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NEW YORK CITY y T takes a bold man to endeavor to foretell what changes will occur in engineering during the next fifty years; nevertheless the speaker will make the attempt for the purpose of pointing out a few of the salient possibilities, some of which are easily within reach and should be attained as quickly as possible, while others may, by some engineers, be deemed chimerical. It must be remembered, though, that that highly imaginative French author, Jules Verne, in some of his wildest flights of fancy, was merely foretelling actual occurrences which are to-day so common as to cause no comment. The speaker has concluded that the most effective way for him to make these various prognostications is by means of an imaginary annual address of the retiring president of the Amer- ican Academy of Engineers in the year 1968; and he hopes that he will be pardoned for having, when so doing, assumed that the said retiring president is his own grandson and namesake. Such an assumption can certainly do the youngster no harm; but, on the contrary, it may serve him as an incentive to en- deavor, should he choose some line of engineering as his life’s work. RETROSPECT ANNUAL ADDRESS OF J. A. L. WADDELL, 2d, Retiring President of the American Academy of Engineers, Washington, D. C., March 10, 1968 6 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY Gentlemen: As retiring president of the American Academy of Engineers in this sixty-eighth year of the twentieth century, at a meeting held specially to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the incorporation of the Academy, I have deemed it to be emi- nently appropriate and fitting to choose as the subject of my address THE PROGRESS OF THE ENGINEERING PROFESSION DURING THE PAST HALF-CENTURY In dealing with this subject it has been my aim not only to record the advancement of the engineering profession as 4 whole, and in detail that of its numerous divisions and subdi- visions, but also to indicate the influence which our Academy has had on that development. As one looks back upon the history of this and other coun- tries since the close of the Great War some forty-eight years ago, he can not help being struck by the immense influence which at every turn engineering has had upon the world’s re- construction and its subsequent development. Almost every step of importance that has been taken was initiated and car- ried out by engineers; and American technicists in every line have been the ruling spirits in all matters bearing upon the welfare of the nations, taking the lead over the engineers of all the other nationalities, in so far as progress is concerned. The reason for this is that the Great War not only killed off the flower of the European engineers, but also caused most of the European technical schools practically to close their doors, while the United States took the wise precaution of keeping the at- tendance at such institutions as nearly as possible up to the normal. Of course, the said attendance, immediately after the entrance of our country into the titanic struggle in 1917, was materially decreased by the volunteering into the service of a large proportion of the upper classmen and a smaller proportion of the lower classmen from all of our institutions of learning and especially from the engineering departments of the univer- sities and from the technical and the trade schools; but by the earnest effort of the members of our closely affiliated organiza- tion, The Society for the Promotion of Engineering Education, backed by strong pressure from the Administration at Wash- ington, the attendance in the freshman classes of these institu- tions was at once actually increased a little above normal, and the next year was materially augmented. The result of this wise movement was that as soon as peace was declared and the necessity for world-reconstruction became evident, American ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE 7 engineers were able to secure not only far more than their pro rata share of the work involved, but practically all the impor- tant jobs for several years. The hold that they then secured on the engineering work of the world has never since been broken; although, as the European countries commenced to recuperate, their engineers began to get their organizations into better shape, thus reducing somewhat the preponderating in- fluence of the American technicists. Another reason for that preponderance is that after stupidly doing practically nothing to secure the trade of Latin-America for several years after the war started in Europe, the American bankers, manufacturers and business men finally awoke to the fact that their golden opportunity had arrived, consequently they bestirred themselves and became firmly established in Cen- tral and South America, and to a lesser degree in China, before the European manufacturers could get fairly well started again. The smaller success in China was due to the foresight and en- ergy of the Japanese, who established themselves securely in that country while the fighting was still going on. The sys- tematic and combined efforts of American bankers, manufac- turers, business men and engineers, applied at the psychological time when nearly all the other peoples of the world were ex- hausted physically, mentally and financially, resulted ultimately in making the United States the great creditor nation, the American dollar the universal unit of value, and New York City the world’s money-center. In making this retrospect I have been forcibly struck by the greatly increased personal effectiveness of the individual en- gineer of to-day as compared with that of the individual en- gineer of the previous half-century. By effectiveness I refer to the extent of the valuable work that a man accomplishes in his entire lifetime. To-day the effectiveness of a high-grade engi- neer is fully three times as large as it was fifty years ago. For this there have been several causes, among which may be men- tioned longevity, education, economics, research, development of a spirit of loyalty, governmental restriction of wasted effort, cessation of war, systematization of technical literature, and increase in number and sizes of technical libraries. I shall take up in the above order and discuss each of these causes. LONGEVITY Thanks to the efforts and hard study of biologists, surgeons and physicians, the ordinary limiting life of man has increased from the biblical three score years and ten to a full century. 8 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY The studies of the biologists, combined with the coercive work of the Bureau of Sanitation at Washington, have resulted in cutting down nearly to zero the death-roll from all insect-borne diseases, such as typhus fever, malaria, yellow fever, bubonic plague, hookworm, meningitis and mountain fever, as well as other scourges such as smallpox, pellagra, typhoid fever, cholera and leprosy. The iron hand of the law, combined with a forced enlight- enment of the public of all ages and both sexes through the newspapers and the schools, has succeeded in reducing the evil effects of venereal or vice diseases to a very small fraction of their former virulence. The investigations of the dietetists have taught humanity how best to eat, drink and exercise, not only so as to prolong life but also so as to enjoy it by the possession of good health; and the schools of all grades have taught these doctrines so thoroughly that the unscientific eating and drinking of three or four decades ago is now exceedingly rare. The almost universal adoption of the practise by physicians of giving preventive medicine, instead of trying to overcome disease after it has se- cured a hold on the patient, has resulted in materially increas- ing longevity and improving the status of the general health of the community. i The total prohibition of liquor by the federal government in the third decade of the century added, on the average, six years to the life of those men who, otherwise, would have been steady drinkers, besides cutting down crime, profligacy and insanity. The neutralization of both sexes for crime, insanity, feeble- mindedness and bad cases of venereal disease not only has re- duced by seventy-five per cent., in a single generation, the num- ber of criminals, lunatics and idiots, but also has had a notice- able effect on the increase in longevity. While the efforts of certain scientists to prohibit the use of tobacco have proved to be a failure, as far as the populace is concerned, they have succeeded in convincing thinking men that the effect of nicotine on the system is to reduce materially one’s mental acumen; consequently a very large percentage of the scientists and engineers of to-day do not use the weed. As a direct result of this there is a small but quite appreciable aug- menting of their individual output. The stamping out of diseases and the increase in longevity have had a double effect upon the improvement of the engineer- ing profession; for not only has each engineer now a greater ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE ) number of years than formerly to devote to his work; but also his general health is so much better that he can accomplish much more per hour and can work more hours per day than he did in previous years. It has been noticed, too, that there is a more widespread love for work and mental effort among engi- neers of all lines and classes than there used to be; and this is very properly attributable to their better general condition of health. Again, if one were to plot the annual effective accom- plishment of the average engineer of the present period, it would be seen that the amount continues to increase almost to the time of death, instead of reaching a maximum long before then, as used to be the case half a century ago. By the term “annual effective accomplishment” I do not mean either the number of hours per year that an individual can work or the yearly amount of useful labor that one man can do, but the re- sults that are attained annually through his direction and ad- vice based upon his accumulated experience, and, especially, upon his knowledge of engineering economics. EDUCATION During the last fifty years there have been many funda- mental improvements in both general and technical education, and these have had much to do with the increased effectiveness of engineers. In the common schools it has been found prac- ticable, without overworking the children, to improve their mentality and increase their knowledge many fold, simply by adopting scientific methods of imparting instruction and by employing a much higher grade of teachers than was customary forty or fifty years ago. In the old days there seemed to be a notion prevalent that if a man or woman were a failure at most things, he or she would do well enough for a teacher, and that there was no need for paying high salaries to instructors. To-day an entirely different view is held, for now teachers as a class are about the best paid people in the community; and their standing therein is second to none. The most important and fundamental accomplishment in education has been teaching pupils how to think and how, when studying, to concentrate their minds, rather than cramming their memories with a mass of facts, many of which are of doubtful value on account of being subject to change. The study of vocational fitness of both children and adults which was inaugurated in the early twenties, and which re- quired a full decade to establish as an economic necessity, has done much to improve engineering by preventing the unfit from entering its ranks. 10 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY In respect to technical education, thanks to the Society for the Promotion of Engineering Education, it may be stated that the methods governing it have been fundamentally changed. In the old days many insufficiently trained young men, and many who were intellectually and temperamentally unfit, were allowed to enter the technical schools, where during a period of four years they were stuffed with facts ad nauseam, with the result that the graduates were not deep thinkers; besides which, they were sadly deficient in those lines of education which were not purely technical. They were, in short, highly trained human machines, capable of earning a living in the em- ploy of some large manufacturing or contracting company, but incompetent either to take their places as worthy citizens, or to originate things of real value by concentrated mental effort. After many experiments and failures, it was learned that engineering cannot be taught in a four-year course, and that an engineer’s education should cover many studies besides those of pure technics. Again, it was learned that it is bad policy to try to train all engineering students for the same ultimate ob- ject, because some men will do well as subordinates and others as leaders and originators. The ultimate solution of the prob- lem of technical education was the establishment of three kinds of technical schools, viz., trade-schools for the rank and file, or for those who by their individual limitations are doomed to mediocrity ; broad engineering courses for good students, teach- ing them thoroughly mathematics, the humanities, economics, elementary technics and general culture; and postgraduate schools for the best of the technical graduates, giving elaborate instruction in both the theory and the practise of the various special lines of work. The result is that the profession is now well supplied with capable “hewers of wood and drawers of water”; that there is turned out annually a large number of highly cultured and broad-gauge young men who are drilled in the elements of technics, who are well fitted to begin service in almost any line of activity, and who will be able to advance rapidly therein; and that there is an adequate number of spe- cially trained technicists who can at once successfully fill im- portant positions. ECONOMICS Up to the beginning of the third decade of the century, but little attention had been paid by engineers in general or by in- structors in engineering to the important subject of “ Eco- nomics.” It is true that the leading American engineers had individually studied deeply into the matter when making their ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE alg: designs, and that a few of the technical writers (especially in bridge subjects) had touched upon the question; but it was not until 1915, when the Society for the Promotion of Engineering Education appointed a special committee on “The Study of Economics in Technical Schools,” that a systematic effort was made to devote due attention in such schools to that funda- mentally important feature of engineering. The result of the committee’s report, which was presented in 1917, was ulti- mately the publication under the auspices of that Society of an elaborate treatise on “‘ The Economics of Engineering,” written by a large number of specialists in all lines of technical activity. This book served as a basis for the preparation of other works more suited to students’ use; and the study of economics in all the technical schools of the country was soon thereafter under- taken in earnest, with the result that to-day all engineering projects are much more economically handled in respect to both design and construction than they used to be. I might mention that in the accomplishment of this great desideratum our Acad- emy cooperated most effectively with the Society for the Pro- motion of Engineering Education. Incidentally, it might be stated that the economics of engi- neers’ time and effort have been made the subject of much deep thought, and that important results have been accomplished thereby through time-and-labor-saving devices such as the slide- rule, the pantagraph, the integrating machine and numerous other mechanical computers, through systematization of the in- dividual’s work and the avoidance of duplication in investiga- tions, and through the thorough checking of all calculations and plans before work thereunder proceeds. The compulsory introduction of the metric system of weights and measures about the end of the third decade of the century, while at first proving to be a hardship and an expense to most people, and especially to engineers, eventually became a great time-saver for all computers. As a side-issue in the matter of economics, I might mention that, over forty years ago, the federal government, as a matter of political economy, undertook the storage of grain and other food products so as to carry over the surplus from the years of plenty to the years of scarcity, and thus to equalize both the earnings of the producer and the general cost of living. Large grain bins and cold-storage plants were built and operated by the government in all parts of the country; and the result of the movement has been eminently satisfactory. Parenthetically, I might state that this step inaugurated a campaign of ex- 12 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY termination against rats and mice, which was later extended to include all useless cats and dogs. The economy effected by this campaign amounted to some hundreds of millions of dollars an- nually ; consequently it has been made a permanent institution under federal-government control. RESEARCH Up to the third decade of the century the work of engineer- ing research was handled mainly in the universities and tech- nical schools, although the Bureau of Standards at Washing- ton had been making many important investigations; but since then the greater part of such research has been done by the fed- eral government through that bureau, and on a much larger scale than formerly. The beneficial effect on the profession of the results of the many researches in all lines of technics is simply incalculable. By its recommendations to the federal government concerning proposed investigations and by sug- gestions of its own thereto, our academy has rendered most ef- fective service in this line of activity. DEVELOPMENT OF A SPIRIT OF LOYALTY Regarding loyalty to the profession, Sir Francis Bacon said: I hold every man a debtor to his profession, from which as men of course do seek to receive countenance and profit, so ought they of duty to endeavor themselves, by way of amends, to be a help and ornament thereto. The development of a spirit of loyalty to our profession has been a slow process, spread over a long period of years; but I am happy to say that to-day it pervades all ranks of engineering and is the mainspring of both individual and concerted action in all matters professional. The instruction of engineers in respect to the necessity for professional loyalty was the work of the various technical societies of the country, which were systematically instigated thereto by the American Academy of Engineers. The members of our organization take great satis- faction in this accomplishment. GOVERNMENTAL RESTRICTION OF WASTED EFFORT While it is true that, in the early days of modern engineer- ing, the factor of competition in design and the stimulation to mental effort which it produced had much to do with the ad- vancement of American engineers ahead of their European brethren, it was gradually carried to greater and greater ex- cess until it resulted in being a heavy burden upon the profes- ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE 13 sion. It became customary among municipalities and the pro- moters of enterprises to advertise for competitive studies and plans. Sometimes, but by no means always, they would offer a small prize, hardly large enough to cover the cost of a single set of papers, the real bait being the promise of the engineering to the successful competitor. In many cases the project failed to materialize, in others even the payment of the prize was dodged, and it was not an uncommon occurrence to have the total ex- penditure on studies by the numerous competitors far exceed the net amount of the total fee earned by the successful com- petitor. Some forty years ago, the academy took hold of the matter, pointing out the injustice done to the profession, and succeeded in having Congress pass a law making all such competitions illegal, and providing that any person, company, or community desiring competition on engineering or architectural projects or plans must limit the number of competitors, must pay each unsuccessful competitor a fee large enough amply to cover his entire expense in the competition, and that the prize for the suc- cessful competitor must be either retention on the work at the standard rate of compensation, or a sum of money at least five times the amount of the expense to which he is put in preparing his competitive papers, the actual amounts of the payments being settled in advance by agreement between the promoter and the various competitors. This law, while cutting out all illegitimate and unnecessary competitions, has not militated materially against the public’s receiving, whenever necessary or advisable, the benefit of competitive effort; but it has proved a great boon to the consulting and independent engineers of America. The Canadian Academy of Engineers, which was es- tablished in 1923, soon followed our lead in this movement, and succeeded in having similar legislation passed by the Dominion Parliament. CESSATION OF WAR The sudden cessation of war throughout the world, after the conquering of the Central Powers by the Allies nearly a half-century ago, with the establishment of permanent peace by means of an armed alliance, and with the subsequent gradual reduction of the policing armament which ensued as the nations became accustomed to arbitration and alive to its wonderful advantages, permitted some of the best brains of the world to turn from thoughts of destruction to those of construction; and thus the engineering profession received the benefit of an in- creased amount of highly skilled labor and inventive genius. 14 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY To-day any invention of an instrument of destruction is frowned upon by all thoughtful people; and any one who advocates war in any shape is treated as a public enemy and punished accord- ingly. As a result of the successful establishment of world peace, Congress in 1937 changed the name of the War Depart- ment to that of ‘‘ Peace Department,” and the name of the Navy Department to that of “ Navigation Department.” SYSTEMATIZATION OF TECHNICAL LITERATURE By the suggestion of our academy, the federal government in 1923 undertook to issue annually (and later semi-annually) a pamphlet giving for each engineering specialty a list of the best and most useful technical books published in the English language, and indicating in condensed form their contents. This is kept up to date by the direction of a committee of the academy, all books being dropped from the list as soon as their practical usefulness ceases. The result of this innovation has been to enable both individual engineers and the libraries of schools and municipalities to purchase the treatises they need without squandering their money on works that wiil be of no practical assistance. INCREASE IN SIZE AND NUMBER OF TECHNICAL LIBRARIES The mass of technical literature has gradually become so large that it is impracticable for most engineers to purchase all the books they need; consequently, at the request of our acad- emy, the federal government has initiated the custom of mak- ing allowances to public libraries for the purchase of technical works. It is, therefore, practicable for an engineer located in a city of any size to find all the references he needs in his work without having a large library of his own. This arrangement has been of great service to the profession, especially to its younger members. Some of the other important items of influence in the gen- eral improvement of the status of engineering during the last fifty years are the following: The establishment of the Amer- ican Institute, the inauguration of the Department of Public Works, the Federal licensing of engineers, the permanent al- liance of labor and capital, the formation of the Industrial Army, the reform of the Patent Office, the universal distribu- tion of power by the government, the enforced conservation of materials, the utilization of by-products, the proper restriction of the employment of the term “ Engineer,” the avoidance of ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE 15 disasters to great engineering constructions through extra | checking of plans, the establishment of a code of engineering ethics, the inauguration of legalized distinctions, the deter- mination of minimum charges for services, the improvement of technical literature, the systematic promotion of projects, the working of American engineers abroad, the installation of con- certed publicity movements, and, finally, the due recognition of the profession by the nation. As before, I shall discuss each of these items in the order in which they are mentioned. AMERICAN INSTITUTE When the founders of our academy first proposed its for- mation, they had a still greater step in mind, as was indicated in public on several occasions, viz., the establishment of an American Institute on the lines of L’Institut de France, to in- clude besides our own organization the then-existing National Academy of Sciences and all future duly-organized American academies, such as those of Architecture, Medicine, Literature, Law, Journalism, Art, Political Economy and Universal Peace. During the third decade there were established only three of these academies, making five all told. Then the dream of the founders of our academy came true, for the American Institute was formed in 1927; and within the next five or six years the other academies just mentioned were organized, each one, as soon as established, becoming a member of the institute. This organization holds regular meetings only twice a year; but occasionally it has called a special meeting to discuss and take action upon some burning question of the hour. The fine build- ing for the institute, in which are located the headquarters or offices of all the component academies, was presented by the federal government in 1929 at a cost of about twenty million dollars. The bringing together of engineers and other learned men from the various walks of life to discuss matters of great moment in which their lines cross has done much for humanity; and especially has it benefited the engineers by forcing them out of the narrow ruts into which they constantly tended to fall, and broadening them by contact with many of the most brilliant minds of their compatriots. A number of special meetings in the Institute House of two and sometimes three academies have been held for the purpose of taking action on questions in which they were jointly inter- ested; and these meetings also have been found eminently pro- ductive of good for the commonwealth. Among other benefits obtained in this manner might be mentioned the partial purifica- 16 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY tion of politics (it would prove an impossible task to cleanse it thoroughly!), the remodeling of the American diplomatic serv- ice so as to make it superior to that of any other nation, and the reform of the Patent Office. DEPARTMENT OF PUBLIC WORKS The first great task undertaken by our academy was the es- tablishment of a Department of Public Works to take over all the engineering work which had hitherto been distributed rather illogically among several of the departments of the gov- ernment. It required a hard fight to accomplish this; but the results have proved, beyond the peradventure of a doubt, the importance of the measure. This department is practically re- moved from politics, because its secretary (always a civil engi- neer of high standing, undoubted attainments and special fit- ness) continues to hold his position in spite of changes of ad- ministration, retaining it as long as he is mentally and phys- ically fit to attend properly to the work of his high office. LICENSING OF ENGINEERS During the second decade of the century there had been much controversy among engineers concerning the advisability of not permitting technical men to practise without first se- curing a license. Many were the arguments advanced by both sides, and most of them were sound. Those favoring the move- ment declared that engineering could never attain to its full measure of public respect without the license system, while those opposed stated that the control of their professional ac- tivities by the numerous states would be intolerable. A com- promise was finally effected by a general agreement to accept a federal license, based upon broad lines, and to repeal the few state technical-license-laws that had already been put into operation. As you all know, the result was eminently satis- factory. Not one of us would be willing to revert to the non- license days. I do not believe that any one would dare to contradict me when I claim that the credit for the satisfactory settlement of this long-mooted point belongs to the American Academy of Engineers. ALLIANCE OF LABOR AND CAPITAL Up to the year 1929, from time to time there had been strug- gles of a bitter nature between organized labor and capital, to the great detriment of progress in all lines of business. These ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE 7 disagreements seriously interfered with the work of engineers by paralyzing the progress of their constructions and by dis- couraging the investment of money in sound enterprises in- volving engineering. The conditions finally became so bad that nobody could safely undertake to materialize any large project. It was then that our academy stepped into the breach, and, after several years of continuous effort, succeeded in forming an amalgamation of working men, contractors, manufacturers and bankers which has been the means of absolutely preventing strikes, every incipient dispute now being settled by arbitration. Organized strikes of any kind are to-day treated as “conspir- acy ’”’ by the laws of the land. INDUSTRIAL ARMY Some forty years ago when our standing army was finally reduced to a mere police force, the government recognized that some similar body was necessary in order to provide labor for the unemployed; hence it inaugurated the “ Industrial Army,” composed mainly of volunteers, but also having some regiments recruited solely from the hobo and the minor-criminal classes. These men are drilled and trained in the lines of peace as for- merly were soldiers in the lines of war, so as to make them ef- fective. They are sent out on public works, and their services are occasionally loaned to the large contractors. They are paid monthly and are fed and clothed at government expense. Their services have proved of great value in agriculture; for, owing to their mobility, they are sent from south to north in the harvest season, then shipped south again and gradually moved northward so as to care for the plowing of the land and the cul- tivating of the crops. There are separate regiments for the different kinds of work; but in case of necessity, the character of the men’s oc- cupation is changed. The enlistment period is four years; and deserters are punished just as drastically as were formerly those from the military army and the navy. The establishment of this industrial army has proved to be a great boon to the engineering profession, in that there is at all times a certain amount of dependable labor which can be uti- lized on important constructions. Moreover, it tends to stabilize the price of labor, and thus encourages promoters and con- tractors to undertake great enterprises. VOL. ViII.—2. 18 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY PATENT OFFICE REFORM The reform of the Patent Office was a hard nut to crack, but by working jointly with the American Academy of Law we managed to accomplish it. In former times that office was a standing joke. Anybody could patent almost anything; and conflicting patents were quite common. The government evi- dently was of the opinion that any one who was not satisfied with the way his patent was recognized by his competitors could secure satisfaction by an appeal to the law; but that process usually proved to be interminable and exceedingly expensive. Engineers considered that a patent was simply a club with which to frighten off intruders—and as such it often proved a failure. Again, it was customary to grant patents for the most minor details of design and for the smallest kinds of improve- ments, notwithstanding the fact that some eminent jurists de- clared such patents to be invalid. To-day all such conditions are changed. Patents are being granted only for those things which are truly innovations; and it is almost unheard of to find one patent conflicting with an- other. To accomplish this is what the Patent Office officials are paid to do; and no shirking of the responsibility is any longer permitted. POWER DISTRIBUTION One of the most fundamental and drastic actions ever in- stituted by the federal government was the permanent taking over by it of the entire power supply of the United States and making the unit prices thereof the same in all localities, the exact schedule rate to the consumer being dependent to a cer- tain extent on the amount he uses regularly. The results of this innovation were a marvellous economy of energy for the nation, a universal satisfaction on the part of all power users, and an almost automatic adjustment of fairly uniform production throughout the entire year. All kinds of power are included. All large waterfalls are utilized, even to the total drying up of Niagara Falls, except for two hours on each Sunday afternoon during the months of May to October, inclusive, at which times, as you know, only enough water is allowed to pass over the falls to produce the desired scenic effect. Coal is now burned mainly at the mouth of the mine instead of being transported long distances at great expense by rail— in fact for a while the experiment was tried of burning it in the mine; but this was soon abandoned after several costly con- flagrations had occurred. ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE 19 Natural gas is employed somewhat for power purposes; but generally it is found more satisfactory to pipe it to the cities for domestic use. Following the lead of an eminent Italian engineer, we have been endeavoring with more or less success to utilize the in- ternal heat of the earth; but there are only a few places in our country which are suitable for this process of power production. For a long time it was thought that the utilization of tidal energy could not be made a paying enterprise, but in the early thirties a successful plant was built in New Brunswick to har- ness some of the power of the noted tidal bore. Both ebb and flow were utilized, although not to the same extent. Of course, only a small portion of the energy of the flowing water could be impounded, but there is enough and to spare at that locality. Afterwards, the employment of tidal energy was done on a commercial scale and upon a paying basis at a number of places in the United States; but it is not a very economic way of ob- taining power. The extraction of energy from wave motion, as suggested by Joseph Tomlinson, a noted Canadian engineer, as long ago as 1876, has never proved to be a commercial success, because the cost of the apparatus is too great in comparison with the value of the energy collected. It does pay, however, in the case of small, isolated lighthouses where to convey the required en- ergy from the mainland would be either impracticable or very expensive. The great improvement that has lately been effected in the efficiency of sun-power motors has enabled us to utilize direct solar energy upon a commercial basis in the states of California, Arizona, New Mexico and Western Texas, also in the Territory of Lower California. The last was purchased from Mexico in 1920 after the cessation of that country’s series of continuous revolutions, in order to give it money to pay all legitimate claims for damages to the Mexican properties of American cit- izens and British subjects, and to enable it to carry on its gov- ernment during the period of reconstruction. The products of all the power-producing plants are com- bined and distributed in the most economic manner practicable, the method varying with the time of year and with the hy- grometric conditions of the various districts. The ability of the government to distribute the power throughout the country, economically and as desired, is due mainly to a most important discovery by an American metallurgist of the alloy “ electro- conite,” which, in the form of wire, combines a satisfactory 20 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY strength with a resistance of only about one tenth of that of the best previously known conductor. The credit for establishing the government control of the manufacture and distribution of power is due essentially to the constant and systematic efforts of the American Academy of Engineers. At one time the wireless transmission of power was seriously considered, and, in truth, it was shown to be a possibility; but when trying it on a commercial basis there developed so many unanticipated obstacles that it was abandoned. Similarly, it was shown to be feasible to produce electric energy directly from coal, but practically it was found more economical to burn it. Greatly improved metheds of doing so were discovered, so that to-day there is utilized a far higher percentage of the en- ergy of the coal than was even dreamed of formerly. CONSERVATION The conservation of the country’s resources for a long time occupied the attention of many prominent, far-sighted and patriotic Americans, who pointed out that eventually the nation would assuredly come to grief, unless it ceased wasting its re- sources. While their preaching was not altogether without effect, it was not until 1938 (when the joint efforts of the Amer- ican Academy of Economics and our own organization induced the government to establish a Department of Conservation) that effective measures to curtail waste were established and enforced. The result has been a decided benefit to our profes- sion, in that now we all know what materials can and what can not be used for our constructions, and that the public will not be allowed to bring the commonwealth to poverty and dis- aster by needless waste. UTILIZATION OF BY-PRODUCTS In the beginning of the twentieth century, the study in America of how best to utilize by-products was begun; and it was carried on in a rather desultory manner in the universities and some of the technical schools. The University of Kansas made a rather spectacular start in this line of research, the work being carried out upon a strictly business basis, and achieved quite a success; but soon thereafter, owing to a change in the personnel of the faculty, the endeavor was dropped. It required the advent of the Great War in Europe to teach Americans that they must make themselves independent of the rest of the world by manufacturing at home all the necessaries ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE 21 of life for both peace and war. This condition aroused to action our chemists and chemical engineers, and incidentally caused them to study the utilization of by-products, thus materially in- creasing the wealth of the nation. RESTRICTION OF THE TERM “ ENGINEER ” It seems almost ridiculous or impossible of belief that the long-continued misuse of a name should seriously militate against the proper appreciation by the public of a great profes- sion; but such certainly was the case. The term “ engineer” formerly was applied indiscriminately to locomotive drivers, electric motor men, stationary-engine men, and even to the operators of insignificant gasoline engines, as well as to the members of the engineering profession; and the public was un- able to distinguish clearly between the highly trained profes- sional man and the roustabout engine-manipulator. For long years our profession failed to receive due public recognition; and this absurd misconception of terms was one of the principal reasons therefor. The trouble was finally overcome by the con- certed action of the leading technical societies, both national and local, the members of which pledged themselves on every occasion to correct, either orally or in writing, every misuse of the term, irrespective of the standing or character of the de- linquent. It did not take more than a twelvemonth to establish the change upon a permanent basis. AVOIDANCE OF DISASTERS BY THE EXTRA CHECKING OF PLANS About the end of 1917, after having had the idea in mind for several years, a well-known engineer-author suggested in the technical press that, in order to avoid disasters to great public or private engineering constructions, such as the two which oc- curred to the famous Quebec Bridge, all the plans for such structures should be thoroughly checked by an engineer or en- gineers of the highest standing who had not been in any way concerned in the making of the design, the compensation for such checking being paid by the client and not by the designing engineers. Although the scheme met with some opposition at first, it was eventually adopted. The non-occurrence of any great disaster of the kind during the last four or five decades affords ample proof of the wisdom of the precautionary ex- pedient. 22 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY CODE OF ENGINEERING ETHICS For many years our profession struggled along without hav- ing an established code of ethics—much to its detriment. Va- rious technical societies made half-hearted attempts to estab- lish codes, but most of them were “to laugh.” A code suitable to one society did not prove acceptable to some of the others, and the large societies could not agree on the matter; but soon after the organization of our academy, we took hold of the sub- ject methodically and energetically, and by means of a small committee, representing the principal lines of engineering ac- tivity, succeeded in evolving a code, which, after some slight modifications that were made to suit the desires of certain of the larger organizations, was accepted universally as standard. With the exception of a few minor changes made of late years, it is the code under which we all are now operating, and by which we are strictly governed in our dealings with each other, with our clients, and with the public. DISTINCTIONS Up to the time that the United States entered the Great War, there was a popular prejudice in our country against decorations and titles, on the plea that they were undemocratic; the government itself going so far as to prohibit its paid em- ployees from accepting any foreign order of knighthood or any similar distinction, except through a special act of Congress. No matter, though, how much quiet sneering was done by Americans about the acceptance of foreign decorations by private citizens, it was to be noticed that none of them were ever rejected when offered. Owing to the fact that in 1917 some of the governments of the Allies offered distinguished-service decorations for gallant conduct to several American soldiers, and that permanently to refuse them permission to accept the honor would have been discourteous to our friends, Congress early in 1918 repealed the law which prohibited the paid employees of the government from accepting orders, medals and other decorations from for- eign governments. The result was that by the end of the war the “decoration habit” had taken such a hold on the American people that ere long several orders of knighthood and merit were formally established by Congress. Fortunately, the dis- tribution of these honors has been kept absolutely free from political control; and to-day American men of learning prize these decorations far more highly than they do any pecuniary ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE 23 rewards that they receive in compensation for their profes- sional services. MINIMUM CHARGES FOR PROFESSIONAL WORK After years of effort on the part of the American Institute of Consulting Engineers, that society finally succeeded in hav- ing Congress pass a bill placing an inferior limit on the com- pensation for engineering services; and the profession ever since has been trying, with more or less success, to force its members to live up to the requirements. Our academy, while not actively engaged in this endeavor, gave the institute its moral support. The observance of this law has not only di- rectly increased the compensation of the independent engineers but also indirectly has been the means of augmenting that of their salaried brethren; besides, it has raised the profession greatly in the estimation of the public. IMPROVEMENT OF TECHNICAL LITERATURE Although the technical literature in America during the first two decades of this century was far superior to that of the preceding century, there was still considerable room for im- provement. There were too many books on the market which either were merely compilations or were without raison d’étre. Most of these were written by either professors of engineering who did not possess the necessary practical knowledge or by young practitioners, ambitious to make a name for themselves before they had earned their spurs. By the appointment of a standing joint-committee of the Society for the Promotion of Engineering Education and our academy, and through an unrecorded understanding with the leading publishers of scientific books, no technical treatise will be published by these companies unless it receives the written approval of that committee. Moreover, in order to save authors’ time, the committee stands ready to advise with would-be authors concerning any proposed treatise before actual work is begun on the preparation of the manuscript, or at any time sub- sequent thereto. The influence of this committee on the char- acter of American technical literature has been marked. The quality has been improved, while the quantity has been lessened. (To be Concluded) 24 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY WEATHER CONTROLS OVER THE FIGHTING DURING THE SPRING OF 1918 By Professor ROBERT DeC. WARD HARVARD UNIVERSITY HE military operations of the present spring (1918) have been of such critical importance in relation to the prob- able outcome of the whole war that all factors which have played any part in the fighting deserve careful attention. In the following article, the part played by meteorological controls is set forth as fully as is possible at this time. The facts here included have been collected from the regular official despatches, and from the reports of reliable war correspondents and mil- itary experts. It is obviously not possible, as yet, to do full justice to the subject, and some of the facts here included may need revision when fuller information becomes available. Throughout the late winter and the first three weeks of spring, the probable date of the expected German offensive was a matter of momentous interest. No really active winter-cam- paigns have been carried on in the western war zone. As a whole, the season of aggressive military operations has been April to November. In 1915, the spring campaign may be said to have begun on April 22. In 1916, the German Verdun drive was begun in late February (21st), at a season meteorologically unfavorable, in order, probably, to forestall the expected British and Russian spring drives. In 1917, the British inaugurated their offensive about Arras on April 9. Spells of warm, thaw- ing weather characteristically come with increasing frequency in March and April, but unless the season is “early,” major operations are more than likely to be held up by storms and bad roads until spring is well established. During last February (1918) there were, as usual, fogs, heavy rains and bad roads, but the increasing number of fine, warm days, accompanied by drying ground, caused the Allied commanders to expect an early German offensive. March ‘came in like a lion,” with gales and snowstorms; heavy rains and cold, and then followed alternating spells of fine and warm, and of cold and stormy weather. The great German offensive began on the early morning of March 21. From all the evidence that has so far come to hand WEATHER CONTROLS 25 it is clear that the time must have been carefully chosen after consultation with the meteorological experts. It was a spell of fine, dry weather (“exceptional weather favored his [the en- emy’s] designs”), and dry weather is one great essential, espe- cially in the low country on the Western front, for the rapid movement of troops, of ammunition and of supplies. With heavy rains, deep mud and impassable roads, no quick, effective advance can be made. A dry spell in western Europe usually means that there is a well-developed area of high pressure to the eastward. This type of weather, when well established, is not unlikely to last for several days, longer, as a rule, than dry spells usually last in the early spring in the eastern United States. In western Europe, such spells bring easterly winds, which are often chilly, and also night fogs. Easterly winds are, furthermore, obviously favorable for the use of gas by the enemy, and also carry the smoke of artillery firing to the west, thus helping to screen the attacking troops. Such conditions, easily inferred by any meteorologist who has a knowledge of European weather types, prevailed during the first ten days of the German offensive. All the meteorolog- ical factors were in favor of the enemy. The attack began in a thick fog along much of the front. The enemy advanced in many places unseen by the Allied troops, the smoke cloud also helping to serve as a screen. Gas was successfully used in various localities. The Allied gunners could hardly see their own horses; the firing had to be more or less haphazard; the infantry was obliged to advance without adequate artillery preparation. The surprise of the British 5th Army was largely attributed to the fog. Airplane observation was difficult along much of the front. In some places the fog evidently threw the assaulting German troops into confusion, the different units being temporarily unable to join forces as had been planned. As was to be expected, the easterly winds soon became colder, and the troops were reported as needing heavy overcoats, espe- cially at night. This spell of fine dry weather lasted, with but a few local and temporary interruptions in the way of showers or snow flurries, for a little over a week, but it was a week during which the enemy was able to make very considerable progress. Then heavy rains set in, continuing off and on, in spells, as is usual in the spring in Flanders. The Germans were at once greatly handicapped because of the difficulties of moving their troops, artillery and supplies through the deep and sticky mud. The weather conditions were then in favor of the Allies. The Ger- 26 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY mans had simply outrun their guns. There was some respite from the incessant German attacks, and there was time to perfect plans and to strengthen defenses. The mud did not hamper the Allies as much as the Germans, because the roads back of the Allied lines had not been so badly broken up by the gun-fire. The German papers mentioned the handicaps result- ing from the rains, and explained the slackening of their of- fensive as being due to the weather. There is no reason to doubt that this was at least in part the case. It is clear that the condition of the roads, especially when the distance from their starting point was taken into account, made it unwise, if not impossible, for the Germans to continue their attempt at that time to break through between the British and French armies. The heavy rains may have played a more important part than many people imagine. During the renewed German offensive, early in the second week of April, the enemy again took advantage of a thick early morning fog, during a dry spell, when the ground was hard. It was quite impossible for the Allied troops to see the enemy until the latter was very close to the front lines. The April despatches make frequent mention of alternating spells of rainy and of fine, sunny weather ; and of many German surprise attacks made in fogs (as, e. g., at Mt. Kemmel on April 26), which are very frequent at all seasons on the western front. During the first week of April several days of rain brought a general suspension of major operations. Mr. F. H. Simonds, in his weekly account of the war, wrote: Perhaps if it had not rained he (the enemy) might have gotten through, just as Victor Hugo and other French writers insist that Napo- leon would have won at Waterloo if it had not rained the night before, and delayed the French attack the next morning. The dry spells were at once taken advantage of by the aviators for reconnaissance work and for bombing, and by the Germans, for renewed attacks. On April 20 there were reports of belated snow-squalls, and of inclement weather, accompanied by a tem- porary lull in the fighting. An interesting illustration of the marked attention paid by the Germans to meteorological condi- tions is found in the arrangements for moving troops in dif- ferent weather conditions. According to press despatches, | Orders are issued under which in the first zone, on clear days, foot troops may not move in any greater number than four men together, mounted men not more than two together, and vehicles not more than one at a time, with a minimum distance of 300 yards between groups. The WEATHER CONTROLS 27 restrictions are relaxed when the weather is not clear, so as to permit the movement of groups of forty infantrymen, twenty cavalrymen, and ten vehicles. In the second zone it is permissible to form groups of the size allowed in the first zone on hazy days, but there must be intervals of 500 yards. In this manner movements generally escape attention. Heavy rains fell on several days early in May; the roads were in very bad condition; shell-holes and all depressions were filled with water. That the expected renewal of the German drive was thereby delayed is undoubted. It is to be expected that, when so much depends upon the most favorable com- bination of all ~ossible elements which may make for success, the enemy wi] wait for favorable weather conditions before attempting a general attack. To advance when the quick move- ment of reserves, of guns, of ammunition and of supplies is im- possible, owing to the condition of the roads, is to run a very unnecessary risk. Several days of very fine weather, reported after the middle of May, were not accompanied by a renewal of the German offensive. One correspondent suggested that what the enemy wanted was misty, foggy conditions, such as he chose at the beginning of the first great advance on March 21. A Paris despatch, May 18, also intimated that “the beginning of the offensive by which the Germans expect to achieve final suc- cess now depends solely on weather conditions.” There is no doubt that the enemy took advantage of every spell of fine weather to improve his roads, and to bring up sup- plies and ammunition. One of the best-informed of the war correspondents, Mr. Philip Gibbs, wrote under date of May 24: Heavy rainstorms have broken up the fine spell of sunshine which made this May so splendid. This change does not fill us with regret, be- cause dirty weather now may be in our favor, and hinder the enemy in his offensive schemes. . . . Bad weather, however, acts against both sides, and though they (the Germans) should be held fast in the mud, the British do not want to lose visibility for their flying men or machine gunners. ... The enemy is very cunning in making use of climatic conditions, and adapts his methods to them.1 Berlin despatches, dated May 25, stated that the bad weather was preventing active operations. The German offensive was renewed on May 27. At the time of sending the present article to the press, very few details re- garding the meteorological conditions are available. So far as information has come to hand, it appears that the weather was fine, with bright moonlight at night. One Berlin despatch, of May 29, notes changeable weather. The delay in opening this new offensive has been ascribed, by one correspondent, to the 1 New York Times, May 25, 1918. 