waited in grim silence while the ship came up, so slowly,
apparently, that she hardly seemed to move, but really at a good pace
of about four knots an hour, which for her was not at all bad. She
got alongside of us at last, and we passed up the bight of our line, our
fish all safe, very much pleased with ourselves, especially when we
found that the other boats had only five between the three of them.</p>
<p>Chain slings were passed around the carcasses, the end of the "fall,"
or tackle rope, was taken to the windlass, and we hove away cheerily,
lifting the monsters right on deck. A mountainous pile they made.
After dinner all hands turned to again to "flench" the blubber and
prepare for trying out. This was a heavy job, keeping us busy until
it was quite dark, the latter part of the work being carried on by the
light of a "cresset," the flames of which were fed with "scrap," which
blazed brilliantly, throwing a big glare over all the ship. The last of
the carcasses was launched overboard by about eight o'clock that evening,
but not before some vast junks of beef had been cut off and hung
up in the rigging for our food supply.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_826" id="Page_826">[Pg 826]</a></span></p>
<p>"Trying out" went on busily all night, and by nightfall of the
next day the ship had resumed her normal appearance, and we were a
tun and a quarter of oil to the good. Blackfish oil is of medium
quality, but I learned that, according to the rule of "roguery in all
trades," it was the custom to mix quantities such as we had just obtained
with better class whale oil, and thus get a much higher price
than it was really worth.</p>
<p>We had now been eight days out, having had nothing, so far, but
steady breezes and fine weather. As it was late autumn—the first
week in October—I rather wondered at this, for even in my brief experience
I had learned to dread a "fall" voyage across the "Western
Ocean."</p>
<p>Gradually the face of the sky changed, and the feel of the air, from
balmy and genial, became raw and cheerless. The little wave tops
broke short off and blew backward, apparently against the wind, while
the old vessel had an uneasy, unnatural motion, caused by a long, new
swell rolling athwart the existing set of the sea.</p>
<p>We were evidently in for a fair specimen of Western Ocean
weather, but the clumsy-looking, old-fashioned Cachalot made no
more fuss over it than one of the long-winged sea birds that floated
around, intent only upon snapping up any stray scraps that might
escape from us. Higher rose the wind, heavier rolled the sea, yet
never a drop of water did we ship, nor did anything about the deck
betoken what a heavy gale was blowing. During the worst of the
weather, and just after the wind had shifted back into the northeast,
making an uglier cross sea than ever get up, along comes an immense
four-masted iron ship homeward bound. She was staggering under a
veritable mountain of canvas, fairly burying her bows in the foam at
every forward drive, and actually wetting the clews of the upper topsails
in the smothering masses of spray, that every few minutes almost
hid her hull from sight.</p>
<p>It was a splendid picture; but—for the time—I felt glad I was not
on board of her. In a very few minutes she was out of our ken, followed
by the admiration of all. Then came, from the other direction,
a huge steamship, taking no more notice of the gale than as if it were
calm. Straight through the sea she rushed, dividing the mighty rollers
to the heart, and often bestriding three seas at once, the center
one spreading its many tons of foaming water fore and aft, so that from
every orifice spouted the seething brine. Compared with these greyhounds
of the wave, we resembled nothing so much as some old lightship
bobbing serenely around, as if part and parcel of the mid-Atlantic.</p>
<p>The gale gradually blew itself out, leaving behind only a long
and very heavy swell to denote the deep-reaching disturbance that the
ocean had endured. And now we were within the range of the sargasso<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_827" id="Page_827">[Pg 827]</a></span>
weed, that mysterious <i>fucus</i> that makes the ocean look like some vast
hayfield, and keeps the sea from rising, no matter how high the wind.
It fell a dead calm, and the harpooners amused themselves by dredging
up great masses of the weed, and turning out the many strange creatures
abiding therein.</p>
<p>We were all gathered about the fo'lk'sle scuttle one evening,
a few days after the gale referred to above, and the question of
whale-fishing came up for discussion. Until that time, strange as
it may seem, no word of this, the central idea of all our minds, had
been mooted. Every man seemed to shun the subject, although we
were in daily expectation of being called upon to take an active part in
whale-fighting. Once the ice was broken, nearly all had something
to say about it, and very nearly as many addle-headed opinions were
ventilated as at a Colney Hatch debating society. For we none of us
<i>knew</i> anything about it. It was Saturday evening, and while at
home people were looking forward to a day's respite from work and
care, I felt that the coming day, though never taken much notice of
on board, was big with the probabilities of strife such as I at least
had at present no idea of—so firmly was I possessed by the prevailing
feeling.</p>
<p>The night was very quiet. A gentle breeze was blowing, and the
sky was of the usual "trade" character—that is, a dome of dark blue
fringed at the horizon with peaceful cumulus clouds, almost motionless.
I turned in at 4 <span class="smcap lowercase">A. M.</span> from the middle watch and, as usual,
slept like a babe. Suddenly I started wide awake, a long, mournful
sound sending a thrill to my very heart. As I listened breathlessly,
other sounds of the same character but in different tones joined in,
human voices monotonously intoning in long-drawn-out expirations
the single word "bl-o-o-o-ow." Then came a hurricane of noise overhead,
and adjurations in no gentle language to the sleepers to "tumble
up lively there, no skulking, sperm whales." At last, then, fulfilling
all the presentiments of yesterday, the long-dreaded moment had
arrived. Happily, there was no time for hesitation; in less than two
minutes we were all on deck, and hurrying to our respective boats.
The skipper was in the main crow's-nest with his binoculars. Presently
he shouted: "Naow then, Mr. Count, lower away soon's y'like.
Small pod o' cows, an' one 'r two bulls layin' off to west'ard of 'em."
Down went the boats into the water quietly enough; we all scrambled
in and shoved off. A stroke or two of the oars were given to get
clear of the ship and one another, then oars were shipped and up went
the sails. As I took my allotted place at the main-sheet, and the beautiful
craft started off like some big bird, Mr. Count leaned forward,
saying impressively to me: "Y'r a smart youngster, an' I've kinder
took t'yer; but don't ye look ahead an' get gallied, 'r I'll knock ye<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_828" id="Page_828">[Pg 828]</a></span>
stiff wi' th' tiller; y'hear me? N' don't ye dare to make thet sheet
fast, 'r ye'll die so sudden y' won't know whar y'r hurted." I said
as cheerfully as I could, "All right, sir," trying to look unconcerned,
telling myself not to be a coward, and all sorts of things; but the cold
truth is that I was scared almost to death, because I didn't know what
was coming. However, I did the best thing under the circumstances,
obeyed orders and looked steadily astern, or up into the bronzed impassive
face of my chief, who towered above me, scanning with eagle
eyes the sea ahead. The other boats were coming flying along behind
us, spreading wider apart as they came, while in the bows of each
stood the harpooner with his right hand on his first iron, which lay
ready, pointing over the bow in a raised fork of wood called the
"crutch."</p>
<p>All of a sudden, at a motion of the chief's hand, the peak of our
mainsail was dropped, and the boat swung up into the wind, laying
"hove to," almost stationary. The centerboard was lowered to stop
her drifting to leeward, although I can not say it made much difference
that ever I saw. <i>Now</i>, what's the matter? I thought, when to
my amazement the chief addressing me said, "Wonder why we've
hauled up, don't ye?" "Yes, sir, I do," said I. "Wall," said he,
"the fish hev sounded, an' 'ef we run over 'em, we've seen the last ov
'em. So we wait awhile till they rise agin, 'n then we'll prob'ly git
thar' 'r thareabouts before they sound agin." With this explanation I
had to be content, although if it be no clearer to my readers than it
then was to me, I shall have to explain myself more fully later on.
Silently we lay, rocking lazily upon the gentle swell, no other word
being spoken by any one. At last Louis, the harpooner, gently
breathed "Blo-o-o-w"; and there, sure enough, not half a mile away
on the lee beam, was a little bushy cloud of steam apparently rising
from the sea. At almost the same time as we kept away all the other
boats did likewise, and just then, catching sight of the ship, the
reason for this apparently concerted action was explained. At the
mainmast head of the ship was a square blue flag, and the ensign at
the peak was being dipped. These were signals well understood and
promptly acted upon by those in charge of the boats, who were thus
guided from a point of view at least one hundred feet above the sea.</p>
<p>"Stand up, Louey," the mate murmured softly. I only just
stopped myself in time from turning my head to see why the order
was given. Suddenly there was a bump, at the same moment the
mate yelled, "Give't to him, Louey, give't to him!" and to me, "Haul
that main sheet, naow haul, why don't ye?" I hauled it flat aft, and
the boat shot up into the wind, rubbing sides as she did so with what
to my troubled sight seemed an enormous mass of black India rubber
floating. As we <i>crawled</i> up into the wind, the whale went into convulsions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_829" id="Page_829">[Pg 829]</a></span>
befitting his size and energy. He raised a gigantic tail on
high, thrashing the water with deafening blows, rolling at the same
time from side to side until the surrounding sea was white with froth.
I felt in an agony lest we should be crushed under one of those fearful
strokes, for Mr. Count appeared to be oblivious of possible danger,
although we seemed to be now drifting back on to the writhing leviathan.
In the agitated condition of the sea it was a task of no ordinary
difficulty to unship the tall mast, which was of course the first thing
to be done. After a desperate struggle, and a narrow escape from
falling overboard of one of the men, we got the long "stick," with the
sail bundled around it, down and "fleeted" aft, where it was secured
by the simple means of sticking the "heel" under the after thwart,
two thirds of the mast extending out over the stern. Meanwhile, we
had certainly been in a position of the greatest danger, our immunity
from damage being unquestionably due to anything but precaution
taken to avoid it.</p>
<p>By the time the oars were handled, and the mate had exchanged
places with the harpooner, our friend the enemy had "sounded"—that
is, he had gone below for a change of scene, marveling, no doubt,
what strange thing had befallen him. Agreeably to the accounts
which I, like most boys, had read of the whale-fishery, I looked for
the rushing of the line round the loggerhead (a stout wooden post
built into the boat aft), to raise a cloud of smoke with occasional bursts
of flame; so, as it began to slowly surge round the post, I timidly asked
the harpooner whether I should throw any water on it. "Wot for?"
growled he, as he took a couple more turns with it. Not knowing
"what for," and hardly liking to quote my authorities here, I said no
more, but waited events. "Hold him up, Louey, hold him up, cain't
ye?" shouted the mate, and to my horror, down went the nose of
the boat almost under water, while at the mate's order everybody
scrambled aft into the elevated stern sheets.</p>
<p>The line sang quite a tune as it was grudgingly allowed to surge
round the loggerhead, filling one with admiration at the strength
shown by such a small rope. This sort of thing went on for about
twenty minutes, in which time we quite emptied the large tub and
began on the small one.</p>
<p>Suddenly our boat fell backward from her "slantindicular" position
with a jerk, and the mate immediately shouted, "Haul line, there!
look lively, now! you—so on, etcetera, etcetera" (he seemed to invent
new epithets on every occasion). The line came in hand over hand,
and was coiled in a wide heap in the stern sheets, for, silky as it was, it
could not be expected in its wet state to lie very close. As it came
flying in, the mate kept a close gaze upon the water immediately beneath
us, apparently for the first glimpse of our antagonist. When<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_830" id="Page_830">[Pg 830]</a></span>
the whale broke water, however, he was some distance off, and apparently
as quiet as a lamb. Now, had Mr. Count been a prudent or less
ambitious man, our task would doubtless have been an easy one, or
comparatively so; but, being a little over-grasping, he got us all into
serious trouble. We were hauling up to our whale in order to lance
it, and the mate was standing, lance in hand, only waiting to get
near enough, when up comes a large whale right alongside of our boat,
so close, indeed, that I might have poked my finger in his little eye,
if I had chosen. The sight of that whale at liberty, and calmly taking
stock of us like that, was too much for the mate. He lifted his
lance and hurled it at the visitor, in whose broad flank it sank, like
a knife into butter, right up to the pole-hitches. The recipient disappeared
like a flash, but before one had time to think, there was an
awful crash beneath us, and the mate shot up into the air like a bomb
from a mortar. He came down in a sitting posture on the mast
thwart; but as he fell, the whole framework of the boat collapsed like
a derelict umbrella. Louis quietly chopped the line and severed our
connection with the other whale, while in accordance with our instructions
we drew each man his oar across the boat and lashed it firmly
down with a piece of line spliced to each thwart for the purpose. This
simple operation took but a minute, but before it was completed we
were all up to our necks in the sea—still in the boat, it is true, and
therefore not in such danger of drowning as if we were quite adrift;
but, considering that the boat was reduced to a mere bundle of loose
planks, I, at any rate, was none too comfortable. Now, had he known
it, was the whale's golden opportunity; but he, poor wretch, had had
quite enough of our company, and cleared off without any delay, wondering,
no doubt, what fortunate accident had rid him of our very
unpleasant attentions.</p>
<p>I was assured that we were all as safe as if we were on board the
ship, to which I answered nothing; but, like Jack's parrot, I did some
powerful thinking. Every little wave that came along swept clean
over our heads, sometimes coming so suddenly as to cut a breath in
half. If the wind should increase—but no—I wouldn't face the
possibility of such a disagreeable thing. I was cool enough now in
a double sense, for, although we were in the tropics, we soon got thoroughly
chilled.</p>
<p>Help came at last, and we were hauled alongside. Long exposure
had weakened us to such an extent that it was necessary to hoist us on
board, especially the mate, whose "sudden stop," when he returned to
us after his little aërial excursion, had shaken his sturdy frame considerably,
a state of body which the subsequent soaking had by no
means improved. In my innocence I imagined that we should be
commiserated for our misfortunes by Captain Slocum, and certainly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_831" id="Page_831">[Pg 831]</a></span>
be relieved from further duties until we were a little recovered from
the rough treatment we had just undergone. But I never made a
greater mistake. The skipper cursed us all (except the mate, whose
sole fault the accident undoubtedly was) with a fluency and vigor
that was, to put it mildly, discouraging.</p>
<p>A couple of slings were passed around the boat, by means of which
she was carefully hoisted on board, a mere dilapidated bundle of sticks
and raffle of gear. She was at once removed aft out of the way, the business
of cutting in the whale claiming precedence over everything else
just then. The preliminary proceedings consisted of rigging the "cutting
stage." This was composed of two stout planks a foot wide and ten
feet long, the inner ends of which were suspended by strong ropes over
the ship's side about four feet from the water, while the outer extremities
were upheld by tackles from the main rigging, and a small
crane abreast the try-works.</p>
<p>These planks were about thirty feet apart, their two outer ends
being connected by a massive plank which was securely bolted to
them. A handrail about as high as a man's waist, supported by light
iron stanchions, ran the full length of this plank on the side nearest
the ship, the whole fabric forming an admirable standing place
whence the officers might, standing in comparative comfort, cut and
carve at the great mass below to their hearts' content.</p>
<p>So far the prize had been simply held alongside by the whale line,
which at death had been "rove" through a hole cut in the solid gristle
of the tail; but now it became necessary to secure the carcass to the
ship in some more permanent fashion. Therefore, a massive chain
like a small ship's cable was brought forward, and in a very ingenious
way, by means of a tiny buoy and a hand lead, passed round the body,
one end brought through a ring in the other, and hauled upon until
it fitted tight round the "small" or part of the whale next the broad
spread of the tail. The free end of the fluke chain was then passed
in through a mooring pipe forward, firmly secured to a massive bitt
at the heel of the bowsprit (the fluke-chain bitt), and all was ready.</p>
<p>The first thing to be done was to cut the whale's head off. This
operation, involving the greatest amount of labor in the whole of the
cutting in, was taken in hand by the first and second mates, who,
armed with twelve-foot spades, took their station upon the stage,
leaned over the handrail to steady themselves, and plunged their
weapons vigorously down through the massive neck of the animal—if
neck it could be said to have—following a well-defined crease in the
blubber. At the same time the other officers passed a heavy chain
sling around the long, narrow lower jaw, hooking one of the big cutting
tackles into it, the "fall" of which was then taken to the windlass
and hove tight, turning the whale on her back. A deep cut was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_832" id="Page_832">[Pg 832]</a></span>
then made on both sides of the rising jaw, the windlass was kept going,
and gradually the whole of the throat was raised high enough for a
hole to be cut through its mass, into which the strap of the second cutting
tackle was inserted and secured by passing a huge toggle of oak
through its eye. The second tackle was then hove taut, and the jaw,
with a large piece of blubber attached, was cut off from the body with
a boarding knife, a tool not unlike a cutlass blade set into a three-foot-long
wooden handle.</p>
<p>Upon being severed the whole piece swung easily inboard and was
lowered on deck. The fast tackle was now hove upon while the third
mate on the stage cut down diagonally into the blubber on the body,
which the purchase ripped off in a broad strip or "blanket" about
five feet wide and a foot thick. Meanwhile the other two officers
carved away vigorously at the head, varying their labors by cutting
a hole right through the snout. This, when completed, received a
heavy chain for the purpose of securing the head. When the blubber
had been about half stripped off the body, a halt was called in order
that the work of cutting off the head might be finished, for it was a
task of incredible difficulty. It was accomplished at last, and the
mass floated astern by a stout rope, after which the windlass pawls
clattered merrily, the "blankets" rose in quick succession, and were
cut off and lowered into the square of the main hatch or "blubber
room." A short time sufficed to strip off the whole of the body
blubber, and when at last the tail was reached, the backbone was cut
through, the huge mass of flesh floating away to feed the innumerable
scavengers of the sea. No sooner was the last of the blubber lowered
into the hold than the hatches were put on and the head hauled up
alongside. Both tackles were secured to it and all hands took to the
windlass levers. This was a small cow whale of about thirty barrels—that
is, yielding that amount of oil—so it was just possible to lift the
entire head on board; but as it weighed as much as three full-grown
elephants, it was indeed a heavy lift for even our united forces, trying
our tackle to the utmost. The weather was very fine, and the ship
rolled but little; even then, the strain upon the mast was terrific, and
right glad was I when at last the immense cube of fat, flesh, and bone
was eased inboard and gently lowered on deck.</p>
<p>As soon as it was secured the work of dividing it began. From
the snout a triangular mass was cut, which was more than half pure
spermaceti. This substance was contained in spongy cells held together
by layers of dense white fiber, exceedingly tough and elastic,
and called by the whalers "white horse." The whole mass, or
"junk," as it is called, was hauled away to the ship's side and firmly
lashed to the bulwarks for the time being, so that it might not "take
charge" of the deck during the rest of the operations.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_833" id="Page_833">[Pg 833]</a></span></p>
<p>The upper part of the head was now slit open lengthwise, disclosing
an oblong cistern or "case" full of liquid spermaceti, clear as water.
This was baled out with buckets into a tank, concreting as it cooled
into a waxlike substance, bland and tasteless. There being now nothing
more remaining about the skull of any value, the lashings were
loosed, and the first leeward roll sent the great mass plunging overboard
with a mighty splash. It sank like a stone, eagerly followed by
a few small sharks that were hovering near.</p>
<p>As may be imagined, much oil was running about the deck, for
so saturated was every part of the creature with it that it really gushed
like water during the cutting-up process. None of it was allowed to
run to waste, though, for the scupper holes which drain the deck were
all carefully plugged, and as soon as the "junk" had been dissected all
the oil was carefully "squeegeed" up and poured into the try-pots.</p>
<p>Two men were now told off as "blubber-room men," whose duty it
became to go below and, squeezing themselves in as best they could
between the greasy mass of fat, cut it up into "horse-pieces" about
eighteen inches long and six inches square. Doing this, they became
perfectly saturated with oil, as if they had taken a bath in a tank of it;
for as the vessel rolled it was impossible to maintain a footing, and
every fall was upon blubber running with oil. A machine of wonderful
construction had been erected on deck in a kind of shallow trough
about six feet long by four feet wide and a foot deep. At some remote
period of time it had no doubt been looked upon as a triumph of
ingenuity, a patent mincing machine. Its action was somewhat like
that of a chaff-cutter, except that the knife was not attached to the
wheel, and only rose and fell, since it was not required to cut right
through the "horse-pieces" with which it was fed. It will be readily
understood that, in order to get the oil quickly out of the blubber, it
needs to be sliced as thin as possible, but for convenience in handling
the refuse (which is the only fuel used) it is not chopped up in small
pieces, but every "horse-piece" is very deeply scored as it were, leaving
a thin strip to hold the slices together. This, then, was the order
of work: Two harpooners attended the try-pots, replenishing them
with minced blubber from the hopper at the port side, and baling out
the sufficiently boiled oil into the great cooling tank on the starboard.
One officer superintended the mincing, another exercised a
general supervision over all. So we toiled watch and watch, six hours
on and six off, the work never ceasing for an instant night or day.