28 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY desire of the Germans to postpone their attack until better weather conditions in the Trentino sector should make it pos- sible for the Austrians to begin their offensive in that area. There have been several interesting occurrences in connec- tion with the use of gas. On April 10, four regiments of Prus- sian Guards were reported as having suffered severely during an attack on Armentiéres, when the wind shifted suddenly, and blew their gas back in their own faces. On May 12, another similar case was reported, the enemy becoming disorganized in consequence. A Swiss report dated Geneva, May 7, noted that the municipal authorities at Miilhausen, in Alsace, had ordered all inhabitants to obtain gas masks as a protection “ against aerial gas attacks.” The statement added that, owing to the prevalence of westerly winds, great quantities of the poisonous gases used by the Germans on the western front had drifted east, toward the Rhine. This story is hardly credible, for the gases are rapidly diffused and diluted when carried far by wind. It is worth noting that the Germans are now using gases in four ways. First, gas clouds, which depend on a favorable wind; second, projectors, which also depend on the wind; third, long-range artillery gas shells; and fourth, hand grenades. The direction and velocity of the wind enters as a critical factor in the first two cases. In connection with gas attacks of the first sort a good deal of information is now available. We know that the German “ gas regiments” contain a considerable num- ber of trained meteorological observers, who watch the current weather conditions. While the gas goes with the wind, it is clear that topography plays a part in its diffusion, which is best in a flat country, and poorest in a broken country. A recent writer, Major S. J. M. Auld, has told us that the outline of the trench system and the angle at which the wind is blowing are carefully correlated, in order that the gas shall not be driven back into any part of the German trenches. A “factor of safety” is determined for the angle between the wind direction and the line of the trenches. Ordinary gas attacks are not made when the wind direction is within about 45° of any trench within gassing distance. Further, details as to the most fa- vorable wind velocity have been forthcoming. If the wind is too strong, the gas is dispersed, or moves too fast. If the wind is too light, it takes the gas too long to cross “ No Man’s Land.” Very light winds are also more likely to change their direction than stronger winds, and may blow the gas back into the Ger- man lines. The best winds blow between 4 and 12 miles an hour. A wind of 8 miles carries the gas cloud about twice as WEATHER CONTROLS 29 fast as a man moves away who retreats rapidly. It is perfectly clear that the German meteorologists have made very careful study of wind and weather before launching such gas attacks, and their success, in a large majority of cases, shows how well their weather forecasts were made. From the eastern front there is naturally very little to re- port. Here it was the ice—the result of the cold winter of the Baltic and its adjacent gulfs—that played a part. A Petro- grad despatch, dated March 15, noted the movement of 3,000 German troops from the Aland Islands to the coast of Finland in transports, preceded by an ice-breaker. A later despatch (April 7) reported that the Germans were marching from the Aland Islands across the ice at the mouth of the Gulf of Bothnia towards Abo, on the coast of southern Finland, and that the ar- rival of the German fleet off the Finnish coast threatened the safety of the Russian ships at Helsingfors, which were unable to escape owing to the lack of an ice breaker. A British Ad- miralty statement, issued May 16, noted that several British sub- marines were frozen solidly in the ice in the harbor of Helsing- fors at the time when the German naval forces were approach- ing. It was suggested that the ice be broken up around the submarines, and that they should then attempt to dive under the ice and reach open water outside the harbor. After careful consideration of this plan, the British commanders decided that it was impracticable. The submarines were therefore blown up. There has been a good deal of discussion, since the war began, regarding the most favorable season for submarine ac- tivity. Opinions have differed on this question. At present, naval opinion in Washington seems to be that the season makes little difference. The smoother water and the longer daylight of summer are an advantage during that season, but these may be offset by the better opportunity which the submarines have, during the long winter nights, to come to the surface to re- charge their batteries, to rest their crews, and to make long trips unsubmerged, thereby increasing their effective area. It was not to be expected that there would be any consid- erable activity in the Trentino sector of the Italian front until well along into the spring. The deep winter snows of that rugged mountainous region are unlikely, under ordinary con- ditions, to melt sufficiently to make active campaigning pos- sible until May, or perhaps even early June. Heavy snowfalls were reported early in March. On March 18 an Associated Press despatch noted that ‘‘the snow along the mountain fronts has been reduced considerably by mild weather recently, but 30 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY the amount remaining is still sufficient to retard extensive operations.” On the Piave front spring freshets made the stream “‘too wide and deep for crossing by considerable bodies of troops.” Late in April (28th and 30th) severe winter weather prevailed along the Italian front, heavy snowfalls (6 feet deep in places) and “blizzards” being reported in the Al- pine sector, and intense cold on the Venetian plain. Several days of torrential rain had swollen the Piave and Adige Rivers. Such conditions made an Austrian offensive impossible, the snow having obstructed the roads, and rendering the movement of the enemy troops very slow and difficult. The delay caused by the snow and the general atmospheric conditions permits the Italians to complete their defensive works, and add to their reserves of guns and ammunition.2 Shortly before the middle of May (10th) the Italians began the spring campaign, after a long period of winter inactivity, by capturing the dominating position of Monte Corno, a sum- mit reported as 6,000 feet high, and still snow-covered. The topography and the snow presented great difficulties to the Italian troops, but the enemy was taken by surprise and a con- siderable number of Austrians were made prisoners. The ad- vance of spring, accompanied by the melting of the snows and more favorable weather, led to the expectation, on the part of the Italians, of a speedy inauguration of the expected Austrian offensive. A Rome despatch, dated May 20, was as follows: The only obstacle which prevents an enemy attack immediately is the weather, which this year continues to be rainy, foggy, and even cold in some of the higher regions, with continual hailstorms. But the weather is becoming undeniably milder. The snow is beginning to melt, while avalanches often bury the emplacements and the huts which have been excavated. During the last days of May, the Italians won a brilliant vic- tory in the Tonale region, some 12,000 feet above sea level, northwest of Trent. The ground was still covered with snow, and the fighting was among glaciers. In Palestine the British continued their advance. The weather was still on the whole favorable for military operations, the heat and drought of the summer not yet having really set in. An interesting illustration of the part played by local meteorological phenomena occurred on March 16, 78 miles northwest of Medina, when, under cover of a sandstorm, a com- pany of the Turkish Camel Corps was surprised and destroyed. 2 Rome despatch to Italian Embassy in Washington, May 4. WEATHER CONTROLS 31 Both duststorm and Camel Corps bear witness to the climate of the region in which this incident took place. In Mesopotamia there has been considerable activity. After months of preparation, the British have lately been advancing northward along both the Tigris and the Euphrates Rivers, the objective being Mosul, an important Turkish base. The hottest and driest season of the year is rapidly approaching, both in Palestine and in Mesopotamia, and major operations are not likely to be carried on in either country unless there is absolute necessity for the continuance of an active campaign. A report dated May 7 mentioned a heavy rain near Kerkuk (Mesopo- tamia). Such rainfalls are improbable again until the next winter rainy season sets in, after the almost intolerable heat of the summer and autumn is over. Major-Gen. Sir Frederick Maurice, in his war summary of May 24, said that Not the least of the advantages we have gained by our recent efforts is that we occupied a portion of the Persian foothills, which give a healthier country for the summering of our troops than the plains of Bagdad afford. At sea, the weather factor has played a considerable part. In the daring raid on the German naval bases at Zeebrugge and Ostend (April 22), Admiral Keyes, according to the reports, waited for “‘ certain conditions of wind and weather ” before he gave orders for his fleet to cross the Channel. What the British wanted was a weather type which should combine an ordinary ocean fog with winds favorable for the use of a smoke curtain for purposes of concealment. The British vessels advanced under a dense smoke screen, aided later by a fog. Aerial work was necessarily interfered with. A clear and concise press re- port of the operations is as follows: The losses of the Zeebrugge raiders were due almost entirely to a shift of the wind, which prevented the complete success of the smoke screen. Fortunately, the wind held in the right direction long enough to enable the Vindictive and her consorts to approach the mole, but changed and dissipated the screen as the men landed. This enabled the Germans to find targets. At Ostend the shift of the wind came a little earlier and upset the plans of attack. Small craft with smoke apparatus ran in according to program and set up a screen. Then they lit two large flares to mark the entrance of the harbor for the concrete cruisers. Unfortunately, before these could get up, the screen was blown away and the German gunfire quickly destroyed the flares. This left our cruisers with nothing to guide them, and though they tried to proceed by guesswork under heavy fire, these gallant efforts were in vain. According to Sir Eric Geddes, the difficulties at Ostend 32 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY were “considerably increased by mist, rain and low visibility, and the consequent absence of aerial cooperation.” The Italian naval exploit at Pola, which resulted in the destruction of an Austrian dreadnaught, was favored by a very dark night, and an offshore wind, which prevented the sounds of preparation from being carried landward. The war in the air is being carried on with steadily increas- ing intensity. Aviators are flying in weather conditions—rain and snow storms; gales and mists—which were only very lately regarded as prohibitive. As aerial warfare continues on the western front, the disadvantage under which the Allied flyers labor because of the prevailing westerly winds are receiving more and more emphasis. As a well-known aviator has re- cently expressed it, “if an airman ever wishes for a favorable wind it is when he is breaking for home. . . . These westerly gales were one of the worst things we had to contend with at the Front. They made it very easy for us to dash into enemy territory, but it was a very different story when we started for home and had to combat the tempest.” In connection with gen- eral air raids, several points are worth noting. On March 11 nine squadrons of German airplanes attacked Paris during a fog, which ‘‘ was thick enough to cause the general belief that there was little chance that the Germans would attempt an air raid.” It may very likely have been for this reason that these weather conditions were selected. A German raid on Hull and its vicinity on March 13 was also “ completely unexpected. The night was dark, and a slight drizzle was falling.” This raid, and others, have shown that the German aviators no longer de- pend on moonlight. Early in March, the Germans made their first night air-raid on London when there was no moon. The stars were out, however, and there was little wind. On May 19 another raid was made on a very clear night, when the moon was shining. On April 12 a German air raid on Paris was made on a “still, dark night, of the sort most favorable for an aerial attack, and a raid was generally expected.” And on May 21, during another raid, the night was clear and calm, with a brilliant moon, “ideal for an aerial attack.” In connection with the work of the German army meteor- ological service, it has, since the beginning of the war, been a matter of some interest to know how the enemy obtains the ob- servations, especially from the western coast of Ireland, which are very necessary in constructing weather maps and in mak- ing forecasts. Captured documents show that their meteorolog- ical reports are fairly complete, despite the fact that no pub- WEATHER CONTROLS 33 lication of weather data or forecasts is permitted in English newspapers. An English meteorological expert declares that the answer to the question is not through any system of spies and land wireless, but that the data are obtained from observa- tions taken by submarines. He thinks that a submarine work- ing off the western Irish coast is detailed to send weather re- ports to Germany by relays through the wireless apparatus working around the British Isles. In the African war zone, where so many political changes have taken place but from which so little direct information has come, the spring months have witnessed an advance of the al- lied troops on the remnants of the German forces which es- caped from German East Africa to Portuguese East Africa. An official despatch dated London, April 11, says: In Portuguese Nyassaland, despite the difficulties caused by heavy rains and flooded rivers, our columns from the coast and from Lake Nyassa are approaching Medo and Msalu, respectively, and their advanced troops are in contact with those of the main enemy forces concentrated in these localities. A later report (April 27) from the British War Office stated: Since April 17 the convergent advance of General Northey and Gen- eral Edwards’s troops has proceeded under better weather conditions. The main enemy force is in the vicinity of Namungo. British and Portu- guese troops are moving in the direction of Msalu River, while further south other British and Portuguese columns have been disposed north and south of the River Lurio. VOL. VII.—3. 34 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY PLANT AND ANIMAL LIFE IN THE PURIFICA-— TION OF A POLLUTED STREAM By C. ELSMERE TURNER, M.A., C.P.H. INSTRUCTOR IN THE DEPARTMENT OF BIOLOGY AND PUBLIC HEALTH, MASSA- CHUSETTS INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY IVERS and other streams have always been resorted to by R man for the disposal of his wastes. And yet unless greatly overtaxed they remain fairly clean. The problem here raised reminds one of that wonder of the ancients that all the rivers run into the sea and yet the sea is not full. What be- comes of all the dirt and the street-wash and the sewage that find their way into our streams? The “ self-purification ”’ of streams is an old and captivating phrase graphically describing a process which is patent even to a superficial observer. On the Merrimac, for example, Con- cord, Manchester and Nashua, important cities of New Hamp- shire, poured all their sewage into the noble river flowing past their doors, while Lowell, Mass., only sixteen miles below Nashua, did not hesitate to drink the water now again clear and bright, which reached the intake pipe of its city water works. More wonderful still, Lawrence, only nine miles below Lowell, drank directly from the same stream after the sewage of the 80,000 inhabitants of that city had been added to it. Al- ternating pollution and purification is the common character- istic of streams. The mechanism of pollution is obvious, but how about the process of purification? It was to throw further light if possible upon the self-cleansing of polluted streams, that the Sanitary Research Laboratory of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology carried on for two years an investiga- tion of a small stream polluted by a relatively large quantity of partially purified sewage effluent which reaches it from slow sand filters. Whence comes the water of a normal brook or river? The answer is, partly from the atmosphere as rain or snow, partly from the earth’s surface through tributary rills or brooklets, but largely from the ground upon which it has fallen, through which it is filtered, and from which it arrives comparatively pure from all but the smallest suspended matters. This ground water, however, does contain dissolved gases and salts together oo oO PURIFICATION OF A POLLUTED STREAM es en ce 5000 Horizontal Scale in Feet Parts per Million 10 20 30 40 50 GO 10 GO 90 100 IIO OF #etz Ee 5 #6 Sarmpling Stations Yearly Averages of CoLor,CO,,0, ConSumMED AND Disso_veDp O, at Stations *1 to*6 Inclusive 2 I. © Paes coos mee 8 ee ee 2 o| —4—— =, | ==. = | Sé& ° fo) %. ah ae a6 orizomtal Scale in Feet . = 50, 4 =200, 1= 6, t= 50, the sum of which gives 666. Additional evidence in support of this interpretation is given by the fact that some ancient versions gave the number as 616 instead of 666. Writing the title in the Latin form, Emperor Nero, that is, leaving off the last letter and giving the remaining letters their Hebrew equivalents as above, the sum is 616. The only direct evidence tending to establish the date of St. John’s vision is a statement by Irenzeus to the effect that it occurred at the end of the reign of Domitian, which would place the date at 95 or 96 A.D. Irenzeus was a disciple of Poly- carp, the Christian martyr, who was himself a disciple of St. John, and his statement therefore has a certain weight. How- ever, Irenzeus seemed to be ignorant of what was meant by the number of the beast, and from internal evidence in St. John’s writings scholars have come to the conclusion that he was mis- taken in regard to the date he assigned to their authorship. The uncertainty as to the date to be assigned to Revelation is due to the fact that it is written in very rugged Greek, whereas in the Gospel of St. John the diction is far more polished. It is known that St. John died about A.D. 98 at the age of nearly 100, and if, as Ireneus said, Revelation was 78 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY written in A.D. 95 or 96, near the close of his life, there would be no possible explanation of the difference in style except by assuming that the two writings were of different authorship. To explain this discrepancy it has been suggested that Revela- tion was written not during the reign of Domitian as emperor but when he was City Przetor or Judge, about the year 67 A.D. Naturally a judge might well be responsible for the exile of St. John to Patmos, and Irenzeus, knowing that Domitian was responsible, made the mistake of placing the act in his reign as emperor instead of during his term as pretor. As the last 30 years of St. John’s life were spent at Ephesus in close associa- tion with Greeks, the earlier date assigned to Revelation would account perfectly for the more fluent style of his later writings. To determine how far this explanation fits in with the supposition that Antichrist referred to Nero, turn to Revela- tion 17: 10-11, where we read: And there are seven kings: five are fallen and one is and one is not yet come; and when he cometh he must continue a short space. And the beast that was and is not even he is the eighth, and is of the seven and goeth into perdition. Now compare this statement with the chronology of the Cesars during St. John’s lifetime, which is as follows: Augustus Cesar..... 31 B.c.-14 A.D. Birth of St. John at beginning of Christian Era. EDErINS he i. OS Armas 14-37 pa. eo alist. woe 37-41 CUBMIGINE 5c «yee 41-54 PUTO iy crcl seis tae eta ee cbe 54-68 First persecution of Christians. Galba Otho 5) ah Me atin tees 68-69 Military aspirants to the throne. Vitellius Mespasianc. . aachientr 69-79 MICS ORS e cisisiay pate 79-81 PU OMIGEIATE Sos ic eM coetete 81-96 Second persecution of Christians. 98-100 Death of St. John. With the exception of the three military chiefs, Galba, Otho and Vitellius, who were never actually seated on the throne, we have here a list of eight kings, fifth of whom is Nero, in whose reign occurred the first persecution of the Christians, and eighth of whom is Domitian, in whose reign occurred the second persecution. In Revelation the reference to Antichrist has always been interpretated as his personification in a man, and if, from the standpoint of the disciples, Antichrist was personified in Nero, he was no less so in Domitian, who was hardly less severe in his persecution. In fact St. John says of the beast (Rev. 13:7) that “it was given unto him to make THE ROMANTIC ASPECT OF NUMBERS 79 war with the saints and to overcome them”; and in 17:8 refers to Antichrist as “the beast that was and is not and yet is.” The meaning of all this becomes intelligible if the eight kings referred to means the eight Czesars who ruled during St. John’s lifetime. “Five are fallen and one is” puts the date of Revelation in the reign of Vespasian, A.D. 69-79, which agrees perfectly with the theory that the exile of St. John oc- curred in the pretorship of Domitian, about A.D. 69 or 70. “One is not yet come and when he cometh he must continue a short space”? would then refer to Titus, who ruled for the short space of two years. ‘‘ And the beast that was and is not, even he is the eighth, and is of the seven and goeth into perdi- tion”? becomes Domitian, the persecutor of the disciples. With this key, nothing could be clearer than the meaning of the seventeenth chapter of Revelation. For the same reason that induced St. John to conceal the name of Nero, the name of Rome is also concealed by calling it Babylon, which ever since the Captivity had been the Hebrew synonym for civic wickedness. To make his meaning unmistakable, St. John personified Rome under the guise of a woman sitting on seven mountains, the classic seven hills of Rome, and “drunken with the blood of the saints and the blood of the martyrs of Jesus.” And then referring to the great fire which occurred during the reign of Nero, or prophesying of the second great fire which occurred in the reign of Titus, he says in 18: 17-19 that “‘as many as trade by sea stood afar off and cried when they saw the smoke of her burning saying ‘what city is like unto this great city . .. for in one hour is she made desolate.’ ” If this evidence may be said to establish the date of Revela- tion, many of the references become clear, and give a basis for further interpretation which has so far been lacking. The popular interest in the book now manifest may therefore be an indication that this remarkable vision will no longer be wholly unintelligible, nor its study fruitless. The various instances cited above serve to indicate the important role played by number symbolism in the intellectual development of mankind. Wherever mind has reacted to the stimulus of natural phenomena the number concept has re- sulted as the inevitable expression of the laws governing the material universe. The properties of number, first accepted as a fact, in process of time came to be regarded as symbolic, and only in modern times has the mind been able to grasp their true significance as one aspect of the great principle of func- tionality. 80 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY REMINISCENCES OF ALASKAN VOLCANOS* By WILLIAM HEALEY DALL SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION HE first author to take up the subject of Alaskan volcanos cE systematically was Constantine Grewingk in 1850.2, He gathered from all previous accessible sources such data as ex- isted on record, and his work is the classical source of such in- formation. Later Tikhmenieff in his “‘ History of the Russian- American Company’ added such supplementary reports as had been obtained by the navigators of the company’s fleet on the Alaskan coast. The more important of these observations were incorporated in the chapters on Geology and History of my “ Alaska and its Resources’’* in 1870. Now that the na- tional Geographic Society has taken up the subject of Alaskan Volcanos it seems well to put on record the scattered observa- tions which I had been able to make during my field work for the U. S. Coast Survey, 1871 to 1880, and for the U. S. Geolog- ical Survey, 1885 to 1899. The southernmost volcano of the Alaskan coast was named by Vancouver Mt. Calder and was regarded by him as a con- spicuous peak about five thousand feet high. Later observers have found difficulty in identifying it among the other peaks of the northern part of Prince of Wales Island, and if really a volcano, it appears to be extinct and has perhaps lost in height since Vancouver’s time. The best known of Alaskan volcanos is Mount Edgecumbe on the northwest side of Sitka Sound rising from Kruzoff Island, and a most conspicuous object for navigators. It was named by Cook in 1778, after the well-known elevation on the south coast of England. It is a low flat-topped mountain with gentle slopes, the summit occupied by a crater some two thou- sand feet in diameter, the edge of which rises to a height of 2,855 feet according to observations by Davidson in 1867. From the summit deep gorges radiate which give rise to an equal number of torrents, and which remain filled with snow after the latter has melted from the intervening prominences of reddish volcanic material. The result is a very striking radi- ately striped cone of white and red, which once seen is never 1Published by permission of the Director of the U. 8S. Geological Survey. 2 Beitr. zur Kenntniss der Nordwest-Kiiste Amerikas, mit den anlie- genden Inseln.” St. Petersburg, Karl Kray, 1850, 1 vol. 8°. St. Petersburg, E. Weimar, 1861-3; 2 vols. 8°, in Russian. 4 Boston, Lee and Shepard, 1870, 1 vol. 8°. REMINISCENCES OF ALASKAN VOLCANOS 81 forgotten. It is said to have emitted smoke in 1796, but this is the only record of activity in historic times. It is associated with Indian legend as the home of the mythical “‘ Thunderbird” from whence that monster issued to prey on whales. It has been many times ascended by Russian parties, as well as by Davidson in 1867, and a party from the Western Union Tele- graph Expedition in 1865. Various high mountain peaks of the St. Elias Range have been at times regarded as volcanic and the trail of mist which frequently projects from the lee side of such peaks has been taken for steam, but later observations have shown these views to be erroneous. The high mountains, including the St. Elias and Alaska ranges, which are arched about the Gulf of Alaska, have as a keystone the only volcano in the territory which is situated at any great distance from the sea; namely Mt. Wrangell’ which still maintains an intermittent activity. The long line described by the Alaska peninsula and the Aleutian Islands, marking a line of weakness in the earth’s erust through which plutonic forces have operated since Juras- sic times, affords a splendid field of volcanic activity. Two classes of volcanos are in evidence in it: one comprising the typical volcanic cones rising to a considerable height, with evenly sloping sides and snowcapped summits; the other low and wide craters. The former are largely composed of vol- canic ash and cinders, the latter of basaltic lavas. Beside these there are massive eruptions consisting of volcanic rock, syenitic, andesitic or porphyritic, of which a large part of the islands is composed. In the entrance to Sanborn harbor in the Shumagin Islands, the syenitic rock is seen penetrating from below the crevices in an arch of the Mesozoic schists, and in 1871 I found in the central ridge of the island of Unalashka a core of the same material. This observation has since been confirmed by the researches of Professor Jaggar, and pebbles of the same rock were collected in 1895 by Dr. George F. Becker, of the U. S. Geological Survey, at Iliuliuk Harbor. The greater part of the rocks of Unalashka Island are eruptive clay porphyries. Two of the most striking peaks in the territory are found on the western side of Cook Inlet, named by the Russians lliamna and Redoubt mountains, the latter from the fortified post on the Kenai peninsula opposite. In 1895, with Dr. 5 Baron von Wrangell, formerly governor of Russian America, well known for his scientific publications and explorations, spelled the last syl- lable of his name with a double “1,’”’ which accordingly should be retained in the cases of the geographical features named for him. VOL. vil.—6. ‘eggt ‘Atne “JUBISTP soryUr AJUEMZ “ASS OF WHOA ‘WASVIY ‘LWINI $,1009 ‘ONVOIOA “VHAEYNUGHD UO “ANIESASAY WS REMINISCENCES OF ALASKAN VOLCANOS 83 Becker, we entered Tuxedni harbor near the foot of Iliamna. Here the shores rise abruptly, some thousands of feet of Meso- zoic limestones wonderfully carved by the weather into turrets, castellated crags, and grand cathedral arches, which in the clear gray twilight of an Alaskan summer night presented a sublime spectacle. The depth of water is very great and we anchored with difficulty close to the shore. At the head of the harbor is a wide point, really an old Mesozoic beach uncovered by the elements, on which lay scattered ammonites, Inoceramus and other fossils of that ancient time. Nothing could be seen of the peak from this point, but beyond it was a small rocky bay from which we learned hunters had a trail up to the flanks of the volcano where they went for bears. Only from the opposite side of the inlet can a good view be had of the beautiful snowwhite cone, 12,066 feet high, as meas- ured by the Russians. It has never been ascended, and on numerous occasions has been recorded as active. On the occa- sion of my last visit in 1899, the spruce forest on the opposite shore of the Kenai peninsula, for many square miles, had been killed by the masses of ashes which had proceeded from an eruption which had occurred since my previous visit. The Redoubt volcano, 11,270 feet high and a very similar cone, is situated about thirty miles to the north and east of Iliamna and has a similar history. No ascent of it is known to me. In the southwest corner of the inlet off Kamishak Bay rises the brown cone of St. Augustine or Chernabura, the latter name meaning “black fox,” a Russian nickname for the black- cowled Austin friars. This has been active within recent years. Formerly there was a boat harbor where the Aleut otter-hunters left their kayaks while they watched for their prey from the cliffs, but some years previous to our visit of 1895, when the mountain was ascended by Dr. Becker, an ex- plosion which broke away part of the wall of the crater filled the harbor with fragments of lava and masses of ashes. Further to the southwest the peninsula is studded with peaks some of which are volcanic; Alai and Chiginagak are the most prominent, but little is recorded of them. While surveying in Port Moller in 1874 for the Coast Sur- vey, the western edge of Mt. Veniaminoff was visible from the sea with intermittent clouds of steam and blackish smoke puff- ing from the invisible crater at intervals. This locality I found one of the most fascinating for a geologist. The vol- cano in the distance, the abrupt slope toward the Pacific, the long slope toward Bering Sea, as in all the peninsular region; a A ’ - DOE C68 N N It © uw rd) i if BS eae) ydn 19 dAISSBU aNxviIs ALOTSOD( I REMINISCENCES OF ALASKAN VOLCANOS 85 great slabs of Mesozoic rock near the sea level sculptured by the presence of elegant fossil scallops and ammonites; the al- luvium of the beaches surmounted in places with extensive shell heaps of prehistoric people, from which I picked up several interesting archeological relics, but had no time to excavate; and on a small flat point interbedded with lignite and Tertiary shales, hot springs with a temperature of 140° Fahrenheit, in which were large leathery alge and to my amazement some water beetles skipping over the surface of water too hot to bear the hand in. Here too we shot caribou from our triangu- lation stations till our vessel’s rigging looked like a butcher’s shop with the hanging carcasses; bears were seen along the shore fishing for salmon; and on the sandbars near the en- trance of the bay a herd of red-eyed yellow walrus bellowed con- tinually. Further westward rises the cone of Katmai volcano, from which a few years ago came the storm of ashes which dev- astated the island of Kadiak, and of which interesting ac- counts have appeared in the National Geographic Magazine. It is, or was, when I saw it, a cone of the typical kind, appar- ~ ently about 5,000 feet in height, snowcapped and smoking. It had not been ascended at that time. The next in the line is the quiescent Pavloff volcano. Westward from it are several others apparently volcanic, and northwestward from the head of Voleano Bay, we observed, when becalmed off Vosnes- senski Island in 1880, a remarkable phenomenon. On the sky- line was apparently the edge of a crater from which projected upward a series of pinnacles like the teeth of a comb; as nearly as could be measured with a sextant about 200 feet high and about 40 feet in diameter at the base, shaped singly like a very tall champagne bottle, and over a dozen in number. These were probably formed by the ejection of small blobs of lava from small apertures along a crevice, cooling as they fell, until the pinnacle was built up. They are known to the natives by the name of the Aghileen pinnacles, and were mapped by me on the Coast Survey chart of 1882. Northwest from the western end of the Alaska peninsula is the small volcanic Amak Island, composed of a low cone with the crater nearly obliterated and its fires extinct. This was occupied along the shore by myriads of walrus when I visited it in 1868, and their curiosity led them to come surging around our boat, diving under it, and rising at oar’s length with dis- tended funnel-shaped nostrils, red eyes, and tremendous tusks; a situation we found disconcerting, though they offered no violence. ‘egst Ul panoqgdyys to spvmM qos B moi ! yeuyay ‘rodwAq AA olMopora Aq a WHL TAOAV ONIWOOT IMSLONVST ONY NIGTVHSINS ay VuuysTpP soyyur Apayq Jnoqe “ANv TST jo qjnos juyod ew mo MVWIN{) NO DO JO SUVA Lf REMINISCENCES OF ALASKAN VOLCANOS 87 The island of Unimak off the end of the peninsula is per- haps the most voleanic of the larger Aleutians. The voyager to the islands via Unimak Pass is apt to make as his first land- fall, the magnificent cone of Shishaldin rising above the banks of fog. Many times as I have seen it, I never fail to be im- pressed by its sublimity. If the weather be favorable, one may see by its side the lower black contorted mass of Isanotski, all that is left from a tremendous explosion of the early part of the last century. Its shattered bulk and frowning black crags form an extraordinary contrast with the tall pure white cone of Shishaldin. The latter rises nearly 9,000 feet, to the 5,525 ef Isanotski. The third volcano of prominence on the island is Pagromnaia, or the Thunderer, a broad dome of about the same height as Isanotski but with very gentle smooth sloping sides, and near the shore. Shishaldin steams gently from a point slightly below the apex. It is some twenty miles inland over rough lava beds. It has never been ascended. In the Bulletin of the Société de Geographie for December, 1873, p. 568, an account of a supposed ascent of this mountain is given by a traveller in these regions in 1871. He was accompanied only by some natives of Unalashka who I was careful to inter- view on their return to Iliuliuk, and they assured me that the mountain ascended was Pagromnaia and not Shishaldin, and that the party did not approach within many miles of the latter mountain. This shows how careful one should be in identify- ing one’s mountain. The next large volcano to the westward is the crater of Akutan on the island of the same name. It is low, probably not over 4,000 feet at any point, and is said to have a smaller cone and crater within the larger one. It is constantly active, and frequently at Unalashka I have heard loud reports some- times kept up for hours at regular intervals, which were said to be the work of Akutan. Once I timed them and found the intervals about eight minutes long. It sounded like distant discharges of heavy coast artillery. On the island of Unalashka is the voleano Makushin, which is inactive. It has been ascended by Davidson in 1867 and by many others. Even the crater has been the object of a mining claim for the deposits of sulphur existing there. This moun- tain is reached from Makushin Bay west of Iliuliuk, by a trail between the two villages, over the center of the island. An amusing story is connected with this trail. The company leas- ing the seal islands, to haul seal skins from the killing grounds of St. Paul island, brought up some mules by a vessel which touched at Unalashka after a long and rough passage. The 88 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY mules were put ashore to recuperate and one wandered up the trail. Two Aleuts (who had never seen any land animal bigger than a sheep) were coming over to Iliuliuk. At the ridge of the island they met the mule, who, possibly rejoiced at the sight of a human being, lifted up his voice mightily. The cliffs re- echoed it. The Aleuts believed it was his Satanic Majesty, fell on their knees and prayed audibly. It was perhaps the first instance of a mule promoting prayer! At the northwest head of Captains’ Bay is a small, extinct, but beautifully preserved, volcano about 3,000 feet high. While making my survey of the bay, I ascended it, in 1874. The crater was complete; the portion near the walls full of black contorted columns of lava, recalling the trees in Doré’s illus- trations of Dante’s Inferno. At the bottom was a little lake, and a small gray fox trotted among the spiky tongues of lava. This is named the Pistriakoff peak, from the puffins (Pistriaki) which nest in its walls. I will pass over with bare mention the most interesting oceanic volcanos or rather massive eruptions, Bogosloff (St. John the Theologian) and Grewingk. Their history has been fully elucidated by Dr. C. Hart Merriam in the report of the Harriman Alaska Expedition. These masses are thrust up out of deep water. Coming down from the Arctic in the Coast Survey schooner Yukon, in October, 1880, we met terrible weather in Bering Sea. For sixteen days we were buffeted by living gales, with brief windless intervals which the heavy sea rendered still worse. We crept up in the fog to the entrance of Captain’s Bay, but were swept by the currents to the west- ward and had to put to sea again, all hands worn out by the constant buffeting. In the middle of the night the watch, who had not been told of Bogosloff, was shocked to see the black mass rise out of the fog only a few cables’ length away, and the men became very nervous. We decided to run for shelter as soon as it was light, trying for Chernoffski Harbor. Our only chart was dated 1795, and among the numerous rocky bays we had to find Chernoffski entrance, the only safe harbor, or come to grief. With dawn the fog cleared, the gale still blow- ing from the northeast. We took departure from Bogosloff under a goosewinged foresail alone, and all hands were on deck. To the westward rose the bluff end of Umnak, with a long reef stretching toward us, over which the great combers rushed in a sweep of foam, striking the foot of the cliff with a noise like thunder, and mounting two hundred feet to its very verge. It was a sight to make any seaman’s blood run cold. While watch- ing it, the fog above parted for a few moments and we saw REMINISCENCES OF ALASKAN VOLCANOS 89 the snowy cone of the Vsevidoff volcano, on Umnak island, rest- ing on the clouds, the image of perfect peace. We made Chernoffski safely and later found that, on the old Russian map, the position of Bogosloff had been fixed from Chernoffski, so our course had been the correct one; but on the modern maps the position of the volcano was about 30 miles in error, so that we were in good fortune to have used the ancient survey to lay our course. The glimpse of Vsevidoff at such a dramatic moment was the only one had in many voyages. Usually the mountain hides its whiteness under an impenetrable mantle of fog. The Russians regarded it as less high than Makushin, but little is really known of it. I may add that only from a considerable distance at sea is the apex of Makushin differentiated from the non-volcanic peaks with which it is as- sociated. On the island of Umnak there are four volcanic vents beside Vsevidoff. Of these Tulikskoi on the north and the River vol- cano (Riecheshnoi) on the western end of the island are the most noted, but none rises to any considerable height, prac- tically nothing is known of them and no ascents of either are on record. Beyond Umnak lie the Islands of the Four Craters (Chetiri- sopochnoi). Little is known of them, except that in the hot, dry, solfataric cave of one of them was the mausoleum of which the romantic story is told in the Smithsonian Contribu- tions to Knowledge ;° while the mummies themselves form part of the collection of the U. S. National Museum. To the westward again volcanic vents are numerous but hardly known, until we come to the island of Atka, where, on its northern projection, is situated the nearly extinct vent of Korovin, about 5,000 feet in height. Around it are grouped several lesser cones, Sarycheff, Sergieff, Konia, and the vol- cano of the Springs (Klucheffskaia). With my assistant Mar- cus Baker I visited the latter in August, 1873. The springs are situated high up on the flank of the peak and the Russians formerly maintained a rude sanitarium here for rheumatic and skin diseases. The water I found to have a temperature of 164° F., and it contains sulphur, lime and alum in solution. The water issues as small geysers and deposits a clay-like ma- terial of varied and brilliant colors, red, brown, yellow, light blue, and various shades of gray. The natives utilize this ma- terial to color the walls of their houses, and it was said to be reasonably permanent. The amount of water is not great and the natives stated that it had perceptibly diminished within living memory. The springs are on a bench or plateau, about 6 No. 318, pp. 40, pl. 10, 1898, 4°. 90 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY five miles from Korovin Bay, and reached from the head of an inlet making up from the old harbor, and into which a rather large stream discharges. West of Atka a volcano called the White Peak is said to exist on Adakh Island, but we saw nothing of it. A series of sextant angles on the north peak of Tanaga Island, said to be voleanic, gave a height of 7,108 feet, and, to the southwest, the wholly volcanic island of Garéloi (Burnt Island) about 5,500 feet, but these measurements were dependent on positions which may be incorrect, and the peaks may be higher. Grew- ingk from Russian sources gave them a much greater height. Off these islands, in a thick fog on our return voyage we heard for hours a series of heavy reports, like the discharges of great guns, and the Russians have reported violent activity among them during the last century. The last active volcanos of the Aleutian chain of which we have knowledge are found on the Island of Seven Craters (Semisopochnoi) where more or less eruptive action was re- ported to be continuous in 1873. We caught only glimpses of the island when the prevalent fog lifted. Beyond this on the island of Little Kyska, at the entrance of the fine harbor sur- veyed by me in 1873, is a magnificent wail of tall slender ver- tical basaltic columns, like the pipes of an immense organ, which yields nothing in impressiveness to Staffa or Stromboli. Westward of the Seven Craters the islands are composed chiefly of clay porphyry or schistose rocks, as far as observed, and there is no record of volcanic action. Northward in Bering Sea the Pribiloff Islands are wholly volcanic. On St. Paul, Miocene sandstones are included in the rock torn from the sea bottom, and contain numerous fossils... When we reach Norton Sound, the islands of St. Michael and Stuart are composed of basaltic outflows, but no vent is visible in the low dome-like hills in the interior. A part of the mainland coast opposite these islands is of the same character. Pinnacle Island, on the southeast corner of St. Mathew Island in Bering Sea, is believed to be similar in origin to Bogosloff. It has a deep gash running longitudinally through its crest, and in this fissure we thought, in 1880, we saw at night a glow as of a fire; but this may have been illusive. In the Yukon region and northward, I know of no volcanic vents or lavas reported, but in the line of the Aleutian chain the field for the vulcanologist seems unparalleled. Even the great arc of the Japanese archipelago can offer less of interest in the form of volcanic activity. 7See “Fur Seals and Fur Seal Islands of the North Pacific Ocean,” Part III., 1899, Gov’t Printing Office, Washington, D. C., p. 539, et seq. THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 91 THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE PRESENTATION OF TH E| | half of the Royal Italian Govern- FRANKLIN MEDAL TO SI- GNOR MARCONI AND DR. MENDENHALL THE Franklin Institute made the annual presentation of its Franklin Medal, in the auditorium of the in- stitute on May 15. This medal, founded in 1914 and awarded to “those workers in physical science or technology, country, whose efforts, in the opin- ion of the institute, have done most to advance a knowledge of physical | science or its applications,” was awarded to Signor Guglielmo Mar- coni, ber of the Italian Senate, and to Dr. Thomas Corwin Mendenhall, physicist, of Ravenna, Ohio. The award to Senator Marconi was made in recognition of his “ bril- liant inception and successful devel- opment of the application of mag- neto-electric waves to the transmis- sion of signals and telegrams with- out the use of metallic conductors.” The award to Dr. Mendenhall was made in recognition of his “ fruit- | in| ful and indefatigable labors physical research, particularly his contributions to our knowledge of | physical constants and _ electrical standards.” without regard to. electrical engineer and mem- |} land; Count Macchi De Cellere, on be- ment, received the Franklin Medal for Senator Marconi, and addressed the institute when the medal was presented to him. Upon the pres- entation of the medal to Dr. Men- denhall, he addressed the Institute on the subject of “Some Metrolog- ical Memories.” Guglielmo Marconi was born in Bologna in 1874, and carried out his first experiments in connection with his system of wireless telegraphy at Bologna in 1890. These attracted the attention of Sir William Henry Preece, electrician-in-chief of the English Postal Telegraph, who tested the apparatus with success in Eng- soon afterward, in coopera- tion with the Italian Ministry of Marine, Signor Marconi succeeded in sending messages from Spezia to a steamer 15 kilometers distant. In /1899 he established wireless com- munication between France and England across the English Chan- nel. Signals were later transmitted by his system of wireless telegraphy across the Atlantic Ocean, from Poldhu, Cornwall, to St. John’s, Newfoundland. In December, 1902, he was able to announce the estab- lishment of wireless telegraphic com- WA c mp & LO WiGtEE NO MARC. THE FRANKLIN MEDAL, 92 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY GUGLIELMO MARCONI. On January 18, 1908, there was sent, by Signor Marconi, from the wireless station at South Wellfleet, Cape Cod, Mass., to distance of 3,000 miles, the message of the Phelan message. exclusively for McClure’s munication by his system between Canada and England, and in Jan- uary, 1903, he transmitted a mes- sage from the President of the United States to the King of Eng- land, inaugurating wireless connec- tion also between Cape Cod (Mass.) and Cornwall. Mendenhall was born in Ohio in 1841. fessor of physics at the Ohio State 873 to 1878, at University of Japan Thomas Corwin He was pro- from ’ University the Imperial the station at Wagazine Poldhu, Cornwall, England, a destined soon to be historic—from the President United States to the King of England. This photograph was taken by A. B. immediately after the sending of the from 1878 to 1881 and again at the Ohio State University from 1881 to 1884. Dr. Mendenhall was president of the Rose Polytechnic Institute from 1886 to 1889, superintendent of U. S. Coast and Geodetic Survey from 1889 to 1894 and president of Worcester Polytechnic Institute from 1894 to 1901. At the International Electrical Congress held in Chicago in 1893, Dr. Mendenhall was chosen one of a committee of five delegates, to formulate definitions for the fun- THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 93 THOMAS CORWIN MENDENHALL, damental units of electrical measure- | ment: the ohm, the ampere, and the volt. The members of this commit- tee were Ayrton, Mascart, Menden- hall, Rowland and von Helmholtz, and the definitions agreed upon are known as the “International elec- trical units.” F THE SOLAR ECLIPSE OF JUNE 8 FROM the earliest times of which there is record a total eclipse of the sun has excited wonder and been the occasion of omens and_ portents. Now that its cause is understood, it _is still a striking occurrence, not THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY 94 ‘WjaRe oy} UO MOpBYS B Ysvd puB SBI g,0ns aq} poxoorq ‘g ouns UO qJAve OY} PUB UNS oq} TeeMj}oq Supwmoo ‘uooM Iq} MOY SMOYS 1aU109 JJo] JAMO] 9} UI mBiseip ayy, “dea vq} uo goond [V1aANS JV UMOYS ST BOOM oY} AQ PataAOD SBA YUM} YSTP IVLOS ay} Jo eSujueoied ay, ‘S9IBIG Pe}! 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The eclipse of June 8 was notable in that the shadow passed across, the whole United States from Wash- | ington to Florida. Not for a hun- dred years will a total solar eclipse be visible over so large an area of the country. Though the shadow was rather narrow, the time of to- tality not long and the sun some- what too near the horizon, the op- portunity for observation in the Northwest was very good. The war, however, prevented the presence of any expeditions from abroad, and American observatories are much distracted from their regular work | by existing conditions. It is also the case that photography has per- mitted the solution of many of the) problems of special interest and that this can now be used in many directions apart from an eclipse. New problems, however, always arise and scientific men are now in- terested in the Einstein theory of relativity, according to which rays of light from the stars should be subject to deviation by gravitation when passing close to the sun, and this may be determined by photo- graphing the sky about the sun at the time of a total eclipse. Expeditions to the Northwest were sent from the Lick, Mount Wilson, Yerkes, Naval and other observa- tories and from the Smithsonian In- stitution and the Weather Bureau. The Chamberlin Observatory of the University of Denver is only eight miles from the middle of the shadow. The best account of the eclipse that prepared by Dr. W. W. Campbell, director of the Lick Observatory, who has now observed six total eclipses of the sun. The Crocker Expedition from the Lick Observatory was stationed at Goldendale, Wash., situated exactly on the central line of the eclipse path. Dr. Campbell states that a few of the twenty-six photographs secured with cameras of focal lengths from eleven inches up to forty feet have been developed, and the details of coronal structure are recorded with admirable sharpness, showing that the earth’s atmosphere was in a tranquil state. Four cam- eras of fifteen-feet focus, using plates of 14 x 17 inches, were used to record the brighter stars in the regions immediately surrounding the sun to detect, if possible, the displacements required by the Ein- stein hypothesis and to determine the existence of bodies such as the hypothetic planet Vulcan in the vi- cinity of the sun. Two spectro- graphs gave images of the stratum of green coronium gas enveloping the sun, and the general spectrum was recorded in good strength with | two spectrographs. _ The weather conditions at Gol- _dendale were most dramatic. The prospect for a clear sky was ap- parently hopeless during the whole day, but a very small area of blue sky free from clouds with the sun as its center appeared exactly at the center of the total phase when all other parts of the sky were clouded. This region cleared not more than a minute before the beginning of to- tality and the clouds again covered the sun within less than a minute of the passing of the shadow. THE CONSERVATION OF PLATINUM THE country is and for many years will be urgently in need of ' platinum in its industrial work and 96 must now have it for war purposes. It is believed that aside from the large amount of platinum metals in the form of manufactured jewelry, a large part of which is in private ownership, there is less than twenty- five per cent. of the normal stock of unmanufactured platinum in this country available for the needs of the war. In an effort to fill the im- mediate pressing needs of the gov- ernment in its war program, the War Industries Board has ordered that seventy-five per cent. of the stock of platinum in the hands of manufacturing jewelers be com- mandeered and also the complete stock held by refiners, importers and dealers, but this, it is said, will only fill a small gap and that temporarily. The American Chemical Society has issued an appeal to the people not under any circumstances either during the war or afterwards to use platinum jewelry, but to conserve this metal, now priced at five times the cost of gold, for the exclusive use of the chemical and other neces- sary industries. The first purpose will be to obtain a sufficient supply of platinum for the needs of the war, and then to retain the produc- tion of the future for the industries. It is claimed that even before the war, as a result of the craze for platinum in jewelry, the highly im- portant work of the chemists had been curtailed and research work, especially in the universities, handi- capped by inability to meet the con- stantly rising price for platinum. A movement among the women of the country to discourage platinum in jewelry has been initiated by the American Chemical Society. The Women’s National League for the Conservation of Platinum has been formed as a national organization, with Mrs. Ellwood B. Spear, Cam- bridge, Mass., as chairman. State councils have been formed in four- teen of the leading states of the, Union and even the efforts of col-, THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY lege women have been enlisted. Al- ready throughout the country thou- sands of women have signed the fol- lowing pledge: “I will neither pur- chase nor accept as gifts jewelry and other articles made in whole or in part of platinum so that all pos- sible supplies of this precious metal shall be available for employment where they can do the greatest good in the service of our country, and I further pledge my influence to per- suade others to take the same pa- triotic stand.” Dr. Charles L. Parsons, secretary of the American Chemical Society, states that platinum ought not to be used in jewelry either in war time or in time of peace. It is too greatly needed for the development of chemical science and industry. The Russian mines, from which 95 per cent. of the platinum comes, are reported to be nearly exhausted, and these are now virtually in German hands. The United States has. not enough for its probable war needs and, as the jewelers now use over 50 per cent. of the supply that comes into commerce, they must be held responsible for its scarcity. SCIENTIFIC ITEMS WE record with regret the deaths of Frederick Remsen Hutton, hon- /orary secretary of the United En- gineering Society and long dean of the faculty of engineering at Colum- bia University; Charles Christopher Trowbridge, assistant professor of physics in Columbia University, and of Joseph Deniker, the distinguished French anthropologist. In honor of Professor Emeritus John J. Stevenson, who held the chair of geology at New York Uni- versity from 1871 to the time of his retirement from active service in 1909, the building to be occupied by the Faculty Club has been named Stevenson Hall. It was presented to the university at the commence- ment exercises on June 3. THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY AUGUST, 1918 THE MECHANISM OF LIGHT EMISSION By Professor E. P. LEWIS UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA N THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY for February, 1917, Professor Guthrie gave an interesting account of the development of the electromagnetic theory of light. He explained how it had been demonstrated that light waves are very short electric waves similar in all respects except size to the electric waves used in wireless telegraphy. The latter are emitted from con- ductors of finite size in which electric charges oscillate, and may be several miles in length; the former are radiated from small negatively charged particles called electrons vibrating in mole- cules or atoms, and are measured in millionths of a millimeter. So far as the theory of light transmission is concerned, there is reason to believe that our knowledge has approached finality. There seems to be no acceptable alternative to the conclusion that light is due to wave motion in the hypothetical medium called the ether, concerning which we may never know more than we do now, but which it seems necessary to postulate as the seat of electrical and magnetic phenomena. We may, however, hope to learn much more than we now know concerning the processes in matter which cause the radia- tion and absorption of light. Under the term light, we must include the invisible radiations which lie on both sides of the narrow range of frequencies or wave-lengths which are included in the visible spectrum—the short ultra-violet and X-ray radia- tions on one side and the longer infra-red waves, often mis- takenly called heat waves, on the other. Electromagnetic theory and the effect of a magnetic field on radiating sources (the Zeeman effect) make it certain that the shorter light waves, at least, are set up by the periodic displacements of VOL. vu.—7. 98 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY electrons in the atom. The frequencies of vibration must be determined by the forces in the atom due to the number and arrangement of the positive and negative charges in it, hence the problem of radiation is intimately connected with that of atomic structure, and this in turn with all the properties of matter; and it is also dependent upon the relationship between matter and ether which makes possible the interchange of energy between the two. Hence the mechanism of radiation is a subject of great importance—in fact, probably the most im- portant and the most interesting of the problems which con- front the physicist to-day. Some general facts concerning radiation are familiar to all. We know that most luminous sources are very hot—red-hot at a moderate temperature, white-hot, that is to say emitting all colors, at very high temperatures. From this we may infer that heat is the cause of radiation in such cases, and that the colors emitted depend upon the temperature. Since heat is energy of molecular motion, we might jump to the conclusion that the agitation of the molecules sends out waves in the ether just as the jumping of a trout sends out waves in water. But unfortunately such a simple explanation seems insufficient, for a high temperature is not in all cases necessary to produce luminosity. The reader may recall some familiar illustrations of light emission by sources which are not hot. Many sub- stances phosphoresce brightly at ordinary temperatures or even at such low temperatures as that of liquid air. The glowworm emits light of colors which are not radiated by carbon or a metal until it reaches white heat. The aurora glows brightly in the atmosphere at elevations where intense cold prevails. On the other hand, air and many other gases and vapors do not emit visible radiation even when heated to the highest degree. It is evident that other causes than energetic molecular motion may cause radiation. Our next inference might be that light is due to the vibrations of atoms within molecules which may not themselves possess much translatory energy, but this hypothesis proves insufficient in the case of monatomic gases, such as helium and mercury vapor. There seemed to be no explanation possible so long as it was assumed (without any rational basis, as we now see) that the atom is indivisible and unchangeable. No progress was possible until the discovery of the electron and of the atomic disintegration characteristic of radioactive processes proved the complexity of atoms. In general luminous sources emit waves of many different LIGHT EMISSION 99 lengths and frequencies of vibration, each frequency correspond- ing to a different color. In order to analyze the light into its components, which is the first step toward obtaining a definite knowledge of what takes place in the source, the use of some form of spectroscope is necessary. What follows will be made clearer by the description of a simple form of spectroscope, to recall to the reader how the light is analyzed and what is meant by the “lines” of a spectrum. The light from the source is focused on a narrow slit, through which it passes in a divergent beam. A lens placed in this beam forms an image of the slit on a screen placed at the proper distance. If a prism is intro- duced into the path of the light, the beam will be refracted toward the base of the prism, and the deviation will be different for each color. If only one color (frequency) is present in the light, a single refracted image of the slit, of that color, may be thrown on a screen or a photographic plate. If two or more colors are present, there will be two or more images of the slit in different positions. These slit images are known as spectral lines. If the light is white, there will be an infinite number of slit images, corresponding to the infinite number of shades of color in white light, forming a continuous spectrum. If cer- tain colors are removed by placing color screens in the path of the light there will be gaps in the spectrum, called absorption lines, corresponding to the absent slit images. Incandescent solids all give continuous spectra, with radiations extending beyond the red, and also beyond the violet at very high tempera- tures. Luminous gases and vapors, however, do not usually emit all colors, but only a finite number, giving rise to a cor- responding number of bright lines. A series of observations by many investigators, and finally the work of Kirchhoff and Bun- sen, about 1859, resulted in the recognition of the capital fact that no two elements have the same spectrum, that is, lines cor- responding to each other in number and position. This makes the spectroscope an important instrument for the identification and discovery of elements in terrestrial and celestial sources, and serves also the important purpose of giving us significant data for the study of atomic structure and the relation between matter and ether which causes the emission and absorption of radiant energy. In 1814 Fraunhofer, an optician of Munich, observed that there are many dark lines in the spectrum of the sun. The explanation was found, but not fully grasped, by Foucault in 1849, who discovered that a pair of very close dark lines in the 100 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY solar spectrum corresponded exactly in position with two bright lines emitted by luminous sodium vapor, and that if sodium vapor is placed in the path of white light the vapor absorbs the same colors, giving rise to dark lines like those in the solar spectrum. Sodium vapor in the sun’s atmosphere causes these lines. Later investigation has shown that many thousands of lines in the solar spectrum correspond in position with the bright lines emitted by a number of metallic vapors, which proves that these metals exist in the sun. Further investiga- tion has confirmed the fact that the vapors of many elements will absorb some at least of the colors which they emit when luminous. Stokes, the English physicist, pointed out the acous- tical analogy. Sound waves from a tuning fork will cause a neighboring fork of the same frequency to vibrate, but will have no effect on a fork of a different frequency, and a large number of such resonating forks would form an effective screen to the sound waves by thus absorbing their energy. This suggested the possibility of a further acoustical analogy. A tuning fork emits sounds of but one frequency (analogous to the unknown case of a luminous substance emitting but one color of light), but most musical instruments, such as pianos and organ pipes, emit simultaneously a number of sounds of different pitch. The overtones emitted by a piano wire or an organ pipe always have frequencies which are simple multiples of that of the fundamental tone. If the same were true of light sources, the wave-lengths of the lines of a given element should be simple fractions of the length of the longest wave. This is not true in any case. Some elements, such as iron or uranium, have thousands of lines, chaotically arranged, so that the emission centers not only radiate a wider range of frequencies than is emitted by a piano when its entire keyboard is struck, but none of the simple numerical relationships between the fre- quencies are found, as is the case with the piano. It is incon- ceivable that any simple body, such as the hypothetical round, smooth, hard atom of kinetic theory, could emit such a complex system of radiations. There is no escape from the assumption that the atom is a very complex body, not the ultimate indi- visible unit of matter which it was once, without proper founda- tion, supposed to be. The first step toward a definite theory of atomic structure which would help to explain the facts consistently was the discovery by Zeeman in 1896 of the effect of a magnetic field on a radiating source. He found that if a flame colored with LIGHT EMISSION 101 sodium is placed between the poles of a strong electromagnet, when the latter is excited each spectral line, when viewed at right angles to the field, is split into three components, which are plane-polarized. When viewed in a direction parallel to the field, each line is split into two components, which are cir- cularly polarized in opposite directions, that is to say, the ether motion is like that of right- and left-handed vortices. H. A. Lorentz, of Leiden, pointed out that he had developed a theory which would explain this phenomenon, based on the assumption that light emission is due to vibrations or revolutions of small electrified particles in atoms. In the absence of a magnetic field the displacements would be in all directions (unpolarized) and all of the same period. In accordance with familiar electro-magnetic laws, the magnetic field will retard the motion of the particles moving in one direction, will accelerate the motion of those moving in the opposite direction, and will have no effect upon motions parallel to the field. Thus the three plane-polarized components are accounted for, and also the cir- cular polarization of the doublet, this being merely the ether vortex motion viewed end on. Quantitative measurements showed that these particles are negatively charged and have a mass about one eighteen-hundredth that of a hydrogen atom. This identified them with the cathode corpuscles, the nature of which had been discovered by J. J. Thomson shortly before. These small particles, to which the name electron has been given, are likewise discharged from negatively charged metals when illuminated by ultra-violet light, and from incandescent metals. They are apparently constituents of all substances, and play an important réle in many physical phenomena. The radiation from incandescent solids is undoubtedly due to the displacements of the electrons in the atoms, but these atoms are crowded so closely together and their agitation at high temperatures is so chaotic that it is difficult to picture exactly what is going on or to account for the wide range of vibration frequencies—practically an infinite number—repre- sented in the radiation. Spectroscopic observations show that the spectra of all incandescent solids are identical in the sense that they are continuous and that the relative intensities at different wave-lengths are the same for all sources at the same temperature. As the temperature rises the intensity increases for each wave-length, but more rapidly for the shorter waves, the limit of which creeps toward the violet as the temperature rises. All solids above absolute zero emit radiations giving a 102 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY continuous spectrum. The spectrum of a cold body, such as ice, lies entirely in the infra-red. The shortest waves emitted by a piece of red-hot carbon are red, the other colors appear- ing in succession as the carbon becomes white-hot. It is evi- dent from these facts that a large proportion of the radiation from any solid source lies in the infra-red and is useless so far as illumination is concerned, and that the useful fraction in- creases with the temperature. From the nature of the case, it is impossible to avoid this waste in the use of any solid source. One of the great practical problems awaiting a satisfactory solution is the discovery of vapors or gases which may easily be made luminous by the electric current and which will emit radiations lying mostly in the visible spectrum. The mercury lamp is the most successful of this type so far discovered, but the disagreeable color of its light prevents its extended use. Various more or less empirical laws concerning the distribution of intensity in continuous spectra have been found, and some success has been obtained in correlating these laws with gen- eral theoretical principles. Planck has in recent years deduced the most successful formula for the distribution of energy in the spectrum of a black body, based partly on the laws of proba- bilities and of thermodynamics and electromagnetism, partly on the bold assumption that energy can not be radiated in a con- tinuous stream, but only in definite units, the magnitudes of which are proportional to the frequencies of vibration, the pro- portionality factor being known as Planck’s “ wirkungsquantum h.” He assumes that the radiation is due to atomic oscillators, the electrons, but he has not explained how these electrons can have such a wide range of frequencies or given any definite physical reason why the “ energy quantum” law should hold. In the present state of our knowledge it is hardly worth our while to discuss the radiation of solids or the quantum theory further, but in considering the simpler case of the radiation of gases and vapors we shall find that experimental facts suggest some definite conclusions which may serve as the basis of plau- sible theories. The first of these, which goes back to the early days of spectroscopy, relates to the nature of the emission centers of the two types of discontinuous spectra, bands and lines. In the latter the lines are generally at some distance apart and arranged irregularly, although in some of the simpler spectra groups of lines (“series’’) have been found which are arranged with some regularity and are connected by more or less simple mathematical relations. Bands are composed of LIGHT EMISSION 103 groups of lines, those in each group very close together and at intervals which increase regularly in going from the well- defined limit called the ‘‘ head” of the band, where the lines are most intense, and closest together. It was found by Mitscher- lich about 1862 that many compounds, such as calcium oxide, when made luminous by a flame or a feeble electric discharge give characteristic band spectra, hence such spectra must be due to the undissociated molecule of the compound. Very in- tense electric discharges will in every case cause these bands to disappear and the lines of one or both the constituents of the compound to appear. It has since been found that many elements also, such as nitrogen, iodine and carbon, give band spectra when excited by a feeble electric discharge, but line spectra with the more intense discharges which may be assumed to dissociate the molecules into their constituent atoms. From such evidence we may feel fairly certain that luminous vapors in the molecular state, whether elements or compounds, give band spectra, while emission centers in the atomic state give line spectra. Some vapors, however, which certainly have monatomic molecules, such as mercury, give band as well as line spectra, so that we are compelled to look for a further ground of differentiation. 'The most obvious is to assume that the dif- ference is due to the electrical state of the particle. For example, it may be that band spectra are characteristic of un- charged molecules, whether monatomic or polyatomic, while line spectra may be due to charged atoms, or ions, the charges arising from the loss or gain of electrons. There is direct ex- perimental evidence which favors this view, although this evi- dence is sometimes ambiguous. Lockyer was the first to call attention to the fact which is now evident to all observers that spectra are not the unchange- able things they were at first supposed to be. For example, a metal vaporized in a hot flame may have a simple spectrum con- taining relatively few lines in the hottest part of the flame, while in the green cone, which is not at such a high tempera- ture, but where great chemical activity and a greater degree of ionization exists, a larger number of lines may be observed. The arc spectrum of a substance contains still other lines, while the spectrum of the spark discharge between terminals of the same metal usually contains many lines which do not appear in the arc spectrum, and some arc lines may be suppressed. In general, with changes in vapor density, pressure, temperature, or the mode of excitation, lines belonging to one group may 104 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY weaken or disappear, others may be strengthened, and new lines may appear. It is evident that significant changes take place in the emission centers, and that, since radiation is an electromagnetic process, these effects must be due to changes in the electrical condition of these centers. Lockyer advanced the revolutionary hypothesis that the energetic excitation due to very high temperature or intense electrical discharges might cause dissociation of the atoms into basic elements, but until the discovery of the electron such a hypothesis could not be recon- ciled with accepted views. Some general inferences regarding the electrical state of the emission centers may be derived from familiar facts. When a feeble electric discharge is passed through some compound vapors, such as those of the halogen compounds of mercury, a band spectrum is obtained which is characteristic of the compound, so that the emission centers are certainly the mole- cules. At the same time the conductivity of the vapor for the electric current shows that there has been some kind of ioniza- tion, or separation into charged components, and apparently the only way that this can happen is by the splitting off of electrons from the otherwise unchanged molecules. The emis- sion must accompany either the separation or the recombination of the electrons. Luminous vapors giving band spectra ap- pear, from their conduct in an electric field, to be uncharged, hence we may infer that usually band spectra are emitted dur- ing the process of neutralization accompanying the return of an electron. Again, the conduct in an electric field of vapors giving line spectra indicates that they are always positively charged. Phenomena previously referred to indicate, however, that groups of lines which behave differently with changed physical conditions must be due to different types of emission centers. If the emission centers are positively charged atoms, the only possible differences would appear to be in the magni- tude of the residual positive charge, due to the loss of one, two, or more electrons. Some light has recently been thrown on this subject by researches on “ positive” or ‘‘ canal” rays, espe- cially by those of Stark and of J. J. Thomson. The spectrum of a gas is usually obtained by passing an electric discharge through it when it is sealed at low pressure in a “vacuum” tube. If a hole is drilled through the negative electrode (the cathode) it is found that at very low pressures a luminous beam is projected through this opening on the side opposite the positive electrode. This beam is deflected by electric and mag- LIGHT EMISSION 105 netic forces, and from the magnitude and direction of this de- flection it may be determined from elementary electrical laws that the luminous particles are positively charged and that they are of the magnitude of the molecules or the atoms of the en- closed gas. It appears that the positive ions in the conducting gas are accelerated by the strong electric field near the cathode, are projected with great velocity through the hole, and by col- lisions with the molecules of gas on the other side are excited to luminosity and excite luminosity in the stationary gas. From Thomson’s researches it appears that, with few exceptions, no molecules carry a negative charge, or more than one elementary positive charge. Very few atoms acquire a negative charge, but they may acquire several positive charges. Stark arrived at similar conclusions by a spectroscopic method, which gave definite information regarding the number of positive elemen- tary charges carried by emission centers giving different groups of spectral lines. In some cases more than one interpretation is possible, but in general these results are in harmony with the view that band spectra are emitted by neutral molecules or atoms—line spectra by positively charged atoms; that the emis- sion centers of arc and flame lines are singly charged atoms; that the enhanced or spark lines are due to emission centers having two or more elementary charges. Thus we find sub- stantiation for Lockyer’s early views. There can be but little doubt that differences in line spectra are due to differences in the degree of electrical dissociation. This raises the question of the number of electrons in a given atom and the number which it can lose. The greatest number of lost electrons shown by Thomson’s experiments was eight, in the case of mercury, and usually it does not exceed three. Radioactive phenomena, however, give us reason to believe that the atoms of the heavier elements at least contain many electrons and also many separable and positively charged units. Uranium, for example, by the successive explosive losses of these positive particles (alpha rays) and electrons (beta rays) passes through the stages of ionium, radium, and the successive transformation products, and probably in the end becomes lead. Thus great complexity is certainly true of the radio-elements, and it is probably true of the elements of smaller atomic weight, which are either not radioactive or else dis- integrate so gently and slowly that we have not discovered the fact. It seems reasonable to assume that the atoms of all ele- ments, except possibly hydrogen and helium, which may be the 106 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY elementary units, are complex structures built of a number of positively and negatively charged particles, the number diminishing until we get to helium, which probably has a single alpha particle nucleus, and hydrogen, which probably has a single nucleus. The problem of atomic structure is concerned with the number and relative arrangement of these particles in the atom, and the problem of radiation with the causes and nature of the disturbances of the system which cause the emis- sion of light waves. If the electrons which emit radiation revolve in orbits about the atoms, as indicated by the Zeeman effect, the nuclei of the atoms must be positively charged in order to hold the electrons in their orbits; and if the emission centers are as a whole posi- tively charged, one electron or more must have been completely detached from the system, while the radiation is due to those left behind. In order that these orbits may be stable, we must, in the light of our present knowledge, assume one of two hypotheses—the electrons must either be held in equilibrium at a definite distance from the center by some sort of elastic force which it is difficult to account for, or the velocities of the elec- trons and the radii of their orbits must be so adjusted that there exists an exact balance between the centripetal and cen- trifugal tendencies, such as that which prevails in the solar system. But if the electrons radiate they must lose energy, and if they lose energy they might be expected to fall into the nuclei as the moon would fall into the earth if it continuously lost kinetic energy. Either hypothesis involves difficulties. J. J. Thomson elaborated the idea that the atom is a sphere of uniformly distributed positive electricity, in which electrons are imbedded in such fashion as to be subject to quasi-elastic (but really electric) forces which cause them to vibrate when displaced. Opposed to this there is the Rutherford atom. The weight of experimental evidence, chiefly radioactive, seems to favor the latter. The alpha particles of radioactive substance, which after their positive charges are neutralized become atoms of helium, have an atomic weight four times that of hydrogen. They are projected from their parent atoms with tremendous velocities, and in their progress through air at ordinary pres- sures ionize from sixty to one hundred thousand molecules, pro- ducing twice as many ions, and yet they travel in almost perfectly straight lines, and only at the end of their path, where their velocity has been greatly reduced, do they show any marked evidence of deflection or reflection by impact with mole- LIGHT EMISSION 107 cules. The molecules of nitrogen and oxygen are about eight times as heavy as the alpha particles, and it is evident that if the latter struck these molecules squarely, as they must do to produce ionization of the Thomson molecule, they would be scattered in all directions. Such would not be the case with the Rutherford atom or molecule. In general the alpha par- ticles go unimpeded through the open structure, usually missing the very small positive nucleus, but occasionally producing ionization by detaching electrons near which they pass. On rare occasions an alpha particle will go so close to the nucleus as to be subjected to a strong deflecting force, as in the case of a comet passing through the solar system and getting near the sun, only in the latter case the force would be attractive, while the positive nucleus will repel the positive alpha particle. These effects are shown clearly in photographs taken by C. T. R. Wilson of the path of alpha particles in air, the tracks being made visible by the trail of fog particles due to condensation of water vapor on the ions. Rutherford obtained further proof in favor of his hypothesis by measuring the angles of scattering of alpha particles passing through thin films of metals. In this case the scattering is greater than in air, because of the greater number of atoms encountered in a given distance and their greater mass. The relative number scattered at different angles can be exactly calculated on the assumption of a definite number of elementary positive charges concentrated in the nuclei of the atoms. The results show very conclusively that the number of these elementary charges, or more properly the excess of positive over negative charges, does not exceed half the atomic weight, the number growing relatively less with in- creased atomic weight—for example, as indicated in these and other experiments, the excess of positive charges in the nucleus of calcium, of atomic weight 40, is 20; in that of gold, of atomic weight 197, the number is 79. Space does not permit giving in detail the mass of evidence supporting this remarkable con- clusion, but it seems convincing, and has already formed the basis of a new chemistry, in which the atomic number (the ex- cess of positive charges in the nucleus) takes the place of atomic weight as the significant factor determining the chemical properties of the substance. If we accept the Rutherford atom, it seems necessary to eliminate quasi-elastic forces and to assume that equilibrium of the electrons which must associate themselves with the nuclei to form neutral atoms is maintained solely by rotation in cir- 108 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY cular or elliptic orbits. The existence of a large number of electrons moving in such orbits increases the difficulty of ac- counting for equilibrium, particularly when we consider losses of energy by radiation, which should result in constant read- justments. Further, if uniform rotation is accompanied by radiation (as we might expect from electromagnetic theory) the atom should constantly radiate. Atoms do not normally radiate, however, but only when subjected to a violent dis- turbance which temporarily upsets equilibrium. We can readily account for three definite frequencies accompanying such perturbations of a single electron. Superimposed on the circular motion there might be vibrations radial, tangential, and normal] to the orbit, and if uranium, for example, of atomic number 92, has 92 such electrons circulating about it we could account for 276 spectral lines in this way. As a matter of fact, uranium has many thousand lines in its spectrum, and it seems beyond the powers of the human mind, with our present knowledge, to imagine the atomic structure which would ac- count for the observed facts and emit radiation in accord with the accepted laws of physics. Bohr has formulated a hypothesis applicable to the spectra of hydrogen and helium in which he boldly departs from some of these laws. He accepts the Rutherford atom, and assumes that hydrogen has a simple nucleus of one positive charge about which a single electron revolves. According to accepted laws, which associate radiation of waves with accelerated motion of electric charges, the electron revolving in a circular orbit should emit waves, for it is subject to centripetal acceleration. Bohr assumes that this law does not apply within the atom, although the ordinary laws of electrical attraction hold the electrons in their orbits. A further radical assumption is that there are a number of possible “stationary” orbits, of different radii, in each of which the electron may move under conditions of equi- librium. An external disturbance may cause the electron to jump from one orbit to another, and during this transition radiation is emitted amounting to one of Planck’s energy quanta, that is the difference between the kinetic energies of the electron in the two orbits is radiated with a frequency which is determined by the relation that the frequency multiplied by Planck’s “wirkungsquantum,” the mysterious constant h, is equal to this energy. There must be as many possible orbits as there are lines in a series. Bohr deduced an expression for the frequencies of the principal lines of hydrogen like Balmer’s LIGHT EMISSION 109 empirical formula, which had been known for some time, and which expresses with great accuracy the positions of the lines in several series including the principal lines of hydrogen. With equal success Bohr applied his hypothesis to the case of helium, with two nuclear charges and two detachable electrons, one of the latter being detached, but he could not solve the problem in the case when both electrons are retained. The problem for other atoms is likewise too difficult to solve. Some years ago Laue showed that the X-rays are diffracted in passing through the regular space lattice of atoms in a crystal, producing diffraction patterns on a photographic plate similar to those observed in looking at a distant light through a fine-meshed handkerchief. This proved that the X-rays are due to waves. The Braggs showed that these waves could be reflected from the atomic planes in crystals, and Moseley, by an ingenious application of this principle, was able to deter- mine the lengths of the stronger characteristic waves emitted by different metallic targets when bombarded by cathode rays. He discovered the remarkable fact that the square roots of the frequencies of the principal lines are proportional to the ordinal numbers, increasing by unity in passing from one element to the one of next highest atomic weight. Siegbahn has extended Moseley’s results to the heaviest element, uranium, with atomic number 92, and downward to sodium, of atomic number 11. The known elements of smaller atomic weight fill the remaining places down to hydrogen, of atomic number 1, and there are but six gaps in the entire series, to be filled by possible discoveries of new elements. These results are consistent with the num- bers referring to nuclear charges determined by Rutherford and others. Bohr’s theory likewise leads to the conclusion that the square roots of the frequencies should be proportional to the nuclear charges. Any single line of evidence suggesting these relations might be regarded as highly hypothetical, but the cumulative effect of several kinds of diverse experimental evi- dence is to produce a feeling of confidence amounting almost to certainty that the nuclear theory is correct, although there is still uncertainty as to the relations of the radiating electrons to the nuclei. If the frequencies of vibration of the electrons are proportional to their frequencies of rotation, which seems highly probable, the extraordinarily high frequencies of the X-rays, several thousand times greater than those of ordinary light, indicates that the emitting electrons lie in orbits very close to the nucleus and practically forming a part of it, which 110 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY are excited to radiation by displacements due to intense electron bombardment, while the electrons emitting ordinary light, in numbers sufficient to neutralize the charge of the atom as a whole, lie in orbits of relatively large radius. In both cases, if Bohr’s hypothesis is correct, there are a number of possible orbits for each electron, and radiation is emitted only in passing from one to another. This hypothesis fits the cases of several groups of lines in the spectra of hydrogen and helium with astonishing accuracy, yet it leaves much to be explained and involves the acceptance of notions which, to say the least, are difficult to reconcile with principles which have seemed to us to be firmly established. In the case of such a simple structure as that assumed for hydrogen, how can we account for the number of stationary orbits demanded? What determines the frequency of the radiation emitted when an electron passes from one orbit to another? Jt would seem to be necessary for the electron to know in advance what orbit it will finally adopt. How shall we account for the thousands of other lines in the spectrum of hydrogen which the hypothesis fails to account for, and for the continuous spectrum? These things seem to demand a greater complexity than that assumed by Bohr. Stark has lately found that the spectral lines of hydrogen and of a few other elements are split up into many components when the radiating gas is in a strong electric field, in such a way as to strengthen the suspicion that more than one electron takes part in the radiation. It does not seem impossible that the nuclei of both hydrogen and helium may be built up of smaller positive units than the alpha particle and the assumed simple hydrogen unit, with electrons combined with them, so that the resultant nuclear charges are respectively 1 and 2. So far, however, there is no experimental evidence pointing to the existence of a smaller positive electron than the hydrogen nucleus. There is another possibility which can not be overlooked, although there is little experimental basis for any clear-cut hypothesis—a static atom, that is, one in which the electrons are normally at rest in a condition of static equilibrium, held in place by quasi-elastic forces which set up vibrations when the electron is slightly displaced. Such an atom would probably better suit the chemist than the Rutherford atom, for how can we imagine two atoms in which the outer rings of electrons, the “valency” electrons, are in rapid rotation, ever entering into permanent relations with each other in the molecular state? LIGHT EMISSION TLE But we are unable to account for such quasi-elastic forces in the open structure demanded by radioactive phenomena, and it is impossible to imagine electrons stationary in space, with noth- ing to hold them apart from the neighboring attracting posi- tive charges. It is evident that we have far to go to reach a complete explanation of light emission, but the experimental developments of the past few years, the circumstantial evidence based on many different lines of attack, give us reason to hope that we may solve the problem qualitatively at least, that is, decide definitely between the Rutherford and the static atom, and pos- sibly in the simpler cases, such as that of hydrogen, arrive at a fairly complete solution of the problem. A complete quanti- tative solution of the general problem we can hardly expect. The astronomer can not solve the problem of three bodies in such a system as that of our sun; how can we expect to solve the far more difficult problem of the motions of the swarm of mutually attracting and repelling particles in the atom? 112 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY THE STATUS OF SEALING IN THE SUB- ANTARCTIC ATLANTIC By ROBERT CUSHMAN MURPHY BROOKLYN MUSEUM EALING on the coast of Patagonia, the Falklands, and the S islands north and east of Cape Horn began during the third quarter of the eighteenth century. Alexander Dalrymple, writing in 1775, reports that there was at the Falklands an abundance of “Sea-Lions! 25 feet long and 19 to 20 round,” and also fur seals in ‘‘such numbers that they killed eight or nine hundred in a day with bludgeons on one small Islot.” Shortly after the American Revolution, New England and British sealers extended their hunting still farther afield, at first to South Georgia, twelve hundred miles east of Cape Horn, and then to the South Orkneys and South Shetlands, well be- yond the sixtieth parallel. The naturalist George Forster, who accompanied Captain James Cook on his renowned voyage toward the South Pole in the year 1775, had written prophetically of the possible ex- ploitation of South Georgia, although even his farsighted im- agination had failed to picture the rapid strides which ad- venturous commercialism would make. ‘South Georgia,” wrote Forster, “besides being uninhabitable, does not appear to contain any single article, for which it might be visited oc- casionally by European ships. Seals, and sea-lions, of which the blubber is accounted an article of commerce, are much more numerous on the desert coasts of South America, the Falk- lands, and the New Year’s Islands, where they may likewise be obtained at a much smaller risk. If the northern ocean should ever be cleared of whales, by our annual fisheries, we might then visit the other hemisphere, where these animals are known to be numerous. However, there seems to be little necessity to advance so far south as New Georgia in quest of them, since the Portuguese and the North Americans have of late years killed numbers of them on the coast of America, going no farther than the Falkland Islands. It should therefore seem probable, that though Southern Georgia may hereafter become important to mankind, that period is at present so far remote, 1Sea-elephants (Mirounga leonina). THE STATUS OF SEALING 113 ‘ te ee Photographs by the Author. AN AMERICAN SEALING VESSEL, TEH BRIG DAISY, OF NEW BEDFORD, MASs., at anchor in the Bay of Isles, South Georgia. In the foreground is a wandering albatross (Diomedea erulans) upon its nest. and perhaps will not happen, till Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego are inhabited, and civilized like Scotland and Sweden.” Forster’s reference to the possibility of the northern ocean being “cleared of whales” indicates at least that he was not obsessed by the ‘“‘ fallacy of the inexhaustible.” Scarcely a quarter of a century after Forster’s visit, seal- ing at South Georgia had reached its height, and in 1800 Cap- tain Edmund Fanning in the Aspasia of New York, one of eighteen sealing vessels at the island, secured the season’s prize AMERICAN SEA-ELEPHANT HUNTERS AT WORK AT THE HEAD OF POSSESSION Bay, South Georgia, March, 1913. VOL. vil.—8 114 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY A “Cow” AND A “ PUP” SEA-ELEPHANT SLEEPING AT TEE Bay oF ISLES, South Georgia, December 30, 1912. Both animals are characteristically scratching, or brandishing their flippers. The bird is a skua gull (Catharacta antarctica). catch of 57,000 fur seal skins. This record was never again equaled, although the hunting evidently continued, for, when the Russian explorer, Bellingshausen, sailed along the blustery, uncharted south coast of the island in December, 1819, he met with two English three-masters in one of the fjords. These ships had already been there four months, or through the southern winter, and had carried on a profitable business. But when James Weddell, less than five years later, came to South Georgia, he found that seals of all kinds had become ‘“‘ almost extinct.” Weddell’s account contains much historical informa- tion, and the following portion is weil worth quoting: [Cook’s] official report regarding the island of South Georgia, in which he gave an account of the great number of sea-elephants (called by him sea-lions), and fur seals, found on the shores, induced several enter- prising merchants to fit out vessels to take them: the elephants for their oil, and the seals for their skins. These animals are now almost extinct; but I have been credibly informed that, since the year in which they were known to be so abundant, not less than 20,000 tons of the sea-elephant oil has been procured for the London market. A quantity of fur seal skins were usually brought along with a cargo of oil; but formerly the furriers in England had not the method of dressing them, on which account they were of so little value, as to be almost neglected. At the same time, however, the Americans were carrying from Georgia cargoes of these skins to China, where they frequently obtained a price of from 5 to 6 dollars a-piece. It is generally known that the Eng- THE STATUS OF SEALING 115 lish did not enjoy the same privilege; by which means the Americans took entirely out of our hands this valuable article of trade. The number of skins brought from off Georgia by ourselves and for- eigners can not be estimated at fewer than 1,200,000. Of seals at the South Shetlands, where Weddell’s two crews killed “ upwards of 2,000” sea-elephants during the same voy- age, the sagacious mariner writes in an economic vein worthy of a later age: The quantity of seals taken off these islands, by vessels from different parts, during the years 1821 and 1822, may be computed at 320,000, and the quantity of sea-elephant oil, at 940 tons. This valuable animal, the fur seal, might, by a law similar to that which restrains fishermen in the size of the mesh of their net, have been spared to render annually 100,000 furs for many years to come. This would have followed from not killing the mothers till the young were able to take the water; and even then, only those which appeared to be old, together with a proportion of the males, thereby diminishing their total number, but in slow progression. Since 1825 fur sealing at the southern Atlantic islands has been a decadent commerce. As the prey became scarcer, the brave fleets of the early days gave way to lonely, prowling schooners which poached from the fur seal rookeries of the Falk- lands, or reaped the meager harvest of a few seasons’ repletion at South Georgia. Fur seals are believed to have been prac- tically exterminated at the latter island about 1874, but rumor has it that a New England vessel made a small, illegal catch there in 1907. About the middle of February, 1915, some Nor- wegian whalers discovered a single fur seal on the beach near the eastern end of South Georgia. This forlorn veteran was promptly knocked on the head, and so the tale ends. A BULL SEA-ELEPHANT SWIMMING AWAY FROM TEBE OBSERVER, AND ABOUT TO ENTER THE KELP FIELDS OF THE BAy OF ISLES. South Georgia, January 6, 1913. 116 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY Nee me OEE FEES, tae A NEW BEDFORD SEALER ABOUT TO LANCE’ A BULL SEA-ELEPHANT AT THE BAy OF ISLES, 1912, and March 14, 1913. 