Though the work was hard and dirty, and the discomfort of being so
continually wet through with oil great, there was only one thing dangerous
about the whole business. That was the job of filling and
shifting the huge casks of oil. Some of these were of enormous size,
containing three hundred and fifty gallons when full, and the work<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_834" id="Page_834">[Pg 834]</a></span>
of moving them about the greasy deck of a rolling ship was attended
with a terrible amount of risk. For only four men at most could get
fair hold of a cask, and when she took it into her silly old hull to
start rolling, just as we had got one halfway across the deck, with
nothing to grip your feet, and the knowledge that one stumbling man
would mean a sudden slide of the ton and a half weight, and a little
heap of mangled corpses somewhere in the lee scuppers—well, one
always wanted to be very thankful when the lashings were safely
passed.</p>
<p>The whale being a small one, as before noted, the whole business
was over within three days, and the decks scrubbed and rescrubbed
until they had quite regained their normal whiteness. The oil was
poured by means of a funnel and long canvas hose into the casks
stowed in the ground tier at the bottom of the ship, and the gear, all
carefully cleaned and neatly "stopped up," stowed snugly away below
again.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2>SKETCH OF MANLY MILES.</h2>
<p>To Dr. Manly Miles belongs the distinction of having been the
first professor of practical agriculture in the United States, as
he was appointed to that then newly instituted position in the Michigan
Agricultural College in 1865.</p>
<p>Professor Miles was born in Homer, Cortland County, New
York, July 20, 1826, the son of Manly Miles, a soldier of the Revolution;
while his mother, Mary Cushman, was a lineal descendant of
Miles Standish and Thomas Cushman, whose father, Joshua Cushman,
joining the Mayflower colony at Plymouth, Massachusetts, in
1621, left him there with Governor Bradford when he returned to
England.</p>
<p>When Manly, the son, was eleven years old, the family removed
to Flint, Michigan, where he employed his time in farm work
and the acquisition of knowledge, and later in teaching. He had
a common-school education, and improved all the time he could spare
from his regular occupations in reading and study. It is recorded of
him in those days that he was always successful in whatever he undertook.
In illustration of the skill and thoroughness with which he
performed his tasks, his sister relates an incident of his sowing plaster
for the first time, when his father expressed pleasure at his having
distributed the lime so evenly and so well. It appears that he did
not spare himself in doing the work, for so completely was he
covered that he is said to have looked like a plaster cast, "with only
his bright eyes shining through." A thrashing machine was brought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_835" id="Page_835">[Pg 835]</a></span>
on to the farm, and Manly and his brother went round thrashing for
the neighbors. Industrious in study as well as in work, the boy
never neglected his more prosaic duties to gratify his thirst for knowledge.
He studied geometry while following the plow, drawing the
problems on a shingle, which he tacked to the plow-beam. Whenever
he was missed and inquiry was made about him, the answer invariably
was, "Somewhere with a book." He was most interested
in the natural sciences, particularly in chemistry in its applications
to agriculture, and in comparative physiology and anatomy, and was
a diligent student and collector of mollusks.</p>
<p>Choosing the profession of medicine, Mr. Miles was graduated
M. D. from Rush Medical College, Chicago, in 1850, and practiced
till 1859. In the meantime he became greatly interested in the subject
of a geographical survey of the State, for which an act was
passed and approved in 1858. In the organization of the survey,
in 1859, he was appointed Assistant State Geologist in the department
of zoölogy; and in the next year was appointed professor of
zoölogy and animal physiology in the State Agricultural College
at Lansing.</p>
<p>In his work as zoölogist to the State Geological Survey, in 1859,
1860, and 1861, he displayed rare qualities as a naturalist, so that
Mr. Walter R. Barrows, in recording his death in the bulletin of
the Michigan Ornithological Club, expresses regret that many of
the years he afterward devoted to the development of experimental
agriculture "were not spent in unraveling some of the important
biological problems which the State afforded, which his skill and
perseverance would surely have solved." He was a "born collector,"
Mr. Barrows adds, "as the phrase is, and his keen eyes,
tireless industry, and mathematical precision led to the accumulation
of thousands of valuable specimens and more valuable observations."</p>
<p>Mr. Bryant Walker, of Detroit, who knew Professor Miles well in
later years, and had opportunity to review his zoölogical work, regards
the part he took during this service in developing the knowledge
of the fauna of the State as having been very prominent.
"The catalogues he published in the report for 1860 have
been the basis for all work since that time." He kept in correspondence
with the most eminent American naturalists of the period, including
Cope, Prime, Lea, W. G. Binney, Baird, and Agassiz, and
supplied them with large quantities of valuable material. From the
many letters written by these naturalists which are in the possession
of his friends, we take, as illustrating the character of the service
he rendered and of the trust they reposed in him, even previous to his
going on the survey, one from Agassiz, of February 4, 1856:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_836" id="Page_836">[Pg 836]</a></span></p>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>: As you have already furnished me with invaluable
materials for the natural history of the fishes of your State, I am
emboldened to ask another favor of you. I am preparing a map of
the Geographical Distribution of the Turtles of North America, and
would be greatly indebted to you for any information respecting the
range of those found in your State, as far as you have noticed them,
even if you should know them only by their common names, my
object being simply to ascertain how far they extend over different
parts of the country. If you could add specimens of them, to identify
them with precision, it would be, of course, so much the better;
but as I am almost ready for the press, I could not for this paper
await the return of spring, but would thank you for what you could
furnish me now. I am particularly interested in ascertaining how
far north the different species inhabiting this continent extend." On
the back of this letter was Dr. Miles's indorsement that a box had
been sent.</p>
<p>A number of letters from Professor Baird, of 1860 and 1861,
relate to the identification of specimens collected by Dr. Miles, and
to the fishes of Michigan, and contain inquiries about gulls and eggs.
Dr. Miles likewise supplied Cope with a considerable amount of material
concerning Michigan reptiles and fishes.</p>
<p>While mollusks were the favorite object of Dr. Miles's investigations,
he also made studies and valuable collections of birds, mammals,
reptiles, and fishes; and he seems, Mr. Barrows says, "to have
possessed, in a high degree, that strong characteristic of a true
naturalist, a full appreciation of the value of good specimens.
Many of his specimens are now preserved at the Agricultural
College, and among his shells are many which are of more than
ordinary value from having served as types of new species, or as
specimens from type localities, or as part or all of the material
which has helped to clear up mistakes and misconceptions about
species and their distribution." Mr. Walker speaks of his having
done a great work in conchology. His catalogue, which contained
a list of one hundred and sixty-one species, was by far the most
complete published up to that time. "He described two new
species—<i>Planorbis truncatus</i> and <i>Unio leprosus</i>. The former is one
of the few species which are, so far as known, peculiar to Michigan, and
is a very beautiful and distinct form; while the latter, although now
considered as synonymous with another species, has peculiarities
which in the then slight knowledge of the variability of the species
was a justification of his position. He was also the discoverer of two
other forms which were named after him by one of our most eminent
conchologists—viz., <i>Campeloma Milesii</i> (Lea) and <i>Guiobasis Milesii</i>
(Lea)." Mr. Walker believes that "in general, it can be truthfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_837" id="Page_837">[Pg 837]</a></span>
stated that Dr. Miles did more to develop the general natural
history of that State (Michigan) than any other man either before or
since he completed his work as State Geologist."</p>
<p>As professor of zoölogy and animal physiology, Dr. Miles is described
by one of his students, who afterward became a professor in
the college and then its president, as having been thoroughly interested
in the subjects he taught, and shown that interest in his work
and in his treatment of his students. He labored as faithfully and
industriously with the class of five to which President Clute belonged
as if it "had numbered as many score." He supplemented the
meager equipment of his department from his more extensive private
apparatus and collections, which were freely used for class work;
and, when there was need, he had the skill to prepare new pieces of
apparatus. "He was on the alert for every chance for illustration
which occasion offered: an animal slaughtered for the tables gave
him an opportunity to lecture on its viscera; a walk over the drift-covered
fields found many specimens of rock which he taught us to
distinguish; the mud and the sand banks along the river showed how
in the periods of the dim past were formed fossil footprints and
ripples; the woods and swamps and lakes gave many useful living
specimens, some of which became the material for the improvised dissecting
room; the crayon in his hand produced on board or paper
the chart of geologic ages, the table of classification, or the drawing
of the part of an animal under discussion."</p>
<p>Prof. R. C. Kedzie came to the college a little later, in 1863, when
Dr. Miles had been for two years a professor, and found him then
the authority "for professors and students alike on beasts, birds, and
reptiles, on the stones of the field, and insects of the air," thorough,
scholarly, and enthusiastic, and therefore very popular with his
classes.</p>
<p>The projection of agricultural colleges under the Agricultural
College Land Grant Act of 1862 stimulated a demand for teachers
of scientific agriculture, and it was found that they were rare. Of
old school students of science there was no lack—able men, as President
Clute well says, who were familiar with their little laboratories
and with the old theories and methods, but who did not possess the
new vision of evolution and the conservation of energy, men of
the study rather than the field, and least of all men of the orchard
and stock farm; and they knew nothing of the practical application
of chemistry to fertilization and the raising of crops and the composition
of feed stuffs, of physiology to stock-breeding, and of geology and
physics to the study of the soils.</p>
<p>With a thorough knowledge of science and familiarity with practical
agriculture Professor Miles had an inclination to enter this field,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_838" id="Page_838">[Pg 838]</a></span>
and this inclination was encouraged by President Abbott and some of
the members of the Board of Agriculture. He had filled the professorship
of zoölogy and animal physiology with complete success, and
had he consulted his most cherished tastes alone he would have
remained there, but he gradually suffered himself to be called to
another field. The duties of "acting superintendent of the farm"
were attached to his chair in 1864. In 1865 he became professor
of animal physiology and practical agriculture and superintendent
of the farm; in 1869 he ceased to teach physiology, and gave his
whole time to the agricultural branch of his work; and in 1875 the
work of the superintendent of the farm was consigned to other hands,
and he confined himself to the professorship proper of practical agriculture.</p>
<p>The farm and its appurtenances, with fields cumbered with
stumps and undrained, with inadequate and poorly constructed buildings,
with inferior live stock, and everything primitive, were in poor
condition for the teaching or the successful practice of agriculture.
Professor Miles's first business was to set these things in order. Year
by year something was done to remove evils or improve existing features
in some of the departments of the life and management of the
premises, till the concern in a certain measure approached the superintendent's
ideal—as being a laboratory for teaching agriculture, conducting
experiments, and training men, rather than a money-making
establishment.</p>
<p>In this new field, Professor Kedzie says, Professor Miles was even
more popular than before with students, and created an enthusiasm
for operations and labors of the farm which had been regarded
before as a disagreeable drudgery. The students "were never happier
than when detailed for a day's work with Dr. Miles in laying
out some difficult ditch or surveying some field. One reason why he
was so popular was that he was not afraid of soiling his hands. His
favorite uniform for field work was a pair of brown overalls. The
late Judge Tenney came to a gang of students at work on a troublesome
ditch and inquired where he could find Dr. Miles. 'That man
in overalls down in the quicksands of the ditch is Dr. Miles'; the
professor of practical agriculture was in touch with the soil."</p>
<p>Prof. Byron D. Halsted, of the New Jersey Agricultural College
Experiment Station, who was an agricultural pupil of Dr. Miles in
Lansing, characterizes him as having been a full man who knew his
subjects deeply and fondly. "In those days I am safe in writing
that he represented the forefront of advanced agriculture in America.
He was in close touch with such men as Lawes and Gilbert, Rothamstead,
England, the famous field-crop experimenters of the world, and
as for his knowledge of breeds of live stock and their origin, Miles's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_839" id="Page_839">[Pg 839]</a></span>
Stock-Breeding is a classic work. Dr. Miles, in short, was a close
student, a born investigator, hating an error, but using it as a stepping-stone
toward truth. He did American farming a lasting service, and
his deeds live after him."</p>
<p>While loved by his students, most of whom have been successful
and many have gained eminence as agricultural professors or workers
in experiment stations, and while receiving sympathy and support
from President Abbott, Dr. Miles was not appreciated by the
politicians, or by all of the Board of Agriculture, or even by the
public at large. Unkind and captious criticisms were made of his
work, and it was found fault with on economical grounds, as if its
prime purpose had been to make money. He therefore resigned his
position in 1875, and accepted the professorship of agriculture in
the Illinois State University. Thence he removed to the Houghton
Farm of Lawson Valentine, near Mountainville, N. Y., where he
occupied himself with scientific experimental investigation. He was
afterward professor of agriculture in the Massachusetts Agricultural
College, at Amherst. In announcing this appointment to the
students, Dr. Chadbourne, then president of the institution, and himself
a most successful teacher, stated that he considered Dr. Miles as
the ablest man in the United States for that position. In 1886,
shortly after Dr. Chadbourne's death, Dr. Miles returned to his old
home in Lansing, Michigan, where he spent the rest of his life in
study, research, and the writing of books and articles for scientific
publications.</p>
<p>During these later years of his life he took up again with what
had been his favorite pursuit in earlier days, but with which he had
not occupied himself for thirty years—the study of mollusks—with
the enthusiasm of a young man, Mr. Walker says, who being interested
in the same study, was in constant correspondence with him at
this time; "and as far as his strength permitted labored with all the
acumen and attention to details which were so characteristic of him.
I was particularly struck with his familiarity with the present drift
of scientific investigation and thought, and his thorough appreciation
of modern methods of work. He was greatly interested in the work
I was carrying on with reference to the geographical distribution of
the mollusca, and, as would naturally be supposed from his own work
in heredity in connection with our domestic animals, took great pleasure
in discussing the relations of the species as they are now found
and their possible lines of descent. He was a careful and accurate
observer of Nature, and if he had not drifted into other lines of work
would undoubtedly have made his mark as a great naturalist. As
it is, his name will always have an honored place in the scientific
history of Michigan."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_840" id="Page_840">[Pg 840]</a></span></p>
<p>When Professor Miles began to teach in the Michigan Agricultural
College, the "new education" was new indeed, and the textbook
method still held sway. But the improved methods were gradually
taking the place of the old ones, and Professor Miles was one of
the first to co-operate in them, and he did it with effect. He used
text-books, "but his living word," President Clute says, "supplemented
the book; and the animal from the farm under his knife and
ours, the shells which he led us to find under the rotten logs and
along the rivers and lakes, the insects he taught us to collect and
classify, the minerals and fossils he had collected on the geological
survey of Michigan, all were used to instruct and inspire his students,
to cultivate in them the scientific spirit and method."</p>
<p>Among the more important books by Professor Miles are Stock-Breeding,
which had a wide circulation and has been much used as
a class-book; Experiments with Indian Corn, giving the results of
some important work which he did at Houghton Farm; Silos and
Ensilage, which helped much in diffusing knowledge of the silo in
the times when it had to fight for recognition; and Land Drainage.
Of his papers, he published in the Popular Science Monthly articles
on Scientific Farming at Rothamstead; Ensilage and Fermentation;
Lines of Progress in Agriculture; Progress in Agricultural Science;
and How Plants and Animals Grow. To the American Association
for the Advancement of Science he contributed papers on Energy
as a Factor in Rural Economy; Heredity of Acquired Characters
(also to the American Naturalist); Surface Tension of Water and
Evaporation; Energy as a Factor in Nutrition; and Limits of Biological
Experiments (also to the American Naturalist). Other articles
in the American Naturalist were on Animal Mechanics and the
Relative Efficiency of Animals as Machines. In the Proceedings of
the American Educational Association is an address by him on Instruction
in Manual Arts in Connection with Scientific Studies. The
records of the U and I Club, of Lansing, of which he was a valued
member for ten years, contain papers on a variety of scientific subjects
which were read before it, and were highly appreciated. This
list does not contain all of Professor Miles's contributions to the literature
of science, for throughout his life he was a frequent contributor
to the agricultural and scientific press, and a frequent speaker before
associations and institutes, "where his lectures were able and practical."</p>
<p>No special record is made of the work of Professor Miles in the
American Agriculturist, but the correspondence of Professor Thurber
with him furnishes ample proof that he was one of the most
trusted advisers in the editorial conduct of that journal. The familiar
tone of Professor Thurber's letters, and the undoubting assurance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_841" id="Page_841">[Pg 841]</a></span>
with which he asked for information and aid on various subjects,
well demonstrate how well the editor knew whom he could
rely upon in an emergency.</p>
<p>In all his work the great desire of Professor Miles was to find and
present the truth. His merits were recognized by many scientific
societies. He was made a corresponding member of the Buffalo
Society of Natural Sciences in 1862; a corresponding member of the
Entomological Society of Philadelphia in January, 1863; a correspondent
of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia in
1864; a member of the American Association for the Advancement of
Science in 1880, and a Fellow of the same body in 1890; and held
memberships or other relations with other societies; and he received
the degree of D. V. S. from Columbia Veterinary College, New York,
in March, 1880.</p>
<p>His students and friends speak in terms of high admiration of
the genial qualities of Professor Miles as a companion. The resolutions
of the U and I Club of Lansing describe him as an easy and
graceful talker, a cheerful dispenser of his learning to others. "To
spend an hour in his 'den,' and watch his delicate experiments with
'films,'" says President Clute, "and see the light in his eyes as he
talked of them, was a delight." "He was particularly fond of boys,"
says another, "and never seemed happier than when in the company
of boys or young men who were trying to study and to inform themselves,
and if he could in any way assist them he was only too glad
to do so"; and he liked pets and children. Incidents are related
showing that he had a wonderful accuracy in noting and recollecting
the minutest details that came under his observation—a power
that he was able to bring to bear instantly when its exercise was
called for.</p>
<p>Dr. Miles kept up his habits of reading and study to the last days
of his life; but all public work was made difficult to him in later years
by an increasing deafness. He was tireless in investigation, patient,
and always cheerful and looking for the bright side; and when one inquired
of him concerning his health, his usual answer was that he
was "all right," or, if he could not say that, that he would be "all
right to-morrow."</p>
<p>No sketch of Dr. Miles is complete without a word of tribute to
his high personal character, his life pure and noble in every relationship,
his unswerving devotion to truth, and the unfaltering loyalty to
his friends, which make his memory a benediction and an inspiration
to all who knew him well.</p>
<p>He was married in 1851 to Miss Mary E. Dodge, who remained
his devoted companion until his death, which occurred February 15,
1898.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_842" id="Page_842">[Pg 842]</a></span></p>
<h2>Editor's Table.</h2>
<h3><i>SCIENCE AND CULTURE.</i></h3>
<p>We do not know from whom the
philosopher Locke quotes the
saying, "<i>Non vitæ sed scholæ discimus</i>,"
but he translates it well,
"We learn not to live, but to dispute."
The adage has reference to
the old systems of education which
had for their aim neither the discovery
of truth nor the perfecting of
the human faculties in any broad
sense, but the fitting of the individual
to take his place in a world of
conventional ideas and discuss conventional
topics upon conventional
lines. In other words, the preparation
was for school, not for life, the
whole subsequent career of the individual
being regarded simply as a
prolongation of the intellectual influences
and discipline of the school.
That system, which was ecclesiastical
in its origin, has now, save for
strictly ecclesiastical purposes, passed
away. We consider life as the end
of school and not school as the end
of life.</p>
<p>It may be questioned, however,
whether we have as yet thoroughly
adapted our educational methods to
this change of standpoint. Do we as
yet take a sufficiently broad view of
life? If we conceive life narrowly as
essentially a business struggle, and
adapt our procedure to that conception,
the results will show very little
relation to the larger and truer
conception according to which life
means development of faculty, activity
of function, and a harmonious
adjustment of relations between man
and man. If, again, we make too
much of knowledge that has only a
conventional value, having little or
no bearing on the understanding of
things or the accomplishment of
useful work, we are so far falling
into the old error of "learning for
school." The address by Sir Archibald
Geikie, which we published last
month, gives a useful caution against
undervaluing "the older learning."
The older learning can certainly be
made an effective instrument for the
cultivation of taste, of sympathy, and
of intellectual accuracy along certain
lines. It tends further, we believe,
to promote a certain intellectual self-respect,
which is a valuable quality.
In the study of language and literature
the human mind surveys, as it
were, its own peculiar possessions,
and thus acquires a sense of proprietorship
which a study of the external
world can hardly give. Still, it
is well to cultivate a consciousness of
the essentially limited and arbitrary
nature of such knowledge. It is important,
we may admit, to have a
good text of such an author as
Chaucer; but the minutiæ into which
critics of his text enter can not be
said to possess any broad human interest.
Whether he wrote this word
or that word, adopted this spelling
or that, can not be a question on
which much depends; and could one
know the exact truth on a thousand
such points, he would not really be
much the wiser. Among Chaucer
scholars he could speak with a good
deal of confidence; but the knowledge
of these details would not really
help to round out any useful <i>system</i>
of knowledge, nor could any single
fact possess the illuminating power
which sometimes belongs to some
single and, at first sight, unimportant
fact in the realm of natural
knowledge.</p>
<p>This is not said with any intention
of disparaging the culture that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_843" id="Page_843">[Pg 843]</a></span>
comes of literary study. It is a culture
that tends to brighten human
intercourse and to sweeten a man's
own thoughts. It is a culture eminently
favorable to flexibility of
mind and quick insight into human
character. So far it is a culture "for
life"; but too often it tends to become
a culture "for school"—that is
to say, when things are learned simply
to meet conventional demands
and conform to the fashion of the
time.</p>
<p>A true and sufficient culture can
never, as we conceive, be founded on
literature and language alone. No
mind can be truly liberalized without
imbibing and assimilating the
fundamental principles of science.
There is darkness in the mind that
believes that anything can come out
of nothing and which has never obtained
a glimpse of the exactness
with which Nature solves her equations.
In the region of mechanics
alone there are a thousand beautiful
and varied illustrations of the unfailing
constancy of natural laws.
It is a liberal education to trace the
operation of one law under numberless
disguises, and thus arrive at an
ineradicable conviction that the same
law must be reckoned with always
and everywhere. The persistence of
force, the laws of the composition
and resolution of forces, the laws of
falling bodies and projectiles, the
conservation of energy, the laws of
heat, to mention only a few heads of
elementary scientific study, are capable,
if properly unfolded and illustrated,
of producing in any mind
open to large thoughts a sense of
harmony and a trust in the underlying
reason of things, which are constitutive
elements of the very highest
culture. Only, care must be taken
to approach these studies in a right
spirit. There is a way of regarding
the laws of Nature which tends to
vulgarize rather than refine the
mind. If we approach Nature merely
as something to be exploited, we
get no culture from the study of it;
but if we approach it as the great
men of old did, and feel that in
learning its laws we are grasping
the thoughts which went to the
building of the universe, and, by so
doing, are affirming our own high
calling as intelligent beings, then
every moment given to the study
of Nature means intellectual, moral,
and spiritual gain. When we look
into literature there is much to
charm, much to delight and satisfy;
and doubtless, in relation to what
any one man can accomplish, the
field is infinite; but still we know
we are looking into the limited. On
the other hand, when we are face to
face with Nature, we know we are
looking into the infinite, and that,
however many veils we may take
away, there is still "veil after veil
behind."</p>
<p>It is needless to say that there are
thousands of minds in the world
possessed of good native power, but
laboring under serious disability for
the want of that culture which science
alone can bestow. Some of
these are sick with morbid longings
for unattainable knowledge, and
openly or secretly rebellious at the
limitations of a Nature whose powers
they have never even begun to
explore. To such persons anything
like an adequate insight into the
harmony amid diversity of Nature's
laws would come with all the force
of a revelation, and would, we may
well believe, clear their minds of the
feverish fancies which have made
them so restless and dissatisfied; but,
alas! it is rarely that such enlightenment
comes to those who have not
in youth imbibed a portion of the
scientific spirit. In this class are to
be found the victims of spiritualism,
of the Keeley motor, and even of
that grotesque satire, the success of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_844" id="Page_844">[Pg 844]</a></span>
which we remember almost with
fear and trembling, the "sympsychograph."
Still, to all such we would
say:</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Come forth into the light of things;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Let Nature be your teacher."<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>The "Nature" which we require to
teach us for the peace and tranquillity
of our souls is the Nature of everyday
phenomena, the Nature that
forms the clouds and rounds the
raindrops, that springs in the grass
and pulses in the tides, that glances
in the sunbeam and breathes in the
flower, that works witchery in the
crystal and breaks into glory in
the sunset. The mind that knows
what can be known of these things
has feasted full of wonder and
beauty, and makes no greedy demand
for higher grace or mightier
miracle.</p>
<p>Then again there are those who
for want of a little elementary scientific
knowledge, and particularly
for want of an assured conviction that
Nature gives nothing for nothing, are
continually attempting the impossible
in the way of projected inventions.
They catch at a phrase and
think it must represent a fact; they
fall victims to a verbal mythology
of their own manufacture. If there
was much hope of their learning
anything of value through disappointment,
they might be left to the
teaching of experience, costly as the
lessons of that master are. But
they do not learn: their hopes are
blasted, their fortunes, if they had
any, are wrecked, but their infatuations
survive. Where is the inventor
of a perpetual motion who ever
ceased to have confidence in his peculiar
contrivance? The thing may
be as motionless as a tombstone, save
when urged by external force into a
momentary lumbering activity; but
all the same, it only needs, its misguided
author thinks, a little doctoring,
a trifling change here or there,
to make it tear round like mad.
And so with other inventors of the
impossible: they take counsel not
with Nature, but with their own
wholly incorrect notions of what the
operations of Nature are. The least
power of truly analyzing a natural
phenomenon, and separating the factors
that produce it, would show them
the falsity of their ideas; but that
power they do not possess.</p>
<p>We can not, then, plead too strongly
for the teaching of science, not
with a view to results in money, but
with a view to the improvement of
the mind and heart of the learner, or,
in other words, as a source of culture.
Literature introduces us to the world
of human thought and action, to the
kingdom of man; and science shows
us how the thought and powers of
man can be indefinitely enlarged by
an ever increasing acquaintance with
the laws of the universe. Literature
alone leaves the mind without any
firm grasp of the reality of things,
and science alone tends to produce
a hard, prosaic, and sometimes antisocial
temper. Each helps to bring
out the best possible results of the
other; and it is only by their joint
action that human faculties and human
character can ever be brought
to their perfection.</p>
<h3><i>SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST.</i></h3>
<p>It is singular what a propensity
some writers have to misunderstand
and misrepresent the views of Mr.
Herbert Spencer, even upon points in
regard to which he has made every
possible effort to avoid occasion for
misapprehension. The term "survival
of the fittest" is one which Mr.
Spencer himself introduced as being,
perhaps, a little less open to misunderstanding
than the Darwinian expression
"natural selection." The
latter seemed to imply purposive action,
and Mr. Spencer thought that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_845" id="Page_845">[Pg 845]</a></span>
this implication would be less prominent
if the phrase were changed to
"survival of the fittest." From the
very first, however, he recognized
that the difference between the two
terms in this respect was, if we may
so express it, purely quantitative;
and he took care to make it clear
that by "the fittest" he did not in
the least intend to signify any form
of ideal or subjective fitness, but simply
a superior degree of adaptation,
as a matter of actual fact, to environing
conditions. The conditions at
any given moment are as they are,
and the "fitness" of any particular
organism is such a correspondence
with those conditions as permits and
favors its perpetuation. The conditions
do not create fitness; they
merely eliminate unfitness; nor does
Mr. Spencer conceive any agency
as producing <i>ab extra</i> the fitness
which enables an organism or a
number of organisms to survive.
He differs, however, from what is
perhaps the dominant school of biology
to-day, in holding that the higher
forms of organic life are, as he expresses
it, "directly equilibrated"
with their surroundings through the
inheritance of physical features resulting
from effort and habit.</p>
<p>To whatever cause it may be attributed,
few writers whose intellectual
activity has extended over so
long a term of years as Mr. Spencer's
have been so consistent in their utterances
at different stages as he.
The "Synthetic Philosophy" is the
realization of a scheme of thought
no less wonderful in its coherence
and solidity than in its compass, the
author having planted himself from
the first at a point of view which
gave him a clear command of his
entire field. To say that no other
system of thought equally comprehensive
and equally coherent exists
in the world to-day would be to
make a statement which few competent
and dispassionate authorities
would deny. Notwithstanding this,
there are writers not a few, particularly
of the class "who write with
ease," who, as we said at the outset,
have a propensity for misunderstanding
Mr. Spencer, and who consequently
accuse him of inconsistencies
and self-contradictions for which
nothing that he has ever said affords
any warrant. One of these gentlemen
is the Duke of Argyll, who has
lately offered the world another
superfluous book under the title of
Organic Evolution Cross-examined.
The duke particularly concerns himself
with Mr. Spencer's teaching in
regard to the "survival of the fittest,"
and Mr. Spencer, in the columns
of Nature, replies to him in a
brief but sufficient manner. It is
safe to say that Mr. Spencer's philosophy
will show Cyclopean remains
generations after the name of his
ducal critic shall have passed forever
into the mists of oblivion; and the
"survival of the fittest" will thus be
illustrated in a sense in which Mr.
Spencer himself never used the words.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2>Scientific Literature.</h2>
<h3>SPECIAL BOOKS.</h3>
<p>The study of the methods through which the topographical features
and rock forms of particular districts have been worked out, as presented
in numerous popular monographs, is a fascinating one; and we can hardly
doubt that many persons who would never otherwise have thought of it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_846" id="Page_846">[Pg 846]</a></span>
have been made interested in geology by some of these masterly picturesque
descriptions of regions with which they were superficially familiar. Other
treatises on the origin of surface features, dealing with the subject more
fundamentally, but likewise of limited scope, are not wanting. Yet, as
Prof. <i>James Geikie</i> well says, there is no English work to which readers
not skilled in geology can turn for a general account of the whole subject.
Professor Geikie has therefore prepared his elaborate book on <i>Earth Sculpture</i><a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a>
to supply this want, to furnish an introductory treatise for those
persons who may be desirous of acquiring some broad knowledge of the results
arrived at by geologists as to the development of land forms generally.
A vast number of geological questions are involved in the exhaustive
treatment of the subject. All the forces with which geologists become
acquainted in the study of the earth, and their operation, come into consideration.
The effects of these forces assume aspects that vary according
to the nature of the material on which they operate, and they are again
modified according to the peculiar combinations of forces at work. The
subject is therefore not the easy one it may be supposed at first sight to
be, and the reader who peruses Professor Geikie's work with the intention
of mastering it will find he has some studying to do. Yet Professor
Geikie is clear, and it is only because he has gone deeper than the others
that he may be harder. The first point he insists upon is that in the fashioning
of the earth's surface no hard-and-fast line separates past and present.
The work has been going on for a long time, and is still in progress,
under a law of evolution as true for the crust of the globe as for the plants
and animals. In setting out upon our inquiry we must in the first place
know something about rocks and the mode of their arrangement, of the
structure or architecture of the earth's crust. This leads to the distinction
between the igneous and the subaqueous, the volcanic, plutonic, and metamorphic,
and the derivative rocks on which epigene agencies have performed
their shaping work. These rocks have been modified in various
ways, and the surface appearance of the earth has been affected by forces
operating from the interior, and by external factors, the work of which is
called denudation. The agents of denudation are described—air, water,
heat, frost, chemical action, plants, and animals—often so closely associated
in their operations that their individual shares in the final result can hardly
be determined. The various influences of these factors as exerted upon
different forms of geological structure and different sorts of rocks are then
taken up and described as applied to land forms in regions of horizontal,
or gently inclined, and of highly folded and disturbed strata, and in regions
affected by normal faults or vertical displacements. Land forms
due directly or indirectly to igneous action and the influence of rock character
on the determination of land forms are subjects of special chapters.
Glacial action is one of the most important factors in modifying the forms
of northern lands, and is treated with considerable fullness. Æolian action—of
the air and wind—has peculiar and important effects in arid regions,
and underground water in limestone districts, and these receive attention.
Then come basins—those due to crustal deformation, crater lakes, river
lakes, glacial basins, and others, and coast lines. Finally, a classification
is given of these land forms as plains or plateaus of accumulation and of
erosion, original or tectonic and subsequent or relict hills and mountains,
original or tectonic and subsequent or erosion valleys, basins, and coast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_847" id="Page_847">[Pg 847]</a></span>
lines, and the conclusions are reached that we do not know, except as a
matter of probability, whether we have still visible any original wrinkles
of the earth's crust; and that some of the estimates of the time it has taken
to produce the changes of which we witness the results have been very
much exaggerated.</p>
<p>The curious conclusions obtained by Dr. <i>Le Bon</i> in his psychological
investigations,<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> delivered to us in startling language, are said to be the
fruit of extensive travel and of the personal measurement of thousands
of skulls. His memoir on cervical researches, published in 1879, upholds
the theory that the volume of the skull varies with the intelligence. This
theory has perhaps suffered a permanent adumbration. Facts seem to prove
that the bony structure of the skull, or even its cranial capacity, gives no
positive indication of intellect.</p>
<p>In the present volume the theme of discussion is the soul of races.
Anthropological classification is set aside and mankind is divided into
four groups according to mental characteristics: the primitive, inferior,
average, and superior races—the standard of judgment being the degree
of their aptitude for dominating reflex impulses. It is perhaps worthy
of note that while the Frenchman belongs to a superior race, the Semitic
peoples are placed in the class below, or the average sort. For the primitive
varieties it is not necessary to observe a South Sea islander, the
lower strata of Europeans furnishing numerous examples. When greater
differentiation is reached, the word "race" is used in a historical sense. It
requires, however, more complete fusion than some nations exhibit to earn
this title; for, although there are Germans and Americans, "it is not
clear as yet that there are Italians." The race having been once evolved,
acquires wondrous potentialities with Dr. Le Bon. He compares it to
the totality of cells constituting a living organism, asserts that its mental
constitution is as unvarying as its anatomical structure, that it is a permanent
being independent of time and founded alone by its dead. It is
a short step to endow this entity with a soul consisting of common sentiments,
interests, and beliefs—what in brief, robbed of hyperbole, we should
call national character. He states that the notion of a country is not
possible until a national soul is formed. This, in time, like germ-plasm,
becomes so stable that assimilation with foreign elements is impossible.
Like natural species, it has secondary characteristics that may be modified,
but its fundamental character is like the fin of the fish or the beak of the
bird. The acquisition of this soul marks the apogee of the greatness of
a people. Psychological species, however, are not eternal, but may decay
if the functioning of their organs is troubled profoundly.</p>
<p>The soul of the race is best expressed in its art, not in its history or
institutions, and, as it can not bequeath its soul, so it can not impress its
civilization or art upon an alien race. It was on account of this incompatibility
of soul that Grecian art failed to be implanted in India. The
unaltering constituent of the soul corresponds to character, while intellectual
qualities are variable. By character is meant perseverance, energy,
power of self-control, also morality. The latter is hereditary respect for
the rules on which a society is based. This definition would make polygamy
a moral notion for Mormons. The knowledge of character "can be
acquired neither in laboratories nor in books, but only in the course of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_848" id="Page_848">[Pg 848]</a></span>
long travel." Whence it is learned that different races can not have mutual
comprehension. Luckily for the student who is unable to travel, the same
phenomenon may be observed in the gulf that separates the civilized man
and woman. Although highly educated, "they might converse with each
other for centuries without understanding one another." These differences
between races and individuals demonstrate the falsity of the notion
of equality. Indeed, through <i>science</i> "man has learned that to be slaves
is the natural condition of all human beings." Naturally he becomes dispirited,
anarchy seizes upon the uneducated and sullen indifference the
more cultivated. "Like a ship that has lost its compass, the modern
man wanders haphazard through the spaces formerly peopled by the gods
and rendered a desert by science." In France morality is gradually dying
out, while the United States is threatened by a gigantic civil war. What
to do is problematical, since we are informed "that people have never derived
much advantage from too great a desire to reason and think," and
what is most harmful to a people is to attain too high a degree of intelligence
and culture, the groundwork of the soul beginning to decline when
this level is reached. The remedy suggested to us is "the organization
of a very severe military service and the permanent menace of disastrous
wars." But if we fail to see the improving tendency of this advice, it is
probably because we are like historians, "simple-minded," while Dr. Le
Bon is much too complex for our understanding. According to his own
theory, there is no hope that we may comprehend him, since the outpourings
of a soul of the Latin race can not be transferred by a simple bridge
of translation to the apprehension of an Anglo-Saxon mind, separated, as
he would term it, by "the dead weight of thousands of generations."</p>
<h3>GENERAL NOTICES.</h3>
<p>In preparing the new edition of his <i>Text-Book
of Mineralogy</i><a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> first published in 1877,
Prof. <i>E. S. Dana</i> has found it necessary to
rewrite the whole as well as to add much
new matter and many new illustrations. The
work being designed chiefly for use in class
or private instruction, the choice of topics
discussed, the order and fullness of treatment,
and the method of presentation have
been determined by that object. The different
types of crystal forms are described
under the thirty-two groups now accepted,
classed according to their symmetry. In the
chapters on physical and chemical mineralogy,
the plan of the former edition is retained
of presenting somewhat fully the elementary
principles of the science on which the mineral
characters depend, and the author has
tried to give the student the means of becoming
practically familiar with the modern
means of investigation. Especial attention
is given to the optical qualities of crystals as
revealed by the microscope; and frequent
references are introduced to important papers
on the different subjects discussed. The
descriptive part of the volume is essentially
an abridgment of the sixth edition of Dana's
System of Mineralogy, published in 1892,
to which the student is referred for fuller
and supplementary information. A full
topical index is furnished in addition to the
usual index of species.</p>
<p>The title, <i>The Story of the Railroad</i>,<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a>
carries with it the suggestion of an eventful
history. The West, in the author's view, begins
with the Missouri River. The story of
its railroad is the story of the line, now very
multiple, that leads to the Pacific Ocean.
The beginning of white men's travels in
these routes is traced by the editor to the
Spanish adventurers of the sixteenth century,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_849" id="Page_849">[Pg 849]</a></span>
who made miserable journeys in search of
gold or visionary objects, through regions
now traversed by some of the more southern
lines. Then came trappers; next costly and
painfully undertaken Government expeditions
into the then regions of the unknown, the
stories of which were the boyhood delight
of men now living. The period of practical
traversing of the continent began with the
raging of the California gold fever, when
the journey of many weeks was tiresomely
made with ox teams, in the face of actual
perils of the desert, starvation, thirst, and
the Indians. After California became important,
stage and express lines were put on;
but still, at the time Mr. Warman takes up
the story, less than sixty years ago, the idea
of building a railroad to the Pacific was regarded
as too visionary to be entertained,
and Asa Whitney sacrificed a fortune trying
to induce somebody to take it up. The first
dreams were for a short route to the Orient.
Eventually the idea was developed that the
American West might be worth going after,
and then the idea of a railroad to it began to
assume practical form. Young Engineer
Dodge, afterward Major General, began surveys
before the civil war; after it General
Sherman gave the scheme a great impulse, and
the Union Pacific Railroad was built—when
and how are graphically and dramatically told
in Mr. Warman's book. Next came the Atchison,
Topeka, and Santa Fé, and other transcontinental
lines, the histories of all of which are
related in similar style, with stories of adventures,
perils encountered, and lively incidents,
including the war between two of the
lines for the possession of the Arkansas
Cañon; financial mishaps, and political scandal.
Then came the settlement of the
plains, road-making in Mexico, and the opening
of Oklahoma, all of which were made
possible by the railroads, and have in turn
contributed to support them. The beginnings
and growth of the express business are described,
and the later lines that have penetrated
the plains are mentioned.</p>
<p>Prof. <i>William Benjamin Smith's</i> treatise
on the <i>Infinitesimal Analysis</i><a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> has been
written, the author says, on what appeared,
in the light of ten years' experience in teaching
the calculus, to be lines of least resistance.
The aim has been, within a prescribed
expense of time and energy, to penetrate as
far as possible into the subject, and in as
many directions, so that the student shall attain
as wide knowledge of the matter, as full
comprehension of the methods, and as clear
consciousness of the spirit and power of this
analysis as the nature of the case would admit.
The author has accordingly often followed
what seemed to be natural suggestions
and impulses toward near-lying extensions
or generalizations, and has even allowed them
to direct the course of the discussion. In
accordance with the plan and purpose of the
book as given, "Weierstressian rigor" has
been excluded from many investigations, and
the postponement has been compelled of
some important discussions, which were considered
too subtle for an early age of study.
Real difficulties, however, have not been
knowingly disguised, and pains have been
taken on occasion to warn the reader that
the treatment given is only provisional, and
must await further precision or delimitation.
Where the subject has been found too large
for the compass of the intended work, or too
abstruse or difficult for the contemplated
students, the treatment has been compressed
or curtailed. The book is, in fact, written
for such as feel a genuine interest in the
subject; and the illustrations and exercises
have been chosen with frequent reference to
practical or theoretic importance or to historic
interest.</p>
<p>Mr. <i>George Jacob Holyoake</i> has written
with much enthusiasm the <i>Jubilee History
of the Leeds Industrial Co-operative Society</i>.<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a>
Many schemes have been started on lines
similar to those of this one, but very few
besides it have grown from the very beginning,
and, having become to all appearance a
permanent institution, can look back upon
a career of fifty years with complete satisfaction.
The society began in times of public
distress. The ground was prepared for it
by the "Redemption" Society, which was
founded at Leeds in 1845, by admirers of
Robert Owen, after the experiment at Queenswood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_850" id="Page_850">[Pg 850]</a></span>
had failed. It practiced a kind of
co-operation and had some distinguished
friends to wish it well. Among the speakers
at its meetings was Dr. Frederic Hollick,
still living, now a resident of New York city.
The co-operative society was started as a
means of getting cheaper flour for its members.
On February 25, 1847, an appeal
headed "Holbeck Anti-Corn Mill Association"
was issued to the working classes of
Leeds and vicinity by the "working people
of Messrs. Benyon & Co.'s mill," Holbeck,
inviting combination and subscriptions for
establishing a mill to be the property of the
subscribers and their successors, "in order to
supply them with flour and flour only."
Meetings were held, an organization was
effected, and the mill was started. The history
of the society and how it grew, how
"flour only" was stricken from its scheme
and other things were added and it branched
out, how co-operative stores were established,
how it gained the confidence of the public
and the respect of rivals in business, its successes
and its mistakes, its triumphs and
failures, are told by Mr. Holyoake, year by
year, in a detail in which everything is set
down and nothing covered up. In 1897 the
cooperative society had productive departments
of flour, bakery, bespoke clothing,
boot and shoe factory, brush factory, cabinet
making, building, millinery, and dressmaking,
employing 541 hands and turning over £26,949;
80 large stores for the sale of these
and various other kinds of goods in Leeds
and vicinity; drapery branches and boot and
shoe stores; 43 butchering branches; and
37,000 subscribing purchasers. Its capital
stood at £447,000; and its sales for the
year amounted to £1,042,616.</p>
<p>D. Appleton and Company have added to
their Home Reading Series <i>The Earth and
Sky</i>, a primer of Astronomy for Young Readers,
by Prof. <i>Edward S. Holden</i>. It is intended
to be the first of a series of three or more
volumes, all treating of astronomy in one
form or another, and suited for reading in
the school. The treatment is based on the
principle that "it is not so simple as it appears
to fix in the child's mind the fundamental
fact that it is Nature which is true,
and the book or the engraving which is a
true copy of it. 'It says' is the snare of
children as well as of their more sophisticated
elders. The vital point to be insisted on is
a constant reference from words to things."