1,641 sea-elephants were killed at this island by the crew of a single American sealing vessel. The story of the sea-elephant is not unlike that of the fur seal. The species was cleaned out successively on the South American coast, the Falklands, Tristan da Cunha, and the South Orkneys and Shetlands. At South Georgia persistent killing pushed it so near the verge of utter extinction that in 1885 the crew of a Connecticut schooner during ten weeks of the breeding season (September to January) was able to find only two of the animals. From before that date, however, until after the beginning of the twentieth century, the seat of the “elephant oil” traffic was transferred from the south Atlantic to the fresher islands of the Indian Ocean, and so the species was given an opportunity partially to regain its foot- hold at South Georgia. During the last few years hunting has been resumed there, not only by occasional sailing ships from American ports and elsewhere, but also by one of the South Georgia whaling companies, which, through the employment of steam vessels and highly efficient methods, has made extensive inroads upon the male sea-elephants after the end of the breed- ing season, as many as 6,000 bulls having been killed during one summer. In taking sea-elephants, the hunters plan first to drive the animals as near to the water as can be done without risk of their escaping. After this they are clubbed, lanced, or shot, or all three if necessary. Sometimes they can be frightened and sent bounding toward the sea by the sound of small stones rattled in an iron pail. If, however, they prove too sluggish or THE STATUS OF SEALING 7. refractory they are often treated with the most revolting brutality ; anything seems to be permitted which will urge them beachward and so lighten the labor of carrying blubber. The old American method of utilizing the blubber is waste- ful in every stage. After the slain “elephant” has been al- lowed to bleed thoroughly, the hide is slit lengthwise down the back, and then transversely in several places from the dorsal incision to the ground. The flaps of hide are next skinned off, and the remaining investment of white blubber, which may have a maximum thickness of about eight inches, is dissected away from the underlying muscle and cut into squarish blanket- pieces. The animal is then rolled over and the same process re- peated on the ventral side. Thus the hide, and the considerable amount of blubber which clings to it, are lost at the start. The blanket-pieces of the blubber are hauled to the water’s edge to be strung on short ropes called “raft-tails.” These are towed to the anchored ship where each laden raft-tail is looped about a hawser which extends from bow to stern, and the blubber is permitted to soak for forty-eight hours, or there- abouts, until the red blood corpuscles have been practically all washed away. During the soaking process a certain propor- tion of the oil is lost, and, moreover, flocks of ravenous ‘‘ Cape pigeons” (Petrella), and other ubiquitous sea birds, feed upon the floating fat with an interminable hubbub, both night and TEE STRIPPED CARCASS OF A SEA-ELEPHANT, WHICH HAD BEEN KILLED ONE OR MORB YEARS EARLIER, lying on the South Georgian beach. Thousands of seal remains, in all stages of slow decomposition, tell of the former slaughter and of the wasteful methods. 118 _ THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY THP THRE STAGES IN THE DISPOSAL OF A SBHA-ELHPHANT, according to the method of the American sealers. The upper photograph shows a bull sea-elephant which was lanced by the writer at the Bay of Isles, South Georgia, on February 17, 1913. The second picture illustrates the removal of the hide, which is cut off in small flaps, leaving the blubber exposed. A curved knife with an eight-inch blade is used in skinning, and, by means of a long, sweeping stroke, the hide is cut away as closely and cleanly as possible. The lower picture shows the carcass completely stripped of its dorsal blubber, which has been dragged to the adjacent cove. The carcass is now ready to be rolled over so that the hide and blubber of the ventral surface may be removed in the same manner. Photographs by Captain B. D. Cleve- Jand. day. When the blubber is hauled on board it is cut into narrow strips called “horse pieces,” and is afterwards “minced.” The mincing differs from the same process in sperm whaling only in that the fat is cut very finely with hand knives. At this stage THE STATUS OF SEALING 119 an additional loss of oil occurs, particularly if the temperature of the air chances to be well above the freezing point. Finally the minced blubber is “tried out” in the familiar deck try- works of the old whaling type. There is so little residue or “serap”’ from boiled sea-elephant blubber that the Heard Island sealers of last century used to calculate ‘a cask of oil from a cask of blubber.”’ The method as practised by Norwegian whalers at South Georgia is more economical, inasmuch as the chunks of sea- elephant blubber are left attached to the skin, and loaded into a steamer’s hold, after which the cargo—hide, fat, blood, dirt and all—is dumped into steam try-works at the whaling station and reduced to oil and slag. During fifteen months of 1914-1915, 850,000 gallons of sea- elephant oil are said to have been exported from South Georgia by the Norwegian whalers. The sea-elephants can not long withstand such a toll as that, and the question as to whether the magnificent species is to be perpetuated will depend upon protective legislation which, it is to be fervently hoped, the British government will see fit to enact after the war. The dif- ficulties and expenses of the modern whale fishery at South Georgia make it almost impossible for any species of whale to be completely extirpated, however persistently it may be chased, but the unfortunate sea-elephants have no such hope of preservation. Slow, unsuspicious, gregarious, they can be hunted profitably until the last one has gone to his ancestors and the tragedy of the antarctic fur seal is repeated. 120 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY PRINCIPLES AND PROBLEMS OF FISH CULTURE IN PONDS By DR. R. E. COKER ASSISTANT IN CHARGE SCIENTIFIC INQUIRY, U. S. BUREAU OF FISHERIES J XISH as living animals have essentially the same general | requirements for growth and propagation as poultry or pigs. As animals living in water, however, they present their needs to us in a So much more obscure way that our problem in providing the proper conditions is relatively complex. We have to meet most of the requirements for successful rearing of fish by very indirect means, and in so doing we have to be guided by a knowledge of general principles and the application of common sense, rather than by any explicit rules. The ordinary needs of fish, flesh or fowl are: air, water, food, cleanliness, exercise, shade, protection of adults and young from enemies and disease, some control of numbers in propor- tion to available space, proper conditions for breeding, and care of young. Looking at these requirements severally, we are at once confronted with a striking point of difference between fowl culture and fish culture. Air, or more strictly ovygen, is freely supplied by nature to animals. With the fish the oxygen problem is paramount, and the fish-farmer must give first thought to the maintenance of a favorable oxygen supply in his pond. Without food the fish would live for days or weeks; without oxygen, it would suffocate in a few hours. OXYGEN Here is an excellent illustration of the fact that many of the requirements of fish are supplied by indirect means. Be- fore we can proceed intelligently, we must know how the fish gets the oxygen necessary for its existence, that is to say, by what processes the oxygen supply is maintained in a natural body of water. This is one of our problems in its broad aspect. Two processes are continually depleting the oxygen supply: The respiration of animals and the decomposition of various materials. In warm weather, too, the water will hold less oxygen, and it is accordingly the more necessary that the supply of oxygen shall then be added to continuously and abundantly. FISH CULTURE IN PONDS 121 How is the supply of oxygen maintained in a body of water? There are two principal means, one of which takes care of itself, but which is not entirely adequate for the purpose in small bodies of water. First we are concerned with the interchange of gases be- tween the surface of the water and the air. Birge has aptly employed the term “respiration of lakes,” suggesting that the lake or pond breathes through its surface. He and others have shown how the oxygen supply thus derived is distributed through the body of the lake, and how this distribution is affected by temperature, seasons, winds and other factors. As regards the propagation and rearing of fishes in self- contained ponds, we are led at once to certain very practical questions. What should be the size, the form, the depth and the relative proportion of deep and shallow waters in the several units of our pond system, or of our single pond if there ean be but one? Obviously, for a wintering pond we must provide for storage of oxygen to carry over the winter; but in spring, the season of renewed activity, spawning, and the begin- ning of life for a new generation, the deep winter pond, now depleted of oxygen, proves ill-adapted for quick recuperation, since the warmer surface waters fail to carry the absorbed oxygen to the bottom. This is the season when the natural ponds and streams are accustomed to broaden their margins and flow out over the surrounding lands, and most of the fish in spawning activity are observed to follow the waters outward and to deposit their eggs in places more or less removed from the customary banks of the stream or pond. They find induce- ment to this outward migration, perhaps, in the warmer tem- peratures prevailing in the shallow overflow waters, or, perhaps, in the better conditions of oxygenation which may prevail at least temporarily. Since it is being attempted to suggest rather than to outline problems, it may be in place to mention without comment two unrelated, but very interesting, facts. It is in the middle or late spring that the Bureau of Fisheries expects and receives | the most numerous reports of unexplained mortalities of fishes in closely confined lakes. The other interesting fact is this: For two years, at our Fairport station, the effort to get the buffalo fish to spawn in artificial ponds failed. Last year, Mr. A. F. Shira, the director of the station, made the experiment of causing the pond to flow out gradually over a considerable area of ground just as the temperatures were developing when 6eé 122 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY Part of a group of ponds for fish-culture experimental work, at the United States Fisheries Biological Station, Fairport, Ia. spawning could be expected. The buffalo fish acted just as they do in nature; they moved out into the shallow waters and spawned—doubtless the first buffalo fish to spawn in con- trolled ponds. Whether temperature or oxygen supply, or both, or something else is responsible for phenomena such as these, it is evident that the fish-culturist must look to the stu- dent of the physical conditions of enclosed waters for guidance in the construction and the control of ponds. Just as the trees and the small plants and the grass are continually breaking up noxious gases in the air and replenish- ing the supply of oxygen, so in the water the submerged vegeta- tion plays an important part in maintaining the oxygen supply for fish. In fact, they are probably the principal dependence for oxygen in ordinary fish ponds. In a very large lake where there are high waves and pronounced wind-driven currents, rolling movements, and upheavals, the vegetation plays a less part. The smaller the pond, however, the more essential are the submerged plants. Plants serve another useful purpose in taking care of the noxious carbon dioxide which is given off by animals in breathing and which is formed by the processes of decomposition. In selecting plants for the pond for the purpose of oxygena- tion, it must be kept in mind that plants do not possess this function except in the presence of sunlight. The large lilypads which are so esthetically pleasing, but which, being at the sur- face, can contribute little to the oxygen supply of the water, FISH CULTURE IN PONDS 123 form a deep shade that must diminish the oxygen-producing capacity of other plants living in the water beneath. It is evident that submerged vegetation is wanted and preference may be given to those plants having an abundant growth of narrow leaves, or to those with foliage so finely divided as to be needle-formed or brush-like. Consideration must be given, too, to the species which remain green during the winter or which are the earliest to give rise to new growth in the spring, so that there may be the most effective production of oxygen at a time when it is so important to the breeding fishes, and when the surface absorption of oxygen is normally less adequate. Here, then, is a problem which has scarcely been attacked. What species of plants are the most effective oxygenators, under different conditions and at different seasons? The experienced and observant fish-culturist has somewhat definite ideas, and his judgment in the matter is very valuable, but I think that very little has been done in the way of experimental determina- tion of the questions just stated. We ought to know, as pre- cisely as we can, the relative oxygenating values of the different species of aquatic plants—for wintering ponds, for spawning ponds, and for rearing ponds. FoopD SUPPLY The fish must have food and, under ordinary conditions of fish-culture, the food naturally produced in and about the pond is the principal dependence. Obviously, the productiveness of a pond in fish is directly limited by its productiveness in food; it 4 ‘ia aie “mR Ay ‘ Fi mH aN By 7 y ert. ’ CA aRy 4 NES Qe An Experimental Pond, maintained under the conditions of a farm fish pond. 124 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY hence, fish-culturists often say that the whole problem of fish culture is one of food supply. It may well be so, since this is not a single problem, but a complex of problems. Biologically speaking, the food problem starts with the plants, as the source from which, or through which, all animal food must come. Plants form the basis of food supply—large plants or microscopic plants, green plants or dead plants, or the finely divided plant remains constituting the detritus. To what extent do plants, living or dead, enter directly into the food of fishes? I venture to say that we know yet very little of this. Only a few years ago, the forage value of plants was considered insignificant. Yet, very recently, an investigator associated with our Bureau, Dr. A. S. Pearse, of the Uni- versity of Wisconsin, has prepared for publication a report of the food of 32 species of fish from lakes in Wisconsin, and, from one of his tables, it can be found that, with 23 species, plant remains or algae constituted an appreciable portion (one per cent. or more) of the stomach contents, ranging from 1 per cent. to 2514 per cent. If we include silt and débris (probably plant material principally), 25 of the 32 species were plant feeders, and the ratio of such food to the total ranges from 1 to 40 per cent. Other uncompleted investigations of -the bureau indicate that vegetable detritus constitutes a substan- tial, or perhaps the principal, element of diet for fresh-water mussels and for the young buffalo fishes. This is certainly true for many insect larve, and other small animals. Undoubtedly, the direct food value of vegetation to pond fishes, especially to the young, is not inconsiderable; but even more significant is the part which this form of food plays in an indirect way. Generally speaking, as the fishes become older and larger (this is not true of all species, of course), they seek larger and more active prey, entomostraca are passed over for small insect larvee, amphipods, small snails, etc., these in turn give place to larger insect larve, crawfishes and small fishes, and finally, larger. fishes and frogs may become the special prey of the “big-game hunters” among the fish. But all the multitudinous members of this complex community of hunters and hunted derive their origin from plant matter. Now, one phase of this general problem of the relation of plants to food supply to which it is desired to direct attention is this: We have very little information as to the relative food values of the different species of plants. Undoubtedly, some species of plants are better forage plants than others. Dr. Emmaline FISH CULTURE IN PONDS 125 Moore, of Vassar College, and quite recently a special investi- gator for the Bureau, has already given us some valuable in- formation about this, and I may be permitted to emphasize the point that, as her investigations show, plants of one species may be foraged upon, while those of a closely related species are left untouched. Presumably, too, some plants, when dead and dis- integrated, give rise to a more palatable or nutritious detritus than others; of this we know little, if anything. These questions of the relative values of plants, viewed either as oxygenators or as food makers, are not of theoretical or scientific interest only. This can be made clearer from an analogy. A stock farmer may have no interest whatever in plants as plants. Nevertheless, he sows alfalfa under certain conditions and burr-clover under others; he knows when and where he wants to plant red clover, and he knows that he never wants to plant sweet clover. All of these legumes are fairly closely related, yet the grower of stock has learned to dis- criminate between them, to use each to best advantage, or to let them alone, as his purpose may require. The grower of fishes, on the other hand, lets grow what will, practically speaking— and who can now advise him intelligently? Our problem does not stop with the plants—it only begins there, biologically speaking. Small crustacea, insect larve, and molluscs feed upon plants or plant remains, and then upon each other. The problem becomes complex and _ peculiarly ecological, but its solution may be approached very directly. Here is an insect larva which feeds upon certain things and is preyed upon by certain other forms: it attacks and destroys small fishes and is itself devoured by larger fishes; it feeds upon materials which the fish that we wish to foster can not directly consume, thus adding material to the fish’s food supply, while it competes with the fish for other forms and so diminishes the food supply; it destroys certain enemies of fishes, but who knows if it harbors some injurious parasite of fishes? The significance of this larva, and it is not altogether an imaginary one, is evidently not to be appraised as the result of casual ob- servation. A great deal of data must be accumulated, the points of contact searched out in various directions, the evi- dence carefully analyzed, checked by experiment if possible, and weighed with sound judgment before a just conclusion is reached. Common sense will make the final ruling, but it will be common sense seated upon a secure bench of scientific ob- servation and experiment. It would be an excellent thing for 126 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY fish culture if one after another of the typical inhabitants of a pond could be taken up for systematic study along such lines as have been suggested. Since this paper must be kept within reasonable limits and as the ecological rather than the biochemic aspects of fish-cul- tural problems are primarily in mind, the important subject of the artificial feeding of fishes in ponds must be passed over at this time. More nearly ecological is the question of the fertili- zation of ponds—the adding to the water of organic or in- organic substances, so as to promote an abundant growth of desirable aquatic organisms, without impairment of the condi- tions of existence for fish. In this connection, I will merely hint at two very important subjects; that is, the character and composition of the bottom soils and the chemical composition of the water itself. We know that plants and ‘animals have definite chemical requirements, and the requisite substances must come, directly or indirectly, from the soil or from the water. We strongly suspect, at least, that certain chemicals have subtle but significant physiological effects, favorable or unfavorable, upon the growth of aquatic plants and animals— effects that can be discovered not so readily by inference from analysis, as by experimental determination. So far, we have kept strictly within the confines of the Jan itself, but the ecological problems of fish culture extend well beyond the reach even of the highest waves that wash the margins. The sloping banks, the green sward, the meadows beyond, do not these contribute to the food supply of the pond? No one can be doubtful of this after walking around a pond, and noting the small frogs that leap from the banks to be snapped in by a hungry bass, or observing the grasshoppers and crickets resting on the lotus leaves or in the stems of Persicaria or of cattails, or watching the dragonflies and mos- quitoes and dozens of other insects that pass from bush or grass to pond and back again (if luck is with them). Read the re- ports of stomach examinations by Forbes and others, and note the extent to which non-aquatic insects and other animals enter into the food of fishes. Mr. H. W. Clark, of the Bureau of Fish- eries, tells of trout feeding upon masses of woolly plant lice as fast as they fell from overhanging alders. Professor C. B. Wil- son, while working at the Fairport Laboratory, finds a certain dragonfly that, like others, through its larve supplies food to fish, but that almost invariably completed its metamorphosis on a hillside slightly removed from the pond, although in order FISH CULTURE IN PONDS 127 to arrive at this chosen environment after emerging from the pond, it was obliged to cross a dusty road. Professor J. M. Bates writes in Science of serious losses of fish in Pine Creek, Nebraska, caused apparently by feeding upon rose chafers drop- ping from overhanging willows. These are merely typical il- lustrations showing some of the various ways in which the land environment affects the fish life within the pond. Doubtless, in due time fish farmers can be given definite and helpful advice, not only about the maintenance of a suitable environment in the pond, but also regarding the provision of a proper environment about the pond. ASSOCIATION OF SPECIES The judicious association of fishes within the pond is, per- haps, one of the most important questions of fish culture. To one who does not consider carefully the conditions of life in ponds, it may seem, offhand, that the only proper plan is one fish to the pond, yet, in all probability, this is rarely the prac- tical plan of action. By associating two or more species of fish in the same pond, we expect to experience benefits in two direc- tions: first—utilize the available space and food to best advan- tage, and, second—get the best results from any one given species. There is nothing new in the idea that the appropriate asso- ciation of species is for the best interest of the fish it is prima- rily desired to cultivate. An old and quaint, but very prac- tical, book on the culture of the carp, published more than three quarters of a century ago, advises us to introduce with every 200 brood carp, 20 brood tench and 20 brood jack (pike). We can accept the author’s explanation of the service of the pike, which is to check the increase (in numbers) of the carp, though we may be skeptical of the function ascribed to the tench, or “doctor fish,’ namely, to “act medicinally to other fish, by rubbing against them when wounded or sick.” Two chief principles which should guide us in determining the desirable combinations of fish are these. First, that the associated fish should not too severely compete with each other for food; second, that, under certain conditions at least, one of the groups of fishes should prey upon the others to such an extent as to prevent an excessive increase in numbers. It would, beyond doubt, astonish a stock farmer to be ad- vised to introduced a wolf into the sheep-fold; but what else should he do if he had no other practicable means of prevent- ing his sheep from multiplying in numbers until the pasturage 128 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY could no longer support them? If seems to be true that a new pond or lake often produces within a few years fish of particu- larly large size, and that after a while the fish became much more numerous, but much smaller in size. This is not invari- ably so, of course; it depends upon the conditions of stocking, but it is easy to see how this may come about. Given at first a reasonably abundant supply of food and a small number of fish, the fish, naturally, thrive and attain rapidly to a large size. The strong healthy fish reproduce successfully and the abun- dant generations of young, unless soon decimated by enemies, prey so exhaustively upon the available food as even to prevent its growth in formerly normal luxuriance. The introduction, then, by natural or artificial means, of a small number of ra- pacious fish may lead to such a reduction in the numbers of fish, and such a consequent change in the conditions of competition as to serve the best interests of each and every species within the pond. This is why the German carp growers put pike into the carp ponds. The control of numbers is an essential condition of success in agriculture, husbandry, or fish culture; but where fish are being reared in ponds it is usually very difficult, if at all pos- sible, to accomplish this end by direct means. Even if the pond is so devised that it may be drained, one can not always draw the pond after each brood is hatched, and to draw the pond may also entail a loss of valuable food supply carried out with the discharge of water. Unless it be to provide variety, there can be no good pur- pose served by associating species which have identical feeding habits, and which, therefore, merely compete with one another. If, however, one can group fishes of principally insectivorous with others of principally vegetational diet, it is, obviously to be expected that the pond will yield more fish per acre than if only one half of the existing supply of food could be availed of. One may often, too, wish to introduce a smaller species, which will serve as food for a larger kind that is especially desired. While the principles of association of fish species which have been outlined may seem almost too obvious to justify discus- sion, it is remarkable to what an extent they are violated in fact or in intention by persons of high intelligence in all other matters. Every possible species of Salmonide is desired in a particular lake. An organization of men, successful in their ordinary pursuits, will want to pour into a pet pond unlimited numbers of bass, pike, pike perch and perch. If a lake fre- quented for sport fishing is found to contain innumerable small FISH CULTURE IN PONDS 129 crappie, the plea is for more crappie, on the fatuous assump- tion that “new blood” is all that is required to make the fish grow large. The problems of appropriate associations are interesting and very important. Their solution may be attacked most di- rectly by experiment, but also indirectly by studies of feeding habits and of associations in nature. I hope that I do not give an unduly unfavorable impression of the progress of fish cul- tural science, when I say that we know very little on the subject of proper association. If you wish to produce the greatest quantity of large-mouth bass per acre, what species of fish would you associate with the bass to serve as food for it—or would you leave the bass to itself and trust to cannibalism for the control of numbers? Apply the same question, if you wish, to other species; but who will now supply the answers based not upon opinion, but upon the sure footing of experimental de- termination ? In concluding, it seems to me that an apology may be due to the readers of THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY for presenting a paper which contains so little that is original, and which makes no pretense of adding to the sum total of knowledge. The pur- pose has been merely to indicate, from one incomplete point of view, a common meeting ground for the fish culturist and the ecologist, the zoologist and the botanist. If this shall lead, in any way, to more frequent meetings upon that ground, the effort of the writer and the time of the reader will not have been wasted. VOL. vu.—9. 130 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY THE ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE. III By DR. J. A. L. WADDELL PROMOTION OF PROJECTS Americans for two centuries have been notorious as pro- moters of projects. For this habit they have often been ad- versely criticized; but it should not be forgotten that, were it not for the enterprise, zeal, and courage of such men, our coun- try would not be standing to-day as the acknowledged leader of the world. It is true that promotions used often to be car- ried to extremes, and that wild-cat schemes were only too com- mon. The almost irrepressible enthusiasm of Americans needed a curb, and it certainly got it soon after the academy appointed a standing committee to pass upon all projects sub- mitted to it involving the expenditure of more than a quarter of a million dollars. Bankers soon dropped into the habit of refusing to consider any large project that did not have the endorsement of the academy. The investigation of the sound- ness of any project is not done directly by the committee but by an engineer, or a firm of engineers, chosen by the said com- mittee and paid a standard fee by the promoter. No real hard- ship for the latter is involved by this arrangement, because he is not actually compelled to come to the academy for an en- dorsement, although, truth to tell, the number of promoters is far smaller to-day than it used to be formerly. On the other hand, a far greater proportion of the schemes submitted to capitalists is materialized. WORKING ABROAD Until the beginning of the third decade of the century, American financiers and business men were so interested in the development of our own country that they neglected the fine opportunities which constantly presented themselves for se- curing work abroad, especially in Latin America, although there was no dearth of American engineers who were eager to go to such countries in the service of any sound corporation. Some of them were willing to do more, for, having the “roving spirit” in their blood, they went as soldiers of fortune to Mexico, Cuba, and many of the South American republics. A ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE, 181 few of them made good, but the large majority sooner or later came to grief for one cause or another. It was, as once before stated, the Great War that opened the eyes of Americans to the business opportunities in the countries to the south. At first the failure of our young men to understand Spanish militated greatly against progress in business with the Latin Americans; but a wave of enthusiasm for the study of that language sud- denly overtook the country, and soon thereafter a large number of young American men and women possessed a good working knowledge of la lengua castellana; and their services were in immediate demand at good salaries. There existed up to the end of the second decade a condition which acted adversely and seriously against the establishment on a large scale of business relations with foreign countries, viz., the apathy of the American government in protecting the rights of its citizens outside the boundaries of the United States. When Mr. William Jennings Bryan was Secretary of State, he made it plain to our soldiers of fortune and to our financial men that if they invested their money abroad it would be at their own risk, and that they need not look to the United States government for protection, in case of being defrauded of their foreign holdings by any illegal or piratical act of another” nation. Such a pusillanimous doctrine was a disgrace to our country! Fortunately, the war taught the Administration the fallacy of it, and brought on a change of heart, with the result that now there is no nation in the world whose citizens are as well treated in foreign countries as are ours. It took years and much ‘effort to accomplish this desideratum; but the result is worth incomparably more than all of the labor involved. In the development of business relations with all foreign countries our academy has played a leading part, in that through its honorary members, who are always chosen from the most prominent and active engineers abroad, it receives an- nually therefrom reports concerning the progress of all kinds of engineering works during the past year. Besides, these honorary members have often interested themselves in pro- moting closer business relations between their countrymen and ours. PUBLICITY MOVEMENTS The publicity movement started by the Cleveland Engineer- ing Society a little over fifty years ago, with the double object of bringing local engineers into touch with their fellow towns- men, and of making the latter conversant in an interesting way with the most important of the current feats of engineering, 132 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY was gradually taken up by the local technical societies of other cities, until in time our profession became well and favorably known to the general public throughout the country. This movement was and still is fostered and encouraged by our academy through its specially friendly relations with the engi- neers’ clubs and local technical societies which are now to be found in all American cities of any size. PUBLIC RECOGNITION As the education of engineers became broader, they took more interest than formerly in local, state, and national pol- itics; and because of their superior mental attainments, people soon began to select them as their representatives, at first as mayors and city managers, then as state legislators and gov- ernors, and then as U. S. congressmen and senators. Finally, in 1932, a civil engineer was elected president of the United States, thus making our country follow the example set by Cuba in 1912, when it elected General Menocal, a civil engineer of high standing, to the presidency of that republic. Since 1932 two other engineers have occupied the presidential chair at the White House. Public recognition is truly the main object of engineering endeavor, because engineers more than any other class of people place honor and glory above the “almighty dollar,” although it can not be denied that the accumulation of a reasonable amount of wealth is a proper ambition for any technical man. This brings to a close my observations concerning the main causes of the wonderful advancement of the engineering pro- fession during the last half-century; and now I shall proceed to indicate the most striking improvements which have been effected during that period in the various lines of engineering activity, taking them up in alphabetical order so as to avoid all possibility of criticism for alleged partiality. AERONAUTICS While the flying machine was made a fait accompli only in 1907, its perfection into a serviceable means of transportation was hastened by the Great War and by the silent preparation therefor on the part of some of the contestants. As a fighting machine it then reached the acme of perfection, because there has been no real war subsequently; but as a means of transpor- tation for the business of peace it has since been wonderfully improved, and its carrying capacity has been augmented fully twenty-fold. There are now regular lines of passenger airships flying between the principal cities of the North American con- ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE 183 tinent, and a considerable amount of first-class mail and a smaller amount of light express matter travel in the same man- ner; but it has not proved economical to transport freight through the air. So great is the air-travel that it has been found neces- sary to pass stringent laws confining planes going to and from certain places and in certain directions to limited spaces, in order to avoid collisions. However, it has very seldom been found feasible to punish offenders for the infraction of these laws, because, if they escape collision, it is difficult to establish proof of the offense, while if they do not, it is generally unnec- essary to penalize them. Nearly fifty years ago the first flight to Europe was accom- plished; and since then some desultory flying across the ocean has been practisced, but nothing of the kind on a commercial scale has yet been effected, in spite of repeated trials. Many of the hitherto inaccessible places of the world, such as moun- tain-tops and the lands of perpetual snow and ice, have been reached by the airplane; but such trips are fraught with so much peril that they have not become popular. Practically all of them have been made in the interests of science and explora- tion, only a few of them having proved remunerative through the discovery of deposits of certain rare minerals of value in the arts. The development and perfecting of the helicopter have enabled airplanes to alight with almost no shock in small spaces and to rise vertically from the ground. All the high mountains of the world have been sailed over by the airplane, consequently there is now no place on the earth which has not been visited by man. One of the most useful fields of the aero- plane is in making reconnaissances and preliminary surveys for railroads, continuous photographs of the country being taken, and the mapping thereof being done automatically—of course, in a rather crude manner, but with sufficient accuracy for exploratory work. AGRICULTURAL ENGINEERING Agriculture as practised in America during the nineteenth century was exceedingly extravagant and crude. Very little scientific study was given to the subject until the state univer- sities about 1900 began methodically to teach agriculture. The universities of the middle west were the first institutions to take hold of the matter in real earnest; and it was an acknowl- edged fact that the University of Wisconsin doubled the agri- cultural product of the state in a very few years simply by teaching its farmers the rudiments of scientific farming. 134 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY The shortage of food for the entire world during the Great War brought home to the American people the realization of the necessity for more thorough and economic methods of cul- tivating their soil. About all that could be done during the struggle was to increase the acreage of the crops and work longer hours, with the result that a material enlargement of the output was effected. Some attention, too, was then given to richer fertilization, but it was not until after peace had been declared that a systematic study was made of the problem of really multiplying materially the outputs of the various products of the soil in the different parts of the country. Commissions were sent to China, Japan, India, Holland, Belgium, and some other countries to study intensive farming; the best rotation of crops for the different soils was determined; economic fer- tilization was thoroughly investigated; the destruction of insect and animal pests was studied and put into practise; the utiliza- tion of all farm produce was established so firmly that the waste of anything at all usable soon came to be considered al- most a crime; the breeding of domestic animals was reduced to a science; the employment of power instead of human labor, wherever possible, became widespread; the proper housing and care of machinery and tools was made compulsory by law; ef- fective protection against fire and flood was instituted; all the really necessary conveniences and comforts of city life were brought to the farmers’ houses; the roads were so improved as to reduce to a minimum the cost of hauling produce to market; and the life of the farmer and his family was made so attractive as to call to the soil the overplus of population which used to render our great cities so unhealthful and make urban life such a burden to the poor. The production on a large scale of nitrates from the atmos- phere, now a government monopoly, has done much to prevent the exhaustion of the soil. The taking over of this industry by the government was a natural sequence of its control of the manufacture and distribution of power, concerning which I have previously spoken at length. All excess power, or that which is not required for other purposes, is employed for nitrate production; and in seasons of flood the hydro-electric-power plants manufacture and store immense supplies of that material. APPLIED CHEMISTRY As indicated previously, the Great War started such a boom of activity in chemical engineering as to make America subse- quently independent of Europe not only for all the necessities ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE 135 but also for many of the luxuries of modern life, as well as for war supplies of every description, in case such should ever again be needed. New departments in our universities and technical schools for chemical engineering soon sprang into existence; and that branch of the profession quickly became one of the most popular and lucrative of them all, and has so continued to be ever since. In the economic disposal of sewage and garbage, chemical engineering has played a leading part. BRIDGES Fifty years ago bridge building had truly been reduced to a science; for it had been more thoroughly investigated and written up than any other branch of engineering. For that reason there have not been made in the last half-century as many improvements in this specialty as there have been in most of the others. In 1917, one of the leading bridge engineers of those days stated that the near future would mark the end of long-span bridge-construction, because the increasing scarcity of structural materials and the consequent rise in their price would render their cost prohibitive. As a prophet, he proved an utter failure, because scores of long-span bridges have since been constructed, the longest span being about three thousand feet in the case of the North River Highway Bridge at New York City. His alarm over the growing dearth of structural materials proved to be groundless, because soon afterwards enormous deposits of both fuel and iron were discovered. They were not developed, however, for some years, because the old sources of supply were sufficient, and because expensive lines of transportation were required to reach many of the new deposits. Time has shown that the demand for a large bridge at an important crossing increases with the development of the ad- jacent metropolitan communities. Not only is there a continual growth in the keen necessity for lines of transportation over the water, but there is also an accompanying and more than proportionate growth in the wealth of the communities affected. With such increasing wealth there is bound to come a time when the demand for a bridge will far outweigh the obstacle of expense. In other words, the capitalized economic value of the project will ultimately increase to a point where it will more than balance the cost of construction. The main reason for the existence to-day of so many long- span bridges is the fact that we have at our disposal for their building a truly high alloy of steel. That such is the case is due 136 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY to the persistent efforts of my grandfather, extended over a period of two decades, in his search for an ideal alloy for long- span bridge building. His extensive experiments in the early twenties, using Mayari steel as a basis, resulted in the obtain- ing of alloys having the following elastic limits: For plate-and-shape steel, to be sub-punched and reamed, 65,000 pounds per square inch; for plate-and-shape steel, to be drilled solid, 75,000 pounds per square inch; and for eye-bar steel, heat-treated, 90,000 pounds per square inch. No material improvement in alloy bridge-steel has since been made, except- ing only that it has been found practicable to manufacture heat- treated eye-bars having an elastic limit of 100,000 pounds per square inch. The use of reinforced concrete for bridges has increased immensely in the past half-century. It is very seldom to-day that any span under 250 feet is built of steel; and reinforced- concrete arches of 350 feet span are not uncommon. A few longer ones have been built, one as long as 460 feet, but they are uneconomic on account of the great expense of erection and the numerous difficulties encountered in keeping the arch rings to proper elevation during construction. In pier foundations no important advance has been made since the building of the great Mississippi River Bridge at New Orleans, where the piers were sunk 225 feet below low water, and had their bases enlarged by the injection of grouting. The pneumatic process of pier sinking has been somewhat improved, so that it is now comparatively safe for the workmen to operate under a head of 125 feet of water; and in a few cases pneumatic piers have been put down several feet deeper than this. For certain new railroad lines with the widened gauge, the actual live loads have been increased to Class 85, which means axle-loadings of 85,000 pounds and carloads of 8,500 pounds per lineal foot; but for the standard-gauge railroads the old maximum of Class 70 still suffices, for the reason that it is as large a loading as the old-fashioned type of track will support. In highway bridges there are no more wooden floors, even in country districts, because the auto-truck loads that are em- ployed in all parts of North America are so great that it is un- safe to run them over any plank floor supported on timber joists. That type of floor system received vigorous adverse comment in the technical press in 1918, but it took a full decade to educate the public to an appreciation of its unfitness for carrying modern highway live loads. ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE 137 CANALS In no line of engineering in the United States has greater progress been made during the past fifty years than in that of canal building. Immediately after the conclusion of the Great War, work was started on the Bowen Canal, joining Lakes Erie and Ontario and running behind the city of Buffalo, so as to reverse the flow of all the streams and main sewers in that city. The object of the canal is three-fold, viz.: It is a ship canal that accommodates the largest-sized vessels on the Great Lakes; it withdraws the sewage of Buffalo and the neighboring towns from the Niagara River and thus permits the water of the latter to be safely utilized for drinking purposes; and it de- velops some 750,000 horse-power. Its two lift-locks, each con- sisting of a pair of balanced steel tanks, some 660 feet long, 70 feet wide in the clear, and 35 feet deep, to contain 30 feet of water, in one the rise being 208 feet and in the other 104 feet, were an innovation in canal building; and nothing like them in magnitude has since been constructed. Following the completion of this immense work, a series of canals and deepened rivers was begun so as to make it prac- ticable not only for all lake vessels to reach the ocean, but also for a large proportion of ocean-going vessels to pass to the Great Lakes and discharge and take on cargoes at all of the large cities situated thereon. Simultaneously with these there was constructed by the federal government the Inter-Coastal Canal, extending from the city of Boston to the mouth of the Rio Grande, and con- tinued from there by the Mexican government as far as Vera Cruz. Ultimately it may be extended still farther. Early in the forties our government undertook the construc- tion of another interoceanic canal, adopting therefor the old Nicaragua route. It required nearly ten years to complete the work of construction. Again, it was found economical to build on an enlarged scale many barge canals in various parts of the country, so as to lessen the cost of hauling produce, including the Great North- and-South Canal, which extends from the Canadian border to the Gulf of Mexico. HEATING The development of central heating-plants in cities and large towns which took place during the third decade of the century solved one of the most difficult problems of housing in congested urban areas. In country districts and small towns, where such plants would not be economical, heating by elec- 138 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY tricity is now usual, in spite of the fact that it is apparently: more expensive than the burning of fuel. This is because of the large saving in labor involved by employing electricity— and nowadays man-power is much more highly appreciated and conserved than it was half a century ago. HYDRAULICS Important advances have been made in the science of hy- draulic engineering during the fifty years past. Late in 1917 one of America’s most prominent hydraulic engineers in a private letter wrote as follows: The profession is somewhat handicapped by holding conventional views of water instead of a thorough knowledge of the internal workings and nature thereof... . I have found that the hydraulics of the rivers themselves are very vaguely understood. The quantity of water flowing, the water surface elevation at many points corresponding to these volumes, and the length of time in which a change of stage is transmitted over forty or fifty miles of river concerned, are all rather vaguely comprehended; and in many cases text-book formulas instead of observations are used. I find an astounding amount of adventurous design in dams, evidenced by many failures. One of the causes of failure is the lack of understanding con- cerning the matter of the standing wave, in which water changes from a dynamic condition to one of more nearly static equilibrium. How to build a dam upon a glacial-drift foundation and utilize the full head available, thus conserving the water power, has not yet been clearly worked out. Perhaps one of the chief faults in such cases is the lack of experi- mental data, preceding design and construction. In other words, we operate on the patient before we diagnose the case thoroughly. As the years go by we shall emphasize preliminary diagnosis in all engineering matters. Some five years after the above was written, through the influence of our academy, the American government was per- suaded into appointing a well-paid board of three of the coun- try’s most prominent hydraulic engineers (including, by the way, the writer of the letter just quoted) to study with a large force of assistants a number of hitherto unsolved questions in hydraulics. The work of that committee extended over a period of seven years; and the results of its investigations are of ex- ceeding value. All the great hydraulic works of the world undertaken since the publication of its report have been based on its findings, and the saving of money resulting runs into the hundreds of millions of dollars. IRRIGATION During the early portion of the century, irrigation projects in the United States fell into disrepute, because many of them ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE 1839 had proved financial failures. This was due to the promoters having either dispensed with engineers’ services altogether or else retained cheap ones who did not possess the necessary abil- ity or experience. On that account it was almost impracticable fifty years ago to find an American banker who would finance an irrigation enterprise, no matter how promising the pros- pectus might show it to be. But as the country became more and more settled, there arose a demand for irrigable lands that could not be withstood, and irrigation once more came into its own. To-day there is left in our country comparatively little unwatered land that is capable of being irrigated at any rea- sonable expense. Our irrigated lands are the largest producing, the most reliable, and the highest priced of all the cultivated lands of the country, not excepting even the reclaimed lands of the Mississippi River delta. Allied to irrigation is the watering of crops by the artificial precipitation of moisture. Early in the century certain credu- lous persons (as well as a few designing ones) made themselves ridiculous by vainly trying to cause rainfall in the arid dis- tricts of Kansas through the firing of cannon and the explosion of bombs. This fiasco made scientific men rather chary of even mentioning the subject of artificial rainfall; nevertheless Chiera Maclen Whask, C.E., in the early twenties proposed to some of his friends that they try to condense the fogs which blow from the Pacific Ocean over the tablelands of Southern California by spraying from above them liquid air carried on aeroplanes. Some experiments made thus by private subscription showed the scheme to be feasible; and it was then undertaken on a large scale by the Department of Public Works and proved to be a commercial success. The method has been followed in several districts along the Pacific coast of South America. . LEVEES For about a century the building of levees in the Mississippi River delta was done piecemeal and in a haphazard and des- ultory manner, with the result that the said levees were being continually broken or overflowed, to the great detriment of the bottomlands for a considerable distance both above and below. The levees were lacking in both height and strength; and they were built in short lengths by different communities. Of course, under such conditions they were without system; and the protected (?) lands were annually in danger of being flooded. This prevented their proper settlement and develop- ment. 140 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY In the early twenties there was appointed a commission of engineers, first, to report upon the control of the Mississippi River and the reclamation and development of the adjoining lands, including the entire delta, and, second, to attend to the work of the said reclamation and development. It took a dozen years to complete the work, which was all done at the joint expense of the United States government and of the several states wherein the reclaimed lands were located. The products from these reclaimed lands are of a greatness and value stag- gering to the mind and almost incomprehensible. The soil is exceedingly rich; and most of it bears two crops per annum— in some places three. These lands truly form the garden-spot . of the world, comparing in yielding capacity per acre quite favorably with the best of the irrigated lands of the West. LIGHTING Owing to the uniform distribution of power throughout the land, the problem of lighting has become a very simple one, and the farmer as well as the city-dweller now has all the light he needs for every purpose at a reasonable price. Being under government control, all lighting apparatus is kept in good re- pair and at a minimum of expense. MATERIALS OF ENGINEERING Very few new materials for engineering work have come into use during the past half-century, but the old ones have been much improved, their scope has been greatly enlarged, and the cost of their production has been materially reduced. Numerous alloys of the metals have been manufactured and employed in the arts upon a commercial basis, including the before-men- tioned high-alloy of steel for long-span bridges; the manu- facture of hydraulic cement has been cheapened; and the use of timber has been reduced to aminimum. The heat-treatment of steel has increased its strength from two to three fold. Wrought iron has come back into use for many things in the manufacture of which it is superior to steel—for instance, tinned plate, metal employed near salt water, and cylinders for bridge-piers. The Bruntwasler process, developed after long delay in the early twenties, permitted the making of wrought iron directly from the ore, and thus kept the price down to a reasonable figure. MINING In this line of engineering the improvements have not been so marked as in most of the other lines. The dwindling supply ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE 141 of gold has forced the adoption of more economic methods of extraction; and the increased demand for iron products has necessitated a cheapening of the mining of the ore as well as of the reduction of the metal therefrom. Most of the improve- ments in mining consist in the development of economic meth- ods, and especially by working upon a large scale. The drain- age of mines has received much attention; and it has been found practicable to operate deeper workings than formerly. POWER Concerning this matter I have spoken at length before, and I, therefore, have not much more to say upon the subject, ex- cept to remark that a large elimination of physical labor has been effected by means of the development of machinery in many ways formerly thought impossible or uneconomical. There is an old saying to the effect that anything which can be manufactured by hand can be manufactured also by machinery ; and it seems to have been nearly, if not quite, true. RAILROADING In railroading some fundamental improvements have been made in the last half-century, though not many in the standard- gauge system, which was used exclusively till about 1929, when the first wide-gauge trunk-line was built from Pittsburgh to the Great Lakes so as to carry long trains of ore cars weighing when loaded as much as 8,000 pounds per lineal foot. The gauge was made six and a half feet, and the rails were laid upon a concrete base, but not until after the embankments had come to a final settlement. Since then a number of other railroads have been built in that manner, but they are all used exclusively for carrying heavy freight between terminal points, and not for the ordinary distribution of light freight, which can be handled more economically by standard-gauge lines, especially since they have all been electrified. The last of the steam loco- motives went out of commission some twelve years ago. They were found to be less economical in operation than electric locomotives, besides being exceedingly offensive to the traveling public because of their smoke. The building of very long tun- nels, in order to reduce the heavy grades that used to exist on our transcontinental roads, rendered the employment of steam locomotives really dangerous to human life. The change in power began by the electrification of lines through such tun- nels, and gradually extended so as to cover the rest of the line on which the tunnels were located. Finally, the electrically 142 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY operated lines proved to be so satisfactory that all lines were eventually electrified. : Considerable expensive railroad work has been done of late years by building belt lines around all large cities, not only to connect the various systems passing through them, but also to divert through-freight away from congested traffic-centers. Another innovation in railroading was the adoption of the monorail system of transportation, evolved by Charles Whiting Baker and introduced by him in the early twenties, after many trials and tribulations. It is employed generally as a feeder to other railroads and to take the place of the electric railway in those localities where a more expensive type of construction is not warranted. At first the Baker system was operated solely by gasoline engines, but since it was proved to be a suc- cess it has sometimes been run by electricity. Attention has been paid of late years to reducing the noise of operating railroads, and the attempt has proved quite suc- cessful. Another important improvement in railroading has been the installment of automatic block signals, which now work to perfection. The immense increase in the number of automobiles and the high speed at which they are driven have rendered im- perative the separation of grade of streets and roads from rail- road tracks, except in a few localities where the automobile traffic is light. It required federal control to establish this in- novation; and in securing it the American Academy of Engi- neers took the leading part. The problem was essentially a financial one; and it was settled by dividing the expense of grade separation upon an equitable basis (which varied for different localities and different conditions) between the rail- roads, the federal government, and the municipal or state gov- ernment. In railroading, as in all other lines of technical activity, the substitution of machine labor for hand labor has effected great improvements—for instance, tie-tamping machines, ditching machines, rail-loaders and unloaders, and track-laying ma- chines. The old, slow process of surveying railway lines, taking topography and platting to scale on maps by using large forces of men has been very much simplified. Instruments of pre- cision have been designed which traverse the sections of the country under investigation and accurately record on maps and profiles by fixed scales the same data that used to be obtained ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE 148 by employing several field parties. As before mentioned, the aeroplane has been utilized to much advantage in railroad sur- veying. The long-discussed question of government operation of railroads was settled by experience obtained during the Great War. It was finally decided thereafter that it would be better to continue to let the railroads operate as previously—but with certain restrictions, as well as certain liberties formerly denied them, rather than to leave them absolutely under government control. The restrictions of the Interstate Commerce Commis- sion had proved to be so drastic and severe that the gross earn- ings decreased and the operating expenses increased to such an extent that the result was an annual deficit instead of an an- nual profit. Under continued conditions of this kind, the public refused to invest its savings in railroad securities; and, in con- sequence, railroad construction throughout the United States came to a standstill. Nor did the roads earn enough money even for up-keep of line and rolling stock; consequently the con- dition of the systems had deteriorated, wrecks had become com- mon, and more or less general demoralization had ensued up to the end of 1917, when the government assumed control for the period of the war. Pooling had been prohibited and treated as a crime; but the government itself soon learned that that method of operation was the only sane and economical one possible. Eventually, private ownership with government supervision, cooperation, and support was decided upon as the logical solution of the knotty problem. Experience has proved that it was a wise de- cision; for now when private investors refuse to lend their money for necessary improvements, the government lends what is needed; a legitimate pooling of interests of competing roads has been adopted; and the officials responsible for results have the opportunity of selecting those extensions which will be most beneficial to the wholesome growth and development of the country, and are in a position to prevent ill-advised duplication and multiplication of competing facilities, such as in times past placed an insupportable burden upon certain railroads and the communities that they served. RECLAMATION I have already referred at length to the reclamation of lands along the Mississippi River. Other minor rivers have been treated in the same manner, swamps have been drained, and sandy places have been covered with fertile soil. The 144 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY drainage of the immense swamps of Florida and of some of the other Gulf States has thrown open to settlement agricultural lands of untold value and productiveness. The most elaborate and expensive reclamation project ever undertaken, or even contemplated, is that of New York Bay and the adjacent waters. It was conceived and advocated over fifty years ago by T. Kennard Thomson, a consulting engineer of New York City. After much discouragement, he finally suc- ceeded in getting work started on his immense enterprise; but it has required fully four decades of hard work and untold mil- lions of money to complete less than one half of the original scheme, notwithstanding the fact that, from the commercial standpoint, it has proved a success. REINFORCED-CONCRETE CONSTRUCTION The use of reinforced concrete of late years has become far more general than was anticipated fifty years ago; for to-day it seems that almost any construction, large or small, excepting long-span bridges, can be built of that material. During war times, the reinforced-concrete vessel was perfected; and since then that material has usurped the place of steel, stone, brick, and timber in constructions of all kinds. When scientifically and honestly manufactured and used, it is a thoroughly reliable material; and the cost of its maintenance and repair, as com- pared with other types of construction, is truly a minimum. RIVER IMPROVEMENT In addition to the leveeing of the lower Mississippi River and the reclamation of the adjoining lands before mentioned, a scientific study of the problem of how best to improve the other navigable rivers of the United States was made at the expense of the government and under the management of our academy. A commission of seven expert engineers in various lines was appointed, with instructions to study certain of our great rivers and report upon how best to improve them so as to care for navigation, shore protection, water-supply, drainage, irrigation, and power. All these desiderata were to be duly weighed and evaluated, so as to determine in every case whether each item should be considered or ignored; and, if considered, to what ex- tent. After the report upon each river was completed, the gov- ernment (through our academy) decided what improvements were advisable for the immediate future, how they should be effected, what works could properly be relegated to the distant future, and what provision should be made for their ultimate ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE: 145 accomplishment. Then the improvement was regularly under- taken by the Department of Public Works, which body at times utilized its privilege of calling upon the academy for advice and counsel. Another river improvement (of a temporary nature, how- ever) that has been undertaken by the federal government of late years is the keeping open during the winter months, by means of ice-breakers, certain navigable waters, including among others the Mississippi up to St. Louis, the Hudson up to Albany, and the Ohio up to Pittsburgh. The river improvements of our country are by no means completed—in fact one might say that they are merely started; for much yet remains to be done to help the regulation of the flow by building storage reservoirs near the headwaters and thus incidentally irrigating lands and developing power. ROADS Fifty years ago the extravagance involved in the then- prevalent methods of road construction was simply a crime! From one end of the country to the other the people’s money was squandered by incompetent, and often dishonest, county or township supervisors. Many of these men used to claim that they knew how to build roads as well as any engineer, conse- quently road-construction was hardly considered by our profes- sion as coming within its realm of activity. A reaction began to set in about the end of the second decade, and a certain amount of roadwork was undertaken by some of the state gov- ernments; but it took many years to establish road-building upon its present satisfactory basis. To-day the great highways of the country are under federal control, and are handled by the Department of Public Works through its “Bureau of Roads”; and all other road-building comes under the jurisdic- tion of the various states, each state government having a spe- cial bureau therefor. Asa result of this arrangement, our com- mon roads are the most perfect of any in the world; and it ig universally conceded that they pay for their first cost and up- keep many times over by reason of the fine facilities which they afford the farming community for delivering produce to the main arteries of transportation. Pleasure-travel by automo- bile, in consequence of our good roads, has become the most popular pastime of the nation; and the reaction therefrom upon the people through enlarging their horizon of acquaintance has been strikingly valuable. VOL, vul.—10. 146 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY SANITARY ENGINEERING When one looks back upon the wasteful methods of sewage disposal which governed half a century ago, he can not but wonder how intelligent people—especially engineers—could countenance the discharge of unpurified sewage and waste products of manufactories into the streams and lakes, thus ruining them for water-supply and destroying the fish, besides wasting millions of tons of fertilizer so sadly needed by the farmers. To-day it is not permitted to turn unpurified sewage into any water-course or lake; and the sources of our drinking water are guarded against pollution by the strictest kind of super- vision. The result is that the people have pure water not only to drink but also to utilize in the arts; our lakes, rivers, and streams teem with fine fish, the supply of which is kept up by federal control; and the exhaustion of the country’s soil, which was increasing at such an alarming rate a few decades ago, has ceased. Moreover, these are not the only important benefits secured through the adoption of common-sense methods of sewage disposal; because its effect on general health by the reduction almost to zero of certain diseases, which in times past were often veritable scourges, has proved to be a god-send to the community. I speak truly when I state that the consumma- tion of this great economic reform is due primarily to the efforts of our academy, which brought a number of other tech- nical societies, economic organizations and municipal govern- ments into line, and thus induced Congress to pass and put into effect the necessary laws. STEAMSHIPS The improvements in ship-building of the last fifty years have been simply marvellous. Not only are the vessels far larger than they were formerly, but also they are equipped with every modern comfort and convenience for passengers and every facility for the economic handling of freight. Moreover, they are now made almost unsinkable; and the lanes of travel are so strictly followed that collisions of vessels at sea are al- most unknown. The signaling between vessels and with the shore has been perfected ; and various kinds of apparatus, work- ing automatically, indicate the proximity and direction of other craft, icebergs and the land. No great increase in speed has been achieved, because the economic velocity of travel had al- ready been attained half a century ago. It is true that we now can develop somewhat greater speeds, but it is not economical ENGINEERING PROFESSION FIFTY YEARS HENCE 147 to do so, except in special cases for the purpose of meeting un- usual conditions. STEEL BUILDINGS In steel-building construction no fundamental advance has been achieved in the last half-century. It is true that we have in New York City an eighty-story building, but it has proved to be a white elephant for its owners. It has been found ad- visable in tall-building construction to study very carefully in each case all the conditions from the economic viewpoint, so as to determine what will be the best height to adopt when every- thing is given due consideration. THE TELEGRAPH Since the discovery of wireless telegraphy some sixty years ago, no fundamental improvement has been made in this branch of technics, unless it be the “teletypograph.” By this appa- ratus there can be produced at any place in the United States or Canada, and also simultaneously at a great number of places, the contents of a typewritten page, the time required for trans- mission and reproduction being about one second. The message to be sent is first typed with a special ribbon upon a special kind of paper, and then this is run through a pair of rolls similar to those of the old-fashioned clothes-wringer. The distant repro- ductions are made on similar paper by means of a special ink. THE TELEPHONE The improvements in telephony of the past fifty years have been mainly in detail, excepting only that the wireless telephone has been perfected. It has not, however, put out of commission the ordinary telephone system in which wires are employed. It has been found practicable to utilize a wire simultaneously for half a dozen messages without involving any interference; and the recording by phonograph of long-distance messages sent by wire is now not merely practicable, but is truly a pay- ing business-venture. Some bold technical dreamers have lately been talking of recording in a similar manner telephone mes- sages sent by wireless, but thus far nothing has really been ac- complished through their experiments. TUNNELING In tunneling no great strides have been made in the fifty years past. Much longer tunnels have been constructed than were formerly built; but in subaqueous tunnel-work it has not 148 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY been found practicable to go much lower than one hundred feet below water, although in a few cases that depth has been ex- ceeded by ten or twelve feet. We still have to depend upon compressed air to keep back the water. The freezing process did not prove to be commercially practicable for tunnels, al- though it has solved some difficult problems in the sinking of deep shafts. Important improvements have been made in the methods of tunnel-construction, and the unit prices of excava- tion therefor have been brought to very low figures. WATER SUPPLY No startling innovations in water supply have been made for many years, although a number of valuable improvements have been effected. In addition to the control of the pollution of watersheds previously mentioned, I might call attention to the use of Mayari steel for pipes, which has increased their strength fully fifty per cent. and their cost in place only from twenty to twenty-five per cent. for the same weight of metal; to the greatly increased efficiency of pumping equipment; to the wonderfully dependable and durable coating for steel and iron, called “‘ Anticorro”; and to the efficient and absolutely unobjectionable modern methods of purifying drinking water. CONCLUSION In drawing this rather lengthy address to a close, I should like to speculate as to what important improvements in engi- neering will be evolved in the next fifty years, so as, in a meas- ure, to anticipate the retiring address of my distant successor in office when our academy celebrates the one hundredth anni- versary of its establishment; but any attempt to do so would certainly prove futile. I must confess that I can not even prog- nosticate as to whether the progress in engineering during the next half-century will exceed or fall behind that of the one just ended; but this much I can very safely foretell: Whatever the said progress may be, a large proportion of it will be due to the initiative of our well-beloved society, The American Academy of Engineers. RESEARCH AND THE INDUSTRIES 149 RESEARCH AND THE INDUSTRIES By DE. P:'G: NUTTING DIRECTOR, WESTINGHOUSE RESEARCH LABORATORY, EAST PITTSBURGH, PA. two elements—capital and labor. This is true to-day of the smaller and less technical manufacturing concerns. Cap- ital supplies plant and equipment and covers the lag between expense for material and receipts from sales. Labor prepares: and fabricates material according to accepted methods, keeps the plant in order and suggests improvements. The manager may be in the ranks of either capital or labor. But a large, progressive, modern industry is operated on quite a different plan. Capital is represented only by a group of bankers in the dim background. The thousands of technical operatives of all grades representing labor follow routine in- structions or work to blue prints. The vital part of the or* ganization is the technical expert, everywhere directing the various departments, divisions and sections, designing new products, developing new ideas, eliminating troubles, testing raw materials and finished products. Without him the industry would go on the rocks at the first serious works trouble and even in the absence of such would be rapidly outdistanced by progressive rivals. The technical expert may or may not be financially interested in his company— it is immaterial. He is a professional solver of problems and applier of fundamental principles in quite the same sense as a physician or lawyer. He has his own capital invested in his own brain by reason of the expense for his special education and training. He represents a class quite distinct from either capital or labor, much as would a man with a special, unique machine of his own, hired for a special job. The training of the industrial expert may be in any of a wide variety of different fields, ranging from statistics to sci- ence. A large progressive concern usually has at least the fol- lowing separate departments: Accounts, Education, Engineer- ing (including Research), Executive, Export, Legal (including Patent), Mailing, Publicity, Sales, Service, Treasury, Traffic and Works. In each of these (with its divisions and sections) are experts of all grades, smoothing out troubles, checking the ‘ CCORDING to the older view, an industry is composed of 150 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY work of less skilled labor, dealing with outsiders, solving gen- eral problems and finally anticipating requirements in the nature of fundamental principles by extended investigations of the principles underlying general problems. Within each grade of each field of expert knowledge individual characteristics come into play and the work may properly be made to fit the man, or rather, the man allowed to cut out his own field of endeavor according to his taste and training. In relation to organized knowledge, the nation as a whole is concerned with its dissemination through education, its in- crease through research and its application to special problems of all kinds in all fields. The promotion of each is the self-evi- dent course toward the ultimate goal of all our problems solved by experts, the elimination of misguided effort and the rule of common sense everywhere. The large industrial unit stands in precisely this relation to organized knowledge, but chiefly only in selected fields, and in these is concerned not so much with education as with research and the application of the results of research through engineering. Industrial research is one of the three great classes by which the great bulk of the increase in organized knowledge is made. The investigation of fundamental laws and phenomena is naturally and probably always will be associated with our universities and our greatest teachers and leaders. We look to university research to advance our knowledge of the structure of the atom, gravitation, valence, relativity and similar phe- nomena. Problems in such fields as astronomy and astro- physics, geophysics and terrestrial magnetism are properly the charge of either university or of privately endowed research laboratories. It is the field of national research, directly en- dowed and fostered by national and state governments, to solve problems of general practical interest such as are related to public health, food, forestry, soil physics, road building, animal hubandry, education, the maintenance of standards and the de- velopment and conservation of public resources. Such prob- lems fall outside the bounds of both industrial and university research. The existence of a number of privately owned and of cooperative research corporations in a flourishing condition attest the commercial value of research by technically trained experts. There exists a widespread but fallacious notion that indus- trial research deals chiefly with cures for works troubles. As a matter of fact that represents but one extreme, the other ex- treme being the purest of “pure” research and the average RESEARCH AND THE INDUSTRIES 151 being nearly or quite as fundamental as the average university research in physics or chemistry. Industrial research is usu- ally directed along lines of more or less direct interest to the company, but almost invariably leads to results of general or theoretical interest. On the other hand, hardly any research is so “pure” but that it will yield some results of commercial value. In the investigation of difficult industrial problems, it is usually found necessary to continually dig deeper and deeper until the very foundations of the science are reached. Indus- trial research can not be distinguished from “ pure” research, except that in one case it is the scientific results that are the by-products, while, in the other it is the results of commercial interest which are regarded as incidental. In a typical large industrial research laboratory the main line product is a series of reports from the laboratory to the chief of the division; the by-products are scientific papers and patents. It would be dif- ficult to name a piece of research which would not be likely to yield all three classes of results: scientific, technical and patentable. But research is exceedingly expensive and the results are very uncertain. Why is it that manufacturing concerns are so ready to start and maintain research laboratories, particularly since so much of physics and chemistry has already been worked out? In any industrial plant the need of research work and research men is usually first felt in the need of improve- ments in products and of utilizing by-products. The factory superintendent and his experienced foremen have been able to handle the ordinary run of works troubles and make minor im- provements. But they find themselves handicapped by the lack of deeper insight into materials and their behavior. Why does one lot of material give good results and the next fail utterly even though chemical analysis reveals no difference? What is the cause of blow holes in castings and how may they be elim- inated? The elimination of obscure works troubles calls for ex- pert technical advice and no manufacturing concern can go very far without feeling the need of it. As a general rule the expert with just the required knowledge can not be found or is employed by a rival concern. If the problem is turned over to a private or cooperative laboratory, a solution of their problem may be attained, but they have no further control over the in- vestigator, valuable by-products of the research are wasted and a crop of succeeding related problems must go unharvested. The results are far less satisfactory than when the concern has its own laboratory. 152 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY But probably the most urgent raison d’étre for industrial re- search laboratories is the constant danger of being out-dis- tanced by competitors. Of two otherwise equal concerns, one of which has plenty of skilled scientific and technical assistance and the other has not, the former is sure to forge steadily ahead of its unprogressive competitor by making more far-reaching improvements and by utilizing waste products. Even bakeries and laundries find research pays in cutting down losses and making improvements in processes. The balance is a delicate one, since the results are cumulative. The notion that physics or chemistry is “all worked out” can hardly exist except in the mind of the student. As a typical concrete example of industrial research work let us consider the problem of condenser dielectrics. The student has learned the definition of dielectric constant and how to measure it. He knows his electromagnetic theory and the relation between re- fractive index and dielectric constant. He knows that constant to be an important one in organic chemistry and that it varies with frequency. But the industrial concern wishes to know what is the best dielectric to use in a given kind of, condenser. That dielectric must have a high dielectric constant with high dielectric strength and low watt loss. It must be insoluble in certain oils, but soluble in certain solvents. It must be fusible, but must have high melting point and must be stable. Finally, it must be reasonable in price. The organic chemist has a rich field of fats, oils and waxes to cover; acids and esters, halo- genated hydrocarbons, ketones and the like to prepare and try out. The physicist must devise new and more precise methods of measuring dielectric constant and of separating the leakage current from the displacement current in the presence of some electrolysis and polarization. All of this physical and chemical research devolves upon the industrial laboratory. The inves- tigator is fortunate if he have a thorough grounding in the ele- ments preparatory for this work. Any problem in this whole field is well worthy of a university laboratory and no problem can fail to yield results of scientific as well as practical interest. Similar fields of industrial research might be cited without number: leather substitutes, magnetic materials, porcelain, var- nish, glass, coke, soap, non-corrosive alloys, tool steel. In each field there are extensive groups of problems each relating to material for a different special purpose and each with its spe- cial set of requirements. In each case, the university man, entering industrial research, finds his academic training, even high-grade graduate work, to be hardly introductory to the RESEARCH AND THE INDUSTRIES 153 work in hand. By digging through recent scientific literature he may find a few bits of applicable data and suggestive leads, but rarely more than this. In a few of our leading technical institutes advanced students work on actual industrial research problems and excellent results are obtained. The student takes a keen interest in his work and gets a great deal out of it, the spirit of the whole institution is enlivened and frequently both the student and the concern to which he disposes of his rights reap considerable financial advantages. If the student is care- ful to clear up the fundamental principles involved, even “pure” science is as rapidly enriched as by any other class of research. In the broadest meaning of the term an engineer is one who applies fundamental principles to practical problems. With a thorough grounding in those principles and a taste for the prac- tical, he rapidly becomes an expert in his chosen field, whether it be bridge-building, designing power plants, making explo- sives, surgery, copper reduction, banking, ceramics or radio- telegraphy. In order to become an expert it is necessary first of all to acquire a broad general knowledge of all fields related to the one chosen. Upon this must be built a thorough knowl- edge of the basic principles involved in that field; research is undoubtedly the best and only means of acquiring such knowl- edge. Then comes the technical training in solving practical problems obtained through actual solution of such problems. Finally, the expert is ready to attack any problem that he may be called upon to solve. The future of the nation depends upon the quality and numbers of its engineers. A first-class engi- neer is not only an expert in his chosen field, but keeps in close touch with developments in basic principles in his own field and in related fields. It must be admitted, however, that the coun- try is full of men in positions where expert knowledge and skill would be desirable, but who have neither the thorough ground- ing nor an up-to-date knowledge of their chosen lines of work. May the number become rapidly fewer! Nearly all our large industrial concerns are now in the hands of a corps of trained experts designing, superintending manufacture in its various branches, writing specifications, testing products, etc., frequently known as the engineering de- partment. Within this department, a natural subdivision is the research division, looking after the more technical and scientific problems that arise. That division is composed largely of physicists and chemists who are experts on raw ma- terials, on testing product, on special products, preparations, 154 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY methods and processes and on uncovering obscure basic prin- ciples and relations. Such a research division falls naturally into two fairly distinct sections, the technical and the scientific. The technical or engineering research section takes care of works troubles and routine testing and looks after the initiation of new works processes. The scientific research section prop- erly looks after the investigation of the larger and more obscure problems requiring more extended research in more or less pure science. The technica! research is conveniently located within the works while the scientific research may best be carried on in special laboratories separated from the works and largely under its own management. Technical research requires men with a taste for precision work and an insight into practical problems. Scientific research requires men with subjective fertility of mind and a firm grasp of the fundamental laws and principles of physics or chemistry. In brief, industrial concerns provide their own research divisions, because (1) the accumulated knowledge of physics and chemistry falls far short of filling their needs and (2) uni- versity research fails to provide solutions for most of the larger industrial problems. University research might be largely directed toward problems of industrial moment without -.being any less scientific than the present average of university re- search, but the results of such research would always be un- satisfactory. In most cases, further research would be re- quired to bring the results into shape for industrial application and in any case some one concern would wish exclusive rights to their use. It is only fair that the industry reaping the chief benefits from the results obtained should bear the expense of obtaining them. The great strides in industrial progress are in the nature of improvements in materials, methods and processes and are chiefly, therefore, the work of chemists and inventors. The physicist investigates and tests the results of both. In the typical group of problems cited above (condenser dielectrics) the chemist develops materials of promise while physical meas- urements test their worth. The work of the physicist is at least as important as that of the chemist, but the credit will go largely to the former. This case is typical of the vast majority of research problems. The expert called upon to test a new in- vention is also usually a physicist. Comparatively few valuable results are obtained by either physicists, inventors or chemists working alone. In the ideal industrial laboratory there must be the closest RESEARCH AND THE INDUSTRIES 155 cooperation between the physicists and chemists and indeed be- tween all members of the laboratory staff. University research must always be done largely through individual effort due to its very nature and to the lack of coordinated time for research by either instructors or students. Some of the earlier indus- trial and national research organizations are on a similar indi- vidual plan. Each high-grade man is given a room or suite of rooms with apparatus and assistants and only his chief (if any one but himself) knows much about what he is doing. There is no regular meeting of the staff for discussion of results and no general assembly other than perhaps a weekly meeting to listen to a lecture by an outsider. The natural result is a tendency to wander into side issues and to become jealous of colleagues through ignorance of their work and objectives. In some of the more recently organized large industrial re- search laboratories, cooperation and team work are carried to an extreme heretofore unknown. A system of weekly or bi- weekly conferences on each of the major lines of research pro- motes the interchange of ideas and a general knowledge of all the work going on, and thereby secures an excellent spirit of cooperation and comradeship. Each conference is attended by the men carrying on the work, colleagues interested in that work, a member of the patent department and one or more re- search engineers. The latter look out for patentable material and for results of probable interest in the works. The director is ex-officio chairman and directs the discussion along the most useful channels. Stenographic notes are taken of each con- ference, these notes being afterward revised, typed, witnessed and filed for reference. Such-conferences effectively stimulate ideas and suggestions and keep research directed toward the chief objectives. Such effective team work in scientific research is new, but the results indicate that it has come to stay. An occasional conference is given over to suggestions for new lines of research. If, after thorough discussion, a sugges- tion appears sufficiently promising, a grant to cover it is applied for and work initiated. A piece of work lasting a year and costing from two to ten thousand dollars is not to be lightly un- dertaken or discontinued. Three forms of general assembly are found to be profitable in any research organization: (1) a meeting to present and dis- cuss the work (scientific paper or technical report) of members of the staff, (2) a journal meeting dealing with the current periodical literature and (3) topical lectures'in groups of three to five lectures by some expert member of the staff or outsider 156 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY on his own specialty, chiefly for the benefit of the younger mem- bers of the staff. Men who have joined the staff without much advanced university work are always a problem in the older, larger laboratories. Their advancement can not be as rapid as it might had they a full university training, it is difficult for them to drop out for further university work and, unless some such lectures are provided, the less mature men are liable to stagnate. The technical research wing of the research division of a large concern is properly about equal in size or somewhat larger than the scientific research section and is made up of chemists, physicists and engineers. Their work is necessarily varied in character. It ranges from chemical analyses of raw materials and the testing of products to the elimination of works troubles and the testing and installation of new manufacturing proc- esses. Such work requires men with a taste for routine testing, precision measurements or for the application of scientific data to concrete problems. On the other hand, men with high orig- inality and a tendency to theorize belongs rather in the scientific wing of the research division. Another function of the research division is to prepare men for the higher executive positions and to train specialists to take charge of special fields of advanced technical research. Men who have had a full academic course, supplemented by several years of research work in an industrial laboratory, make the best of timber from which to select executives and high- class specialists. There is at present a strong tendency to fill the higher-salaried positions only with university men with re- search experience and such is the avowed policy of a number of our largest manufacturing concerns. Workmen in the shops may rise to be foremen, but no farther; superintendents, chiefs of divisions and heads of departments must be university men with technical experience. The best preparation for industrial research as a profession is a thorough and broad grounding in the fundamental prin- ciples of the field chosen. The student should not specialize too early nor too highly or he will fail to obtain command of related fields of science or engineering. In quantity and breadth of academic preparation the standard to be chosen is about that required for the doctor’s degree in our best institu- tions. The new men preferred at research laboratories are men with doctorates who have published half a dozen scientific or technical papers. Men with less preparation are under a han- dicap and do not advance as rapidly as a rule. RESEARCH AND THE INDUSTRIES 157 SUMMARY The essentials in a successful modern industry are capital, labor and the technically trained expert. Only rule-of-thumb, relatively unprogressive concerns are possible without scientific specialists. The numerous departments of a large concern require the services of a wide variety of experts. Engineers are experts in the application of organized knowledge. The research division is a branch of the engineering department and consists of two wings devoted to scientific and technical research. Technical research is devoted to the testing and specifica- tion of materials, checking product, initiating new processes and the elimination of incidental works troubles. Scientific industrial research is devoted to the extended in- vestigations of basic principles and relations to the more ob- scure and fundamental works troubles and to the development of correct testing methods. The research division as a whole is, in addition to the above, a training ground for men for the higher executive and tech- nical positions. The best academic foundation for industrial research as a profession is a broad and thorough grounding in the funda- mental principles and relations in the chosen field of activity. 158 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY THE TUTORED FARMER By Professor W. O. HEDRICK MICHIGAN AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE HE much preached but little practised educational precept that “‘learning should be by doing” was never more boldly applied than in the contemporary endeavor to give tech- nical instruction to farmers and farmers’ wives upon their own premises. Farm demonstrations, or agricultural extension work as this movement is known, indifferently, acknowledges the truth that farmers are visualists rather than auralists in their methods of learning. The motor car, telephone and cheap railroad rates have of course had their share in making this new instructional scheme practicable, but after all the pref- erence of the farmer for “being shown” rather than “told” is the basis for the new system. Farm demonstrations as a systematic way of teaching farmers seem to have been first employed by the late Seaman A. Knapp two decades ago in undertaking to show southern farm- ers how to escape the evils of the boll weevil in their cotton fields. The technique of the demonstration as employed then by Dr. Knapp and as now used by thousands of county agents and extension specialists is the same and consists in doing upon the farmer’s farm or in his house the thing which it is desired to teach. Feats of this sort may be applied to any one of the numerous details which make up the farmer’s craft, but their purpose is always instructional and their methods are in- variably those of performance. “Putting on a demonstration,” as the act of teaching in this way is called, requires the accomplishment by the demonstrator under the actual conditions of the farm process—the thing— tile laying, tree pruning, crop harvesting or what not—which he wishes to make clear, and preferably to a group of farmers since this extends his message. More than 500,000 visits of this sort were made to farms in 1915 by demonstrators, the last year in which records have been tabulated by the Federal Department of Agriculture. The farm demonstration method of instructing farmers has proved revolutionary in the realm of agricultural education. Formerly the most successful agencies in this sphere were the THE TUTORED FARMER 159 farmers’ institutes, technical bulletins, the agricultural press and agricultural educational institutions. The last three of these still remain, but the institute, for a quarter of a century the supreme method of reaching the adult farmer, has sur- rendered everywhere its supremacy to the newer method of instruction. Not only has public authority specialized itself to reaching the farmer by this method of instruction, but railroads, banks and certain manufacturing establishments of prominence throughout agricultural regions employ officials who are de- voting themselves to this propaganda. The International Har- vester Company, as an instance, “puts on” many scores of demonstrations annually in furtherance of its belief in this method of teaching. The method has been successful, too, in accomplishing its purpose. As is well known, the farmer is the most conservative of men. He still hugs himself with the delusion of personal independence. Dean Bailey, of Cornell, tells the apposite story that on leaving for home after conduct- ing a very successful farmer’s institute in western New York he overheard the following conversation between two members of his audience as he passed them outside the doorway. “ Well, Sam, how did you like it?” “Oh, I don’t know,” replied the other, “It hain’t hurt me none.” In spite of this robust self- independence which grows from the farmer’s natural isolation in both a business and a social way, he has taken to this new form of instruction. He attends the demonstrations, as is shown by the statistical report from the department of agriculture quoted above, that in 1915 more than 2,959,700 came to these gatherings. The farmer’s approval is shown also by the fact gathered from the same authority that he contributed directly during the year, through his county appropriations, a round million of dollars in support of these demonstrations. Many individual county demonstrators, too, in token of their worth to the contributing farmers, receive vastly larger salaries than colleges or universities can afford to pay. Furthermore, the farmer is anxious to be taught. Not so long ago but that it is a matter of easy memory, farmers spurned anything savoring of “book farming” as applied to their business. Until 1900 our agricultural colleges were puny affairs. Attendance was not from those who intended to fol- low agriculture, and as late as 1908 Mr. Prichett, of the Car- negie Foundation, in his annual report, declares concerning these institutions—‘“ they have not yet found themselves.” Science applied to agriculture has overturned this situation and 160 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY the new vocabulary of farming is replete with terms such as these: “bacilli culture,” “butter fat tests,” “balanced rations,” “orchard spraying,’ “soil liming,” “labor incomes,” “major performance standardizations” of various sorts, ‘moisture content,” credit associations, etc. Even the most self-confident farmer must admit that he knows nothing about these, and his necessities have rendered him a docile pupil. In addition to this the enormous costliness of contemporary agriculture has forced the farmer to utilize every device to lower expenses. Farms are no longer given away under homestead laws. Quite the contrary—it can easily be demonstrated that farm lands have risen more in price during the eighteen years of this cen- tury than during all our previous history. The operator of a costly farm may not wisely omit any helpful teaching which will enable him to make a profit on so much investment. A demonstration may consist of an object lesson in tiling a field, in kitchen drains and sinks, in the “cold pack” method of fruit and vegetable canning, in how to plant a garden, or in any one or the other hundred additional features of the farm and farm household processes. Usually there is an immediately useful product which results from the lesson—as cans of prod- uce where canning demonstrations have been “put on”—and these go far to create enthusiasm for the belief that education and actual life may be brought close together. Education “carried to the people” as this is, must neces- sarily be expensive since, like the “circuit rider” of old, the mentor of this new learning is constantly in the field moving from place to place. Unlike the history of most educational in- novations—a history of private sacrifice and initiative until success is achieved, whence adoption is immediate on the part of public authority—the farm demonstration movement re- ceived governmental support from the start. An appropriation made by Congress in 1903 for combating the boll weevil in Texas was handed over in part to Dr. Knapp for his dem- onstrations experiment. Annual appropriations followed from Congress for carrying on what was known as the ‘“ Farmers’ Cooperative Demonstration Work” in the South and in 1912 appropriations were made for carrying on the same work in the North and West. The Smith-Lever Act of 1914 is the crown- ing work of government in this great undertaking, and since it not only furnishes the funds, but also the plan of administra- tion for the enterprise some discussion of its terms are nec- essary. A sum approximating a half million of dollars was to be THE TUTORED FARMER 161 distributed among the states during the first year of this ap- propriation, augmented by half million increases during each of the eight years thereafter. This is a summary of the finances of the great law. Furthermore, since an amount corresponding to the gift to it from the federal government must be raised by each state, one easily sees that eight millions in toto will be available for carrying on the work in 1922-23 and during each subsequent year. So large an amount as this devoted to a single purpose must needs have unusual administrative machinery and it is insisted by the law that a separate division or school known as the ex- tension school shall be created in each agricultural college through which these funds are handled. A special bureau in the federal department of agriculture to administer its end— the States Relation Service—and the directive apparatus of the new law is complete. The trend which this new extension effort should take is shown by the further provision that “ ex- tension work shall consist of the imparting of information through field demonstrations, publications and otherwise.” The county agent, as he is called, is the central figure in this mechanism. He is the immediate representative of the Smith- Lever fund and farm demonstration system to the rural local- ity; he is the chamber of commerce secretary in the open coun- try; the “heading up” agency for all the organized agricul- tural activities of the county. In 1916 there were 1,225 farm agents employed in the various counties, and 480 women em- ployed in farm household demonstrations, leaving only 1,695 agricultural counties still unprovided with these represen- tatives. The county agent, whether man or woman, is first and primarily the farmer’s adviser and preceptor. He is the inter- preter of the agricultural college teachings and the experiment station discoveries to the farmer. The homely title “farm doc- tor’? was originally thought to be the term which properly characterized him in his attitude toward professional activities. It is usually thought best that he must be a graduate from an agricultural college, but whether educated in science or not, he must certainly be a practical farmer in order to satisfactorily advise. He must have many of the gifts of leadership too, as the further discussion of his work will show. As an adviser there are no problems pertaining to agri- culture which the county agent may not be called upon to solve. A short summary of the typical agent’s services shows him en- gaged in the judging of live stock and seeds, in the encourage- VOL. VII.