The volume is written as a conversation with
a young lad. He is first shown how he may
know for himself that the earth is not flat,
though it certainly appears to be so. The
next step is to show him that he may know
that the earth is in fact round, and that it is
a globe of immense size. Its situation in
space is next considered, and the child's
mind is led to some formal conclusions respecting
space itself. It is then directed to
the sun, to the moon and its changes, to the
stars and their motions, to the revolution of
the earth, etc.</p>
<p>In 1887 <i>E. S. Holden</i> published through
the Regents of the University of California
a list of recorded earthquakes on the Pacific
coast, it being the first systematic publication
of the sort. The purpose of it was to
bring to light all the general facts about the
various shocks, and enable studies to be
made of particular earthquake phenomena.
It was necessary at the Lick Observatory to
keep a register of the times of occurrence of
all shocks on account of their possible effects
on the instruments. With this was associated
in 1888, when the observatory began
its active work, the collection of reports of
shocks felt elsewhere on the Pacific coast.
Mr. Holden now reprints this pamphlet
through the Smithsonian Institution in <i>A
Catalogue of Earthquakes felt on the Pacific
Coast, 1769 to 1897</i>, with many corrections
and additions, including a complete account
of the earthquake observations at Mount
Hamilton from 1887 to 1897, and an abstract
of the great amount of information that has
been collected regarding other Pacific coast
earthquakes during the same interval.</p>
<p>The <i>Psychologie als Erfahrungs-Wissenschaft</i>
of <i>Hans Cornelius</i> is not intended for
a complete account and review of the facts
of psychical life, but rather to present the
fundamentals of a purely empirical theory,
excluding all metaphysical views. Such an
account should not start from any arbitrary
abstractions or hypotheses, but simply from
actually ascertained, directly perceived psychical
experiences. On the other hand, an
empirical definition should be required for
all the terms that are used in a comprehensive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_851" id="Page_851">[Pg 851]</a></span>
description of the experience; and no
term should be used without the psychical
manifestation described by it being pointed
out. After an introduction in which the
method and place of psychology, subjective
and objective, physiological and genetic, are
referred to, the elementary facts of consciousness
are discussed. The coherency of
knowledge is treated of in the next chapter,
and in the third, Psychical Analysis and
the conception of unobserved consciousness;
and the succeeding chapters are devoted to
Sensation, Memory, and Fancy; The Objective
World, Truth and Error, and Feeling
and Will. (Published at Leipsic, Germany:
B. G. Teubner.)</p>
<p>An extremely interesting book is given
us in the publications of the Wisconsin Geological
and Natural History Society of studies
by <i>George W.</i> and <i>Elizabeth Peckham</i>, of the
<i>Instincts and Habits of the Solitary Wasps</i>.
These insects are familiar enough to us all,
as we meet them or see their nests of one or
a few cells every day, and then think no
more of them. But Mr. and Mrs. Peckham,
following them to their haunts and keeping
company with them, have found them manifesting
remarkable instincts and exercising
curious customs, which they describe in the
style of persons who are in love with their
work. The opportunity for the studies was
given in two gardens, one on the top of a hill
and the other lower down, with an island in
a lake close by and acres of woodland all
about, offering a rich variety of nesting places.
There are more than a thousand species of
these solitary wasps in the United States, to
only about fifty of the social ones, and they
live without knowledge of their progenitors
and without relations with others of their
kind.</p>
<p>The eighth volume of the report of the
<i>Iowa Geological Survey</i> comprises the accounts
of surveys completed during 1897 in
six counties, making up the whole number
of twenty-six counties in which the areal
work has been completed. This does not,
however, represent the whole extent of the
operations of the survey, for some work has
been done in nearly every county in the
State, and in many counties it will require
but little additional work to make a complete
report. In addition to the areal work, too,
special studies of coal, clay, artesian waters,
gypsum, lead, zinc, etc., have engaged attention.
A growing public appreciation of the
work of the survey as illustrated in the demand
for the volumes of the reports and for
special papers, is recognized by the State
Geologist, Mr. <i>Samuel Calvin</i>; and an increasing
use of the reports as works for reference
and for general study in high schools
and other educational institutions is observed.
The survey is now collecting statistics of production
of various minerals mined in the
State.</p>
<p>One of the features most likely to attract
attention in the <i>Annual Report of the State
Geologist</i> of New Jersey for 1897 is the
paper of Mr. C. C. Vermeule on the Drainage
of the Hackensack and Newark Tide
Marshes. In it a scheme is unfolded for
the reclamation and diking of the flats, under
which an ample navigable waterway
shall be developed, and the cities which now
stop at their edges may be extended and
built up to the very banks of the new harbor,
made a highway for ocean sailing vessels.
An interesting paper is published by
Lewis Woolman on Artesian and Bored and
other Wells, in which many important wells
are described with reference to the geological
strata they penetrate. Other papers relate
to iron mining and brick and clay industries,
mineral statistics, and statistics of
clays, bricks, and terra cotta. The field reports
describe progress in the surveys of the
surface geology, the Newark system, and the
upper Cretaceous formations.</p>
<p>On the basis of a reconnoissance made by
him for Alexander Agassiz, Mr. <i>Robert T.
Hill</i> has published through the Bulletin of
the Museum of Comparative Zoölogy at Harvard
University, a paper on <i>The Geological
History of the Isthmus of Panama and Portions
of Costa Rica</i>. He finds that there is
considerable evidence that a land barrier in
the tropical region separated the two oceans
as far back as Jurassic time, and continued
through the Cretaceous period. The geological
structure of the Isthmus and Central
American regions, so far as investigated,
when considered aside from the paleontology,
presents no evidence by which the former existence
of a free communication of oceanic
waters across the present tropical barriers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_852" id="Page_852">[Pg 852]</a></span>
can be established. The paleontological evidence
indicates the ephemeral existence of
a passage at the close of the Eocene period.
All lines of inquiry give evidence that
no communication has existed between the
two oceans since the close of the Oligocene.</p>
<p>The <i>Twenty-second Annual Report of the
Department of Geology and Natural Resources</i>
of Indiana, <i>W. S. Blatchley</i>, State
Geologist, embraces, in part, the results of
the work of the several departments of the
survey during 1897. These appear in the
form of papers of economic importance on
the petroleum, stone, and clay resources of
the State, natural gases and illuminating oils,
a description of the curious geological and
topographical region of Lake and Porter
Counties, and an extended paper on the
Birds of Indiana, with specific descriptions.
A large proportion of the energies of the department
were employed during the year in
gathering data for a detailed report on the
coal area of the State, which is now in course
of preparation.</p>
<p>The <i>Report of the United States Commissioner
of Education</i> for 1896-'97 records an
increase in the enrollment of schools and
colleges of 257,586, the whole number of
pupils being 14,712,077 in public institutions
and schools, and 1,513,016 in private.
The increase is confined to the public institutions,
the private ones having suffered from
"hard times." Among the numerous papers
published in the volume containing the report
are those on Education in Great Britain
and Ireland, France, Denmark, Norway, Central
Europe, and Greece; Commercial Education
in Europe; the Teaching of Civics in
France, Switzerland, and England; Sunday
Schools, including accounts of the several denominational
systems; the Legal Rights of
Children; and sketches of Horace Mann and
Henry Barnard and their work in furthering
education.</p>
<p>Mr. <i>David T. Day's</i> report on the <i>Mineral
Resources of the United States</i> for 1896
appears as Part V of the Eighteenth Annual
Report of the United States Geological Survey,
in two volumes of fourteen hundred
pages in all; the first of which is devoted to
Metallic Products and Coal, and the second
to Nonmetallic Products except Coal. The
report covers the calendar year 1896, and
shows only a slight increase in total values
over 1895. Of some substances, however—gold,
copper, aluminum, and petroleum being
the most important ones—the value was
the greatest ever attained. Of other substances,
including lead, bituminous coal,
building stones, mineral waters, salt, and
pyrites, the product was increased in amount,
but the value was less. A paper, by Mr.
George F. Becker, on the Witwatersrand
Banket, records observations made by him
in the Transvaal gold fields.</p>
<p><i>A Geological Reconnoissance of the Coal
Fields of the Indian Territory</i>, published
in the Contributions to Biology of the Hopkins
Seaside Laboratory of Leland Stanford
Junior University, by <i>Noah Fields
Drake</i>, is based upon a six months' examination
made by the author during the spring,
summer, and fall of 1896, of the larger part of
the coal measures and adjacent formations
of Indian and Oklahoma Territories. The
best maps that could then be had being exceedingly
inaccurate, sketch maps were made
of areas that were especially important. On
account of features of particular geological
interest, nearly all the area south and east of
the Canadian River and the bordering areas
of the Boone chert and limestones were
sketched and studied rather closely.</p>
<p>The <i>American Catholic Historical Society</i>
at Philadelphia publishes in its <i>Quarterly
Records</i> much that, while it must be of
deep interest to historical students holding
the Roman Catholic faith, possesses, perhaps,
a strong though more general interest
to all students of American history; for the
men of that faith have had no small part in
the colonization and development of this
country. The number for June, 1898, contains
a portrait and a bibliographical sketch
of the Rev. Peter Henry Lemke, O. S. B., of
Pennsylvania, Kansas, and Elizabeth, N. J.;
a poem on the Launch of the American
Frigate United States, whose commander
was a Catholic; articles on the Sir John
James Fund, and Catholic Chronicles of
Lancaster, Pa., and Extracts from the Diary
of the Rev. Patrick Kenny.</p>
<p>A memoir on <i>A Determination of the
Ratio (χ) of the Specific Heats at Constant
Pressure and at Constant Volume for Air,
Oxygen, Carbon Dioxide, and Hydrogen</i> gives<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_853" id="Page_853">[Pg 853]</a></span>
the result of a series of investigations by Drs.
<i>O. Lummer</i> and <i>E. Pringshein</i>, of Charlottenburg,
Germany, made with the aid of a
grant from the Hodgkins Fund of the Smithsonian
Institution. Besides being of exceptional
importance in thermodynamics, the
specific heat ratio is of interest as affording
a clew to the character of the molecule. In
the present investigation coincident results
on the gases examined appear to have been
reached for the first time. (Published by the
Smithsonian Institution.)</p>
<p>From the greater lightness of the air and
the higher velocity of its currents, it is evident
that the materials it may carry and deposit
will be somewhat different in composition
and structure from those which are laid
down in water. They are as a rule finer, they
exhibit a different bedding, and are more
capriciously placed. Mr. <i>Johan August Udden</i>
has made a careful study of the subject,
the results of which he publishes under the
title of <i>The Mechanical Composition of Wind
Deposits</i>, as the first number of the Augustana
Library Series, at the Lutheran Augustana
Book Concern, Rock Island, Ill.</p>
<p>The <i>History Reader for Elementary
Schools</i> (The Macmillan Company, 60 cents),
prepared by <i>L. L. W. Wilson</i> and arranged
with special reference to holidays, contains
readings for each month of the school year,
classified according to different periods and
phases of American history generally, so
chosen that some important topic of the
group shall bear a relation to the month in
which it is to be read. The groups concern
the Indians, the Discovery of America,
Thanksgiving, Other Settlements (than those
of Virginia and the Pilgrims), Dr. Franklin,
Lincoln and Washington, the Revolution,
Arbor Day, and Brave Sea Captains, etc.,
closing with articles in reference to Flag
Day. The insertion of an article on the
War with Spain seems premature. Public
sentiment is not yet at rest on the subject.</p>
<h3>PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED.</h3>
<p>Agricultural Experiment Stations. Bulletins
and Reports. Cornell University:
No. 160. Hints on Rural School Grounds.
By L. H. Bailey. Pp. 20; No. 161. Annual
Flowers. By G. N. Lanman and L. H.
Bailey. Pp. 32; No. 162. The Period of
Gestation in Cows. By H. H. Wing. Pp.
120.—Delaware College: No. 43 (abridged
edition). The European and Japanese
Chestnuts in the United States. By G. H.
Powell. Pp. 16.—Michigan: Nos. 164 and
165. Methods and Results of Tillage, and
Draft of Farm Implements. By M. W.
Fulton. Pp. 24; Elementary Science Bulletin,
No. 5. Branches of Sugar Maple and
Beech as seen in Winter. By W. J. Beal.
Pp. 4; do., No. 6. Potatoes, Rutabagas,
and Onions. By W. J. Beal. Pp. 6.—New
Jersey: No. 133. Peach Growing in New
Jersey. By A. T. Jordan. Pp. 16; No. 134.
Fermentation and Germ Life. By Julius
Nelson. Pp. 24.—North Dakota: No. 15.
Some Chemical Problems Investigated.
Pp. 28.—Ohio: Newspaper Bulletin 188.
Sugar Beets and Sorghum in Ohio. Pp. 2.</p>
<p>Aston, W. G. A History of Japanese
Literature. New York: D. Appleton and
Company. Pp. 408. $1.50.</p>
<p>Berry, Arthur. A Short History of Astronomy.
New York: Charles Scribner's
Sons. Pp. 440. $1.50.</p>
<p>Brush and Pencil. An Illustrated
Magazine of the Arts and Crafts. Monthly.
Chicago: Arts and Crafts Company.
Pp. 64. 25 cents. $2.50 a year.</p>
<p>Bulletins, Reports, etc. Colgate University,
Department of Geology and Natural
History: Announcement. Pp. 16.—Field
Columbian Museum, Chicago: Annual
Report of the Board of Directors for
1897-'98. Pp. 90, with plates.—Financial
Reform Association: 1848 to 1898. Fifty
Years' Retrospect. London. Pp. 54, with
plates; Financial Reform Almanac for
1899. London. Pp. 316. 1 shilling.—New
York State Library: Legislative Bulletin
for 1898. Pp. 132. 25 cents.—New York
University: Catalogue and Announcements
for 1898-'99. Pp. 358.—Perkins Institution
and Massachusetts School for the
Blind: Sixty-seventh Annual Report of
the Trustees, to August 31, 1898. Pp. 305.—United
States Department of Labor: Bulletin
No. 20, January, 1899. Edited by
Carroll D. Wright and Oren W. Weaver.
Pp. 170.</p>
<p>Byrd, Mary E. Laboratory Manual in
Astronomy. Boston: Ginn & Co. Pp. 273.</p>
<p>Cajori, Florian. A History of Physics
in its Elementary Branches, including the
Evolution of Physical Laboratories. New
York: The Macmillan Company. Pp. 323.
$1.60.</p>
<p>Callie, J. W. S. John Smith's Reply to
"Merrie England, Defense of the Liberal
Programme." London: John Heywood.
Pp. 88. Sixpence.</p>
<p>Chapman, Frank H., Editor. Bird Lore.
February, 1898, Vol. I, No. 1. Bimonthly.
New York: The Macmillan Company. Pp.
32. 20 cents. $1 a year.</p>
<p>Davenport, Charles B. Experimental
Morphology. Part II. New York: The
Macmillan Company. Pp. 509. $2.</p>
<p>Evans, A. H. Birds (The Cambridge
Natural History, edited by S. F. Harmer
and A. E. Shipley, Vol. IX). New York:
The Macmillan Company. Pp. 635. $3.50.</p>
<p>Egbert, Seneca. A Manual of Hygiene
and Sanitation. Philadelphia: Lea Brothers
& Co. Pp. 368.</p>
<p>Foulke, William Dudley. Slav or Saxon:
a Study of the Growth and Tendencies of
Russian Civilization. New York: G. P.
Putnam's Sons. Pp. 141. $1.</p>
<p>Huntington, Elon. The Earth's Rotation
and its Interior Heat. Pp. 33.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_854" id="Page_854">[Pg 854]</a></span></p>
<p>Janes, Lewis G. Our Nation's Peril.
Social Ideas and Social Progress. Pp. 31.
25 cents.</p>
<p>McLellan, J. A., and Ames, A. F. The
Public School Mental Arithmetic. New
York: The Macmillan Company. Pp. 138.
25 cents. Boston: James H. West & Co.</p>
<p>Maltbie, Milo Ray. Municipal Functions.
A Study of the Development, Scope,
and Tendency of Municipal Socialism.
(Municipal Affairs, December, 1898.) New
York: Reform Club, Committee of Municipal
Administration. Pp. 230. 75 cents.</p>
<p>Mason, Hon. William E. Speech in the
United States Senate on the Government
of Foreign Peoples. Pp. 26.</p>
<p>Patten, Simon N. The Development of
English Thought. New York: The Macmillan
Company. Pp. 415. $3.</p>
<p>Pittsburg Press Almanac, The, for 1899.
Quarterly. St. Louis: The Press Publishing
Company. Pp. 536.</p>
<p>Récéjac, E. Essay on the Basis of the
Mystic Knowledge. Translated by Sera
Carr Upton. New York: Charles Scribner's
Sons. Pp. 287. $2.50.</p>
<p>Reprints. Caldwell, Otis W. The Life
History of Lemna Minor. Pp. 32.—Calkins,
G. N. Some Hydroids from Puget
Sound. Pp. 24, with six plates.—Cope,
Edward D. Vertebrate Remains from the
Port Kennedy Bone Deposit. Pp. 75, with
plates.—Fitz, G. W. Play as a Factor in
Development. Pp. 7; The Hygiene of Instruction
in Elementary Schools. Pp. 7.—Howard,
William Lee. Double Personality;
Lenten Hysteria. Pp. 8.—Howe, R. H.,
Jr. North American Wood Frogs.—Hunt,
Charles Wallace. The Engineer: His
Work, his Ethics, his Pleasures. (President's
Address, American Society of Mechanical
Engineers.) Pp. 15.—Hunter, S.
J. The Coccidæ of Kansas. Pp. 15, with
plates.—Krauss, W. C. The Stigmata of
Degeneration. Pp. 360.—Lichty, D. Thalassic
Submersion a Means of Disposal of
the Dead. Pp. 12.—McDonald, Arthur.
Emile Zola. Pp. 16.—Phillips, W. B. Iron
Making in Alabama. Montgomery. Pp.
380.—Saunders, De Alten. Phycological
Memoirs. Pp. 20, with plates.—Schlicht,
Paul J. A New Process of Combustion.
Pp. 32.—Stevens, F. L. The Effect of
Aqueous Solutions upon the Germination
of Fungus Spores. Pp. 30.—Stock, H. H.
The International Correspondence Schools,
Scranton, Pennsylvania. Pp. 12.—Urn,
The. Modern Thought on Modern Cremation.
United States Cremation Company.
Pp. 40.—Veeder, M. A. The Relative Importance
of Flies and Water Supply in
Spreading Disease. Pp. 8.</p>
<p>Robinson, Albert Gardner. The Porto
Rico of To-day. New York: Charles Scribner's
Sons. Pp. 240, with maps. $1.50.</p>
<p>Salazar, A. E. Kalkules de Kañerius
de Agua (Calculations of Water Conduits).
Santiago de Chile. Pp. 246.</p>
<p>Schnabel, Dr. Carl. Handbook of Metallurgy.
Translated by Henry Louis. 2
vols. New York: The Macmillan Company.
Pp. 876 and 732. $10.</p>
<p>Seligman, E. R. A. The Shifting and
Incidence of Taxation. Second edition.
New York: The Macmillan Company. Pp.
337. $3.</p>
<p>Semon, Richard. In the Australian
Bush and on the Coast of the Coral Sea.
New York: The Macmillan Company. Pp.
552. $6.50.</p>
<p>Spencer, Baldwin, and Gillen, F. J.
The Native Tribes of Central Australia.
New York: The Macmillan Company. Pp.
671, with plates. $6.50.</p>
<p>Technology Review, The. A Quarterly
Magazine relating to the Massachusetts
Institute of Technology. January, 1899.
Pp. 143. 35 cents.</p>
<p>United States National Museum. Annual
Report for the Year ending June 30,
1896. (Smithsonian Institution.) Washington.
Pp. 1107, with plates.</p>
<p>Weir, James. The Dawn of Reason.
Mental Traits in the Lower Animals. New
York: The Macmillan Company. Pp. 234.
$1.25.</p>
<p>Westcott, Edward N. David Harum.
New York: D. Appleton and Company.
Pp. 392. $1.50.</p>
<p>Whipple, G. C. The Microscopy of
Drinking Water. New York: John Wiley
& Sons. Pp. 300, with nineteen plates.
$3.50.</p>
<p>Wilkinson, F. The Story of the Cotton
Plant. (Library of Useful Stories.) New
York: D. Appleton and Company. Pp. 191.
40 cents.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2>Fragments of Science.</h2>
<p><b>The Nernst Electric Lamp.</b>—Prof. Walter
Nernst, of the University of Göttingen,
has recently devised an electric lamp which
promises to be an important addition to our
present methods of lighting. The part of
the lamp which emits the light consists of a
small rod of highly refractory material, said
to be chiefly thoria, which is supported between
two platinum electrodes. The rod is
practically a nonconductor when cold, but by
heating it (in the smaller sizes a match is
sufficient) its conductivity is so raised that a
current will pass through it; after the current
is once started the heat produced by the
resistance of the rod is sufficient to keep up
its conductivity, and the latter is raised to a
state of intense incandescence, and gives out
a brilliant white light. As the preliminary
heating by means of a match or other flame
would in some cases be an inconvenience,
Professor Nernst has devised a lamp which,
by means of a platinum resistance attachment,
can be started by simply turning a switch.
The life of the rods is about five hundred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_855" id="Page_855">[Pg 855]</a></span>
hours. The lamps are said to work equally
well with either alternating or direct currents,
and there is no vacuum necessary. If
this lamp proves a success as a commercial
apparatus, it will be but another example of
how slight a matter may make all the difference
between success and failure. There
have been numerous experimenters trying
for the last ten years, and in fact ever since
the appearance of the arc lamp, to utilize in
an electric lamp the great light-giving power
of the refractory earths in a state of incandescence;
but, owing to their high resistance
at ordinary temperatures, no results were obtained
until Professor Nernst thought of heating
his thoria rod, and this simple procedure
seems to have solved the whole difficulty.
It is claimed that the Nernst lamp is a much
more economical transformer of electricity
into light than the present incandescent
electric lamps. An apparatus called a kaolin
candle, which has been suggested as an anticipation
of Professor Nernst's lamp, was
constructed by Paul Jablochkoff in 1877 or
1878. It consisted of a strip of kaolin,
along which ran a "match" of some conducting
material. The current was passed
through this "match" until the kaolin strip
became heated sufficiently to become a conductor
itself. The lamp did not, however,
prove a commercial success.</p>
<p><b>Laws of Climatic Evolution.</b>—The problem
of the laws of climatic evolution was
characterized by Dr. Marsden Manson, in a
paper read at the British Association, as one
of the grandest and most far-reaching problems
in geological physics, since it embraces
principles and laws applicable to other planets
than ours. After presenting a formulation
of those laws, the author pointed out
that in consequence of their working, a hot
spheroid rotating in space and revolving
about a central sun, and holding fluids of
similar properties to water and air within the
sphere of its control, must pass through a
series of uniform climates at sea level, gradually
decreasing in temperature and terminating
in an ice age, and that this age must be
succeeded by a series of zonal climates gradually
increasing in temperature and extent.
The conclusions thus reached were that in
the case of the earth zonal distribution of
climates was inaugurated at the culmination
of the ice age, and is gradually increasing in
temperature and extent by the trapping of
the solar energy in the lower atmosphere,
and that the rise has a moderate limit; that
the ice age was unique and due to the physical
properties of water and air, and to the
difference in specific heat of land and water;
and that prior to the ice age local formation
of glaciers could occur at any latitude and
period. Dr. Manson then observed that Jupiter
was apparently in a condition through
which the earth has already passed, and
Mars was in one toward which the climatic
evolution of the earth was tending.</p>
<p><b>Poisonous Plants.</b>—Statistics in regard
to poisonous plants are lacking on account
of a general ignorance of the subject, and it
is therefore impossible to form even an approximate
estimate of the damage done by
them. Besides the criminal uses that may be
made of them, there are some other problems
connected with them that are of general
public interest. The common law of England
holds those who possess and cultivate
such plants responsible for damages accruing
from them; and a New York court has
awarded damages in a case of injury from
poison ivy growing in a cemetery. In order
to obtain information on the subject, the botanical
division of the Department of Agriculture
arranged to receive notices through
the clipping bureaus of the cases of poisoning
recorded in the newspapers. Thus
through the persons named in the articles or
through the local postmaster it was put in
correspondence with the physician in the
case, who furnished the authentic facts. A
large number of correct and valuable data
were thus secured. It is proved by these
facts that all poisonous plants are not
equally injurious to all persons nor to all
forms of life. Thus poison ivy has no apparent
external effect upon animals, and a
few of them eat its leaves with impunity;
and it acts upon the skin of the majority of
persons with varying intensity—on some
hardly at all, while others are extremely sensitive
to it. A similar variability is found in
the effects of poisonous plants taken internally.
In some cases often regarded as of
that kind, death is attributable not to any
poison which the plant contains, but to immoderate
or incautious eating, or to mechanical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_856" id="Page_856">[Pg 856]</a></span>
injury such as is produced in horses by
the hairs of crimson clover, or to the effect
of parasitic growths, such as ergot on rye.
Excluding all which operate in these ways,
there are, however, a large number of really
poisonous plants, the properties of which are
comparatively unknown. It is concerning
these that information has been sought by
the botanical division. Its report contains
descriptions of about forty plants, with figures,
belonging to seventeen families.</p>
<p><b>The United States Biological Survey.</b>—The
Biological Survey of the United States
Department of Agriculture aims to define
and map the agricultural belts of the country
in order to ascertain what products of
the soil can and what can not be grown successfully
in each, to guide the farmer in the
intelligent introduction of foreign crops, and
to point out his friends and his enemies
among the native birds and animals. For
information on these subjects so important
to him the farmer has had to rely on his own
experiments or those of his neighbors, often
carried on at enormous cost to persons little
able to bear it. The Survey and its predecessor,
the division of ornithology and mammology,
have had small parties in the field
traversing the public domain for the purpose
of studying the geographic distribution of
our native land animals and plants and mapping
the boundaries of the areas they inhabit.
It was early learned that North
America is divisible into seven transcontinental
belts or life zones and a much larger
number of minor areas or <i>faunas</i>, each characterized
by particular associations of animals
and plants. The inference was natural
and has been verified that these same zones
and areas, up to the northern limit of profitable
agriculture, are adapted to the needs of
particular kinds or varieties of cultivated
crops. The Survey is engaged in tracing as
precisely as possible the actual boundaries
of these belts and areas, and in finding out
and designating the varieties of crops best
adapted to each. In this undertaking it
aims to point out such exotic products as,
from their importance in other lands, are
likely to prove of value if introduced on fit
soils and under proper climatic conditions.
The importance of this work will be realized
when it is recollected that all the climatic
life zones of the world, except the hottest
tropical, are represented in our country.
The colored maps prepared by the Survey
furnish the best guide the farmer can have
for judging what crops will be best adapted
for his particular region; and in connection
with the work of the entomologist, show the
belts along which noxious insects are likely
to spread. The report of the Survey, prepared
under the direction of its chief, C.
Hart Merriam, though full of valuable information
not before presented consecutively,
is preliminary and only touches the edge of a
subject which is susceptible of copious elaboration,
and is destined to be worked up with
immense profit.</p>
<p><b>A Neolithic Lake Dwelling.</b>—A crannog,
or lake dwelling, discovered in the summer
of 1898 on the banks of the Clyde, has received
much attention from English archæologists
because of its unique situation on a
tidal stream, and of its being apparently
neolithic or far more ancient than any other
crannog yet examined, in all others the relics
being of the bronze age. Careful excavations
have been made in it and are still in progress,
and the refuse mound of the former settlement
has been sifted, with results that have
made it plain that there were design and
execution in the building, and that it was
occupied and inhabited for a long period.
Positive evidence of fire is afforded in the
shape of numerous firestones and calcined
embers, and indications of the condition of
life at the period are given by the implements,
ornaments, and tools recovered. The crannog
is about sixteen hundred yards east of
the Castle Rock of Dumbarton, and about
fifty yards from the river at low tide, but is
submerged when the tide is in to a depth of
from three to twelve feet, and is one hundred
and eighty-four feet in circuit. The
piles in the outer circle are of oak, which
below the mud surface is still quite fresh.
The transverse beams and pavement inside
are of wood of the consistence of cheese—willow,
alder, and oak—while the smaller
branches are of fir, birch, and hazel, with
bracken, moss, and chips. The stones in the
outer circle and along the causeway leading
to the dwelling place seem to have been set
in a methodical order, most of the bowlders
being about a lift for a man. The refuse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_857" id="Page_857">[Pg 857]</a></span>
mound extends for about twelve feet outside
for the greater part of the circuit, and here
most of the bone and flint implements have
been discovered. The largest article found in
the site was a very fine canoe, thirty-seven
feet long and forty inches beam, dug out of a
single oak tree, which lay in what has proved
to have been a dock. A curious ladder was
also found here, the rungs of which were cut
out of the solid wood, and which has somewhat
the general appearance of a post of a
post-and-rail fence. The exploration of the
site is much interfered with by the rising of
the tide, which covers the crannog for a considerable
time every day. All the relics
found—consisting chiefly of objects of bone,
staghorn, jet, chert, and cannel coal, with
some querns, the canoe, ladder, etc.—have
been placed in the museum at Glasgow.</p>
<p><b>Portland Cement.</b>—The following facts
are taken from an address delivered before
the Franklin Institute by Mr. Robert W.
Lesley: "It was not until the end of the last
century that the true principles of hydraulic
cement were discovered by Smeaton, who, in
the construction of the Eddystone Lighthouse,
made a number of experiments with
the English limestones, and laid down, as a
result, the principle that a limestone yielding
from fifteen to twenty-five per cent of residue
when dissolved in hydrochloric acid will
set under water. These limestones he denominated
hydraulic limestones, and from
the principle so laid down by him come the
two great definitions of what we now know
as cement, namely, the natural and artificial
cements of commerce. The natural variety,
such as the Rosendale, Lehigh, and Cumberland
cements, was first made by Joseph Parker
in 1796, who discovered what he called
'Roman cement,' based upon the calcination
at low temperatures of the nodules found in
the septaria geological formation in England.
This was practically the first cement of commerce,
and gave excellent results. Joseph
Aspdin, a bricklayer or plasterer, took out a
patent in England in 1824 on a high-grade artificial
cement, and, at great personal deprivation,
succeeded in manufacturing it on a commercial
scale by combining English chalks
with clay from the river beds, drying the
mixed paste, and after calcining at high heat
the material thus produced, grinding it to powder.
This cement, which was the first Portland
cement in the market, obtained its name
from its resemblance when it became stone
to the celebrated Portland stone, one of the
leading building materials in England. The
rocks used in the manufacture of Portland
cement are very similar to those from which
natural cement is made. The various layers
in the natural rock may vary in size or stratification,
so that the lime, alumina, and silica
may not be in position to combine under
heat, or there may be too much of one ingredient,
or not enough of the others in close
proximity to each other. In making Portland
cement, these rocks, properly proportioned,
are accordingly ground to an impalpable
powder, the natural rock being broken
down and the laminæ distributed in many
small grains. This powder is then mixed
with water, and is made into a new stone
in the shape of the brick, or block, in
which all the small grains formerly composing
the laminæ of the original rock
are distributed and brought into a close
mechanical juxtaposition to each other.
The new rock thus made is put into kilns
with layers of coke, and is then calcined at
temperatures from 1,600° to 1,800°. The
clinker, as it comes from the kiln, is then
crushed and ground to an impalpable powder,
which is the Portland cement of commerce.
Portland cement may be made from
other materials, such as chalk and clay, limestone
and clay, cement rock and limestone,
and marls and clays. In every case the principle
is the same, the breaking down and the
redistributing of the materials so that the fine
particles may be in close mechanical union
when subjected to the heat of the kiln."</p>
<p><b>The French Nontoxic Matches.</b>—It is
believed, by Frenchmen at least, that the
problem long sought, of finding a composition
for a match head in which all the advantages
of white phosphorus shall be preserved while
its deleterious qualities are eliminated or
greatly reduced, has been solved in the new
matches which the French Government has
placed upon the market. These matches are
marked S. C., by the initials of the inventors,
MM. Sévène and Cahen, are made in the factories
at Trélazé, Begles, and Samtines, and
have been well received by the public. In preparing
the composition, the chlorate of potash<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_858" id="Page_858">[Pg 858]</a></span>
of the old flashing and safety matches
has been retained, and the sesquisulphide
of phosphorus is used instead of the white
or red phosphorus of the old matches. The
latter substance, besides the indispensable
qualities of fixity and resistance to atmospheric
influences, has the two important properties
of inflaming at 95° C., much nearer the
igniting point of white phosphorus (60° C.)
than of red (260° C.), and being therefore
easier to light; and of having a low latent
or specific heat. With these properties embodied
in the inflammable composition of the
head, the new match is expected to be comparatively
free from accidental explosions
during manufacture and export, to take fire
by friction, and to burn steadily and regularly.
The expectation has so far been fulfilled.
The phosphorus compound has a
special odor, in which the sulphur characteristic
predominates, but, not boiling under
380° C., does not become offensive in the
shops; and the match heads made with it
do not emit the phosphorescence which is
often exhibited by matches made with white
phosphorus. It is only feebly toxic by direct
absorption, experiments on guinea pigs
indicating that it is only about one tenth as
much so as white phosphorus.</p>
<p><b>Trees as Land Formers.</b>—John Gifford,
in a paper presented to the Franklin Institute
on Forestry in Relation to Physical Geography
and Engineering, mentions as illustrating
the way forests counteract certain destructive
forces, the mangrove tree as "the great
land former which, supplementing the work
of the coral polyp, has added to the warm
seashore regions of the globe immense areas
of land." The trees grow in salt water several
feet deep, where their labyrinth of roots
and branches collect and hold sediment and
flotage. Thus the shore line advances. The
seeds, germinating on the plant, the plantlets
fall into the water, float away till their roots
touch the bottom, and there form the nucleus
of new islands and life. The forest constantly
improves the soil, provided the latter
is not removed or allowed to burn. The
roots of trees penetrate to its deeper layers
and absorb great quantities of mineral matters,
a large percentage of which goes to the
leaves, and is ultimately deposited on the
surface. "The surface soil is both enriched
by these mineral substances and protected
by a mulch of humus in varying stages of
decomposition. As the lower layers rot, new
layers of leaves and twigs are being constantly
deposited, so that the forest soil, in
the course of time, fairly reeks with nourishing
plant food, which seeps out more or less
to enrich neighboring soils." The forest is
also a soil former. "Even the most tender
rootlet, because of its acidity, is able to dissolve
its way through certain kinds of rock.
This, together with the acids formed in the
decomposition of humus, is a potent and
speedy agent in the production of soil. The
roots of many species of trees have no difficulty
whatever in penetrating limestone and
in disintegrating rocks of the granitic series.
As the rock crumbles, solid inorganic materials
are released, which enrich neighboring
soils, especially those of the valleys in regions
where the forest is relegated to the mountain
sides and top, as should be the case in all
mountainous regions. In view of the destruction
caused by mankind, it is a consoling
fact that Nature, although slowly, is gradually
improving her waste lands. If not interrupted,
the barest rock and the fallowest
field, under conditions which may be called
unfavorable, will become, in course of time,
forest-clad and fertile. The most important
function of the forest in relation to the soil,
however, is in holding it in place and protecting
it from the erosive action of wind
and rain."</p>
<p><b>The Atlantic Slope.</b>—The Atlantic slope
of the United States is described in the New
Jersey State Geological Survey's report on
the Physical Geography of the State as "a
fairly distinct geographical province. Its
eastern boundary is the sea; its western
boundary on the north is the divide between
the drainage flowing southeast to the sea and
that flowing northeast to the St. Lawrence.
Farther south its western limit is the divide
between the streams flowing east to the Atlantic
and those flowing west to the Ohio and
Mississippi Rivers." The line between it and
the geographical province next west follows
the watershed of the Appalachian system of
mountains. It is divided, according to elevations,
into several subprovinces, all of
which elongate in a direction roughly parallel
to the shore. Next to the coast there is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_859" id="Page_859">[Pg 859]</a></span>
usually a belt of lowland, few or many miles
wide, called the <i>Coastal Plain</i>. Inland from
the Coastal Plain is an intermediate height,
between the Coastal Plain to the east and
the mountains to the west, known in the
South as the <i>Piedmont Plateau</i>. The mountainous
part of the slope constitutes the
third province, known as the <i>Appalachian
Zone</i>. The Atlantic slope may be divided
into two sections—a northern and a southern—in
which the Coastal Plain is narrow and
wide respectively. These two sections meet
in New Jersey, where the division runs from
the Raritan River, just below New Brunswick,
to Trenton. South of this line the
Coastal Plain expands, and all considerable
elevations recede correspondingly from the
shore. These three subprovinces are especially
well shown in the southern section of
the Atlantic slope. They are less well developed
in the northern section, and even
where the topography is comparable the underlying
rock structure is different. In New
Jersey a fourth belt, the Triassic formation,
is interposed between the Coastal Plain and
the Highlands corresponding to the Piedmont
Plateau. North of New Jersey the
Coastal Plain has little development, though
Long Island and some small areas farther
east and northeast are to be looked upon as
parts of it.</p>
<p><b>American Fresh-water Pearls.</b>—The facts
cited by Mr. George F. Kunz in his paper,
published in the Report of the United States
Fish Commission, on the Fresh-water Pearls
and Pearl Fisheries of the United States, give
considerable importance to this feature of
our natural history. The mound explorations
attest that fresh-water pearls were
gathered and used by the prehistoric peoples
of the country "to an extent that is astonishing.
On the hearths of some of these
mounds in Ohio the pearls have been found,
not by hundreds, but by thousands and even
by bushels—now, of course, damaged and
half decomposed by centuries of burial and
by the heat of superficial fires." The narratives
of the early Spanish explorers make
several mentions of pearls in the possession
of the Indians. For a considerable period
after the first explorations, however, American
pearls attracted but little attention, and
"for some two centuries the Unios [or 'fresh-water
mussels'] lived and multiplied in the
rivers and streams, unmolested by either the
native tribes that had used them for food,
or by the pioneers of the new race that had
not yet learned of their hidden treasures."
Within recent years the gathering of Unio
pearls has attained such importance as to
start economical problems warranting and
even demanding careful and detailed inquiry.
The first really important discovery of Unio
pearls was made near Paterson, N. J., in 1857,
in the form of the "queen pearl" of fine
luster, weighing ninety-three grains, which
was sold to Eugénie, wife of Napoleon III,
for twenty-five hundred dollars, and is now
worth four times that amount. As a result
the Unios at Notch Brook, where it was
found, were gathered by the million and destroyed.
Within a year fully fifteen thousand
dollars' worth of pearls were sent to
the New York market. Then the shipments
gradually fell off. Some of the best American
pearls that were next found were at
Waynesville, Ohio, where Mr. Israel H. Harris
formed an exceedingly fine collection. It
contained more than two thousand specimens,
weighing more than as many grains.
Among them were one button-shaped on the
back and weighing thirty-eight grains, several
almost transparent pink ones, and one
showing where the pearl had grown almost
entirely through the Unio. In 1889 a number
of magnificently colored pearls were
found at different places in the creeks and
rivers of Wisconsin, of which more than ten
thousand dollars' worth were sent to New
York within three months. These discoveries
led to immense activity in pearl hunting
through all the streams of the region, and in
three or four seasons the shells were nearly
exhausted. The pearl fisheries of this State
have produced at least two hundred and fifty
thousand dollars' worth of pearls since 1889.
Another outbreak of the "pearl mania"
occurred in Arkansas in 1897, and extended
into the Indian Territory, Missouri, Georgia,
and other States.</p>
<p><b>Distribution of Cereals in the United
States.</b>—To inquiries made preparatory to
drawing up a report on the Distribution of
Cereals in North America (Department of
Agriculture, Biological Survey), Mr. C. S.
Plumb received one thousand and thirty-three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_860" id="Page_860">[Pg 860]</a></span>
answers, eight hundred and ninety-seven of
which came from the United States and the
rest from the Canadian provinces. These
reports showed that in many localities, particularly
in the East and South, but little attention
is paid to keeping varieties pure, and
many farmers use mixed, unknown, or local
varieties of ordinary merit for seed. In
New England but little grain is grown from
sowing, owing to the cheapness of Western
grain, and wheat is rarely reported. Oats
are now mostly sown from Western seed, and
the resulting crop is mown for hay, while
most of the corn is cut for green fodder or
silage. On certain fine lowlands—as, for example,
in the Connecticut Valley—oats, and
more especially corn, are often grown for
grain. While reports on most of the cereals
were rendered from the lower austral zone,
or the region south of the Appalachians and
the old Missouri Compromise line, this region,
except where it merges with the upper austral
or the one north of it, is apparently outside
the area of profitable cultivation of
wheat and oats. In Louisiana and most of
the other parts of the lower austral, except
in northern Texas and Oklahoma, wheat is
almost an unknown crop. The warm, moist
climatic conditions here favor the development
of fungous diseases to such a degree
that the plants are usually ruined or greatly
injured at an early stage of growth. In
Florida, as a rule, cereals are rarely cultivated
except on the uplands at the northern
end of the State. In a general way, corn
and wheat are most successfully grown in
the upper austral zone, or central States,
while oats are best and most productive in
the transition zone (or northern and Lake
States and the Dakotas), or along the border
of the upper austral and transition. The
gradual acclimation of varieties of cereals,
through years of selection and cultivation,
has gone so far, however, that some varieties
are now much better adapted to one zone
than to another.</p>
<p><b>Spanish Silkworm Gut.</b>—The business
of manufacturing silkworm gut in Spain is
a considerable industry. The method of
preparation is thus described in the Journal
of the Society of Arts: After the silkworm
grub has eaten enough mulberry leaves, and
before it begins to spin, which is during the
months of May and June, it is thrown into
vinegar for several hours. The insect is
killed and the substance which the grub, if
alive, would have spun into a cocoon is
drawn out from the dead worm into a much
thicker and shorter silken thread, in which
operation considerable dexterity and experience
are required. Two thick threads from
each grub are placed for about four hours in
clear cold water, after which they are put
for ten or fifteen minutes in a solution of
some caustic. This loosens a fine outer
skin on the threads, which is removed by
the hands, the workman holding the threads
in his teeth. The silk is then hung up to
dry in a shady place, the sun rendering it
brittle. In some parts of the country these
silk guts are bleached with sulphur vapor,
which makes them beautifully glossy and
snow-white, while those naturally dried have
a yellowish tint. The quality of the gut is
decided according to the healthy condition of
the worm, round indicating a good quality
and flat an inferior one.</p>
<p><b>The Nests of Burrowing Bees.</b>—Prof.