—l1. 162 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY ment of under drainage, in illustrating the cultivation, pruning and spraying of fruit orchards. Everywhere he advises with regard to tillage, time of crop planting, varieties, nature of cul- tivation and harvesting methods. He is also the counselor as to when to market, what rotations to pursue, how to secure credit, and the proper use of machinery. The epithet “ general practitioner ” well describes this cyclopedia afield and the motor runabout and the telephone are his indispensable allies. But the county agent is more than an adviser, he is also a teacher and, like the practical laboratory man that he is, he believes that pupils learn best when they conduct their own experiments. Through demonstrations, therefore, upon their own premises, he undertakes to see that each farmer benefits from a practical experience. At this point arises what is prob- ably the most cardinal of the pedagogical precepts which have come up in this new species of teaching and this is that the farmer reacts to no other educational stimulii so quickly as through being shown the successful achievements of some neighbor farmer. ‘“ Pick up in one place the instance of a suc- cessful farm achievement by one farmer and carry it to the farmers in other places,” says an experienced demonstrator, “and you will win their confidence and adherence at once.” The county agent undertakes to effectivize this ‘teaching from example.” “To put on a demonstration,” therefore, is the county agent’s way of making his teaching agriculturally read by as many as possible. Demonstrations themselves are helped by contact teaching of every sort, such, for example, as automobile and train trips to places where good farm enterprises are to be seen. Most customarily perhaps they are “put on” by being arranged for in advance through getting some farmer to make himself a model in performing some farm feat. It may be the growing of alfalfa, or the using of a fertilizer, or the raising of a special variety of animal or grain. At any rate, at the proper time interested neighbors are motored in and the lesson to be taught is presented. In this work the county agent is frequently helped by the subject-matter specialist furnished through the state college or the federal Department of Agriculture. Since these subject- matter specialists are the “first helps” to county agents, and indeed are sometimes considered to have their whole usefulness through the teaching field that the agents’ need furnishes them, a word of description of these specialists is necessary. Agricultural colleges and departments of agriculture every- THE TUTORED FARMER 163 where have upon their staffs these “teachers on mission” as they may be called, representing one or the other of the various college departmental divisions. They are usually of profes- sorial rank in the college and indeed differ from the usual de- partmental member only in the respect that their work is afield rather than in the class room or laboratory. It is for them to be ready for the summons from the permanent agent in the field to hasten thence with the desired special message. This done, the subject-matter specialist returns to headquarters to await another call. However, neither of these two forces—the one on mission nor the one permanently in the field—relies solely upon ‘“‘ occa- sions” to shape their activities. At stated intervals members of both forces assemble together to shape permanent programs or “ projects” of work, as they are called, to be carried thence- forth into practical effect. These programs include a wide variety of farm interest and are entered into with the delib- erateness and formality of a general staff preparing a cam- paign. The specialists are indispensable, therefore, to the county man to keep him freshened in information and also to enable him to systematize his attacks on the farm problems which are to be solved. In the second place, the county agent is the organization promoter of his county. A slight calculation will show that it is a physical impossibility for any teacher to maintain or even to acquire a personal touch with every farmer in a county. Therefore it is indispensable to the county agent that he perfect some other means of transmitting the message than himself, and the organization of his followers is the device. Sometimes it is only a matter of the federation of existing organizations, since in many country communities farmers have already found their way into concerted action and a redundancy of organiza- tion is as bad as too much of anything else. Farmers indeed are becoming conscious of the merits of united action. The Roosevelt Country Life Commission of 1907 suggested “organization” as a cardinal method of im- proving country life. The organizations suggested have cer- tainly been forthcoming in recent years both of the sort which express the farmer’s passionate and immediate desires, such as the milk producer’s unions near our large cities, or the non- partisan league of the Dakotas, but also organizations more firmly rooted in the farmer’s needs, such as the granges, farm- ers’ clubs, and the cooperative association of various sorts. Agricultural societies—trade associations they would be called 164 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY in town—have existed for generations among farmers. In- deed, it is probable that there is no branch of agriculture, how- ever, small or remote but what it is organized more or less closely for educational and promotive purposes. But the pres- ent-day attempts to organize farmers by communities in respect to all their interests, and especially to develop in them class con- sciousness such as that possessed by unionized labor, promise to become the dominant form of organization in the open coun- try in the near future. The farm bureau, as the variety of organization is called which the county agent promotes, has its members, whether in- dividuals or associations, acting as teachers or sponsors placed in all parts of the county, and at the center a “ clearing house” for ideas and teachings is formed available to every one. It is, in brief, the chamber of commerce idea carried into the rural neighborhoods. The bug-a-boo “class development in a re- public” which this program arouses resounds feebly against the movement, since the agricultural class already exists and the sole question is should it be organized into efficiency or re- main disorganized and impotent. Usually the headquarters of the farm bureau is in the county agent’s office in the local court- house, and here its members meet at intervals to discuss proj- ects or decide upon undertakings in the betterment of the county farming. The demonstration movement does not expend itself solely upon the farm and farm household, but reaches out in a well- organized way through boys’ and girls’ clubs to the youth of the farm regions. In both forms of this junior extension work, as this activity is called, the clubs derive their funds and take on a similar administrative system to that of the county agents just described. The end in view is inspirational rather than the immediately practical. Boys’ and girls’ clubs are auxil- iaries to the agricultural schools and endeavor to furnish stimuli of the agricultural sort which will keep young people interested in farming. Nevertheless, in the frenzied farming which took place last spring resulting from the food famine fear, these associations of children became immediately prac- tical, since they took over a large proportion of the school gar- dens which were then so important. Indeed, the fifteen per cent. increase in agricultural production in 1917 over any pre- ceding five-year average in our history may be attributed in no small degree to the efforts of the extension specialists, both of the junior and senior sort. Congress made large especial ap- propriations—as did certain state legislatures also—to both THE TUTORED FARMER 165 these classes of workers during each of the two years since our entrance into the war, and few expenditures seem to have been better warranted or to have given better satisfaction than these. An educational institution, of such vast proportions and unique scope as that provided by the Smith-Lever Law, has seldom been established upon so small a basis of experience. Much experimentation is therefore inevitable. Already serious problems have arisen as to the proportions of authority be- tween the federal Department of Agriculture and that of the different states. Furthermore, the activities of the teaching staff are too largely shaped by circumstances rather than in accordance with a fixed program. Suitable instructors have been difficult to obtain, not only on account of the inherent dif- ficulties of the new scheme of instruction but also because of the man absorption of the war. Extension teaching in general, however, has proven its merits and has become a permanent part of our educational system, and there seems to be little doubt but that the special form of this new style of teaching which makes use of the demonstration method will find its place and maintain itself in its proper field. 166 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY BIRD MIGRATION IN ITS INTERNATIONAL BEARING By JOSEPH GRINNELL DIRECTOR OF THE MUSEUM OF VERTEBRATE ZOOLOGY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA F all natural assets bird-life is least localized. Birds are () in large part migratory, and many kinds move over great extents of country according to regular seasonal schedule. They cross boundary lines of all sorts, and traverse territory always in response only to their own critical requirements as regards food supply and climate. Faunal boundaries rarely coincide with political boundaries. It would seem scarcely necessary here to argue the value to any community of its native bird life. We have come to recog- nize in wild birds sources of recreation, both physical and mental, of esthetic appreciation, of practical aid in insect re- pression, of service in reforestation and spread of useful plants, and of food for ourselves. The great majority of our waterfowl are migratory; and the pursuit, capture and shipment of these in particular, has meant wage-earning occupation for some thousands of men in the United States, for at least a part of each year. In California alone, according to statistics of the State Fish and Game Com- mission, wild ducks were sold on the markets in 1912 to the value of $250,000; about one million ducks in all were shot, presumably all used for food; and over one and one half million dollars were expended in the pursuit of these on the basis of recreation—maintenance of gun clubs, traveling expenses, am- munition, etc. I have here attempted to convey an idea of one of the values of bird-life in terms of dollars; for dollars seem to constitute the only ready measure of value comprehensible to every one. Some of the values of birds just referred to, it is of course im- possible to express in connection with the dollar sign. While the total monetary value of birds is not to be figured in hundreds of millions of dollars, as with certain other natural resources, it may properly be asserted, I think, that total disregard or waste of an entire asset of relatively small quantity is just as poor business as disregard or waste of a small part of any large asset. BIRD MIGRATION IN ITS INTERNATIONAL BEARING 167 I hardly need try to demonstrate here my conviction that it is possible, without special care, to levy an annual draft upon those birds for which we may have use dead. I will only refer to the biological principle that rate of reproduction has been established at a point in excess of sufficiency to meet the maxi- mum probabilities of casualty. The persistence of the species has been assured, at least under the natural conditions obtain- ing immediately heretofore. The interpolation of the human factor would seem to have influenced the natural balance on the whole in favor of increasing bird population, this because of the customary destruction by humans of other animals normally predatory upon bird-life. Of course there are cases where cul- tivation of the land by man, or the removal of forests by him, has affected adversely, and inevitably so, the persistence of par- ticular birds; as, for instance, the mountain plover and the pas- senger pigeon. But there remain very many valuable species which have not been so adversely affected by man’s presence and some which have even benefited; and these are the ones from which we can expect contribution to our needs without attention on our part save for regulation of our own rate of draft upon them. Let it be accepted, then, that bird-life does comprise a nat- ural asset worth conserving, to the end that it may become a thing producing regular annual income. If many of our im- portant species are migratory, how can proper conservation be secured without cooperation between the several countries through which such birds travel during their annual migration? Here in California, in the early days of bird and game legisla- tion, each county of the state formed its own code of laws irre- spective of its neighbor. No thought was taken towards ad- justment of regulation with a view to conditions throughout the entire state. In 1861, for example, the shooting season for waterfowl and upland game birds in Los Angeles and San Ber- nardino counties opened on August 1, whereas in adjoining counties it did not open till September 15. The earlier date cut into the nesting season of the birds to the injury of the breeding stock in all the counties. But adjustments have now been made, by which judicious treatment is accorded to the game birds throughout the state, although this has meant the curtailment of shooting altogether in some districts—this, how- ever, strictly in the interests of the state as a whole. Can there be any less justification for the cooperative con- servation of bird-life as between nations? One of our wading birds, the golden plover, at one time so plentiful at certain seasons along the Atlantic Coast and in the 168 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY Mississippi Valley as to be marketed in New York City by the barrelful, repairs during its short summer breeding season to the Arctic coast of North America from Alaska eastward. There it finds safety for its young, as well as adequate food. In late summer the flocks of golden plover, adults and young, start on their southward migration, going first eastward to the Labrador coast, thence to Nova Scotia and the coast of New England; then they undertake a journey of 2,500 miles south- wards across the Atlantic Ocean to Brazil, and thence proceed to the plains of Argentina. In the last named country the birds spend their winter time under summer skies, then start northward in the early spring along a course different from that followed in the fall. Passing through northwestern South America and through Central America they cross the Gulf of Mexico, follow up the Mississippi Valley across the central United States and continue on through central Canada to their breeding grounds, on the Arctic Coast. In this annual circuit of more than 16,000 miles, as worked out by the late W. W. Cooke, of the United States Biological Survey, the golden plover comes under the jurisdiction (where any regulations at all exist) of no less than seven different nations. This particular game bird does still exist, but probably in not one one-hundredth part of its original numbers—for this reason: It happens that the migrant throngs were intercepted without let or hindrance by market hunters at at least one critical point on their annual circuit, the coast of New England. Whole flocks were annihilated without regard to the principle of maintenance of breeding stock. This could not help but injure the supply of plover at all other points in its range. Again let it be said that there is no doubt but that native birds of any sort can be so treated that an annual crop can be gathered. This has been done from time immemorial with per- manently resident species of game birds in Scotland, Holland, and other European countries. Happily, the laws of the United States are now closely ap- proaching the ideal in their treatment of birds as a national asset. But no one country alone can handle the problem of the migratory species. Migratory birds constitute a common prop- erty among nations, and one which should be administered in common and shared with due regard to all the factors involved. An important step has just been taken in this direction. In 1916 there was formulated as one provision of a treaty to be entered into between the United States and Canada a migratory bird clause, under the provisions of which each of the two countries is to adhere to a program of absolute protection of BIRD MIGRATION IN ITS INTERNATIONAL BEARING 169 migratory insectivorous birds and of maximum limits of open seasons on migratory game species. The final ratification of this “migratory bird treaty’? was completed by our Congress, June 6, 1918; the Canadian sanction had already been formally given some months previously. As far as my knowledge goes this is the first really important accomplishment as regards in- ternational agreement in the regulation of bird conservation. It is the beginning of a system which should in all reason pre- vail among countries throughout the world. In the birds of migratory habit we have a valuable asset which cannot be administered advantageously in any other way than through international cooperation. 170 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY THE HOME OF THE SOVEREIGN WEED By Professor E. M. EAST BUSSEY INSTITUTION FOR RESEARCH IN APPLIED BIOLOGY, HARVARD UNIVERSITY RE you a worshipper at the shrine of My Lady Nicotine? Have you offered incense with a real Havana? Per- formed the rite with all its proper ceremony—the tender re- moval of the fancy label with many misgivings as to whether the offending girdle has left its scar, the careful, deliberate clip- ping of the end, the final Promethean touch, the first ecstatic inhalation, the contented smile? But no, no smile, this is a serious business. If such has been your lot, and you are not an unworthy devotee, you have realized there is both truth and poetry in the line, ‘‘ There’s peace in the Laranfiaga,” that in the Laranfiaga or any one of a dozen other brands unsung by Kipling from the Pear] of the Antilles, there is something not found in the baneful product of the average domestic factory. Whence comes the delightful fragrance of the true Havana article, so different from the tarry odor so often met in the product of other lands? Why does the single isle of Cuba, but ninety miles off Key West, yield a plant unique, characteristic of itself alone? It is a fact, the theme of song and story. But why? One hears it attributed to some mystic instinct of the grower or to the secret genius of the manufacturer. It is ascribed to the climate, to the soil, to the variety of the plant. I would not have the hardihood to deny all virtue to any of these. Doubt- less each is a contributing factor, though they vary greatly in their contribution. But, in my opinion, the really effective agent has never been described. Others may not agree with me, and in truth the cause of such a fugitive, indefinite thing as quality in whatever pleases the eye, ear or palate is difficult to prove. I will give my version of the story; one may take it or leave it. Four centuries have passed since the white race took up its burden in Cuba, four centuries of war rather lightly flecked with peace. But time has dealt kindly with the island. The American touch has of course improved its ideas of sanitation and education, but the people and their customs remain un- altered. It is true buccaneers no longer ply the Spanish Main, THE HOME OF THE SOVEREIGN WEED 171 and Spanish misrule—less bad than it is pictured, by the way —is no more; but the pirate still stands behind the counter of the city shop, and the free and independent citizen is fleeced in the same old way by his duly elected public representatives, to whom the city fathers of the same ilk in certain of our own cities might well go for instruction. During this time the country has been a melting pot for more varied ores than even the United States. The population at the present time is something over three million. The cen- sus says seventy-one per cent. is white, a surprising thing to the visitor making his own observations until he learns that the obliging census-taker inquires of each whether he is white or black, and black indeed he must be if he does not reply blanco. The educated classes are largely of Spanish descent, of course, but in the mass of the population there is such an intricate mixture of Chinese, negro and Indian that one hes- itates even to make a guess as to the origin of a particular in- dividual. For this reason one can not characterize them as a people. They are too varied, physically, mentally and in dispo- sition. Those of Spanish blood and even those having a con- siderable admixture of Chinese have a marked ability along the lines formerly accredited to the down-east Yankee. They are sharp, shrewd, observant and witty. It is a common saying that the Jew starves to death when within reach of their com- petition. But since it is the barefooted inhabitant of the palm-thatched cottage, the representative of the common people, who raises most of the tobacco—indeed all of the tobacco of the finest qual- ity—one can hardly impute to him either uncanny skill or hid- den knowledge in bringing it to the forefront of the world’s markets. Let us give the tiller of the soil the good word he deserves, for in many ways he is a lovable person, kindly and hospitable, but let us look elsewhere for the reasoning of our riddle. On the other hand, some considerable credit for the excel- lence of their product does belong to both the Cuban manu- facturer and his workman. The former, keenly alive to the value of a little hocus pocus with the American buyer, plays a very practical tune when he emphasizes the difference in flavor of each vintage, the varied quality of the product of the several districts, or the care with which each blend is made, with a polite but condescending intimation that the way he does it is beyond the ken of ordinary mortals. As a matter of fact, there is a modicum of charlatanry in tobacco judging as in wine judg- 172 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY ing or anything else of similar type where personal equation is so great. The Cuban manufacturer does take the necessary time to finish every process, no matter how much is required— something his American rival does not always do—but to be- lieve he has kept any business secrets to himself requires more perfect faith than I possess. But the Cuban cigar maker, that is another thing. Heisa master-craftsman, an artist. His product is not hammered to- gether like that of the American workman, who bunches his filler carelessly, hides his misdeeds in a binder of no special size or thickness, and finally courts ruin by crushing the whole thing in a mould. Instead, he actually builds his tobaco, as the Spanish call it, piece by piece, carefully spreading one small leaf around the other and manipulating them deftly with a single hand, till, perfect in shape and size, it is ready for the wrapper. When, with some paternal pride, he holds it up for final inspection, one can hardly repress an exclamation of ad- miration at the exactness with which it matches its fellow. Truly in this case the laborer is worthy of his hire. Were it not that we have somewhat overstated the case of the workman in the states, one might suppose that the key to the problem lay here. But though probably seventy-five per cent. of the American cigars are abominations concocted of the mould and binder, still there are numerous factories working after the Cuban model without obtaining the Cuban result. We must look further. The climate of Cuba is wonderful, perhaps the most won- derful in the world. No ice, no snow, no wintry blasts. Some- times a January norte bringing a temperature of 50° F. makes the inhabitants pull their garments closer, but the mercury rarely sinks lower. It is continuous spring. No sticky, humid Florida weather, just delightful bracing air somewhere be- tween 70° and 90° in the shade. In the sun it zs hot; but itis a comfortable, refreshing sort of heat, the kind we in the north get on one or two days in June, when there is wholesome con- tentment in just basking there carefree and indifferent. It may be that climatic conditions loom large in the matter of perfecting their tobacco. It is known that an even tem- perature and a relatively constant humidity are necessary fac- tors for the foundation of high-quality leaf. Their control fur- nishes the reason for the immense sums spent in Florida and Connecticut on the cotton cloth under which is produced the so-called shade-grown types. And further, it must be an im- mense advantage on the manufacturing end to be able to handle THE HOME OF THE SOVEREIGN WEED 173 the cured product at any and all times without being contin- ually on the jump to approach correct conditions by supplying artificial heat and moisture. To be sure, Tampa and Key West have similar climatic conditions, while, with all due regard for the proprieties, their cigars are still those of Tampa and Key West; but we must remember that these manufacturing centers seldom have to deal with a high-grade Cuban leaf, so that a fair comparison can not be made even on the manufacturing end and none at all as to the effect of climate on production of the natural leaf. But what can we tie to in all this? The grower, the manu- facturer, the workman, do their bit, as one might say; the won- derful climate is a mighty factor; nevertheless, as efficient causes of Cuba’s preeminence in tobacco, they are not con- vincing. And varietal difference can be left out of considera- tion, for the Cuban varieties have been smuggled out again and again and tested in every country under the sun. The answer is that we have considered everything but the “‘ hoyo,” and the hoyo, the “hole” made by Nature in their limestone cliffs, is the efficient cause. You will recognize the term in the name of the celebrated brand ‘“‘ Hoyo de Monterey,” cigars made orig- inally from tobacco grown in the hoyo of Monterey. These limestone pits are Cuba’s secret, the home of the really fine product. Cuba raises much other good tobacco, and, to tell the truth, much tobacco in her eastern provinces about which the least said the better, but the hoyos are the workshops for Nature’s best. Why they are but seldom visited by the Havana nicotine magnates and known only by rumor to American tobacco men, I do not know, but I have recently had the pleasure of making a personal pilgrimage to two of the most famous spots and was told there that I was one of the first Americans to make the trip. We left Havana, three of us, about 6:30 in the morning in a Henry Ford production, fortified only by a single cup of cafe con leche, that peculiarly flavored coffee that is really a Cuban institution. We were driven clickety-clack by one of those reck- less corner-cutting chauffeurs with which Havana is infested, whose almond eyes betrayed an ancestor from the Celestial Kingdom in the not too distant past, and who nearly brought us to grief at the first turn by running into a native who was trying to get some speed out of his Andalusian mule by scream- ing, while wielding the goad, “I will beat thee! I will beat thee! If thy skin were that of a holy Saint, still would I beat thee!” Luckily we missed him and sped out into the highway 174 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY to Pinar del Rio with grins on our faces and curses in our ears. Though with marvellous ingenuity the infernal chauffeur jolted us squarely through each uneveness in the road, we felt that the trip was “ not too bad” as the Cubans have it, when we flashed out from under a long avenue of royal poincianas loaded with their giant beans and our eyes met the fascinating outline of the distant mountains, across long plains dotted with feath- ery plumes of the royal palm. We breakfasted, a typical Cuban breakfast of six or eight courses, at San Diego de los Banos in a wonderful inn some centuries old, then on to Pinar del Rio, the center of the tobacco district. From here our way wound up through shale moun- tains covered with dwarf pines, as different a scene from that of the morning as well might be. Typical Virginia hills they were, and if rifts in the rocks and turns in the road had not given us glimpses of the tropical verdure below, we should have thought we had suddenly been transported there on Sulei- man’s magic carpet in the moments we had nodded from the effects of somnorific old Sol. Down again and up like the King of France with his ten thousand men, thirty miles beyond Pinar del Rio we reached our goal, San Carlos del Valle de Luis Lazo, perched on a little plateau at the foot of the limestone cliffs of the Sierra del Camo. Here, thanks to the hospitality of the “‘ squire” of the little vil- lage, good old Don Andres Carvallo, we spent the night, and were ready early the next morning for our trip to two of the hoyos, Hoyo Valteso and Hoyo Martel, for each of the thou- sand or so of these places has its individuality marked with a name of its own. As the cliffs seemed to rise absolutely vertically some four or five hundred feet, there was some speculation as to our ability to make the climb, but we were assured by Higinio, our native guide, that he would take us up one of the easy trails—one used for many years by oxen. As we plodded up the narrow, twist- ing, stony path, rising at an angle of fully sixty degrees in places, our respect for the climbing ability of the ox increased. In response to our questions, Higinio informed us that it took at least a year to train each ox, schooling him in his task by placing him between two practicos that had previously learned their trade. In other hoyos, those really isolated by the steep- ness of the cliffs, they are carried in when quite small calves, and spend their whole lives there before the plow and harrow. As the top was reached and we peered down, between the trunks of the palmas de los sierras, and the branches of the THE HOME OF THE SOVEREIGN WEED 175 ceibas covered with bromelliads and an occasional orchid, we caught our first glimpse of the hoyo, a pit in the limestone rock, apparently the crumbling remnant of a cave with the top fallen in. It seemed to cover about an acre, though in reality it was eight times as large. The level floor was dotted with green spots which we knew must be tobacco, though we could have hazarded no such guess from its size, and at one side the cur- ing barn, a palm-thatched affair about fifty by twenty feet, where the leaves are hung to dry before being packed into the odd little palm-covered bundles ready for their journey to the Havana market. The picture was a gorgeous riot of color under the tropical sun, but even so, there was not that peculiar feeling of awe which came when we had cautiously picked our way down and obtained the view from the floor. I have sought for a simile, but have not found it. The hoyo is a thing unique. Imagine a prison of limestone cliffs towering abruptly five hun- dred feet. Above, the southern sun peeping from a cloud-bank of fleecy white, as if inquiring the reason for this third Amer- ican intervention. At right, at left, in front, behind, the bleak wall, with only here and there a famished palm or green- barked ceibon struggling for a foothold, or perhaps a clump of fern and moss screening a soft-voiced dove or a black-coated wrangling Jew bird, the echoes of whose vocal aspirations re- sounded back and forth. Below, the tidy garden with droop- ing rows of green broken at times by a spot of pink where a Cuban nettle flaunts its flag of warning. Surely it is a garden of gnomes, where nightly they water their seedlings with a magic essence, coaxing them to distil the fragrance in their leaves, that dead and gone they may fulfill their appointed lot in bringing solace and contentment to the tired business man— really given away at three for a dollar gold, in Havana: The tobacco, botanically speaking, was in no way different from the same variety grown in Connecticut. There was the same habit of growth, the same shaped leaf, the typical flower. Only the size was something new to our experience. It was dwarf, tobacco in miniature, two feet high at most, with seven or eight delicate little leaves scarcely long enough for a man’s size cigar. We saw none of the cured product, but were assured that the yield was about 300 pounds per acre in a good year, and (with considerable pride) ‘the price, Sefior, one dollar and a half a pound at the plantation.” When we thought of the 1,800-pound yields of the same variety on the level fields of Connecticut, and glanced at the towering cliffs, emblems of the difficulties here encountered, we wondered why the price was 176 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY not multiplied by twenty, although, as a matter of fact, it was greatly in excess of that obtained on the island for other tobacco. We stopped a moment on our way back at a semillaro, a place cleared near the top of the limestone cliff for raising seed- lings for the hoyo. This is done, we were told, because fungus attacks are less likely at the higher altitude. Rather an un- kempt place it was, with here and there a yam or taro plant showing that the workmen did not forget their own wants in the midst of their labors. Back to Luis Lazo and a midday breakfast to which we were duly attentive. Afterwards a visit to several ensenadas, tobacco plantations outside the hoyos where a primitive sort of irrigation is used. Open troughs radiate from a platform at the water’s source—in this case a river—and a patient old nag hour after hour hoists a laden barrel to the center of dis- tribution, a hogshead reservoir some fifteen feet up. The tobacco here was larger and from the agricultural point of view much finer than that in the hoyo. The plants were three or even three and a half feet in height and the ten or twelve leaves, characteristic of them, were sometimes sixteen inches long. They were just in the midst of the picking, and we saw leaves in various stages of drying, hanging in the different barns. These buildings, if such they can be called, interested us very much. I do not know whether it has any effect on the quality of the product, but it is clear that these affairs with their long sloping roofs of palm leaves through which the air can pass at any point are ideal for the purpose for which they are intended, provided no torrential rains occur at the wrong season of the year and start the half-cured leaves to rotting. One other thing here was not without its attraction to our northern eyes, as illustrating the efficient use these people back in the moun- tains make of their natural resources. We were already aware that the royal palm might as aptly be called the people’s palm, since it furnishes the Cuban with his entire habitation, with part of his furniture and clothing and, through the interme- diation of his pig, with food, yet here was another valuable use right in line with our inquiry. The tercios or bundles of tobacco are so neatly packed away in palm-leaf envelopes that they un- dergo a perfect case-curing and reach the Havana factory prac- tically ready for use. And further, the tercios are bound with a native rope, a product of another tree right at hand, the ceibon. A very good rope it makes, as strong as hemp and not half so troublesome to prepare. THE HOME OF THE SOVEREIGN WEED Ire Regretfully we tore ourselves away from the magic attrac- tions of the mountains and sped to Havana. We had had a glorious trip, a trip of real discovery, one might say, and were duly thankful for the memories we carried with us. Pleasant they were, though rather disconcerting after there was time for thought. We had seen the hoyo, the one place in the world where they raise perfect tobacco. But had we pried into Cuba’s secret, after all? Again and again came the question, why does the hoyo raise perfect tobacco? There is no question about the fact; the manufacturers admit it; the growers take pride in it. The price proves it. If more conclusive proof is wanted, it comes from the hoyos themselves. Would such a place as the Hoyo Palenque, surrounded by cliffs over a thousand feet high and reached by seventy separate ladders, have been cultivated for over a hundred years if it did not produce a superfine prod- uct? There is but one answer to this, but the reason is not so easy. I believe I have unriddled the riddle, but mark that I only say “‘ believe.” The limestone cliffs give their aid of course, since tobacco must have a slightly alkaline soil. But then lime is not a scarce article in this world of ours and its effects can be duplicated elsewhere. Again, there is the sterility of the peculiar type of sandy soil which makes up Cuba’s good tobacco land. It may have unique chemical properties that contribute to the end re- sult. Since they have never been studied carefully, one can not say, but this does not seem a necessary assumption. The fact that there is that agricultural ideal, a perfect climate, backed up by a sterile soil of proper physical constituency, is all that is necessary to account for the generally excellent tobacco of certain areas of the celebrated Vuelta Abajo. Doesn’t it seem like an agricultural paradox to attribute the excellence of a product to the sterility of the soil? It is the truth, how- ever. Several years ago it was found that a tobacco plant pro- duces about the same quantity of the essential oils that give the leaves their aroma no matter whether certain of the conditions under which it is grown be good or bad. In other words, if a plant grows to be eight feet high and has leaves twenty-six inches long, it produces only about the same amount of essen- tial oils as when it grows two feet high and has leaves eight inches long, other things being equal. Now it is a noteworthy fact that while Cuban tobacco under shade in Connecticut meets the first of these conditions, the average Cuban plant hardly approaches the second. The Cuban plant is a dwarf, and packs into its small self as much of the essentials of real VOL. VII.—12. 178 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY quality as its giant sister in Connecticut. Here again, however, our interpretation fits Cuban tobacco in general. The condi- tions are met just as neatly in the ensenada as they are in the hoyo, so we still seem far off the mark. This is not the whole story, for we must remember that the hoyo has and uses all these advantages as a basis upon which to build its own per- fecting qualities. The hoyo itself is the secret of the matter. Why do they grow tobacco under shade in Connecticut, Florida and even Cuba? Simply because it conserves moisture and keeps the temperature and humidity constant and high. This the hoyo does naturally with its limestone cliffs, having withal the im- mense advantage of direct rays of the sun at a considerable altitude, factors known to be essential to other crops besides tobacco. And it has the sun when it needs it, enough and no more. From ten o’clock until three it shines directly on the plants, storing up food in the leaves for elaboration during the night, while from dawn until ten and from three until seven, there is indirect light due to the protecting cliffs. It is a stage setting that could not be more admirable from the standpoint of plant physiology, a perfect fulfillment of what are known to be the conditions required by the tobacco plant. . The reason why other countries can not compete with Cuba in producing the fragrant weed, therefore, is not so difficult to see. They may improve their methods of cultivation and manu- facture, select carefully their soils and climate, may even im- itate conditions artificially with tents and tent-poles; but they can not hope to duplicate the finest product until they find a wizard genius who can transport the ancient hoyos far beyond the sea, and train the sun to obey his word as did Joshua of old. VITAMINES AND NUTRITION ‘ 179 VITAMINES AND NUTRITION By Dr. H. STEENBOCK ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF AGRICULTURAL CHEMISTRY, UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN CN INCE 1912 when Casimir Funk first brought to the atten- s tion of the public the hitherto unknown dietary essentials under the collective term vitamines, nutrition experts have felt that they had something tangible to investigate—something the importance of which it was necessary to prove or disprove. As experimentation revealed symptoms attributable to vitamine deficiency, the general public, ever easily impressed by matters unexpected, and matters so vital as to revolutionize the con- ception as to what constitutes an adequate diet, soon became alarmed. At present it is probably not overstating the situa- tion when it is said that the previously considered all-important attributes of an adequate ration, such as sufficient protein, calories and salts, have probably been slighted by the sudden interest taken in vitamines. Nor is this so very remarkable. Certainly no individuals have been more impressed with the important role that vitamines have in the diet than the inves- tigators engaged in this field of nutrition. Only a few years ago students were taught that the body needed energy, to be furnished by carbohydrates and fats, protein, to be furnished by proteins, and inorganic elements, to be furnished by ash These, together with water, were supposed to constitute the sum total of the dietary requirements of the animal body. Tmagine the surprise and chagrin of the nutrition experts when it was found impossible to support the life of an experimental animal, such as the rat, on a ration compounded from these ele- mentary highly purified food stuffs. Lack of palatability re- sulting in insufficient consumption was given as the reason. “How,” was it asked, “can an animal maintain itself when the lack of taste to the food leads to loss of appetite?”’ ‘Our naturally occurring foods contain esters and ethers which in- duce better consumption and therefore maintenance.” But, on investigation, it was found that a great substantial variation in the taste of the ration by the addition of flavoring extracts of great variety in kind and amount did not improve the nutrition of the animal. Not until there were added small amounts of certain plant or animal tissues or their extracts—now known 180 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY 1. A pigeon showing a neck spasm in an acute attack of avian beri-beri (poly- neuritis) resulting from the consumption of a ration deficient in water-soluble vitamine. to furnish the vitamines—was it found possible to induce nor- mal nutrition. Certainly the public is to be excused, if, as the result of the enthusiasm of the investigator, it shows undue concern over the vitamine content of the daily diet. Let us analyze the situation more minutely from the experi- mental standpoint, so that we can comprehend what is defi- nitely known in regard to vitamines, what physiological dis- turbances are to be expected if our diet is deficient in them and what with our present mode of living is the probability of a deficiency. Generally it would be inferred from the term, as Funk im- plied, that vitamines are substances of an amine nature con- cerned with vital phenomena. Though certain derivatives of ammonia have been shown to have some of the properties of vitamines, yet of their amine nature there is conclusive proof. Of their relation to vital phenomena there is absolutely no question. Physiologically, vitamines can be divided into at least two types. Both are soluble in water, but only one is soluble in fats. This difference in properties has led to their characterization, respectively, as a water-soluble vitamine and as a fat-soluble vitamine. Though possible, yet in the light of present information it can not be considered probable that either type consists of more than one active component. Chem- ically, in even an approximately pure form, both vitamines are entirely unknown. Without either kind in the diet, animal life, at least that high in the genetic scale, is impossible. Curiously enough, the observations of symptoms indicative VITAMINES AND NUTRITION 181 of a lack of the water-soluble vitamine in the dietary were made on man himself. In the far east, especially in the Malay peninsula, in the Philippines and in Japan, there has been prevalent a disease known as beri-beri. It is characterized by a loss in weight with muscular atrophy, contracture or paral- ysis. It may run a rapid course, ending in sudden death, due to heart failure, or it may take on a chronic form. On post mortem there is evidence of more or less edema and extensive degeneration of nerve elements. Though these cases were of quite frequent occurrence, economically this disease was first brought to the attention of the civilized world when, during the Russian-Japanese war, a considerable portion of the Jap- anese army was incapacitated by its ravages. Fortunately, 2. A young female albino rat suffering from polyneuritis due to a deficiency in its diet of the water-soluble vitamine. Note the abnormal curvature of the back and es- pecially in the one photograph an extreme spasticity. This rat should normally have weighed 120 grams; its actual weight was 54 grams. A rat in this condition without treatment will usually die in 10 to 24 hours. 182 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY by this time, experimental investigation had already indicated suitable prophylactic treatment, and prompt improvement and final prevention were brought about by providing for more variety in the ordinary oriental diet of white rice and fish. Beri-beri was put upon an experimental basis when Eyk- man, a Dutch investigator working in the East Indies, observed that birds fed exclusively on white rice developed symptoms resembling those of human beri-beri. At first they consume rice readily, but anorexia soon ensues. After a period of a few weeks the onset of the disease is indicated by a tenseness of the muscles of the crop; usually then in the course of twenty- four to thirty-six hours more pronounced symptoms appear. When the bird is entirely at rest these may not be so evident, except for a slight unsteadiness of the head, but upon the slightest excitation the head may be suddenly thrown back- wards, the feet forwards and the wings flapped violently as the bird makes an effort to regain its balance. These move- ments cause it to tumble over and over. In these spasms cer- tain muscles are so exceedingly tense that violent restraint may lead to injury. Not all birds in an experimental lot may show these symptoms, variations in the symptoms being caused by the kind of nerve elements affected in the degenerative processes. Some birds may take on a so-called chronic form where the progress of the disease is so slow that death results primarily from starvation. All acute cases can be promptly relieved by the administration of extracts containing the water- soluble vitamine. Complete alleviation of all symptoms in most violent. cases have been seen to result three to five hours after the injection of a few milligrams of a concentrated water- soluble vitamine preparation. A bird in violent convulsions often will preen itself, coo, and strut around in its cage six to ten hours after such treatment. Experimentally, a nutritional polyneuritis can also be in- duced in the rat. A lack of the water-soluble vitamine in the ration of the growing rat will soon lead to cessation of growth, then to rapid loss in weight and finally to spasms which ter- minate in death. The oral administration of the water-sol- uble vitamine, if the respiration has not become too feeble, will terminate the violent symptoms and lead to complete recovery. If the administration of the vitamine is continued, the animal will resume eating and rapidly regain its health and begin to grow. In certain ways the water-soluble vitamine stands in different relations to the reproducing animal than other food constituents. When the ration of a nursing animal is poor in VITAMINES AND NUTRITION 183 > 92 3. The same rat 25 hours later after the oral administration of an alcoholic ex- tract of 3.4 grams of wheat embryo. It was now able to sit quietly in normal position and resume eating its former vitamine-deficient ration. good proteins or poor in certain mineral elements such as lime, normal milk will be produced at the expense of body tissue. Such a process, which sooner or later results in the depletion of the reserve of the mother, gradually manifests itself in her appearance. When, on the other hand, the ration is low in its content of water-soluble vitamine the mother may maintain herself in fine condition and the young will grow, but may sud- denly become neuritic and soon succumb. Deficiency: of a ration in the fat-soluble vitamine is indi- cated by symptoms not so specific or so dramatically manifest. A young rat will fail to grow, and a mature rat will fail to maintain itself just as would happen if there were a deficiency of suitable protein, ash or available energy, but in addition these rats are predisposed to a purulent conjunctivitis which usually leads to permanent blindness. So general is this con- dition that it might be taken as pathognomonic of this dietary deficiency if it were not for the fact that an indistinguishable form sometimes occurs in animals on other rations. In addi- tion, Osborne and Mendel have found that their rations deficient in the fat-soluble vitamine induced the formation and deposi- tion of calculi along the urinary tract. It is barely possible that these two conditions are related, irritation in the eye socket, due to abnormal secretions, preparing the field for the conjunctivitis. That it is an infection is indicated by its re- sponse to proper medication. As these two forms of dietary deficiency can be easily dem- 184 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY onstrated experimentally in the laboratory, one may well ask the question—what is the probability that certain cases of rec- egnized or even unrecognized malnutrition in man may be due to an avitaminosis? With respect to beri-beri under ordinary conditions the danger is not very great, if at all existent. It is only when man so modifies the type ingredients in his diet as to depart from the character of naturally occurring food materials that beri-beri has ever been known to occur. The oriental suf-, fered from this malady when he began to demand, for esthetic reasons only, that the prepared rice in his diet should be white. As the hulled rice kernel varies in color from a light yellow to almost black, he proceeded by a crude milling process to grind off this variously pigmented pericarp and thus obtained his white cr polished rice. Though his esthetic desires were satisfied, his source of water-soluble vitamine had been dangerously re- duced in amount; sporadic outbreaks of beri-beri became common. A similar condition of affairs has been reported in Newfoundland where an almost exclusive subsistence on patent wheat flour during a period of scarcity of other foods caused beri-beri. In the milling process where the aleurone layer and embryo of seeds are removed most of the vitamines are removed as well. It is timely to question the wisdom of many of our food-manufacturing processes not only from the standpoint of removal of valuable salts and proteins, but of vitamines as well. Why feed many of the most vitally neces- sary food constituents having their origin in the manufacture of our food in superabundance to our stock for animal and milk production and feed ourselves on what may look better 4. The same rat 23 days later kept on the same ration, but given daily the resi- due of an alcoholic extract equivalent to 3.4 grams of wheat embryo dissolved in its drinking water. The rat now weighed 102 grams. At the present time of writing it is in excellent nutritive condition and still gaining rapidly. VITAMINES AND NUTRITION 185 ECTERGIAE ECCT UTTETTENT | 1 | incnes aah a | ' 4) ere te it LEER PIES Tia tie 5. A female rat and her young raised on a ration rather low in its content of water-soluble vitamine. She became pregnant and raised a litter of four young to a total weight of 66 grams. The nursing young grew rapidly, but suddenly in one day lost 5 grams in weight and showed periods of great excitability. The next day one was found dead, and the others had convulsions as indicated in the cut. Such young invariably develop into normal rats when nursed by a normal rat on a complete ration ; otherwise death ensues rapidly. 