John B. Smith, having explained to his section
of the American Association a method
which has been successfully applied, of taking
casts in plaster of Paris of the homes of
burrowing insects, with their branchings, to
the depth of six feet, described some of the
results of its application. Bees, of the genus
<i>Calletes</i>, dig vertically to the depth of eighteen
inches or more, then burrow horizontally
from two to five inches farther, and
construct a thin, parchmentlike cell of saliva,
in which the egg is deposited, with pollen
and honey for the food of the larva.
They then start a new horizontal burrow a
little distance from the first, and perhaps a
third, but no more. The vertical tubes are
then filled up, so that when the bees come
to life they must burrow from six to twenty-four
inches before they can reach the surface.
Another genus makes a twisted burrow;
another makes a vertical burrow that
may be six feet deep. About a foot below
the surface it sends off a lateral branch,
and in this it excavates a chamber from
one to two and a half inches in diameter.
Tubes are sent down from this chamber, as
many perhaps as from six to twenty together,
and these are lined with clay to make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_861" id="Page_861">[Pg 861]</a></span>
them water-tight. This bee, when it begins
its burrow, makes an oblique gallery from
four to six inches long before it starts in the
vertical direction, and all the dirt is carried
through this oblique gallery. Then the insect
continues the tube vertically upward to
just below the surface, and makes a small
concealed opening to it here, taking care to
pile no sand near it. This is the regular entrance
to the burrow.</p>
<h3>MINOR PARAGRAPHS.</h3>
<p>In a report of an inspection of three
French match factories, published as a British
Parliamentary paper, Dr. T. Oliver records
as his impressions and deductions that
while until recently the match makers suffered
severely from phosphorus poisoning,
there is now apparently a reduction in the
severe forms of the illness; that this reduction
is attributable to greater care in the selection
of the work people, to raising the
age of admission into the factory, to medical
examination on entrance, subsequent close
supervision, and repeated dental examination;
to personal cleanliness on the part of
the workers; to early suspension on the appearance
of symptoms of ill health; and to
improved methods of manufacture. The
French Government is furthering by all possible
means new methods of manufacture in
the hope of finding a safer one; and a match
free from white phosphorus and still capable
of striking anywhere is already manufactured.</p>
<p>A mechanical and engineering section
is to be organized in the Franklin Institute,
Philadelphia, to be devoted to the consideration
of subjects bearing upon the mechanic
arts and the engineering problems connected
therewith. The growth of the various departments
of this institution—which has
been fitly termed a "democratic learned society,"
from the close affiliation in it of the
men of the professions and the men of the
workshops—by natural accretion, and the
steadily growing demands for the extension
of its educational work during the past decade,
have increased the costs for maintenance
and administration and have been the
cause of a deficit in nearly every year. A
movement is now on foot, approved by the
board of managers, and directed by a special
committee, to secure for it an endowment,
toward which a number of subscriptions
ranging from two hundred and fifty to
twenty-five hundred dollars have already
been received.</p>
<p>The earthquake which took place in
Assam, June 12, 1897, was described by Mr.
R. D. Oldham in the British Association as
having been the most violent of which there
is any record. The shock was sensible over
an area of 1,750,000 square miles, and if it
had occurred in England, not a house would
have been left standing between Manchester
and London. Landslips on an unprecedented
scale were produced, a number of lakes were
formed, and mountain peaks were moved
vertically and horizontally. Monuments of
solid stone and forest trees were broken
across. Bridges were overthrown, displaced,
and in some places thrust bodily up to a
height of about twenty feet, and the rails on
the railroads were twisted and bent. Earth
fissures were formed over an area larger than
the United Kingdom, and sand rents, from
which sand and water were forced in solid
streams to a height of three or four feet
above the ground, were opened "in incalculable
numbers." The loss of life was comparatively
small, as the earthquake occurred
about five o'clock in the afternoon, and the
damage done was reduced by the fact that
there were no large cities within the area of
greatest violence; but in extent and capacity
of destruction, as distinguished from destruction
actually accomplished, this earthquake
surpassed any of which there was historical
mention, not even excepting the great earthquake
of Lisbon in 1755.</p>
<p>The first section of the electric railway
up the Jungfrau, which is intended to reach
the top of the mountain, was opened about the
first of October, 1898. The line starts from
the Little Scheidegg station of the existing
Wengern Alp Railway, 6,770 feet above the
sea, and ascends the mountain masses from
the north side, passing the Eiger Glacier,
Eiger Wand, Eismeer, and Jungfraujoch stations,
to Lift, 13,430 feet, whence the ascent
is completed by elevator to the summit, 13,670
feet. The road starts on a gradient of
ten per cent, which is increased to twenty per<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_862" id="Page_862">[Pg 862]</a></span>
cent about halfway to the Eiger Glacier station,
and to twenty-five per cent, the steepest,
after passing that station. There are about 85
yards in tunnel on the section now opened,
but beyond the Eiger Glacier the road will
not touch the surface except at the stations.
About 250 yards of the long tunnel have
been excavated so far. The stations beyond
Eiger Wand will be built within the
rock, and will be furnished with restaurants
and beds. At the Eiger Wand and Eismeer
stations passengers will contemplate the view
through windows or balconies from the inside;
but at the Jungfraujoch station tourists
will be able to go out and take sledges
for the great Aletsch Glacier. The cars will
accommodate forty passengers each, and the
company expects to complete the railroad by
1904.</p>
<p>Alexander A. Lawes, civil engineer, of
Sydney, Australia, suggests a plan of mechanical
flight on beating wings as presenting
advantages that transcend all other
schemes. He believes that the amount of
power required to operate wings and the
difficulty in applying it are exaggerated beyond
all measure. The wings or sustainers
of the bird in flight, he urges, are held in the
outstretched position without any exertion on
its part; and many birds, like the albatross,
sustain themselves for days at a stretch.
"This constitutes its aërial support, and is
analogous to the support derived by other
animals from land and water." The sole
work done by the bird is propulsion and elevation
by the beating action of the wings.
Mr. Adams's machine, which he does not say
he has tried, is built in conformity to this
principle, and its sails are modeled as nearly
as possible in form and as to action with
those of the bird. The aid of an air cylinder
is further called in, through which a
pressure is exerted balancing the wings. The
wings are moved by treadles, and the author's
picture of the aëronaut looks like a man riding
an aërial bicycle.</p>
<p>Carborundum, a substance highly extolled
by its manufacturers as an abrasive, is composed
of carbon and silicon in atomic proportions—thirty
parts by weight of carbon
and seventy of silicon. It is represented
as being next to the diamond in hardness
and as cutting emery and corundum with
ease, but as not as tough as the diamond.
It is a little more than one and a fifth
times the weight of sand, is infusible at the
highest attainable heat, but is decomposed
in the electric arc, and is insoluble in any of
the ordinary solvents, water, oils, and acids,
even hydrofluoric acid having no effect upon
it. Pure carborundum is white. In the
commercial manufacture the crystals are produced
in many colors and shades, partly as
the result of impurities and partly by surface
oxidation. The prevailing colors are green,
black, and blue. The color has no effect
upon the hardness. Crude carborundum, as
taken from the furnace, usually consists of
large masses or aggregations of crystals,
which are frequently very beautifully colored
and of adamantine luster.</p>
<p>A peculiarity of Old English literary
usage is pointed out by Prof. Dr. L. Kellner,
of Vienna, as illustrated in a sentence
like "the mob is ignorant, and they are often
cruel." This is considered a bad solecism in
modern English, but in Old and Middle English
constructions of exactly the same kind
are so often met with that it is impossible to
account for them as slips and mistakes.
They may be brought under several heads,
as, Number (the same collective noun used
as a singular and a plural); Case (the same
verb or adjective governing the genitive and
accusative, the genitive and dative, or the
dative and accusative); Pronoun ("thou"
and "ye" used in addressing the same person);
Tense (past and perfect, or past and
historical present used in the same breath);
Mood (indicative and subjunctive used in the
same clause). Finite verb and infinitive dependent
on the same verb; simple and prepositional
infinitives dependent on the same
verb; infinitive and verbal noun used side by
side; different prepositions dependent on the
same verb, like Caxton's "He was eaten by
bears and of lions"; direct and indirect
speech alternating in the same clause. These
facts, which are met with as late as 1611
(Bible, authorized version), point to the
conclusion that what to us appears as a
grammatical inconsistency was once considered
a welcome break in the monotony of
construction.</p>
<p>Mr. Fischer Sigwart is quoted in the
<i>Revue Scientifique</i> as having studied the life<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_863" id="Page_863">[Pg 863]</a></span>
of frogs for thirty years, and found that they
are night wanderers, keeping comparatively
quiet during the day and seeking their prey
after dark. In the fall they leave their hunting
grounds in the fields and woods and take
refuge near swamps and ponds, passing the
winter in the banks of rivers or the mud in
the bottoms of ponds, whence they come out
in the spring, when the process of reproduction
begins. The frog is not sexually mature
till it is four or five years old. The coupling
process lasts from three to thirty days. Between
its spring wakening and spawning the
frog eats nothing except, perhaps, its own
skin, which it moults periodically. After
spawning, frogs leave the water and go to
the fields and woods. They can be fed, when
kept captive, upon insects and earthworms.</p>
<h3>NOTES.</h3>
<p>A relation has been discovered by Professor
Dolbear and Carl A. and Edward A.
Bessey between the chirping of crickets and
the temperature, the chirps increasing as frequently
as the temperature rises. The Besseys
relate, in The American Naturalist, that
when, one cool evening, a cricket was caught
and brought into a warm room, it began in
a few minutes to chirp nearly twice as rapidly
as the out-of-door crickets, and that its
rate very nearly conformed to the observed
rate maintained other evenings out of doors
under the same temperature conditions.</p>
<p>C. Drieberg, of Colombo, Ceylon, records,
in Nature, a rainfall at Nedunkeni, in the
northern province of Ceylon, December 15
and 16, 1897, of 31.76 inches in twenty-four
hours. The highest previous records, as
cited by him, are at Joyeuse, France, 31.17
inches in twenty-two hours; Genoa, 30
inches in twenty-six hours; on the hills
above Bombay, 24 inches in one night; and
on the Khasia Hills, India, 30 inches in each
of five successive days. The average annual
rainfall at Nedunkeni has been 64.70 inches,
but in 1897 the total amount was 121.85
inches. The greatest annual rainfall is on
the Khasia Hills, India, with 600 inches.
The wettest station in Ceylon is Padupola,
in the central province, with 230.85 inches
as the mean of twenty-six years, but in 1897
the amount was 243.07 inches.</p>
<p>The Korean postage stamps are printed
in the United States. As explained in the
United States consular reports, they are of
four denominations, and all alike except in
color and denomination. Of the inscriptions,
the characters on the top are ancient
Chinese, and those at the bottom, having the
same meaning, are Korean; the characters
on the right are Korean and those on the
left are Chinese, both giving the denominations,
with the English translation just below
the center of the stamp. The plum blossom
in each corner is the royal flower of the present
Ye dynasty, which has been in existence
more than five hundred years, and the figures
at the corners of the center piece represent
the four spirits that stand at the corners
of the earth and support it on their shoulders.
The national emblem in the center is an ancient
Chinese phallic device.</p>
<p>A paragraph in <i>La Nature</i> calls to mind
that the year 1898 was the "jubilee" of the
sea serpent, the first mention of a sight of
the monster—whether fabulous or not is
still undecided—having been made by the
captain and officers of the British ship Dædalus
in 1848. They said they saw it between
the Cape of Good Hope and St. Helena,
and that it was about six hundred feet
long. Since then views of sea serpents have
been reported nearly every year, but none
has ever been caught or seen so near or for
so long a time as to be positively identified.
There are several creatures of the deep which,
seen for an instant, might be mistaken with
the aid of an excited imagination for a marine
serpent; and it is not wholly impossible
that some descendants of the gigantic saurians
of old may still be living in the ocean
undetected by science.</p>
<p>The results of a study of the winter food
of the chickadee by Clarence M. Weed, of
the New Hampshire College Agricultural Experiment
Station, shows that more than half
of it consists of insects, a very large proportion
of which are taken in the form of eggs.
Vegetation of various sorts made up a little
less than a quarter of the food; but two
thirds of this consisted of buds and bud
scales that were accidentally introduced
along with plant-lice eggs. These eggs
made up more than one fifth of the entire
food, and formed the most remarkable element
of the bill of fare. The destruction
of these eggs of plant lice is probably the
most important service which the chickadee
renders during its winter residence. Insect
eggs of many other kinds were found in the
food, among them those of the tent caterpillar
and the fall cankerworm, and the larvæ
of several kinds of moths, including those of
the common apple worm.</p>
<p>The Merchants' Association of San Francisco
has been trying the experiment of
sprinkling a street with sea water, and finds
that such water binds the dirt together between
the paving stones, so that when it is
dry no loose dust is formed to be raised by
the wind; that sea water does not dry so
quickly as fresh water, so that it has been
claimed when salt water has been used that
one load of it is equal to three loads of fresh
water. The salt water which is deposited on
the street absorbs moisture from the air during
the night, whereby the street is thoroughly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_864" id="Page_864">[Pg 864]</a></span>
moist during the early morning, and
has the appearance of having been freshly
sprinkled.</p>
<p>The Tarahumare people, who live in the
most inaccessible part of northern Mexico,
were described by Dr. Krauss in the British
Association as ignorant and primitive, and
many still living in caves. What villages
they have are at altitudes of about eight
thousand feet above the sea level. They are
a small and wiry people, with great powers
of endurance. Their only food is <i>pinoli</i>, or
maize, parched and ground. They have a
peculiar drink, called <i>teshuin</i>, also produced
from maize and manufactured with considerable
ceremony, which tastes like a mixture
of sour milk and turpentine. Their language
is limited to about three hundred words.
Their imperfect knowledge of numbers renders
them unable to count beyond ten. Their
religion seems to be a distorted and imperfect
conception of Christian traditions, mixed
with some of their own ideas and superstitions.</p>
<p>The directory of the School of Anthropology
of Paris, which consists chiefly of the
professors in the institution, has chosen Dr.
Capitan, professor of pathological anthropology,
to succeed M. Gabriel de Mortillet, deceased,
as professor of prehistoric anthropology.
Dr. Capitan's former chair is suppressed.</p>
<p>The highest cog-wheel railroad in Europe
and probably in the world is the one from Zermatt,
Switzerland, to the summit of the Görner
Grat, upward of eleven thousand five hundred
feet above the sea. It is between five and
six miles long, and rises nearly fifty-two hundred
feet, with a maximum grade of twenty
per cent. There are two intermediate stations,
at the Riffel Alp and the Riffelberg,
and the ascent is made in ninety minutes.
The height of this road will be surpassed by
that of the one now being erected up the
Jungfrau.</p>
<p>Extraordinary advantages are claimed
by Mrs. Theodore R. MacClure, of the State
Board of Health, for Michigan as a summer
and health-resort State. The State has more
than sixteen hundred miles of lake line, the
greater part of which is or can be utilized
for summer-resort purposes; there are in its
limits 5,173 inland lakes varying in size and
having a total area of 712,864 square acres
of water. The many rivers running through
the State furnish on their banks delightful
places for camping and for recreation.</p>
<p>An action of bacteria on photographic
plates was described by Prof. P. P. Frankland
at the last meeting of the British Association.
Ordinary bacterial cultures in gelatin
and agar-agar are found to be capable
of affecting the photographic film even at a
distance of half an inch, while, when they
are placed in contact with the film, definite
pictures of the bacterial growths can be obtained.
The action does not take place
through glass, and therefore, as in the case
of Dr. W. J. Russell's observations with
some other substances, it is considered probably
due to the evolution of volatile chemical
materials which react with the sensitive film.
Many varieties of bacteria exert the action,
but to a different degree. Bacterial growths
which are luminous in the dark are much
more active than the non-luminous bacteria
hitherto tried.</p>
<p>Telephonic communication, it is said, has
been established between a number of farms
in Australia by means of wire fences. A
correspondent of the Australian Agriculturist
from a station near Colmar represents
that it is easy to converse with a station
eight miles distant by means of instruments
connected on the wire fences, and that the
same kind of communication has been established
over a distance of eight miles. Several
stations are connected in this way.</p>
<p>We have to record the deaths of F. A.
Obach, electrical engineer, at Grätz, Austria,
December 27th, aged forty-six years. He
was author of numerous papers on subjects
of electrical science in English and German
publications, and of lectures on the chemistry
of India rubber and gutta percha; Dr.
Reinhold Ehret, seismologist and author of
books on earthquakes and seismometers, who
died from an Alpine accident in the Susten
Pass; Dr. Joseph Coats, professor of pathology
at the University of Glasgow, and
author of a manual of pathology, a work on
tuberculosis, etc.; Thomas Hincks, F. R. S.,
author of books on marine zoölogy, February
2d; Major J. Hotchkiss, president in 1895 of
the Geological Section of the American Association
and author of papers on economic
geology and engineering; Wilbur Wilson Thoburn,
professor of biomechanics at Leland
Stanford Junior University; Dr. Giuseppe
Gibelli, professor of botany in the University
of Turin; Dr. G. Wolffhüzel, professor of
hygiene in the University of Göttingen; Dr.
Dareste de Chavannes, author of researches
in animal teratology, and formerly president
of the French Society of Anthropology; Dr.
Rupert Böck, professor of mechanics in
the Technical Institute of Vienna; William
Colenso, F. R. S., of New Zealand, naturalist
and author of investigations of Maori antiquities
and myths; Dr. Lench, assistant in
the observatory at Zürich, Switzerland; Dr.