186 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY but nourishes less? Some of our milling processes have been adopted for economical reasons, as in the case of rice the un- polished grain on storage is very liable to become infected with meal worms and its fats are liable to become rancid, but un- doubtedly other means could be found to cope with these diffi- culties. All food materials making up the greater part of the human dietary so far investigated have shown the presence of a generous amount of the water-soluble vitamine. Lack of water-soluble vitamine undoubtedly has not been one of the de- terminants which in itself has interfered with man’s general progress and development. There has recently come to the attention of the medical fra- ternity in Denmark and in Japan an abnormal! condition of the eyes, a xerophthalmia, in children fed on pasteurized milk or grain milk-substitutes. Monrad and others have made the suggestion that this is due to an avitaminosis. This hypoth- esis has been tentatively accepted on the basis of experiments with rats such as previously described and because improve- ment has been found to result upon adding raw whole milk or cod-liver oil, both of which are rich in the fat-soluble vitamine, to the previous diet. Butter fat is very rich in the fat-soluble vitamine. The dairy cow in the tremendous consumption of rough feeding materials rich in the fat-soluble vitamine per- forms the act of concentrating it in the food for her offspring. Man probably can not safely restrict himself to grains as his source of supply of this dietary essential, but needs to sup- plement them with the actively growing and assimilating parts of plants. Leafy materials such as have been investigated up to the present time have been found to contain this vitamine in large amounts. Some roots also apparently contain consider- able amounts. Because butter fat is very rich in this fat-soluble vitamine and because plant fats and the body fats of animals contain but little of it, much has been said in favor of the use of butter instead of butter substitutes. In full realization that but small amounts of the vitamines are required it must be remem- bered, however, that butter is wholly absent from the dietary of some and at most constitutes but a small part of the total of food stuffs consumed by most people and while little is known definitely of the fat-soluble vitamine content of other foodstuffs, yet enough is known to indicate that sufficient amounts to sat- isfy all requirements of the body can be carried by other food materials. It is not necessary to value milk especially on the basis of its fat-soluble vitamine content when it is remembered VITAMINES AND NUTRITION 187 6. The same rat 77 days later after having had two more litters, neither of which she kept alive longer than a few days. Though slightly longer haired she weighed 25 grams more and was in good condition. Rearing of the young is a process more ex- acting in its requirements than either growth or reproduction. that as a source of protein for the animal it has no equal. For this we have no substitute, for it as a source of fat-soluble vitamine we have. At one time, there was a tendency to associate etiologically other conditions of malnutrition, such as scurvy and rickets, with a deficiency of specific vitamines. Evidence so far pre- sented does not support this contention. These diseases are un- doubtedly associated with a faulty intestinal condition not di- rectly referable to an avitaminosis. In the present emergency in the economic food situation, it 7. Two male rats of the same age. The one on the right—a normal rat—received a sufficiency of the fat-soluble vitamine in its ration; it weighed 262 grams. The one on the left received but little of the fat-soluble vitamine; it weighed 109 grams. Note the inflammation of the eyes and the incrustation of the ears to which rats on a ration deficient in the fat-soluble vitamine are subject. Both conditions, if not too far ad- vanced, can be improved by suitable medication. 188 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY is the duty of all students of nutrition to scan the horizon very carefully for indications pointing the way for rational modifi- cations in the selection of nutriments. An individual so adapted as to be able to digest large amounts of food without digestive or other organic disturbances undoubtedly guards himself against a deficiency of any nutrient in his diet. This, in considerable measure, may account for the great capacity for work shown by some heavy eaters. On the other hand, many people are undoubtedly limited in their performance due to a shortage of a necessary constituent. When the food con- sumption is large there is little cause for concern, but when it is limited in quantity and in variety it is well to realize that any one of the factors, viz., vitamines, protein, salts or energy may limit a man’s capacity for work. It might be said that it is unfortunate that man is not gifted with a sense of percep- tion indicating to him the specific dietary needs of his body. He is either hungry or satisfied and ultimately he feels well cr unwell. It is sufficient to say that vitamines are indispen- sably necessary in the diet, but for normal nutrition, if the indi- vidual has the opportunity to select his foods as he desires, lack of vitamines should undoubtedly give no greater cause for concern than lack of suitable proteins or salts. There-is cause to look forward with considerable anticipation to the economic results which are bound to come with a fuller knowledge of what constitutes the valuable dietetic properties of many food materials individually and in various combinations. PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 189 THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF SCIENCE In July, 1818, The American Journal of Science and Arts was established by Benjamin Silliman, professor, as the title page of the first number states, of chemistry, mineralogy, etc., in Yale College. In the century that has since elapsed, the journal has witnessed and been itself a part in the most notable of all performances, the de- velopment of modern science. The present editor, Edward S. Dana, the grandson of Silliman, and like him professor at Yale, including miner- alogy and other physical sciences in his field, has done well to issue a centennial number of the journal and himself review its history, while other contributors, who have been active in its work, sketch the his- tory of the sciences covered by it. These articles have been made the basis of seven Silliman lectures, to be published by the Yale University Press, in accordance with the terms of the foundation established by a nephew of Benjamin Silliman. The advancement of science in the past century and its progress in this country are the more notable if we compare the present situation with the humble and almost naive beginnings of the Journal, and con- trast them with other forms of hu- man achievement, as poetry, litera- ture, music and the fine arts, which at most have remained stationary, while our political institutions have progressed so little that they per- mit wars as devastating as those of the Napoleonic era. The Journal was a modest quar- terly, but the “Plan of the Work” with which it opens includes an am- ‘tices of scientific men; bitious medley of subjects which in- dicates so correctly the situation of science a hundred years ago that it deserves to be quoted: This Journal is intended to em- brace the circle of THE PHYSICAL SCIENCES, with their application to THE ARTS, and to every useful pur- pose. It is designed as a deposit for original American communications ; but will contain also occasional se- lections from Foreign Journals, and notices of the progress of science in other countries. Within its plan are embraced NATURAL History, in its three great departments of MINERALOGY, BoTANY, and Zoo.ocy; CHEMISTRY and NATURAL PHILOS- OPHY, in their various branches: and MATHEMATICS, pure and mixed. It will be a leading object to il- lustrate AMERICAN NATURAL HiIs- TORY, and especially our MINERAL- OGY and GEOLOGY. The APPLICATIONS of these sci- ences are obviously as numerous as | physical arts, and physical wants; for no one of these arts or wants can be named which is not con- nected with them. While ScIENCE will be cherished for its own sake, and with a due respect for its own inherent dignity; it will also be employed as the hand- maid to the Arts. Its numerous ap- plications to AGRICULTURE, the earliest and most important of them; to our MANUFACTURES, both mechanical and chemical; and _ to our DomESsTIC ECONOMY, will be carefully sought out, and faithfully made. It is also within the design of this Journal to receive communications on Music, SCULPTURE, ENGRAVING, PAINTING, and generally on the fine and liberal, as well as useful arts; On Military and Civil Engineer- ing, and the art of Navigation. Notices, Reviews, and Analyses of new scientific works, and of new Inventions, and Specifications of Patents; Biographical and Obituary No- essays on 190 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY AMERICAN JOURNAL OF SCIENCE, MORE ESPECIALLY OF MINERALOGY, GEOLOGY, AND THE INCLUDING ALSO AGRICULTURE AND THE ORNAMENTAL AS WELL AS USEFUL ARIUS. CONDUCTED BY BENJAMIN SILLIMAN. PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY, MINERALOGY. ETC IN YALF COLLEGE, AUTHOR OF TRAVELS IN ENGLAND, SCOTLAND. AND HOLLAND, ETC ee VOL. I....NO. I. —— WARO— ENGRAVING IN THE PRESENT NO. New apparatus for the combustion of Tar, &c. by fhe vapour of water. —w FO 6.2 £006 e—— }ew-Tork : L{D, PUBLISHED BY J. EASTBURN AND CO. LITERARY ROOMS, BROADWAY, . AND BY HOWE AND SPALDING, NEW-HAVEN, Q) g TITLE-PAGR OF TEE FIRST ISSUE cr THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF SCIENCE. PROGRESS OF SCIENCE COMPARATIVE ANATOMY and PHYSI- OLOGY, and generally on such other branches of medicine as depend on scientific principles; Meteorological Registers, and Re- ports of Agricultural Experiments: | and we would leave room also for interesting miscellaneous things, not perhaps exactly included under either of the above heads. For half a century the American Journal of Science remained prac- tically our only scientific journal. Then in 1867 THE AMERICAN NAT- URALIST was established, followed in 1872 by The Popular Science Monthly, of which THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY is the editorial successor, and in 1883 by the weekly journal SCIENCE. Simultaneously _ special journals began to appear: in 1875 the Botanical Bulletin, the prede- cessor of The Botanical Gazette; in 1878 the American Journal Mathematics, in 1879 The American Chemical Journal, now merged with the Journal of the American Chem- ical Society; in 1888, The American Geologist, no longer published, in 1887 The Journal of Morphology, and so on, in increasing numbers until to-day the files of our scien- tific journals fill aleoves of a library. The American Journal of Science is now only one in a large group of journals, but it occupies an impor- tant place earned not only by its history but also by its present high standard in the publication of sci- entific research. HOURS,FATIGUE AND HEALTH IN BRITISH MUNITION FACTORIES Hours, fatigue and health in British munition factories is the title of a Bulletin, No. 221, issued by the Bureau of Labor Statistics of the U. S. Department of Labor as_ the first of a series of bulletins pre-_ pared at the instance of the Council of National Defense for the pur- pose of giving wide circulation to the experiences of Great Britain, of | 19k France, Canada and other countries in dealing with labor in the produc- tion of the largest quantity of munitions in the shortest space of time. The bulletin contains the re- print of eight memoranda published by the British Health of Munition Workers’ Committee which was ap- pointed in September, 1915, “to consider and advise in questions of industrial fatigue, hours of labor, and other matters affecting the per- sonal health and physical efficiency of workers in munition factories and workshops.” These memoranda deal with Sunday labor, hours of work, output in relation to hours of work, industrial fatigue and _ its causes, sickness and injury, special industrial diseases, ventilation and lighting in munition factories and workshops, the effects of industrial conditions upon eyesight. From a perusal of these memo- randa it appears that Sunday labor, in the opinion of the committee, is not profitable and that continuous work “is a profound mistake ” and does not lead to increased output; that a system of shifts although im- practicable in some cases is to be preferred to overtime, since the lat- ter taxes the strength of workers too severely, results in loss of time because of exhaustion and sickness, and curtails unduly the period of rest; that night work should be dis- couraged, that output can not be maintained at the highest level for any considerable period if the con- ditions are such as to lead to ex- cessive fatigue and to deterioration in the health of the worker, with a recommendation that hours should not exceed 56 per week for men en- gaged in very heavy labor, or 60 for men engaged in moderately heavy labor, while 64 should be a maxi- mum. The committee’s study of indus- trial fatigue and its causes sums up its own studies of hours of labor, emphasizing the importance of reg- 192 ularity of hours and of daily and weekly rests made with due consid- eration of the character of the work performed. In its report on sick- ness and injury the committee points out certain injurious condi- tions which should be guarded against as likely to diminish seri- ously the efficiency of the labor force “To conserve energy and efficiency is, other things being equal, the way to improve output.” The medical examination of all workers before employment is recommended, and it is suggested that factories should provide proper sanitary facilities, safeguard machinery, make ar- rangements for adequate medical and nurse schemes, etc. The value of first-aid is emphasized. The report on special industrial diseases gives the causes, methods of prevention and treatment for the principal industrial diseases which have been found to affect munition workers. Particular attention is directed to the importance of ade- quate lighting and ventilation which : are absolutely essential for the maintenance of health and comfort and, therefore, the efficiency and capacity of the workers. Special measures to prevent undue strain upon eyesight and to reduce the liability of accidents to a minimum are recommended. SCIENTIFIC ITEMS WE record with regret the death of Karl Grove Gilbert, the distin- guished geologist of the U. S. Geo- logical Survey; of John Harper Long, professor of chemistry Northwestern University Medical School; of Stephen Farnham Peck- ham, known for his work in the chemistry of bitumens; of George M. Searle, formerly professor of mathematics and astronomy in the Catholic University of America; of Richard Rathbun, assistant secre- tary of the Smithsonian Institution, in THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY and of Sir Alexander Peddler, the English chemist. THE Croonian Lecture before the Royal Society was delivered by Ma- jor W. B. Cannon, professor of physiology, Harvard Medical School, on June 20, the subject being ‘“‘ The physiological basis of thirst.”—The Wilbur Wright memorial lecture of the British Aeronautical Society was delivered in the Central Hall, Westminster, on June 25, by Pro- fessor W. F. Durand, chairman of the American Advisory Committee for Aeronautics, scientific attaché to the American Aviation Mission in Europe, and professor of mechan- ical engineering, Stanford Univer- sity, U: S: A. The subjectsawas “Some Outstanding Problems in Aeronautics.” THE American Association for the Advancement of Science and the National Scientific Societies affili- ated with it will meet at Baltimore in Convocation Week. It had been originally planned to meet in Bos- ton, but under existing conditions it was thought best to choose a place as near as possible to the main cen- ters of scientific activity and at the present time large numbers of sci- entific men are working at Wash- ington. It is planned that the meet- ing will direct its main attention to the service of science in the present national emergency. YALE UNIVERSITY received by the will of John W. Sterling, of the class of 1864, a distinguished New York lawyer, the residue of his estate, which it is said amounts to fifteen million dollars.—Mr. Hobart W. Williams has given to the Uni- versity of Chicago property to the value of $2,000,000, part of the in- come to be used for the development of the school of commerce and ad- ministration. THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY _— SEPTEMBER, 1918 THE TEACHING OF THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE By GEORGE SARTON CARNEGIE INSTITUTION OF WASHINGTON URING the last two years I have had to lecture on the 1) history of science before a score of American and Cana- dian universities. In each university center I have naturally met and discussed with most of the people interested in the sub- ject, which has enabled me to gauge pretty accurately the gen- eral sentiment concerning it and to figure the prospects of these studies. The present essay is the fruit not simply of this ran- dom experience as a lecturer, but also of my experience as a teacher in Harvard, Columbia, at the University of Illinois and the George Washington University. I propose both to clear up some misunderstandings, the further development of which might be more fatal to the history of science than mere indif- ference, and to answer a question which has often been ad- dressed to me: You always lay stress on the importance of the history of science, as the best way of humanizing science and giving to it its whole educational value. But how shall we best do it? How should these studies be organ- ized? And what should be the spirit of this teaching? .. . The main misunderstanding to be dispelled (I will return to it, but I wish the reader to know from the start where I am aiming) is one which is chiefly bred by professors of philosophy. I have had the privilege to talk with many of these after my lectures, and not a few seemed to be surprised at my statement that the history of science had yet hardly been taught. Why! they themselves had been teaching it in their courses on the his- tory of philosophy. ... They spoke of Thales, Pythagoras, Democrites . . . they had actually explained the development VOL. VII.—13. 194 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY of ideas on atomism, heredity, cosmic evolution, etc. . . . What more did I want ?—Well, I wanted so much more and I felt that they were so deeply ignorant of the most elementary facts of science, so unaware of their real significance, so innocent of the true spirit of science, that I often gave up explaining anything. But I became more and more convinced of the necessity of in- sisting above everything else on the scientific foundation of the history of science. The chief requisite for the making of a good chicken pie is chicken; nay, no amount of culinary legerdemain can make up for the lack of chicken. In the same way, the chief requisite for the history of science is intimate scientific knowl- edge; no amount of philosophic legerdemain can make up for its absence. THE TEACHING MUST BE EXPERIMENTAL AND CONCRETE The purpose of the history of science is to establish the genesis and the development of scientific facts and ideas, taking into account all intel- lectual exchanges and all influences brought into play by the very progress of civilization. It is indeed a history of civilization considered from its highest point of view. The center of interest is the evolution of science, but general history remains always in the background. Of course, it is the natural, chronological development that we must especially consider, not the deductive and artificial. One of the petty ideas of philosophers is to elaborate a classification, a hierarchy of sciences. They all try it, and they are generally so fond of their favorite scheme that they are prone to attach an absurd importance to it. We must not let ourselves be mis- led by this. Classifications are always artificial; none more than this, however. There is nothing of value to get out of a classification of science; it dissembles more beauty and order than it can possibly reveal. As a matter of fact, the most fascinating part of science is the intimate and intricate relations it possesses, not with fan- ciful doctrines, but with life itself. Wecan safely say that each new scientific development is due to the pressure of some social need. Of course, we include amongst these needs the insatiable curiosity of certain men, because even this curiosity, disinter- ested and inopportune as it may seem, is still nothing but a response either to an old problem of nature, or to one arising from new social circumstances. Even the development of math- ematics is largely a natural, not a purely logical one: mathe- maticians are continually answering questions suggested by astronomers or physicists ; many essential mathematical theories are but the reflex outgrowth from physical puzzles. 1G. Sarton in The Monist, XXVI., p. 333, 1916. THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE 195 Further, the development of science is to a great extent im- personal. It is not the man of genius who leads it—he is only the “star” of the play—the real causes of this development are far deeper and as much beyond our ken as the sources of organic evolution. The different phyla of animals and plants did not successively appear according to a beautiful scheme of gradually increasing complexity; they are all evolving together because they all depend one upon another in many ways. At any stage of development there are all kinds of organisms—some very simple, some very complex—but it can not be said that the latter are more perfect because they all are the solutions of intrin- sically different problems. The simplest are apparently as well adapted to their own conditions as the most complex. In the same way all sciences grow together, helping and stimulating one another, with little if any regard for logic and hierarchy; their growth is simply a function of their inner vitality and of the various needs of life. The development of science is an organic development. We must study and teach it as such and not otherwise. Our teach- ing must be as unphilosophical and as unscholastic as possible. The few serious courses that have been thus far devoted to these studies, here and abroad, have been, with the possible ex- ception of Mach’s lectures, far too philosophical, I mean—far too prone to premature generalizations. In the case of France, this is due to the influence of Auguste Comte and more gen- erally to the French love of system. In the English-speaking world, the influence of the positivist school has been working in the same direction. More recently the very learned and mas- sive publications of John Theodore Merz have accentuated this ratiocinating tendency in the most disastrous way. His “ His- tory of European Thought in the Nineteenth Century,” enjoy- ing as it does a kind of monopoly, is unanimously praised, espe- cially by those who would make us believe that they have read it. This book certainly conceals a considerable amount of ma- terial, but it is so prolix and discursive that its rich substance has to be almost entirely redigested to be of any great service. Abstract as it is, science is but an outgrowth of life. That is what the teacher must continually keep in mind. If he seeks his inspiration in any philosophical system instead of letting himself be guided by the plain realities of scientific develop- ment, he may produce books that will interest philosophers, but he is lost as a historian. On the contrary, let him follow the lead that I am giving. Let him explain the development of sci- ence, as of something living and growing like an animal or a plant, answering to the stimuli of its environment; let him 196 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY show that each problem of life releases a new train of scientific problems, and that all these trains interfere one with another and continually give birth to new discoveries and arrangements —and he will soon give to the student the feeling that science is not a dead system—the excretion of a monstrous pedantism —but really one of the most vigorous and exuberant phases of human life. Science has always been growing and changing as it does even now. The teacher must continually strive to in- crease the intimacy of his disciples with this rich inner life of science. Of course, this will only be possible if he be himself on intimate terms with it. But if he succeed in doing this, his teaching will certainly prove interesting and stimulating. These are the two alternatives: either the course on the his- tory of science will sooner or later degenerate into a new course of philosophy, and its generality and simplicity will give the student a false sense of knowledge, or it will be, as I say, ex- perimental, concrete, matter of fact. I do not say that generalizations must be avoided, but simply that they must be reduced to a safe minimum and only offered to the student when all the facts of the case are well understood by him. These facts are of two different kinds: historical and scien- tific. The teaching of the history of science must be essentially the interpretation of these two sets of facts. Let us now con- sider how better to explain each of them and how to harmonize the simultaneous teaching of both. THE TEACHING OF HISTORICAL FACTS It is in the historical part of the teaching that the connec- tions between science and all other human activities are made manifest. Hence this part is the most important from the pure humanistic point of view. The basis of any historical interpre- tation, of course, is the arrangement of all interesting facts in a chronological sequence. This implies painstaking and monot- onous research work, a drudgery from which most scientists would fain escape. But this work being fundamental can not be too accurately done, even in those cases where historical de- tails may seem of trivial importance. Accuracy is to the scholar what discipline is to the soldier: it must be implicit or it is not worth anything. I have already shown elsewhere that the development of science is intimately connected with every other human devei- opment; there are continuous interactions, for example, between science and art, science and religion, science and industry, sci- ence and law, ... not to speak of the influences revealed by gen- THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE 197 eral or political history. It is the historian’s business to dis- close these various and continuous interactions, and so to bring into greater relief the organic development of science. He will show that this development is really the culmination of human achievement. He will lay particular stress on the relations of this greatest of human tasks with two others which are almost as important; the creation of beauty and the development of social institutions.2 Indeed, it should be obvious to all that it is these developments, but chiefly the development of knowledge, upon which the history of human progress should be focused. To make this clear, the teacher will lose no opportunity of show- ing the cumulative and progressive, also the international char- acter which is specific to science. The center of gravity of historical studies must be displaced. As a matter of fact it has been moving all along in the direction which I indicate: at first it was dynastic, then military, na- tional, political, institutional, social ... it is now high time that it become really scientific. Human achievement in the realms of knowledge, beauty and justice is the real thing; the rest is merely anecdotic. Of course, most historians can not be expected to subscribe to this, and many will imperturbably fol- low their own lines without even trying to know something of the evolution of science. There is no objection to that, any more than there can be any to the simultaneous existence and to the collaboration of organisms having reached different stages of development. Protozoa, insects, birds and men... each is doing his little bit. The only thing which will have to be stopped is the old historian’s belief that his medieval point of view is really the most catholic; also his absurd pretense to control historical studies. It is well to give due importance to the biographical side. There is no better way of stimulating the student’s interest than to narrate with sufficient detail the lives of those heroes to whose efforts and sacrifices we owe the best of our civiliza- tion. And if they really had to suffer because they were so much ahead of their time, and too little concerned with the requisites of every-day life, if they were not understood and died unrewarded, it becomes the historian’s sacred duty to redress ? However important and impressive these two developments may be, they are not just as important as the development of science because they are less specifically human. Some animal societies have reached a high stage of perfection; it may be that it is less the lack of solidarity than the lack of positive knowledge, of tools, that has prevented them from going even higher. As to beauty, there is an infinite amount of it outside of man. 198 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY this injustice by explaining in full the greatness of their work, and making them live again, forever. THE TEACHING OF SCIENTIFIC FACTS Important as it is, the historical side of our studies must evidently be subordinated to the scientific side. There would be little sense in explaining the history of something which would not in itself be clearly understood. And yet this is perhaps the weakest point of most courses on the history of science, and one can not help shivering at the thought of what would happen if such courses fell into the hands of scientifically untrained philosophers. It is a well- known fact that people having no direct knowledge of science are almost bound to make fatal mistakes on essential points, often on those which appear to be extremely simple. Now, if a course on the history of science were to become the vehicle of false or inaccurate scientific ideas, it would be more detrimental than useful. Hence the professor of general history should forbear from dealing with scientific facts of which he is not able to give an accurate and circumstantial ac- count. As to the instructor on the history of science, he should not undertake to tell the history of any scientific idea, without making sure of his ability to explain the full signification not only of this idea, but also of each step which led to its discovery. He must be able to do this in the most concrete and specific way. It follows from this that he should be given all the par- aphernalia necessary for the explanation of the scientific facts involved, such as maps, charts, pictures, models and various apparatus. How can it be possible to interpret—say—Galen’s or Vesalius’s anatomical discoveries (also their mistakes) or the discovery of the circulation of the blood or of the nervous func- tion, without having at least some good anatomical models or drawings upon which to point out the various details alluded to? With the proper models the teaching is easy, clear, con- vincing, interesting; it becomes hopelessly dry, confusing and tiresome without them. It is noteworthy that these models and charts are necessary both for introductory and for the most special courses. In the case of elementary courses, however, they are especially useful in the avoidance of too many technical terms. I have borrowed my examples from the field of biology, but the same thing is true of any other department of science. How shall I properly explain the development as well of primitive tools, as of the steam engine or the dynamo—without models or pictures? of geographical discoveries, without maps? In the THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE 199 latter case, maps are not even sufficient. When I narrate the discovery of America, I should like to be able to explain exactly how Columbus navigated. Therefore I should need a cross- staff, an astrolabe, a primitive compass, a portolano and some early printed astronomical table. It would not be necessary, of course, to have original instruments and copies could be easily obtained at a relatively low cost. Does not any one see that such teaching of the geographical discoveries would have in- finitely more sense and import than the usual vague and lit- erary description?—I know that the literary people will in- sinuate that I would destroy all the romance of these adventures. I do not believe in the romanticism of ignorance. What is truly heroic, pathetic, grand, would certainly be put in stronger relief by such explanations. If the early navigators had been blind fools, we could not call them heroes; they were conscious of their purpose and of the dangers to be encountered and they had to pool all their knowledge and energy to fight against . nature. The literary people have told but a small part of their story. Models and instruments would not be less needed for the teaching of more abstract sciences, even of mathematics. To elucidate the development of the latter, its cultural value and its relation to other sciences, it is well to be able to show ancient instruments—for example, abaci, arithmetical machines, slide rules—not to speak of geometrical models and of more complex mathematical machines which become almost indispensable. Will not a lecture on the work of Fourier, for example—either in a course on the history of mathematics or in one on the his- tory of physics—gain considerably in interest if it be possible to demonstrate its further applications by means of some kind of harmonic analyzer? It is not less necessary, whenever the subject lends itself to it, to make some fundamental experiments. It would be the more necessary if the students have less scientific training. It should not be permissible to speak of Galileo without making some very simple experiments on gravity, nor to speak of Huy- gens, without illustrating in a similar way the laws of centrif- ugal force. No amount of verbal explanation can ever replace such experiments. In a general course on the history of sci- ence, all the fundamental facts of physics, chemistry, biology, should be demonstrated experimentally whenever it is possible to do so without too much trouble. I may add that if it became a common practice to illustrate historical courses by exper- iments, a greater accuracy in the statement of scientific facts would be automatically secured. 200 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY The scientists teaching the history of their own science in their own lecture hall, if they are often handicapped by a serious lack of historical training, at least have the enormous advantage of being able to make the necessary experiments with greater ease and effectiveness. What such courses often lose in historical accuracy they gain in scientific precision and experimental pointedness. I do not hesitate to say that without experiments the very best of these courses on the history of science is lost. The ex- periment is not simply necessary, as in a regular scientific course, to prove the fact to the student’s senses. It is of even greater importance in our case, to introduce him to the hand- icraft part, the most living part, of science. This can hardly be explained with words. The student must be made to under- stand that science is not simply a product of the brain, but also of the whole of our muscular and sensual experience. To know a science does not mean simply to remember a certain number of facts and principles duly classified; it implies far more an intimate acquaintance with various methods and apparatus into which a great deal of scientific thought is so to say crystallized. Even in mathematics, there is room for a certain amount of handicraft of a subtler kind—the almost automatic handling of certain formule and symbols. It is essential for the student to understand this to the best of his ability, because it is only on this condition that he will be able to watch the inner growth of science, and to see it, so to say, in the making. Great discoveries have been made chiefly by men whose entire attention was concentrated upon limited problems and specific experiments, then upon certain material details of these experiments. That is the real heart of science; the spring of its eternal youth. Any philosophical or literary history of science necessarily fails, and will ever fail, to show that. As a matter of fact, no history of science has ever been written from this point of view —none that I know of, not even Ernst Mach’s admirable his- tory of mechanics, although he has come considerably nearer to this ideal than any other author. EQUIPMENT Lectures on the history of science illustrated by experiments and various demonstrations can not possibly be given in an or- dinary lecture hall. There are three methods of solving this practical difficulty. The first is to have the lectures delivered in the various scientific halls where the needed implements would be at hand. THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE 201 Lectures pertaining to anatomy might be given in the medical school; lectures on Galileo, Newton or Helmholtz in the physics building, and so forth. This method would be the source of so many conflicts and misunderstandings, even if the different halls were sufficiently near to each other, that we may just as well dismiss it as impracticable. There remain the two other solutions: the ideal one is to provide for this teaching a special lecture room, completely equipped for the making of simple physical, chemical and bio- logical experiments. If this was found to be too expensive, the historical courses could be given in any other scientific hall. The instructor would then deliver most of his lectures in this hall, but would have to take his flock to other halls whenever necessary. It must be noted that even if a well-equipped hall were placed at the lecturer’s disposal, he might still find it nec- essary to give once in a while a lecture in another building, in the observatory, for instance, or in one of the university mu- seums. It is not necessary here to describe the ideal lecture hall which I have in mind; it would simply combine the main fea- tures of ordinary physical, chemical and biological amphi- theaters. The chief difference between my lecture hall and these amphitheaters would lie less in the hall itself than in the series of instruments and models collected either around it or in neighboring rooms. There should be sets of geographical and historical maps; also anatomical, zoological, botanical, geo- logical . . . charts and models. In short, the instructor should be enabled to fully interpret each scientific fact to which he would refer. A collection of portraits of the great scientists would also be desirable, but this is less essential. It would be necessary to have a good set of copies of primitive and ancient instruments: early types of armillary and celestial spheres, microscopes, telescopes, celestial machines, alembics, surgical and obstetrical instruments. . . . Most of these early instru- ments being rather simple, the making of copies would not be very expensive; it would certainly be far less expensive than most of the models or specimens used in the teaching of biology and natural history. Many antiquated instruments might likely be found in the collection rooms (if not in the attics!) of the scientific buildings of the oldest universities, and, I surmise, would gladly be given or lent to the new department for further and better use. I must limit myself here to these general indications, but I propose to publish subsequently a more detailed description of 202 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY the lecture hall with a tentative list of the maps, charts, models and instruments which would be most urgently needed. PREVIOUS WORK IN THE SAME DIRECTION I do not know of any general course on the history of science, anywhere, which is conducted along the lines which I have in- dicated. Most of the courses of which I know are to a large extent philosophical courses and lack both historical and scien- tific concreteness and accuracy. But something nearer to what I have in mind may have been done in the teaching of the history of special branches of sci- ence, especially medicine. Courses on the history of medicine have been delivered in many European and American univer- sities, generally by one of the professors of the medical school speaking in his own auditorium with plenty of illustrative ma- terial close at hand. In this case, however, there is little op- portunity for experiments, except on the occasion of some phys- iological digression. I must also refer to the little mathematical museum which Dr. D. E. Smith has organized in Teachers Col- lege, Columbia University, close to his lecture room. Almost all the objects exhibited are original implements wherewith to illustrate the development of mathematics, not simply in Europe, but also in India, China and Japan. Dr. Smith uses extensively his treasures in his lectures on the history of mathematics, and it was my own privilege, thanks to his courtesy, to be able to use them too when I lectured at Columbia in the summer of 1917. This strengthened my belief that there is no better way of im- pressing upon the student’s mind the relations of abstract mathematics to reality. As to the physical and biological sciences, for the historical interpretation of which so much illustrative material and so many experiments would be needed, I do not know of any course in which such demonstrations have been actually carried out. The reader will surely think of Ernst Mach, who was professor of inductive philosophy at the University of Vienna from 1895 to 1901. I have no definite information about his method of teaching; I do not know to what extent his courses were ex- perimental. But as Mach had become more and more interested in psychological rather than historical research, it is likely that his teaching was very different from the one of which I am thinking. GENERAL SCIENCE The development of science has become so multitudinous and luxuriant in the nineteenth century, still more in the twentieth; THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE 203 its complexity, the wealth of facts garnered all over the world, is increasing at such a terrific rate that it is no longer possible to contribute much to its progress unless one concentrates one’s efforts and intelligence upon the exploration of a particular field. Every day the field which the average scientist may hope to till fructuously is becoming smaller, and thousands of men are doomed to spend their lives within a very restricted intel- lectual horizon. However necessary these human sacrifices may be for the advancement of science, they are nevertheless be- fraught with perils; nay, if they be not compensated in some way or another, they may endanger the whole fabric of civili- zation. The only remedy is that which has already been applied in other departments of human activity, in the industrial realm for instance. There also have an increasing specialization and standardization become conditions of success. But business men, who never run the risk of losing touch with reality, have quickly grasped that if no corrective were brought to this ex- treme specialism, the loss due to disintegration would soon off- set the gain in efficiency. Hence, they will no longer allow the creation of new departments or specialties without providing at the same time for some kind of coordinating agency. In the same way, the more most scientists become intensely specialized, the more urgent it is that at least a few devote themselves ex- clusively to the coordination and synthesis of the whole work. This new specialty, that is the study of general science, is the only means of avoiding the disintegration of the whole and the © impoverishment of the scientific spirit. This study, which many scientists would hardly dare ap- proach, is not necessarily more difficult than any other special study; it is different; it requires a different training, that is all. The men devoting themselves to it would be able to stand in stead of the specialists, to guide them outside of their own garden, to prepare comprehensive surveys, but what is even more important, they would be able to teach the young before they specialize and to give them a broad and solid scien- tific basis, which would later enable them to keep in touch with the rest of the creative work of the world, and to escape from their prison whenever they would wish to. This teaching would remain an inspiration to them throughout their life. How should we organize this synthetic teaching? The most natural method is certainly the historical one. However spe- cialized and distant the various ramifications of science may now be, they have all originated from the same trunk. All sci- ences have grown together, the progress of each promoting the 204 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY others and releasing, so to say, new series of thought and inven- tions all around. To disentangle the apparently overwhelming intricacy of modern science, it is enough to study its heredity. A concrete, experimental course on the history of science is the best imaginable course of general science, the best introduc- tion to more advanced and special scientific research. This seems clear enough, but I can not leave the subject of general science without dispelling a grave misunderstanding which obtains in many parts of this country. It is due to the fact that the words “ general science” are frequently used with a different connotation from the one which I give to them. What I mean by them is the general fabric of science, the car- dinal facts and ideas of each science, and chiefly their interrela- tions, their points of contact, their relative degree of perfection, the light they throw upon each other, also the view of the uni- verse which is the result of their combined advance. Now I have here before me a very remarkable text-book edited by Frederic D. Barber.* It contains an extraordinary amount of information, clearly and simply presented, about most scien- tific problems which his environment might suggest to any in- telligent youngster. The authors have a perfect right to call this book “a first course in general science,” inasmuch as it is not dealing simply with physics, chemistry or biology, but with all these branches of science. Yet it is clear that “ general science” is here given a very different meaning from my own. It is general science to be sure, but everyday science, not funda- mental science. The two points of view are radically distinct: the former is practical, utilitarian; the other is theoretical, esthetical, ideal- istic. From the point of view of everyday science, for instance, it is very important to have sufficient knowledge of the mechan- ism of an internal combustion engine to be able to handle it without danger or waste, but one may be very familiar with such an engine and yet not know the principles of thermo- dynamics. On the contrary, from a historical and philo- sophical point of view it is the knowledge of these principles which is supreme. So also, for him whose material needs must be satisfied as quickly as possible, it is essential to obtain from the beginning some rudimentary knowledge of the functions of his own body; but for one who has time to make his survey of nature in a more leisurely way, it is wiser to grasp first the fun- damental principles of physiology and of course it will be easier 8 “ First Course in General Science,” by F. D. Barber, M. L. Fuller, J. L. Pricer and H. W. Adams. New York, Henry Holt, 1917. THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE 20 to lay them bare in the simplest organisms than in such a highly differentiated structure as the human body. I do not mean to disparage the utilitarian conception of “general science.” Iam entirely in sympathy with the idea of diffusing clear information on the scientific substrata of every- day life. But neither can it be validly objected to me that courses in general science, such as I propose to establish, al- ready exist, because the courses so-called answer a purpose alto- gether different from mine. It would be regrettable that such confusion were allowed to persist, and hence I would suggest to call the courses which I have in mind courses on the history of science—a well-grounded designation inasmuch as the method of approach would be essentially historical. The teaching of the history of science is exposed to two chief dangers each equally to be avoided. The philosophic danger, that is, premature abstraction and generalization, and the utilitarian danger, that is, premature application. Both imply in different ways a serious lack of accuracy; but besides, the former entails a lack of contact with reality, a lack of life. ‘The latter implies a misconception of the essentials of science, a lack of appreciation of its disinterested spirit and of its serene beauty. If the former evil were not sufficiently eschewed, the teaching would be of very little use; on the contrary, if it were too utilitarian, it would have no real educational value. TYPICAL PROGRAM How then should these courses on the history of science be organized in a large university? I consider that it would be in general sufficient to offer three courses each year. First an in- troductory course on the history of science throughout the ages. The outline of this course could not vary considerably from one year to another. Secondly, two special courses of which one would be devoted to the history of a special science: physics, chemistry, astronomy, biology . . . and the other to the history of science and civilization at a special period. The latter course would simply be an anticipation of what all courses on general history will be when the literary supremacy passes, a history of civilization focused upon the development of knowledge and social institutions. These special courses should be changed every year, so that students especially interested in them could achieve complete studies in a cycle of three or four years. +The nearest approach to this was made in Harvard. Dr. L. J. Hen- derson has given there since 1911 a most stimulating course on the history of science. To this general course, I myself added from 1916 to 1918, four 206 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY To deliver these three series of lectures, and possibly to direct the activities of a seminary and the research work of advanced students, at least two instructors would be needed. Of both, at least the one in charge of the two special courses should be a specialist, having no other duty than to know and teach his subject as well as possible. His task would still be considerable, as there remains a considerable amount of pioneer work to be done. The writing of a text-book on the history of most sciences is still very much of a venture. There are not yet pedigreed text-books, embodying the accumulated labor of many generations of scholars. One might ask how far down the history of each science should be carried on. It is not possible to give a general answer to this question. For one thing, neither have the different sci- ences progressed at the same rate, nor are they equally esoteric; whereas it is out of the question to teach the history of math- ematics in the nineteenth century except to advanced mathe- matical students, the most recent geographical discoveries can be explained almost to any educated person, and nineteenth- century physics or chemistry, to any student having taken only one elaborate encyclopedic course on these branches. The spe- cial training of the instructor should also be considered. I as- sume that he has had a serious scientific training (both theoret- ical and experimental), but this training may have been chiefly physical, or chemical, or biological. He should be expected to teach the nineteenth-century history of the sciences which he best knows, not of the others. It is noteworthy that the teaching of the history of modern science is anyhow of a nature very different from the teaching of ancient science. For the latter the main difficulties are his- torical; for the former, especially when it comes to nineteenth- and twentieth-century science, they rather lie in the statement of the scientific facts themselves. The original documents of nineteenth-century science are generally well known and easily accessible; most scientists have the greater part of them in the sets of periodicals of their laboratory. Hence, the teaching of the history of a branch of science in recent times could often be safely entrusted to a scientist cultivating this particular branch and having a sufficiently acute historical and philosophical sense. This will be even more true when good text-books on the development of nineteenth-century science will be available. It would be expedient, however, to expect the regular pro- fessor of the history of science to devote once in a while a course special courses. But facilities lacking, none of these five courses was experimental nor as concrete as it should have been. THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE 207 of lectures to nineteenth-century science, in order to oblige him to keep in touch with living problems. This is essential to en- sure the soundness of his teaching. Local conditions also should be considered. For instance, a university in which the physical department is especially strong and draws a great number of students from all over the coun- try should organize regular courses on the history of physics and induce the advanced students to attend them. In Belgium no one can obtain a doctor’s degree in any science without hav- ing passed an examination on the history of this science. There is much wisdom in this, although I do not generally believe in examinations. At least the student should be made to understand the neces- sity of attending such a course, not because he needs it from a purely material point of view, but because this would form an essential part of his educational background and would help him to appreciate the signification of his own work and its rela- tions to the work of his fellowmen. It is not enough for him to become a clever physicist; he must become, to the limit of his propensities, a generous and broad-minded man. There are only two ways of shaking one’s innate narrow-mindedness and provincialism: to move in space or to move in time. One is travel, the other history ; both should be periodically resorted to. CONCLUSIONS AND VARIOUS REMARKS The history of science, to be of any service, must be con- stantly based on the safest and most complete historical and scientific knowledge. It then provides the most natural and most illuminating interpretation of general science. There is no better way of revealing its disinterested spirit and its supreme beauty ; therefore no better way of giving to any scien- tific teaching its full educational value. Partly as a result of this, and partly as a result of the world food shortage which called attention sharply to the fact that, at a conservative estimate, thirty million dol- lars worth of fruits and vegetables are annually lost between field and consumer in this country, the study of diseases of fruits and vegetables in the market is already assuming im- portance. The phytopathology of the future will not stop when the crops have been harvested, but will extend until the food products are eaten. There is another source of encouragement for pathologists in the fact that there is a rapidly growing appreciation of the scope and value of their work on the part of the general public and the agencies which provide the financial support for their work. In this connection there is need of greater publicity among city residents and consumers. They should know some- thing of the scope, purpose and practical utility of plant pathol- ogy and its intimate connection with their food problems. Mil- lions of dollars, worth of perishable plant foods are destroyed each year in city homes because of lack of appreciation of some of the simplest principles of plant pathology. 