Franz Lang, rector and teacher of natural
history in the cantonal schools of Soleure,
Switzerland, and one of the presidents of the
Swiss Natural History Society, aged seventy-eight
years; Dr. William Rutherford, professor
of physiology in the University of
Edinburgh, and author of several books in
that science, February 21st, in his sixtieth
year; and Sir Douglas Galton, president of
the British Association in 1895 and an authority
and author on sanitation, March 10th,
in his seventy seventh year.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_865" id="Page_865">[Pg 865]</a></span></p>
<h2>INDEX.</h2>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap lowercase">ARTICLES MARKED WITH AN ASTERISK ARE ILLUSTRATED.</span></p>
<div>
Academy della Crusca, The. (Frag.), 572<br />
<br />
Adulteration of Butter with Glucose. (Frag.), 570<br />
<br />
Allen, Grant. The Season of the Year, 230<br />
<br />
America, Middle. Was it Peopled from Asia? E. S. Morse, 1<br />
<br />
Animals' Bites. (Frag.), 430<br />
<br />
Anthropology. Decorated Skulls and the Power ascribed to them (Frag.), 570<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Anthro</span>"<span class="h">pology.</span>Estrays from Civilization. (Frag.), 573<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Anthro</span>"<span class="h">pology.</span>Huichol Indians of Jalisco. (Frag.), 574<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Anthro</span>"<span class="h">pology.</span>Lessons of. (Table), 411<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Anthro</span>"<span class="h">pology.</span>Pre-Columbian Musical Instruments. E. S. Morse*, 712<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Anthro</span>"<span class="h">pology.</span>Superstitions, Aboriginal, about Bones. (Frag.), 572<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Anthro</span>"<span class="h">pology.</span>Superstition and Crime. E. P. Evans, 206<br />
<br />
Archæology. Earliest Writing in France. G. de Mortillet, 546<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Archæ</span>"<span class="h">ology.</span>Lake Dwelling, A Neolithic, <a href="#Page_856">856</a><br />
<br />
<span class="h">Archæ</span>"<span class="h">ology.</span>Stone Age in Egypt. J. de Morgan, 202<br />
<br />
Architectural Forms in Nature. S. Dellenbaugh*, 63<br />
<br />
Astronomical Photographs, A Library of. (Frag.), 717<br />
<br />
Astronomy. Bombardment, The Great. C. F. Holder*, 506<br />
<br />
Atkinson, E. Wheat-growing Capacity of the United States, 145<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Atki</span>"<span class="h">nson,</span>" The Wheat Problem again, <a href="#Page_759">759</a><br />
<br />
Atlantic Slope, The. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_858">858</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Bactrian Camel for the Klondike. (Frag.), 136<br />
<br />
Barr, M. W. Mental Defectives and the Social Welfare*, <a href="#Page_746">746</a><br />
<br />
Bede, Chair of the Venerable. (Frag.), 283<br />
<br />
Bees, Burrowing, The Nests of. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_860">860</a><br />
<br />
Bering Sea Controversy and the Scientific Expert. G. A. Clark, 654<br />
<br />
Biological Survey, The United States. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_856">856</a><br />
<br />
Blackford, Charles Minor, Jr. Soils and Fertilizers, 392<br />
<br />
Blake, I. W. Our Florida Alligator*, 330<br />
<br />
Bombardment, The Great. C. F. Holder*, 506<br />
<br />
Books Noticed, 126, 274, 415, 559, 704, <a href="#Page_845">845</a><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Agriculture. Michigan Board, Thirty-fifth Annual Report of, 423.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alexander, A. Theories of the Will in the History of Philosophy, 566.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Andrews, C. M. The Historical Development of Modern Europe, 126.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Anthropology. Indians of Northern British Columbia, Facial Paintings of. F. Boas, 710.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Archæology, Introduction to the Study of North American. C. Thomas, 420.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Arthur and Trembly. Living Plants and their Properties, 564.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Astronomy, A Text-Book of Geodetic. J. F. Hayford, 129.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Corona and Coronet. M. L. Todd, 418.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Earth and Sky, The. E. S. Holden, <a href="#Page_850">850</a>.</span><br />
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_866" id="Page_866">[Pg 866]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Tides, The. G. H. Darwin, 705.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bailey, L. H. Evolution of our Native Fruits, 704.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Baldwin, J. M. The Story of the Mind, 565.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Barnes, C. R. Form and Function of Plant Life, 277.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Barra, Eduardo de la. Literature arcaica, 280.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beauchamp, W. M. Polished-Stone Articles used by New York Aborigines before and during European Occupation, 279.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beddard, F. E. Elementary Zoölogy, 706.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Béker, G. A. Rrimas, 280.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Binet, Alfred. L'Année Psychologique, 129.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Björling, P. R. Mechanical Engineer's Pocketbook, 132.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Boas, Franz. Facial Paintings of the Indians of Northern British Columbia, 710.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bolton, H. C. Catalogue of Scientific and Technical Periodicals (1665-1895), 566.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Botany. Familiar Life in Field and Forest. F. S. Mathews, 418.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Fossil Plants. A. C. Seward, 127.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Fruits, The Evolution of our Native. L. H. Bailey, 704.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Function and Forms of Plant Life. C. R. Barnes, 277.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Les Végétaux et les Milieux Cosmiques, 132.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Living Plants and their Properties. Arthur and Trembly, 564.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Practical Plant Physiology, 128.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brain Weight, Indexes of. McCurdy and Mohyliansky, 709.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brush, George J. Manual of Determinative Mineralogy, 707.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Butler, Amos W. The Birds of Indiana, 422.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Carus-Wilson, C. A. Electro-Dynamics, 277.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Catalogue of Scientific and Technical Periodicals (1665-1895). H. C. Bolton, 566.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Chemical Analysis, Manual of. G. S. Newth, 708.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Chemistry. Inorganic according to the Periodic Law. Venable and Howe, 567.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Qualitative Analysis. E. A. Congdon, 567.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Short Manual of Analytical. John Muter, 419.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clark, William J. Commercial Cuba, 564.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Conant, F. S. Biographical Pamphlet, 132.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Congdon, E. A. Brief Course in Qualitative Analysis, 567.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cornelius, Hans. Psychologie als Erfahrungs-wissenschaft, <a href="#Page_850">850</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Costantin, M. J. Les Végétaux et les Milieux Cosmiques, 132.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Creighton, J. E. An Introductory Logic, 706.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Crook, J. W. History of German Wage Theories, 708.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cuba, Commercial. William J. Clark, 564.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dana, E. S. Text-Book of Mineralogy, <a href="#Page_848">848</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dana, James D. Revised Text-Book of Geology, 418.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Darwin, George Howard. The Tides, 705.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Davis, H. S. Star Catalogues, 280.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Day, D. T. Mineral Resources of the United States, <a href="#Page_852">852</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Detmer, W. Practical Plant Physiology, 128.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Drey, Sylvan. A Theory of Life, 280.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Earthquakes of the Pacific Coast. E. S. Holden, <a href="#Page_850">850</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Economics. Commercial Cuba. William J. Clark, 564.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— German Wage Theories, History of. J. W. Crook, 708.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Public Administration in Massachusetts. R. H. Whitten, 422.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Education. Greek Prose. H. C. Pearson, 708.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Handbook of Nature Study for Elementary Schools, 130.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Harold's Rambles. J. W. Troeger, 567.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— On a Farm. N. L. Helm, 423.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— United States Commissioner's Report for 1896-'97, <a href="#Page_852">852</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Electricity. Electro-Dynamics. C. A. Carus-Wilson, 277.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Industrial. A. G. Elliott, 132.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— The Discharge of, through Gases. J. J. Thomson, 565.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— The Storage Battery. A. Treadwell, 421.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Elliott, A. G. Industrial Electricity, 132.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Engineering. Mechanical Engineer's Pocketbook, 132.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ethnology. Explorations in Honduras. G. B. Gordon, 133.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forestry. American Woods. R. B. Hough, 276.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Conditions in Wisconsin. F. Noth, 709.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Geikie, James. Earth Sculpture, <a href="#Page_845">845</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Geography. Natural Advanced. Redway and Hinman, 421.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Philippine Islands and their People. D. C. Worcester, 415.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Physical, of New Jersey. R. D. Salisbury, 422.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Geological Bulletin, Part II, Vol. III, of the University of Upsala, 280.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Geological Survey of Kansas. Vol. IV. S. W. Williston, 709.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Geology. Earth Sculpture. James Geikie, <a href="#Page_845">845</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Indiana, Twenty-second Annual Report of Department of, <a href="#Page_852">852</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Indian Territory, Reconnaissance of Coal Fields of. N. F. Drake, <a href="#Page_852">852</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Iowa Survey. Eighth volume, <a href="#Page_851">851</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Mineralogy, Manual of Determinative, 707.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Mineralogy, Text-Book of. E. S. Dana, <a href="#Page_848">848</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Mineral Resources of the United States. D. T. Day, <a href="#Page_852">852</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— New Jersey State Report for 1897, <a href="#Page_851">851</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Panama, Geological History of the Isthmus of. R. T. Hill, <a href="#Page_851">851</a>.</span><br />
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_867" id="Page_867">[Pg 867]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Text-Book of. J. D. Dana, 418.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Giddings, Franklin H. Elements of Sociology, 559.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Goldman, Henry. The Arithmetician, 279.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Goode, G. B. Report of United States National Museum for 1895, 710.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gordon, G. B. Ethnological Explorations in Honduras, 133.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Groos, Karl. The Play of Animals, 274.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Harris, Edith D. Story of Rob Roy, 709.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hayford, J. P. Text-Book of Geodetic Astronomy, 129.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Helm, Nellie Lathrop. On a Farm, 423.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hill, R. T. Geological History of the Isthmus of Panama, <a href="#Page_851">851</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">History. Commune, The. Lissagaray. Translated by E. M. Aveling, 423.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Europe, The Historical Development of Modern. C. M. Andrews, 126.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Napoleon III and his Court. Imbert de Saint-Amand, 422.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Reader for Elementary Schools. L. L. W. Wilson, <a href="#Page_853">853</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Spanish Literature. J. Fitzmaurice-Kelly, 275.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hoffman, F. S. The Sphere of Science, 128.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Holden, E. S. Earthquakes of the Pacific Coast, 1769-1897, <a href="#Page_850">850</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— The Earth and Sky, <a href="#Page_850">850</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Holyoake, G. J. Jubilee History of the Leeds Co-operative Society, <a href="#Page_849">849</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hough, R. B. American Woods, 276.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Iowa State University Bulletin, Vol. IV, No. 3, 279.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">James, William. Human Immortality, 708.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jayne, Horace. The Mammalian Anatomy of the Cat, 278.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jordan, D. S. Lest we Forget, 568.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Keyser, L. S. News from the Birds, 567.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lambert, R. A. Differential and Integral Calculus, 421.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lange, D. Handbook of Nature Study for Elementary Schools, 130.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lantern Land, In. (Monthly.) Allen and Carleton, 708.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Le Bon, Gustave. The Psychology of Peoples, <a href="#Page_847">847</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leeds Industrial Co-operative Society, Jubilee History of. G. J. Holyoake, <a href="#Page_849">849</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Library Bulletin, No. 9, New York State, 133.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lissagaray. History of the Commune. Translated by E. M. Aveling, 423.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Logic, An Introductory. J. E. Creighton, 706.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lyte, E. O. Elementary English, 279.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">McConachie, L. G. Congressional Committees, 131.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mathematics. Differential and Integral Calculus. R. A. Lambert, 421.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Infinitesimal Analysis. William B. Smith, <a href="#Page_849">849</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Lectures on the Geometry of Position. T. R. Reye. Translated.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mathews, F. Schuyler. Familiar Life in Field and Forest, 418.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Maurice-Kelly, James Fitz. History of Spanish Literature, 275.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Meteorology. Wind Deposits, Mechanical Composition of. J. A. Udden, <a href="#Page_853">853</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mills, Wesley. Nature and Development of Animal Intelligence, 562.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mivart, St. George. The Groundwork of Science, 563.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Music, A Short Course in. Ripley and Tupper, 133.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Muter, John. Manual of Analytical Chemistry, 419.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Natural History. Animal Intelligence, Nature and Development of. Wesley Mills, 562.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Birds, News from the. L. S. Keyser, 567.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Birds of Indiana, 422.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Four-footed Americans and their Kin. M. O. Wright, 563.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Solitary Wasps, Habits of. G. W. and E. P. Peckham, <a href="#Page_851">851</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Taxidermy, The Art of. John Rowley, 420.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Wild Animals I have Known. E. S. Thompson, 417.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Newth, G. S. Manual of Chemical Analysis, 708.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ornithology. How to Name the Birds. H. E. Parkhurst, 131.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Overton, Frank. Physiology, Applied, 277.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Physiology for Advanced Grades, 566.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Paleontology. Fossil Plants. A. C. Seward, 127.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Parkhurst, H. E. How to Name the Birds, 131.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pearson, H. C. Greek Prose, 708.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Peckham, G. W. and E. P. Habits of the Solitary Wasps, <a href="#Page_851">851</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Philosophy. Immortality, Human. William James, 708.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Physiology, Applied. Frank Overton, 277.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Applied, for Advanced Grades. F. Overton, 566.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Psychology. Child, The Study of the. A. R. Taylor, 564.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— L'Année Psychologique, 129.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Mind, The Story of the. J. M. Baldwin, 565.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— of Peoples. G. Le Bon, <a href="#Page_847">847</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Play of Animals, The. Karl Groos, 274.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Psychologie als Erfahrungs-wissenschaft. Hans Cornelius, <a href="#Page_850">850</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Will, Theories of the, in the History of Philosophy. A. Alexander, 566.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quinn, D. A. Stenotypy. Second edition, 279.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Redway, J. W., and Hinman K. Natural Advanced Geography, 421.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Reye, Theodor R. Lectures on the Geometry of Position. Translated, 419.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rice, W., and Eastman Barrett. Under the Stars, and Other Verses, 134.</span><br />
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_868" id="Page_868">[Pg 868]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Richter, J. P. F. Selections from the Works of, 279.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ripley, F. H., and Tupper, T. A Short Course in Music, 133.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rollin, H. J. Yetta Ségal, 278.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rowley, John. The Art of Taxidermy, 420.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Saint-Amand, Imbert de. Napoleon III and his Court, 422.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Salisbury, Rollin D. Physical Geography of New Jersey, 422.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Science, Groundwork of, The. St. George Mivart, 563.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Sphere of. F. S. Hoffman, 128.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seward, A. C. Fossil Plants, 127.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Smith, William B. Infinitesimal Analysis, <a href="#Page_849">849</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sociology. Congressional Committees. L. G. McConachie, 131.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Currency Problems of the United States in 1897-'98. A. B. Stickney, 133.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Elements of. F. H. Giddings, 559.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— The State. W. Wilson, 130.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">— Workers, The. W. A. Wyckoff, 707.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stickney, A. B. Currency Problem of the United States in 1897-'98, 133.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still, A. Alternating Currents and the Theory of Transformers, 133.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Story of the Railroad, The. Cy Warman, <a href="#Page_848">848</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Taylor, A. R. The Study of the Child, 564.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thomas, C. Introduction to North American Archæology, 129.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thompson, Ernest Seton. Wild Animals I have Known, 417.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thomson, J. J. The Discharge of Electricity through Gases, 565.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Todd, Mabel L. Corona and Coronet, 418.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Treadwell, Augustus. The Storage Battery, 421.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Troeger, John W. Harold's Rambles, 567.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Udden, J. A. Mechanical Composition of Wind Deposits, <a href="#Page_853">853</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">United States National Museum, Report of, for 1895, 710.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Venable and Howe. Inorganic Chemistry according to the Periodic Law, 567.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Waring, George E., Jr. Street-Cleaning Methods in European Cities, 131.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Warman, Cy. Story of the Railroad, <a href="#Page_848">848</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whitten, Robert H. Public Administration in Massachusetts, 422.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wilson, L. L. W. History Reader, for Elementary Schools, <a href="#Page_853">853</a>.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wilson, Woodrow. The State, 130.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Winter, H. L. Notes on Criminal Anthropology, 280.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Worcester, Dean C. The Philippine Islands and their People, 415.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wright, Mabel Osgood. Four-footed Americans and their Kin, 563.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wyckoff, W. A. The Workers, 707.</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Zoölogy, Elementary. E. E. Beddard, 706.</span><br />
<br />
Botany. English Names for Plants. (Frag.), 428<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Bot</span>"<span class="h">any.</span>Forest Planting on the Plains. (Frag.), 718<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Bot</span>"<span class="h">any.</span>Light and Vegetation. D. T. MacDougall, 193<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Bot</span>"<span class="h">any.</span>Plant Characters, Changes in. (Frag.), 286<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Bot</span>"<span class="h">any.</span>Poisonous Plants. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_855">855</a><br />
<br />
<span class="h">Bot</span>"<span class="h">any.</span>Seeds, Dispersal of. (Frag.), 715<br />
<br />
Boyer, M. J. Sketch of Clémence Royer. (With Portrait), 690<br />
<br />
Brain Weights and Intellectual Capacity. J. Simms, 243<br />
<br />
Brooks, William Keith. Mivart's Groundwork of Science, 450<br />
<br />
Bullen, Frank T. Life on a South Sea Whaler, <a href="#Page_818">818</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Canada, The Interior of. (Frag.), 141<br />
<br />
Catbird, The Coming of the. S. Trotter, <a href="#Page_772">772</a><br />
<br />
Causses of Southern France, The. (Frag.), 138<br />
<br />
Cereals in the United States. Distribution of. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_859">859</a><br />
<br />
Clarke, F. W. Sketch. (With Portrait), 110<br />
<br />
Clark, George A. The Scientific Expert and the Bering Sea Controversy, 654<br />
<br />
Climatic Evolution, Laws of. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_855">855</a><br />
<br />
Collier, J. The Evolution of Colonies, 52, 289, 577<br />
<br />
Colonies, The Evolution of. J. Collier, 52, 289, 577<br />
<br />
Commensals. (Frag.), 716<br />
<br />
Cooking Schools in Philadelphia. (Frag.), 428<br />
<br />
Cordillera Region of Canada. (Frag.), 283<br />
<br />
Cram, W. E. Concerning Weasels*, <a href="#Page_786">786</a><br />
<br />
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_869" id="Page_869">[Pg 869]</a></span>Criminology. California Penal System. C. H. Shinn*, 644<br />
<br />
Cuba, The Climate of. (Frag.), 426<br />
<br />
Curious Habit, Origin of a. (Frag.), 286<br />
<br />
<br />
Dastre, M. Iron in the Living Body, <a href="#Page_807">807</a><br />
<br />
Dawson, E. R. The Torrents of Switzerland, 46<br />
<br />
Death Gulch, a Natural Bear-Trap. T. A. Jaggar*, 475<br />
<br />
Decorated Skulls and the Power ascribed to them. (Frag.), 570<br />
<br />
Dellenbaugh, F. S. Architectural Forms in Nature*, 63<br />
<br />
Dodge, C. R. Possible Fiber Industries of the United States*, 15<br />
<br />
Dorsey, George A. Up the Skeena River*, 181<br />
<br />
D Q, The New Planet. (Frag.), 426<br />
<br />
Dream and Reality. M. C. Melinand, 96<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Dr</span>"<span class="h">eam </span>"<span class="h"> Rea</span>"<span class="h">lity. </span>(Table), 103<br />
<br />
Dreams, The Stuff of. Havelock Ellis, <a href="#Page_721">721</a><br />
<br />
Dresslar, F. B. Guessing as Influenced by Number Preferences, <a href="#Page_781">781</a><br />
<br />
Dutch Charity, A Practical. J. H. Gore, 103<br />
<br />
<br />
Earliest Writing in France, The. G. de Mortillet, 542<br />
<br />
Earthquakes, Modern Studies of. George Geraland, 362<br />
<br />
Economics. Cereals, Distribution of, in the United States, <a href="#Page_859">859</a><br />
<br />
<span class="h">Econo</span>"<span class="h">mics.</span>Conquest, The Spirit of. J. Novicow, 518<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Econo</span>"<span class="h">mics.</span>Gold, Marvelous Increase in Production of. A. E. Outerbridge, Jr., 635<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Econo</span>"<span class="h">mics.</span>Wheat-growing Capacity of the United States. E. Atkinson, 145<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Econo</span>"<span class="h">mics.</span>Wheat Problem, The. E. Atkinson, <a href="#Page_759">759</a><br />
<br />
Education and Evolution. (Smith.) (Corr.), 554<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Educ</span>"<span class="h">ation</span>and Evolution. (Table), 269<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Educ</span>"<span class="h">ation</span>German School Journeys. (Frag.), 573<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Educ</span>"<span class="h">ation</span>History of Scientific Instruction. J. N. Lockyer, 372, 529<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Educ</span>"<span class="h">ation</span>Nature Study in the Philadelphia Normal School. L. L. W. Wilson, 313<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Educ</span>"<span class="h">ation</span>Playgrounds of Rural and Suburban Schools. L. G. Oakley, 176<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Educ</span>"<span class="h">ation</span>Science and Culture. (Table), <a href="#Page_842">842</a><br />
<br />
<span class="h">Educ</span>"<span class="h">ation</span>Science in. Sir A. Geikie, 672<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Educ</span>"<span class="h">ation</span>Series Method, The. A Comparison. Charlotte Taylor, 537<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Educ</span>"<span class="h">ation</span>Should Children under Ten learn to Read and Write? G. T. W. Patrick, 382<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Educ</span>"<span class="h">ation</span>The Goal of. (Table), 118<br />
<br />
Electricity. The Nernst Electric Lamp. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_854">854</a><br />
<br />
Ellis, Havelock. The Stuff that Dreams are made of, <a href="#Page_721">721</a><br />
<br />
Emerson and Evolution. (Alexander.) (Corr.), 555<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Eme</span>"<span class="h">rson </span>"<span class="h"> Evol</span>"<span class="h">ution. </span>(Table), 558<br />
<br />
Estrays from Civilization. (Frag.), 573<br />
<br />
Ethnology. Was Middle America Peopled from Asia? E. S. Morse, 1<br />
<br />
Evans, E. P. Superstition and Crime, 206<br />
<br />
Evolution and Education. (Smith.) (Corr.), 554<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Evol</span>"<span class="h">ution</span>and Education. (Table), 269<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Evol</span>"<span class="h">ution</span>Extra Organic Factors of. (Frag.), 427<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Evol</span>"<span class="h">ution</span>of Pleasure Gardens. (Frag.), 717<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Evol</span>"<span class="h">ution</span>Social. What is it? Herbert Spencer, 35<br />
<br />
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_870" id="Page_870">[Pg 870]</a></span><span class="h">Evol</span>"<span class="h">ution</span>Survival of the Fittest. (Table), <a href="#Page_844">844</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Fads and Frauds. (Table), 701<br />
<br />
Fiber Industries of the United States. C. R. Dodge*, 15<br />
<br />
Florida Alligator, Our. I. W. Blake*, 330<br />
<br />
Ford, R. Clyde. The Malay Language, <a href="#Page_813">813</a><br />
<br />
Forest Planting on the Plains. (Frag.), 718<br />
<br />
Fossils as Criterions of Geological Ages. (Frag.), 427<br />
<br />
Foundation, A Borrowed. (Table), 273<br />
<br />
French Science, Two Gifts to. M. H. de Parville*, 81<br />
<br />
<br />
Galax and its Affinities. (Frag.), 571<br />
<br />
Geikie, Sir A. Science in Education, 672<br />
<br />
Geography. Atlantic Slope, The. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_858">858</a><br />
<br />
<span class="h">Geogr</span>"<span class="h">aphy.</span>West Indies, Physical, of. F. L. Oswald, <a href="#Page_802">802</a><br />
<br />
Geological Romance, A. J. A. Udden*, 222<br />
<br />
Geology. Death Gulch, a Natural Bear-Trap. T. A. Jaggar*, 475<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Geol</span>"<span class="h">ogy.</span>Glacial, in America. D. S. Martin, 356<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Geol</span>"<span class="h">ogy.</span>Siamese Geological Theory, A. (Frag.), 718<br />
<br />
Geraland, George. Modern Studies of Earthquakes, 362<br />
<br />
German School Journeys. (Frag.), 573<br />
<br />
Glacial Geology in America. D. S. Martin, 356<br />
<br />
Glaciation and Carbonic Acid. (Frag.), 135<br />
<br />
Gold, Marvelous Increase in Production of. A. E. Outerbridge, Jr., 635<br />
<br />
Gore, J. H. A Practical Dutch Charity, 103<br />
<br />
Guessing as Influenced by Number Preferences. F. B. Dresslar, <a href="#Page_781">781</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Hanging an Elephant. (Frag.), 286<br />
<br />
Herrings at Dinner. (Frag.), 574<br />
<br />
Hitchcock, Charles H., Sketch of*, 260<br />
<br />
Holder, C. F. The Great Bombardment*, 506<br />
<br />
Huichol Indians of Jalisco. (Frag.), 574<br />
<br />
Huxley Lecture, The. (Frag.), 425<br />
<br />
Hygiene. Rebreathed Air as a Poison. (Frag.), 714<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Hygi</span>"<span class="h">ene.</span>Throat and Ear, Care of the. W. Scheppegrell, <a href="#Page_791">791</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Ide, Mrs. G. E. Shall we Teach our Daughters the Value of Money?, 686<br />
<br />
Indian Idea of the "Midmost Self." (Frag.), 136<br />
<br />
Ireland, W. Alleyn. The Labor Problem in the Tropics, 481<br />
<br />
Iron in the Living Body. M. Dastre, <a href="#Page_807">807</a><br />
<br />
Iztaccihuatl (the White Lady Mountain). (Frag.), 569<br />
<br />
<br />
Jaggar, T. A. Death Gulch, a Natural Bear-Trap*, 475<br />
<br />
Jastrow, Joseph. The Mind's Eye*, 289<br />
<br />
Jordan, D. S. True Tales of Birds and Beasts, 352<br />
<br />
<br />
Kekulé, Friedrich August. Sketch. (With Portrait), 401<br />
<br />
<br />
Labor Problem in the Tropics. W. A. Ireland, 481<br />
<br />
Lake Dwelling, A Neolithic. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_856">856</a><br />
<br />
Light and Vegetation. D. T. MacDougall, 193<br />
<br />
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_871" id="Page_871">[Pg 871]</a></span>Lockyer, J. N. A Short History of Scientific Instruction, 372, 529<br />
<br />
<br />
MacDougall. Light and Vegetation, 193<br />
<br />
Malay Language. R. C. Ford, <a href="#Page_813">813</a><br />
<br />
Martel, M. E. A. Speleology, or Cave Exploration, 255<br />
<br />
Martin, D. S. Glacial Geology in America, 356<br />
<br />
Melinand, M. C. Dream and Reality, 96<br />
<br />
Mental Defectives and the Social Welfare. M. W. Barr*, <a href="#Page_746">746</a><br />
<br />
Meteorology, Climatic Evolution, Laws of, <a href="#Page_855">855</a><br />
<br />
<span class="h">Meteor</span>"<span class="h">ology,</span>Sahara, Winds of. (Frag.), 717<br />
<br />
Miles, Manly, Sketch of. (With Portrait), <a href="#Page_834">834</a><br />
<br />
Mind's Eye, The. Joseph Jastrow*, 289<br />
<br />
Missouri Botanical Garden, Additions to. (Frag.), 135<br />
<br />
Molecular Asymmetry and Life. (Frag.), 139<br />
<br />
Mongoose in Jamaica, The. C. W. Willis*, 86<br />
<br />
Moon and the Weather, The. G. J. Varney. (Corr.), 118<br />
<br />
Morgan, J. de. Stone Age in Egypt, 202<br />
<br />
Morse, E. S. Pre-Columbian Musical Instruments.* (Frag.), 712<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Mo</span>"<span class="h">rse E</span>"<span class="h">. S.</span>Was Middle America Peopled from Asia?, 1<br />
<br />
Mortillet, Gabriel de, Sketch of. (With Portrait), 546<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Mor</span>"<span class="h">tillet, G</span>"<span class="h">abriel</span>" The Earliest Writing in France, 542<br />
<br />
<br />
Names, Technical and Popular. (Frag.), 285<br />
<br />
Naples Aquarium, The. (School for the Study of Life under the Sea.) E. H. Patterson, 668<br />
<br />
Natural History. Catbird, The Coming of the. S. Trotter, <a href="#Page_772">772</a><br />
<br />
<span class="h">Nat</span>"<span class="h">ural h</span>"<span class="h">istory</span>Commensals. (Frag.), 716<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Nat</span>"<span class="h">ural h</span>"<span class="h">istory</span>Herrings at Dinner. (Frag.), 574<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Nat</span>"<span class="h">ural h</span>"<span class="h">istory</span>Origin of a Curious Habit. (Frag.), 286<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Nat</span>"<span class="h">ural h</span>"<span class="h">istory</span>School for the Study of Life under the Sea. E. H. Patterson, 668<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Nat</span>"<span class="h">ural h</span>"<span class="h">istory</span>Scorpion, My Pet. Norman Robinson*, 605<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Nat</span>"<span class="h">ural h</span>"<span class="h">istory</span>Weasels. W. E. Cram*, <a href="#Page_786">786</a><br />
<br />
Natural Selection and Fortuitous Variation. (Frag.), 141<br />
<br />
Nature Study in the Philadelphia Normal School. L. L. W. Wilson, 313<br />
<br />
Nernst Electric Lamp, The. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_854">854</a><br />
<br />
Neufeld, Dr. (Frag.), 140<br />
<br />
Nicaragua and its Ferns. (Frag.), 137<br />
<br />
Nontoxic Matches, The French. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_857">857</a><br />
<br />
Novicow, J. The Spirit of Conquest, 518<br />
<br />
<br />
Oakley, Isabella G. Playgrounds of Rural and Suburban Schools, 176<br />
<br />
Observation, The Science of. C. L. Whittle*, 456<br />
<br />
Ocean Currents, Drift of. (Frag.), 716<br />
<br />
Oswald, F. L. Physical Geography of the West Indies, <a href="#Page_802">802</a><br />
<br />
Outerbridge, A. E., Jr. Marvelous Increase in Production of Gold, 635<br />
<br />
<br />
Parville, M. H. de. Two Gifts to French Science*, 81<br />
<br />
Patrick, G. T. W. Should Children under Ten learn to Read and Write?, 382<br />
<br />
Patterson, Eleanor H. A School for the Study of Life under the Sea, 668<br />
<br />
Pearls, American Fresh-Water. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_859">859</a><br />
<br />
Pedigree Photographs. (Frag.), 428<br />
<br />
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_872" id="Page_872">[Pg 872]</a></span>Physics. Utilization of Wave Power. (Frag.), 715<br />
<br />
Physiology. Iron in the Living Body. M. Dastre, <a href="#Page_807">807</a><br />
<br />
Plant Characters, Changes in. (Frag.), 286<br />
<br />
Plant Names, English. (Frag.), 428<br />
<br />
Playgrounds of Rural and Suburban Schools. Isabella G. Oakley, 163<br />
<br />
Pleasure Gardens, Evolution of. (Frag.), 717<br />
<br />
Plumandon, J. R. The Cause of Rain, 89<br />
<br />
Poisonous Plants. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_855">855</a><br />
<br />
Portland Cement. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_856">856</a><br />
<br />
Potteries, Doulton. (Frag.), 430<br />
<br />
Pre-Columbian Musical Instruments. E. S. Morse*, 712<br />
<br />
Psychology. Dreams. Havelock Ellis, <a href="#Page_721">721</a><br />
<br />
<span class="h">Psych</span>"<span class="h">ology.</span>Guessing as Influenced by Number Preferences. F. B. Dresslar, <a href="#Page_781">781</a><br />
<br />
Pulpit, A Voice from the. (Table), 409<br />
<br />
<br />
Rabies Bacillus, The. (Frag.), 284<br />
<br />
Racial Geography of Europe. W. Z. Ripley, 163, 338, 614<br />
<br />
Rain, The Cause of. J. R. Plumandon, 89<br />
<br />
Rebreathed Air as a Poison. (Frag.), 714<br />
<br />
Ripley, W. Z. Racial Geography of Europe, 163, 338, 614<br />
<br />
Robinson, Norman. My Pet Scorpion*, 605<br />
<br />
Royer, Clémence, Sketch of. (With Portrait.) M. J. Boyer, 690<br />
<br />
Russell's Photographic Researches. (Frag.), 139<br />
<br />
<br />
Saghalin, The Island of. (Frag.), 285<br />
<br />
St. Kildans, The. (Frag.), 284<br />
<br />
Scheppegrell, W. Care of the Throat and Ear, <a href="#Page_791">791</a><br />
<br />
Science, A Doubtful Appendix to. (Table), 120<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Sci</span>"<span class="h">ence,</span>and Culture. (Table), <a href="#Page_842">842</a><br />
<br />
<span class="h">Sci</span>"<span class="h">ence,</span>Christian. The New Superstition. (Table), 557<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Sci</span>"<span class="h">ence,</span>Education in. (Words of a Master.) (Table), 699<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Sci</span>"<span class="h">ence,</span>Mivart's Groundwork of. W. K. Brooks, 450<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Sci</span>"<span class="h">ence,</span>The Advance of. (Table), 415<br />
<br />
Scientific Instruction, A Short History of. J. N. Lockyer, 372, 529<br />
<br />
Scorpion, My Pet. Norman Robinson*, 605<br />
<br />
Seasons of the Year, The. Grant Allen, 230<br />
<br />
Seeds, Dispersal of. (Frag.), 715<br />
<br />
Series Method, The. A Comparison. Charlotte Taylor, 537<br />
<br />
Shinn, Charles Howard. The California Penal System*, 644<br />
<br />
Siamese Geological Theory, A. (Frag.), 718<br />
<br />
Silkworm Gut, Spanish. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_860">860</a><br />
<br />
Simms, Joseph. Brain Weights and Intellectual Capacity, 243<br />
<br />
Skeena River, Up the. George A. Dorsey*, 181<br />
<br />
Smell, The Physics of. (Frag.), 283<br />
<br />
Smith, Franklin. Politics as a Form of Civil War, 588<br />
<br />
Smith, Stephen. Vegetation a Remedy for the Summer Heat of Cities*, 433<br />
<br />
Social Decadence, An Example of. (Table), 412<br />
<br />
Sociology. California Penal System. C. H. Shinn*, 644<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Socio</span>"<span class="h">logy.</span>Mental Defectives and the Social Welfare. M. W. Barr*, <a href="#Page_746">746</a><br />
<br />
<span class="h">Socio</span>"<span class="h">logy.</span>Politics as a Form of Civil War. F. Smith, 588<br />
<br />
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_873" id="Page_873">[Pg 873]</a></span><span class="h">Socio</span>"<span class="h">logy.</span>The Foundation of. (Giddings.) (Corr.), 553<br />
<br />
Soils and Fertilizers. C. M. Blackford, Jr., 392<br />
<br />
South Sea Whaler, Life on a. F. T. Bullen, <a href="#Page_818">818</a><br />
<br />
Spain's Decadence, The Cause of. (Table), 122<br />
<br />
Speleology, or Cave Exploration. M. E. A. Martel, 255<br />
<br />
Spencer, Herbert. What is Social Evolution?, 35<br />
<br />
Spirit of Conquest, The. J. Novicow, 518<br />
<br />
Stone Age in Egypt, The. J. de Morgan, 202<br />
<br />
Submarine Telegraphy, Early. (Frag.), 569<br />
<br />
Superstition and Crime. E. P. Evans, 206<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Supers</span>"<span class="h">tition</span>Aboriginal, about Bones. (Frag.), 572<br />
<br />
<span class="h">Supers</span>"<span class="h">tition</span>The New. (Table), 557<br />
<br />
Survival of the Fittest. (Table), <a href="#Page_844">844</a><br />
<br />
Switzerland, The Torrents of. E. B. Dawson, 46<br />
<br />
<br />
Taxation, Principles of. Hon. D. A. Wells, 319, 490, <a href="#Page_736">736</a><br />
<br />
Taylor, Charlotte. The Series Method, 537<br />
<br />
Throat and Ear, Care of the. W. Scheppegrell, <a href="#Page_791">791</a><br />
<br />
Toes in Walking, The. (Frag.), 429<br />
<br />
Trade Hunting, Scientific. (Frag.), 140<br />
<br />
Trait, A, Common to us all. (Frag.), 429<br />
<br />
Travel. Up the Skeena River. George A. Dorsey, 181<br />
<br />
Tree Planting in Arid Regions. (Frag.), 282<br />
<br />
Trees as Land Formers. (Frag.), <a href="#Page_858">858</a><br />
<br />
Trotter, Spencer. The Coming of the Catbird, <a href="#Page_772">772</a><br />
<br />
True Tales of Birds and Beasts. D. S. Jordan, 352<br />
<br />
<br />
Udden, J. A. A Geological Romance*, 222<br />
<br />
<br />
Varney, G. J. The Moon and the Weather. (Corr.), 118<br />
<br />
Vegetation a Remedy against the Summer Heat of Cities. Dr. S. Smith, 433<br />
<br />
<br />
War, The "Hell" of. (Frag.), 718<br />
<br />
Wave Length and other Measurements. (Frag.), 137<br />
<br />
Wave Power, The Utilization of. (Frag.), 715<br />
<br />
Weasels, Concerning. W. E. Cram*, <a href="#Page_786">786</a><br />
<br />
Weir, J., Jr. The Herds of the Yellow Ant*, 75<br />
<br />
Wells, David Ames, Death of. (Table), 271<br />
<br />
<span class="h">We</span>"<span class="h">lls da</span>"<span class="h">vid a</span>"<span class="h">mes</span>Principles of Taxation, 319, 490, <a href="#Page_736">736</a><br />
<br />
West Indies, Physical Geography of. F. L. Oswald, <a href="#Page_802">802</a><br />
<br />
Wheat-growing Capacity of the United States. E. Atkinson, 145<br />
<br />
Wheat Problem, The, again. E. Atkinson, <a href="#Page_759">759</a><br />
<br />
White Lady Mountain, The. (Frag.), 569<br />
<br />
Whittle, C. L. The Science of Observation*, 456<br />
<br />
Willis, C. W. The Mongoose in Jamaica*, 86<br />
<br />
Wilson, L. L. W. Nature Study in the Philadelphia Normal School, 313<br />
<br />
Winds of the Sahara. (Frag.), 717<br />
<br />
Words of a Master. (Table), 699<br />
<br />
<br />
Yellow Ant, The Herds of the. J. Weir, Jr.*, 75<br />
</div>
<p class="center"><big>THE END.</big></p>
<div class="footnotes">
<h2>FOOTNOTES:</h2>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> On Dreaming of the Dead. Psychological Review, September, 1895. In this paper I
reported several cases showing the nature and evolution of dreams concerning dead friends.
I have since received evidence from various friends and correspondents, scientific and unscientific,
of both sexes, confirming my belief in a frequency of this type of dream. Professor
Binet (L'Année Psychologique, 1896) has also furnished a case in support of my view, and
is seeking for further evidence.</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> In Japan stories of the returning of the dead are very common. Lafcadio Hearn
gives one as told by a Japanese which closely resembles the type of dream I am discussing.
"A lover resolves to commit suicide on the grave of his sweetheart. He found her tomb
and knelt before it and prayed and wept, and whispered to her that which he was about to
do. And suddenly he heard her voice cry to him 'Anata!' and felt her hand upon his
hand; and he turned and saw her kneeling beside him, smiling and beautiful as he remembered
her, only a little pale. Then his heart leaped so that he could not speak for the
wonder and the doubt and the joy of that moment. But she said: 'Do not doubt; it is
really I. I am not dead. It was all a mistake. I was buried because my parents thought
me dead—buried too soon. Yet you see I am not dead, not a ghost. It is I; do not
doubt it!'"</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Many saints (Saint Ida, of Louvain, for example) claimed the power of rising into the
air, and one asks one's self whether this faith may not be based on dream experiences mistranslated
by a disordered brain. M. Raffaelli, the eminent French painter, who is subject
to these sleeping experiences of floating on the air, confesses that they are so convincing
that he has jumped out of bed on awaking and attempted to repeat the experience. "I
need not tell you," he adds, "that I have never been able to succeed."</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Other pains and discomforts—toothache, for instance—may, however, give rise to
dreams of murder.</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> It may be added that they also present evidence—to which attention has not, I
believe, been previously called—in support of the James-Lange or physiological theory of
emotion, according to which the element of bodily change in emotion is the cause and not
the result of the emotion.</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Wealth of Nations, vol. i, p. 112 (Rogers's edition).</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Bastable. Public Finance, p. 181.</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> "The old protectionist, with the stock arguments about the influence of the tariff upon
wages and all the rest of it, is beginning to die out. He told us all he had to say about the
'pauper labor' of Europe, by which he often meant the best educated and most skillful
artisans of the world. We got tired of hearing about how the importer paid the tax, how
it was Europe and England in particular that was all the time squeezing our lives out, till
nearly all of us, being of English ancestry ourselves, wondered whether we, even, could be
so good as we hoped we were, if we had sprung from something so essentially perverted
and bad. We were told, too, that American tourists who went to Europe and spent money
there which they ought to have squandered at home were not friends of their country, and
that they did us a particularly hostile act when they brought clothing, statuary, or diamond
rings back with them from foreign parts. A season of high prices was a real heaven, and
wars and fires were good things because they destroyed property that would have to be
replaced, and this would create that demand which, reacting on supply, would increase
prices. To say that an article was cheap was to say that the political party in power was
no longer worthy of public confidence. It was related that each government could make
its people so rich, and the idea was thought to have been traced down from Henry C. Carey,
that the rest of the world could be safely disregarded altogether.
</p>
<p>
"Seriously, who believes any of this stuff nowadays? The protectionist is not reckoning
with such popular impotency and stupidity. He believes in his fellow-man, and wants to
give him a helping hand. He does not care what effect it has on England or Ireland. He
is not sure that a protective tariff in and of itself will increase the wages of the workmen.
He is even inclined to think that less wages and profits would do well enough for every
man, if it were cheaper to live and there were not such extravagant demands upon every
person from all sides—this without being a socialist. He is certain that 'a cheap coat'
does not necessarily make 'a cheap man,' but the cheaper the coat the better it will be for
the wearer. That is what we are all trying to do, improve our processes, increase our
effective working power, which means, if you please, to make things cheaper."—<i>The Manufacturer</i>
(organ of the Manufacturers' Club of Philadelphia).</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> I have been permitted to review the detailed statements of the accounts of one of the
great enterprises which I have called the manufacture of wheat on a large scale on various
large farms, separated one from another but under one control, aggregating more than
twenty thousand acres, in North Dakota. They are managed mainly from a long distance
through agents and foremen, therefore at a relative disadvantage compared to a farmer
owning his own land, acting as his own foreman, and saving heavily in expense. Such
farmers, making no charge for their own time, are computed to have a cash advantage of
one dollar an acre.
</p>
<p>
A large part of this land has been cropped in wheat for twenty-four years, one farm of
six thousand acres showing an average in excess of eighteen bushels per acre for the term
of seventeen years. The details of the product of other farms are not given, but this may
be considered a rule. Of course, this cropping can not be carried on indefinitely. The land
is now being allowed to rest, and other crops, such as maize, oats, barley, millet, and timothy,
are to some extent being raised in rotation, but not to the extent in which individual wheat
farms are now passing into rotation, especially in Minnesota.
</p>
<p>
In this enterprise the manufacture of wheat is the main purpose, but under the changed
conditions on the small farms in Minnesota wheat is becoming rather the cash or excess
crop in a rotation of four; at present, in North Dakota, wheat constitutes about three
fourths the total product.
</p>
<p>
In these accounts of this great farm are included all charges of every name and nature
except what might be called the rent of land: the labor, the harvesting and thrashing, the
general expense including the foreman and all other charges; the office expenses, the taxes,
the insurance, and, when summer fallow is introduced, the cost of the summer fallow. Suffice
it that these figures for 1898—a year of high charge for seed and one which yielded a fraction
over the average in product—prove conclusively an average of all charges of less than five
dollars an acre for the cost of the product. In different years under these conditions the
cost of the wheat varies from a little over twenty cents to approximately thirty-five cents
per bushel. The cost of oats, which are cultivated with the wheat mainly for use on the
farms, ranges from ten to fifteen cents per bushel.
</p>
<p>
These are facts. The pending question in this discussion is, How much land, occupied
by owners but not now in use, is there in this section of the country on which similar
results can be attained, with better results by individual farmers who possess mental energy
and practical skill? The figures given by the chiefs of the agricultural experiment stations
may rightly be taken in the solution of this question.</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> The Birds of Eastern Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Prepared under the direction of
the Delaware Valley Ornithological Club. By Witmer Stone. Philadelphia, 1894.</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Stone. The Birds of Eastern Pennsylvania and New Jersey.</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> See H. Le Poer. Influence of Number in Criminal Sentences. Harper's Weekly,
May 14, 1896.</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> From The Cruise of the Cachalot. By Frank T. Bullen. (Illustrated.) New York: D.
Appleton and Company. Pp. 379.</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Earth Sculpture, or the Origin of Land Forms. By James Geikie. New York: G. P. Putnam's
Sons. Pp. 397. Price, $2.</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> The Psychology of Peoples. By Gustave Le Bon. New York: The Macmillan Company.
Pp. 236. Price, $1.50.</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> A Text-Book of Mineralogy, with an Extended
Treatise on Crystallography and Physical
Mineralogy. By Edmund Salisbury Dana. New
edition, entirely rewritten and enlarged. New
York: John Wiley & Sons. Pp. 593. $4.</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> The Story of the Railroad. By Cy Warman.
New York: D. Appleton and Company (Story of
the West Series). Pp. 280. Price, $1.50.</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> Infinitesimal Analysis. By William Benjamin
Smith. Vol. I. Elementary; Real Variables.
New York: The Macmillan Company. Pp. 352.
$3.25.</p></div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> The Jubilee History of the Leeds Industrial
Co-operative Society from 1847 to 1897. Traced
Year by Year. By George Jacob Holyoake. Leeds
(Eng.) Central Co-operative Office. Pp. 260.</p></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="transnote">
<h2>Transcriber's Notes:</h2>
<p>Obvious printer's errors have been repaired, other inconsistent
spellings have been kept, including inconsistent use of hyphen (e.g.
"co-operative" and "cooperative") and capitalisation (e.g. "Fresh-Water"
and "Fresh-water").</p></div>
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44544 ***</div>
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