24 Service and regulatory announcements No. 28. Bureau of Markets, U. S. Department of Agriculture. Issued October 31, 1917. 25 Shear, C. L., “ Pathological Aspects of the Federal Fruit and Vege- table Inspection Service,” Phytopathology, 8: 155-160, 1918. VOL, vul.—16. 242 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY TEAM WORK There is no single characteristic by which the new plant pathology is and will be better distinguished than that of team work among investigators. The magnitude of the problems and the angles from which they must be attacked place them out of the reach of a single investigator. We may confidently expect organized “teams” to attack pathological problems in the future; not a group of assistants around a single leader but investigators of training and recognized ability in different lines, each of whom will attack the problem from his own point of view, finally coordinating and combining the results. Such an organizaticn was temporarily formed in the study of the chestnut bark disease.2° In this case foresters, mycologists, plant physiologists, entomologists and geologists united in at- tacking a single problem. A striking example of what may be accomplished by team work is furnished by the workers in Blackman’s laboratory who,?’ attacking a problem of great scientific interest from sev- eral angles, have contributed notably to our knowledge of the physiology of parasites. In the future we may expect to find mycologists, plant physiologists, and ecologists uniting with — chemists, plant breeders, refrigeration experts, entomologists, horticulturists and meteorologists in the solution of problems of plant pathology. With this will go the freest and frankest interchange of ideas among plant pathologists themselves. Pathologists are coming to realize that cooperation and co- ordination must be the watchwords of plant pathology as they are coming to be the watchwords in every line of human ac- tivity and endeavor. Any one familiar with pathological prob- lems as they present themselves to-day can not fail to realize that no individual however broad his training, or whatever the time and facilities at his disposal, can hope to solve unaided the larger problems now needing attention. The old idea which has been too prevalent in the past, that the individual investigator may by discovery, preemption or any other means acquire property rights in a scientific problem which will prevent any one else from attacking it, is being abandoned. The advancement of science and the benefit of mankind should be the primary aim and purpose of the pathol- ogist. We are coming to realize that the end is more important 26 The Publications of the Pennsylvania Chestnut Tree Blight Com- mission, Harrisburg, Pa., 1915. 27 Brown, William, “ On the Physiology of Parasitism,” New Phytol- ogist, 16: 109-127, 1917. PLANT PATHOLOGY TO-DAY 243 than any individual credit, honor or distinction. The all- important question is, how can the problems be solved in the quickest and most effective manner and the results be made most readily available. Perhaps the most typical manifestation of the new spirit of cooperation is the creation by the American Phytopathological Society of the War Emergency Board of American Pathol- ogists.2> This board, made up of representative pathologists from different parts of the United States, is effectively engaged in uniting the efforts of plant pathologists on the phases of the great problems of food production and preservation which plant pathologists are peculiarly fitted to solve. The work of this board may be more properly discussed at a later date, when its activities have produced the important tangible results which are in prospect. It is mentioned here as a recognition on the part of American phytopathologists that their science is, and should be, of great and general useful- ness. It is not a science for special interests or special indus- tries. Mankind is absolutely dependent on plant food, and re- ducing the loss of this plant food both on the farm and on its way to and in the hands of the consumer is the duty of the plant pathologist; a duty which in such a crisis as the present be- comes imperative and vital. 28 “ News Items,” Torreya, 18: 40, 1918. 244 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY THE SEASONAL DISTRIBUTION OF SWINE BREEDING By Dr. RAYMOND PEARL U. S. FOOD ADMINISTRATION 1. In any analysis of the food resources of a nation the stock and production of swine constitutes a highly important factor. The hog is the primary source of nutrient fat in this country. Considering human food alone, or in other words disregarding fodders and feeds, fat for human nutritive use is derived in about the proportions shown in the following table from all sources. TABLE I SOURCES OF FAT, IN CHEMICAL SENSE, PRODUCED FOR HUMAN F oop IN 1913- 1914 IN THE UNITED STATES Tons of Nutrient Fat Pro- Percentage Dis- Sources duced in 1913-14 tribution POR ice ye echite Sais ssl Hae eee eee 2,413,763 * 41.3 DRiFVSPEOUUCES |. « Shea ARS - Wea) The general principles, then, which are involved in the function of ridges are: 1. That the function is primarily to increase resistance between con- tact surfaces for the purpose of preventing slipping, whether in walking or in prehension. 2. The direction of ridges is at right angles with the force that tends to produce slipping, or to the resultant of such forces when these forces vary in direction. 3. The shape of the pad elevation, the direction of flexion, and the direction of motion are the factors determining the direction of the slip- ping force, and therefore the direction of the ridges. Again, “ Incidentally the ridges acquire an important tactile function.” In Part III., Sec. C, is discussed Modified Primary Pat- terns; the various types of modification, and their probable cause, although in doing so it must be borne in mind that a single type of pad modification seldom occurs unaccompanied by others. We may consider these types, however, to be four in number: 1. Failure of divergents, resulting in triradii becoming extra-limital or obliterated. (See Fig. 7a and b.) 2. Reduction of pads, resulting in degeneration of triradii. 314 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY 3. Flattening of pads, resulting in a deviation from the concentric arrangement of ridges upon the pad area. 4. Fusion of pads, resulting in the coalescence and in the exclusion of triradii. Fic. 7. Two apical graphs in which (a) one triradius has become extralimital, and the other nearly so; in (0b) both triradii have become obliterated. In each case an “accessory degeneration triradius’”’ has developed in connection with a loop for- mation. At the extreme lower corners unit ridge elements may be seen. Continuing, and referring to group (2), Miss Whipple says: The modification of patterns which are due to pad reduction are prob- ably the most frequent of all pattern modifications. As reduction has pro- ceeded farther in man than in most monkeys (excepting the Anthropoids) we may select from different individuals of the human species cases which illustrate every step in the process. The series given in Fig. 8 show how, in the apical pads, beginning with the slipping of one or both of the em- bracing radiants of one triradius within those of the other, a variation involving at first only a few ridges (b), one triradius may approach IDENTIFICATION OF INDIVIDUALS 315 nearer and nearer to the center of the pattern (c, d, e), its radiants em- bracing fewer and fewer concentric ridges until the triradius finally suf- fers complete degeneration, leaving the pattern known in Galton’s ter- minology as the “loop” (f) which has only one triradius, the loop opening in the direction of the divergent of the triradius which has degenerated. Again, by a similar series of minute variations, this remaining triradius may approach more nearly to the middle of the pattern, until the loop in- volves but a single ridge, from which condition it is only a step through Galton’s “tented arch” to the “simple arch” in which the last vestige of the second triradius has disappeared. These transition forms in the apical patterns were fully recognized and described by Galton as constituting a slight obstacle to a perfectly systematic classification of fingerprints... . It should also be noted that there may occur a simultaneous approach of both triradii to the center of the pattern, the pattern remaining typical in form but reduced in size. This type of modification is then traced in palms and soles. Under group (3), Types of pattern modification which are due to a flattening of the pad, a condition which is in some instances correlated with reduction, and in others with extension of the pad area. With the change of pressure upon a pad naturally accompanying such a change of form, very decided modi- fications in the disposition of ridges occur leading in the direction of the establishment of parallel straight ridges, such as we would expect to find upon a flat surface. The flattened, reduced apical pads both of man and of a few of the monkeys were found to illustrate one very common method of attaining this end. It will be seen from the series shown in Fig. 9 that this line of variation may begin by the displacement of only a few ridges at the center of the pattern, the result being the establishment of a spiral rather than a perfectly concentric pattern. Following this may come a greater and greater amount of variation from the concentric arrangement until a double loop (vortex duplicatus of Purkinje) or even an S-shaped figure is formed. In rare cases more often seen in the apical patterns of the human foot and in the proximal patterns this line of variation has proceeded so far that the pattern has become separated into distinct loops and an accessory degeneration triradius is introduced (see Fig. 7a and b), that is a triradius not originally present in the typical scheme but formed incidentally in the process of degeneration of the pattern. Modifications from this same cause occurring in the palms and soles are then considered at considerable length and in great detail. 316 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY From this brief biological review it will be seen that any friction-skin impression or dermatograph is really much more than a record of merely external epidermic characteristics, for these features are in turn conditioned upon internal tissue structure of the dermis, the configuration of which is de- termined and fixed during early embryonic life, and is there- fore capable of being associated with but a single individual. Except for a change of size proportional to the growth of the bodily parts, or changes acquired during postembryonic life by external causes such as deep cuts or burns, or from disease of the tissue evidenced by a felon, boil, etc., the configuration remains unchanged through the individual’s life. What then is required to establish an identification ; what is the process; how do these biological or anatomical conditions satisfy the requirements? For guidance, let us consult an authority*? on the principles of identity evidence: ...In the process of identification of two supposed objects, by a com- mon mark, the force of the inference depends on the degree of necessariness of association of that mark with a single object. For simplicity’s sake the evidential circumstance may thus be spoken of as “a mark.” But in practise it rarely occurs that the evidential mark is a single circumstance. The evidencing feature is usually a group of cir- cumstances, which as a whole constitute a feature capable of being asso- ciated with a single object. Rarely can one circumstance alone be so in- herently peculiar to a single object. It is by adding circumstance to circumstance we obtain a composite feature or mark which as a whole can not be supposed to be associated with more than a single object. The process of constructing an inference of identification thus consists usually in adding together a number of circumstances, each of which by itself might be a feature of many objects, but all of which together can con- ceivably coexist in a single object only. Each additional circumstance re- duces the chances of there being more than one object so associated. Continuing, he says, in discussing the terms identity, alike, similar, and resemblance: We remember to have read in a judgment of the Indian High Courts (unfortunately we can not now give the reference) that the judges con- sidered the case was not proved because the evidence only established likeness and not identity. . .. terms such as “exact likeness,” ‘“ precise similarity ” are misleading. For as soon as you have removed all internal difference and resemblance is carried to such a point that perceptible [material] difference ceases, then you have identity. As soon as you begin to analyze resemblance you get something else than it; and when you argue from resemblance, what you use is not the resemblance, but the point of resemblance, and a point of resemblance is clearly an identity.** 22 John H. Wigmore, “ Principles of Judicial Proof, General Principle of Identity Evidence.” 22 Principles of Judicial Proof,’ John H. Wigmore, Little, Brown & Co., Boston, Mass., 1913, pages 64—67. IDENTIFICATION OF INDIVIDUALS 317 Conceiving a fingerprint, or any friction-skin impression, as “q mark,” what is the “ degree of necessariness of association ” of that mark with the particular individual whose dermato- graph it is? Dr. Wilder has stated for us the biological truth that the perfection and constancy of an organ are directly proportional to its necessity in the life of the organism; that only useful and important parts retain a certain normal form in the various individuals of a given species, and that as they become of less importance they tend more and more to vary individually. Mrs. Wilder has traced this degeneration of mammalian pads and the consequent individual variations in their friction-skin configuration, and has shown us that it has progressed farther in man than in most other mammals, so far, “that we may select from different individuals of the human species cases which illustrate every step in the process.”’ We have seen that this process is composed of a series of minute variations, con- stant in the individual, but progressive and variable among mammals as a whole; and that in the individual the ridges are the result of the coalescence of simple tissue structures and are formed and their configuration fixed in a four-months’ embryo. Since it is inconceivable that these minute dermal struc- tures should themselves be identical or coalesce identically in any two instances, the inevitable conclusion seems to be that the ‘‘degree of necessariness of association” of this graphic mark with the individual is absolute; that even the possibility of the same or different individuals, having on any two parts of the friction-skin areas identical ridge configurations, is nil. Any dermatograph or impression of the friction-skin configura- tion is therefore a graphic record, by personal contact, of in- herent anatomical or dermal characteristics, exclusively indi- vidual in the person possessing them, and constant through his life. But as Professor Wigmore points out, an “evidential mark” usually consists of a group of circumstances, each of which by itself might be a feature of many objects, but all of which together can conceivably coexist in but a single object only; and that the process of constructing an inference of identification consists in “‘adding circumstance to circum- stance.” Analyzed, any friction-skin impression, or more specifically, any apical dermatograph, may be thought of as the record of a group of anatomical or dermal circumstances, called by Galton “ridge characteristics.” In its gross features it may repre- 3138 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY sent any of the stages of progressive mammalian variation as shown by Mrs. Wilder and grouped by Sir Edward Henry, on the basis of certain gross likenesses, as whorls, accidentals, twin-loops, lateral-pocket loops, central-pocket loops, ulnar loops, radial loops, tented arches, and the simple arch, the ultimate stage of degeneration. It therefore follows that these “marks” or types of configuration may well be a feature of many objects or fingers (in fact we find them so) ;** so that the repetition of an impression of the same type only raises a suspicion that the two graphs may be from the same digit (or friction-skin area). Aided by a good magnifying glass, a careful comparison of each anatomical circumstance or ridge characteristic, its form and relative position in the configura- tion, of both dermatographs is therefore necessary. For, if the impressions be not from the same digit (or friction-skin area), the record of material anatomical circumstances neces- sarily associated with the individual in question (e. g., Fig. 24 For the mathematics of this variability of types the reader is re- ferred to a fifty-seven-page article on the “ Association of Finger Prints,” by H. Waite, M.A., B.Se., in Biometrika (Vol. X., No. 4, May, 1915), pages 421-478. In addition to the text there are over one hundred statistical tables, enough to satisfy the most ravenous “ figure shark.” On pages 432-— 433, Mr. Waite says: “It is convenient at this stage to summarize a few of the most important points which have been brought to light in the fore- going pages. These are: (a) A greater divergence of types in the right hand than in the left. (b) A clustering of the same type in the hands of an individual. (c) The uneven distribution of the various types in the different fingers, especially the almost entire absence of radial loops except in the index. (d) The differentiation of types in the two hands, in par- ticular the large excess of whorls in the right hand and of arches in the left thumb. (e) Where there is any significant difference in the means, standard deviations and coefficients of variation in the numbers of the ridges in the loops of the two hands those quantities are always greater for the right hand than for the left. (f) The relationship between digits of the same name on opposite hands is closer than that between any others which are more widely separated. The relationship between the thumb and any other digit is less close than that of any pair not including the thumb.” “We may thus conclude that the left hand in its distribution of pat- terns is differentiated from the right and that the individual fingers are associated in a differential way with special types. We know that the right hand is differentiated from the left in use, and it would seem reasonable to suppose, even if we can not account for the adaptation to use, that the fingerprints have been differentiated in accordance with this use differ- entiation. It may be suggested that the fingerprints, if differentiated in accordance with diversity of use of the several fingers and of each hand, follow a law of differentiated utility, and not as the bones a law of maxi- mum general utility of the finger.” IDENTIFICATION OF INDIVIDUALS 319 10 a) will be absent from the graphs alleged to be his (Fig. 10 b and 10 d), and it will be found impossible to locate any minute dermal circumstances or characteristics identical to both con- figurations, the graphs being considered merely alike or similar, according as the resemblance is near or remote. Fic. 10. Four rolled apical dermatographs: a is from the right middle finger, } from the right forefinger, and ¢ an additional graph from the middle finger of the same hand; d is from a different individual. Note that even graphs a and ¢€ are not between themselves identical, but only alike; no material differences occurring in their common eontact areas, the identity of the individual is unerringly inferred and established by adding dermal circumstance to circumstance. But, if the dermatographs be from the same digit (or fric- tion-skin area) the record of anatomical circumstances neces- sarily associated with the individual (Fig. 10 a) will be found in the common contact area of the graph truly his (Fig. 10 ¢). It will, therefore, be possible by comparing both configurations to add dermal circumstance to circumstance and to carry the resemblance to such a point that material difference ceases in the common contact areas, and from them to a common cause, the individual digit; for all the minute dermal circumstances taken together (in these two graphs nearly 100 pairs) can con- ceivably coexist in but a single finger; and the finger con- ceivably belong to but a single individual. 320 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY THE MAN OF SCIENCE AFTER THE WAR By Professor D. FRASER HARRIS, M.D., D.Sc. DALHOUSIE UNIVERSITY, HALIFAX, N. S. ROBABLY nothing less than a war such as this could have & shaken the British race out of its comfortable mental inertia in regard to all things scientific. The English generally had no interest in science, even though it had conferred on them such extremely convenient adaptations of pure science to the needs of everyday life as the telegraph, the telephone, the elec- tric light and the motor car. Science, however, does seem to be coming into its own. For the first time in the history of the British Empire, this Cinderella amongst the things of the mind is being taken from the kitchen and led to her place on the throne. Men who have been speaking of war as “applied chemistry ” are now considering that it would be a good thing if the treas- ures of science, so horribly misapplied, could be utilized in the future systematically, openly, advisedly for the beneficent aims of peace. For modern life is begun, continued and ended in science; it is applied science from morning to night, from birth to the grave. Men are asking themselves: If it was in the power of science to make war so frightful, is it not within her essentially beneficent capabilities to make the coming day of peace fuller, richer and more glorious than ever day in the past has been? It can not be denied that science as science has only very recently been allowed to have an independent existence in the British, national, intellectual system. The time is within the memory of some of us when the attempt to introduce laboratory teaching into the University of Oxford was met with furious resistance; and when at length studies in practical chemistry were instituted, they were alluded to as “ stinks.” History was repeating itself, for Leo Africanus, writing in the early part of the sixteenth century, thus described the chemical society of the learned Arabians at Fez, “there is a most stupid set of men who contaminate themselves with sul- phur and other horrible stinks.” The attitude of England’s premier university was in precisely the same spirit as that of the ex-priest who, on demanding the execution of Lavoiser, THE MAN OF SCIENCE AFTER THE WAR 321 declared that the Republic had no need of chemists. This was in 1794; but fifty years later Oxford made it very clear that she too and all that she stood for in English life had no need of chemists or of any other kind of scientist. This was the tra- ditional, mental attitude of educated Englishmen right up to the mid-Victorian era. The English gentleman knew no sci- ence, did not want to know any, and honestly thought that his country did not need to know any. We are all too apt to im- agine that what we don’t happen to care about is not worth while other people’s caring about. The English gentleman cer- tainly seemed to get on very well without science, as his an- cestors had done before him; and where were there any gen- tlemen so perfect as those of English birth? The Englishman spoke, like one of the characters in “ Trilby,” contemptuously of all foreigners as ‘‘damned.” He had his ancestral seat and his large rent roll, and his scores of servants, so that he never wanted for daily food, nor needed to soil his hands from one year’s end to the other. If he did want a profession for a younger son, were not the Church, the Navy, the Army, the Diplomatic or Civil services all open to him? Everything else, including science, might be left to beastly, eccentric, long- haired “foreigners.” In the Navy and Army, whatever else he was, he was brave; but he left any science which those services required to those far beneath him, to those specially paid to bother about “beastly technical details.” As regards the practice of medicine, an applied science, he held exactly the same view as the ancient Roman who regarded that occupation quite unworthy of a gentleman. The author remembers well when, in the early nineties, he once filled up a form under the heading “ Profession ”’ with the word “ physiologist,” his father exclaiming, “But that’s not a profession!” He was perfectly right from the mid-Victorian standpoint; it was not a profes- sion in the sense that the Church, Fighting or the Law were professions. Where were the ancient privileges, social recog- nition, pensions or fees for physiologists? There was a day when it was perfectly true that the world had no need of phys- iologists. I was told the truth when I was once informed that as far as my occupation was concerned with social recognition, I might just as well have been a hangman. Science had not yet come into her own. A very great deal of all this has been changed with the in- evitable onward march of the army of seekers after truth. Sci- ence became less an affair for amateurs and more the concern of serious men. The founding of University College, London, VOL. vu.—21. 322 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY the instituting of degrees in pure science—B.Sc. and D.Sc.—by the University of London, did a great deal to foster the study of pure science in England and give it academic status. The uprising of the school of biology at Cambridge under Foster and F. M. Balfour was all in the same direction; but in some nostrils at Oxford science still stinks, and—it is no profession. When one says that the man of science is necessary to the national life, one generally thinks how science underlies our great trades and chemical manufactures and all the activities of our complicated social system, railways, steamships, wire- less telegraphy, gunnery, aviation and the untold wonders of to-morrow. But the man of science is as necessary to na- tional welfare in an infinitude of less conspicuous and more familiar ways. There is scientific farming and there is scien- tific marketing; there is a science of dietetics as surely as there is a science of agriculture. Science is looking into everything, focusing her light upon everything. When the light of nature fails, then science steps in; she illuminates and directs our paths; she allures “to brighter worlds” and leads the way. Science, therefore, in the national interests must be en- couraged. But there is no such thing as encouraging science in the abstract; it is the men of science, themselves, who have to be encouraged; and encouragement means, to put it brutally, being paid salaries on which they can think and work without financial worry. This is put brutally, but it is not so brutal as the being presented with bills to be paid out of an inadequate income. The man of science is intended to research, every one will admit; but in whose time and with whose money? We may as well be frank about it. If he is a professor at one of the uni- versities, he probably has all his day filled up with his teach- ing and administrative duties. In such a day, what time is there for research? He has to teach for a living; his time is not his own, but the governors’ of the university. Suppose for a moment that all his day is not occupied with university duties, is it his duty to research in the university’s time? Most people would reply that it certainly is. But not every professor is appointed with explicit instructions to do research when he is not teaching. He may not be capable of doing any research at all; may never have done any; he may not have been ap- pointed because he could do research, but for some quite other reason. It is a nice point: unless it is definitely understood that the professor is expected to do research, he is using the THE MAN OF SCIENCE AFTER THE WAR 323 university’s time for non-university pursuits. For the research in question may not benefit the university at all; it may, con- ceivably, benefit some other institution, or, inconceivably, the professor himself. But whatever or whoever is benefited, al- most all research in universities is done in university time and with university money, so that we shall suppose that there is tacit permission given by the university authorities for such work. It is, however, perfectly possible that the amount of time available when the university teaching duties are done, and the time in the home circle passed, is quite insufficient for the long stretches of work which almost every research de- mands. You can not follow out any line of work in odd periods of isolated ten minutes, the worker must have hours of unin- terrupted work at a stretch. It is precisely this that the teach- ing professor can not have; either his teaching or his research must suffer. The only solution is for the universities to acknowledge that they are institutions quite as much for the prosecution of re- search as for the teaching of young people either the foun- dations or the heights of science. It should be made quite clear that the members of the staff are fulfilling their university duties quite as faithfully when they research as when they lec- ture, and that their salaries will not depend on the number of teaching hours per week, but on the cost of living in the par- ticular city in which the university happens to be. Probably the only satisfactory solution of the teaching versus research problem is for the universities to recognize teaching professors and research professors, teaching assistants and research as- sistants. It should, in fact, be acknowledged that it will be re- garded as a credit to the university if certain of its professors research rather than teach, as was the case with the late Lord Kelvin. Lord Kelvin’s forte was not teaching the elements of physics to junior students who knew no mathematics; yet this was the daily duty actually set before the greatest physicist since Newton. Had Lord Kelvin not shed such great luster on his alma mater by the brilliance of his reputation as an orig- inal worker, he would have come within a very little of being put down as a failure. He researched, however, in the univer- sity’s time; but as far as I know there was nothing in his Lord- ship’s commission about research as a part of his duties. Both the teaching members and the researching members of the staff should receive such salaries as would make them independent of worry regarding the financial modus vivendti. The teaching professor should not have to research in order to 324 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY convince himself that only by so doing is he carrying out his entire duty; the researching professor ought not to have to teach in order to obtain a salary to enable him to live. The importance of the researches done at the Rockefeller Institute of Experimental Medicine is a proof of the great value to science of the endowment of an institution whose staff is not burdened by teaching as the only means to a livelihood. An eccentric Scottish professor once said: ‘‘ The university would be a fine place if it were not for the students!” When we touch the subject of salaries, we come to a ques- tion likely to evolve more heat than light. Broadly put, it may be said that professors of science subjects are not paid salaries commensurate with their highly specialized attainments, nor such as enable them to live in the style expected of other dwellers on the same social stratum. It is of course quite for- eign to the subject to say that they are not paid as highly as all sorts of persons whose mental attainments are inferior. There is no general scheme of paying salaries according to the degree of attainments salaries are paid on the basis of the scarcity in the “market” of the kind of person to receive them. Now since there is no market for professors in the same sense that there is for clerks or day laborers, and since there is al- ways a relatively large number of trained men willing to work for a small salary because they know very well that they can not get a large one, professors are compelled to take quietly what is given them and to ask no questions. This is no new grievance; the smallness of professors’ salaries has long been a standing joke in the comic papers. It is indicative of the small regard in which men of science are held. Hitherto their researches have been seized on and commercialized for the benefit of other and more worldly wise individuals. It is this sort of thing which will be changed after the war. The man of science must be recognized as the most important person in the post-bellum community, a person without whom the cap- italist would have no discoveries to commercialize. We should have a Minister of Science, whose duties would be amongst others to see that scientific men were encouraged, subsidized, promoted, rewarded and pensioned. For why should state recognition, encouragement, promotion and rewarding be reserved for sailors, soldiers, diplomatists and lawyers? Why should it be so entirely correct to be paid for legal opinion, and such “bad form” to be remunerated for scientific advice? Because, it may be replied, the law is an ancient, respectable profession, and science is so recent, it is not a profession at all. THE MAN OF SCIENCE AFTER THE WAR 329 This medieval state of affairs can not go on indefinitely; it was all very well for the day when there was no science to foster, but it is out of place in an age which lights its cities by the in- visible, speaks to the antipodes without wires, flies in high heaven like the eagle, and descends to the abyss like a sea mon- ster. Much that now falls under the supervision of the Home Secretary could be transferred to the Science Minister. The first concern of the science office would be the place of science in the schools of the Empire, the still burning question of the rival claims of science and the classics. It ought to be perfectly possible to instruct boys in as much of Greek and Latin as would make them know the origin of the words in English de- rived from those languages, without necessarily making the boys read entire Greek and Latin authors in the original. Through our national physiological momentum we have been educating boys as though they were all going to be teachers of the classics ; we have continued on the same educational lines as those laid down by Linacre and Erasmus when America had just been discovered and printing just invented. The Science Office will see to it that science receives official recognition in all entrance examinations whatsoever, and is not handicapped by receiving fewer marks than the classics or any other subject. Science must have its place on every curriculum, not on sufferance or by-your-leave, but by right of its inherent dignity and in virtue of its essential usefulness. Why is a knowledge of science so useful to the modern community? Because, apart altogether from the way in which it makes for technical effi- ciency, it is a means second to none for the training of the in- tellectual powers. It trains us in accuracy of observation, in the power of drawing trustworthy conclusions, in the habits of precise, critical thinking—and these are not small things. Science, the true, is the patient, loving interpretation of the world we live in, it is a striving to attain not merely to an un- derstanding of the laws whereby the world is governed, but to the enjoyment of the order and beauty which are everywhere revealed. Amongst the many unspeakably sad things which this war has brought about, the prostitution of science and the destruc- tion of things beautiful are not the least lamentable, for Outraged science shudders that her glorious treasures Should be so corrupted by the sons of men; Beauty’s gentle spirit grieves as it grieved never For those scenes of Beauty that can not come again! 326 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY FACTORS IN ACHIEVEMENT By Dr. P. G. NUTTING N the increase and diffusion of organized knowledge and i in its application to special problems for the national wel- fare, the selection and training of individuals of course plays an important part. The capacity for unusual achievements is in part born in the individual and in part the result of his environment, (1) inherited tendencies and (2) education in a broad sense. The individual favored in both respects with capacity for achievement may or may not accomplish great re- sults according to the (3) incentives to activity he may possess or develop and according to certain (4) fortuitous factors, ideas and impulses coming apparently from nowhere, which may influence his choice of activities. From the point of view of practical work, the capacity for success depends almost entirely upon but two factors—fertil- ity of mind to originate ideas and judgment to select from these the most vital and effective. With an energetic use of both, worthy achievement is assured, the importance of activity and practical experience lying in the fact that its effects are strongly cumulative, each bit of experience enhancing ability to achieve more. Hence, the considerable effect on national achievement of such an apparently trivial factor as climate. In a well-organized democracy, each individual should have equal opportunity to acquire (1) knowledge through study, as- similation and deduction of fundamental principles, (2) skill through application of these principles to practical problems and (3) incentives to productive effort. These are the essen- tial qualifications of the expert and since, in any highly effi- cient democracy, all problems of moment must be handled by experts, the fundamental problem is the application of or- ganized knowledge to bring about such a condition, the ‘rule of common sense.” 1. Inherited Tendencies.—With equal opportunity to ac- quire knowledge and skill, the proper choice of vocation de- pends chiefly upon inherited traits. Usually but a few traits are dominant and the proper vocation is not difficult to deter- mine within rather narrow limits. An occasional individual possesses a wide variety of overlapping tendencies and is FACTORS IN ACHIEVEMENT 327 capable of achievement in a variety of callings. Many others exhibit no dominant mental characteristics, being fitted only for work in the less skilled crafts and trades. As stated above, the ability to grasp and correlate ideas is a proper measure of mental power. Now some classes of ideas are better and preferably correlated than others and this pref- erence is a necessary and sufficient criterion of natural fitness. The musician is keen in associating auditory impressions, the mathematician in abstract logic, the physicist and chemist in physical and chemical laws, and so on. This choice of class or classes of ideas to be correlated is instinctive in that it is born, not made, and characteristic in that it is not precisely the same in any two individuals. It varies with age, but at a given age (say twenty) it is a safe basis of judgment. The somewhat detailed classification below will at least illustrate the application of this principle. The creative type of mind is probably the least complex. The scientist, artist, engineer and professional man must be capable of a high degree of abstraction, hence must be indi- vidualistic rather than gregarious in his tastes. The ideas which dwell in the mind of the writer and which he instinc- tively ponders and correlates are stories and plots. The artist is keen on form and color—visual impressions—the musician on sounds. The ideas which grip the mind of the scientist are abstract fundamental relations between cause and effect. The engineer and professional man in general ponder concrete problems and applications of fundamental principles. It is even possible to differentiate between the lawyer, the physi- cian, the agriculturalist, the mechanical engineer, the banker and other types of engineer in early youth by means of the tastes which they exhibit for different classes of problems. On the other hand, the administrative types, be they com- mercial, political, protective or pedagogical, are gregarious rather than individualistic. Their tastes do not run to abstract ideas so much as to personal relations. They are keen to make and keep friends, are good ‘‘mixers” and entertainers, fond of activity and are experts on behavior. The commercial type of individual instinctively suppresses his own feelings and wishes to please others—and make a sale. The executive type is keen to anticipate conditions and relations between others. The good teacher is fond of the society of those less well in- formed and keen on making his own ideas plain to others. He must of course have a goodly supply of certain classes of ideas and be a good practical psychologist. 328 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY In addition to determining fitness for a particular life work, inherited traits have a great deal to do with eminence in a given calling, although perhaps not dominant factors. Fertil- ity of mind, ease of assimilation of new ideas, the tendency to activity and general smoothness and precision of mental opera- tion are largely born in the individual rather than acquired and have a great deal to do with success in life. All are usually in evidence in early youth, if at all. None are, of consequence, of course, unless coupled with a proper education, mental, phys- ical and moral, and with proper incentives to activity. And all these characteristics, whether inherited or acquired, are of little avail without an intimate knowledge of the complex con- ditions of modern life obtained by daily contact with them. 2. Acquired Knowledge.—To be a vital factor in achieve- ment, education should provide not only a book knowledge of fundamental principles, but skill in applying these principles. One extreme of education is represented by the individual with purely academic training, resulting in mere breadth and depth of impotent knowledge, possessing neither the ability nor the incentive to use it. At the other extreme is the self-made indi- vidual with a thorough first-hand knowledge of certain classes of problems and of certain basic principles applicable to them. There can be no question as to which is of greater value to the nation, but both are far from ideal. The best education consists in a steady, life-long assimila- tion of ideas coupled with a deduction of principles. The ac- quisition of learning should go hand in hand with an applica- tion of that learning to special problems. The natural method is (1) the analysis of a problem, (2) the application of known principles followed by (3) the deduction of new principles or extensions of the old. The laboratory method used in teach- ing most sciences in this country is a close approximation to this method. The older education, aiming at training in in- terpretation and expression, was good as far as it went in a certain field of achievement, but the field was narrow. The best education should provide the maximum knowledge, skill and in- centive possible to the individual in his chosen field of endeavor. Its aim is to produce experts—experts in the application of fundamental principles. Its methods are to teach those prin- ciples through their application. And the most important part of the education is the inculcation of the principle of the method itself. Agassiz taught the gold expert by giving him a turtle to study! He learned the method and this knowledge with the fixed purpose of becoming an expert and doubtless con- 9 FACTORS IN ACHIEVEMENT 329 siderable natural ability were the essential factors in his suc- cess. Our students waste much valuable time and learn wrong methods of study because our system leads them to work by the day rather than by the job. The installation of a piece- work system would require better teachers and probably more of them, but would result in incalculable benefit to the nation and a great saving of time to the student. Students who attend college chiefly for the social or athletic advantages it offers should not be tolerated. Teachers should be thoroughly versed in the basic principles of the branch taught and in the proper methods of acquiring knowledge. Whether the subject taught be mathematics, language or biology the first aim should be to see that the student gains a real command of the subject. Proper teaching will result in better teachers and finally in better taught students. 3. Incentives to Activity—Under normal conditions the average individual operates on low gear, seldom rising even to second. Any one who habitually operates on high and is rea- sonably endowed with intelligence and common sense is rea- sonably certain of great achievement. Our present problem is to outline the incentives tending to induce us to put forth our best efforts. If we but put forth our best efforts, our future is assured, either as individuals or as a nation. Take the most talented and energetic scientist and isolate him, say on a desert island. Give him a library and a labora- tory, but no companions and in a few months or years he will run dry of ideas and become barren. We are so constituted that continued productiveness is conditional upon intercourse with our colleagues. In many respects our activities are like the individual cells in our muscles—we function properly only in contact and cooperation with our fellows. The problem of incentives is therefore complex and primarily one of interre- lations. In any great achievement two factors are essential, a mo- tive (or several motives) for doing it coupled with capacity to accomplish the desired results. In each motive may be recog- nized a more or less continuous incentive and an idea or im- pulse coming apparently from nowhere (vide infra). Every one has his favorite category of incentives. There are at least six classes of these and any scheme of classification is about as good as any other. From the purely mechanical point of view one is acted upon by various forces due to conditions existing among our surroundings. Life is a series of actions and re- 330 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY actions resulting from unbalanced forces. Action is greater or less according to inertia, plasticity and elasticity. Purely physiological considerations lead one to think of cell charge and discharge as the basis of activity. In health, rest and food lead to charged brain cells ready to react to a nerve stimu- lus. Impurities tend to break down these nerve cells in chains or groups, giving rise to definite ideas. Emotions tend to polarize the charged brain cells so that a more copious dis- charge may result. From the standpoint of mental engineering our activities are a series of problems, many of these are nearly identical with problems solved many times previously and are largely taken care of by habit, while others are original and require working out. Ideas come to us and we follow them up through a logical chain to a definite end point. Unable to solve a prob- lem, we take it up again and again, contact with the problem and with the work being a powerful incentive to continue. Our interest in any problem is in proportion to the possibili- ties we see in it and in lesser degree to the headway we are able to make with it. Incentives are in better alignment from the sociological point of view. Our strongest incentives are the winning and retaining the respect and esteem of those with whom we are in contact. We are impelled (by instinct) to fill our place in the social organization much as a cell fills its place in a nerve or muscle. Those who care little or nothing for the esteem of their fellows are criminals and outlaws. To enhance the es- teem of our fellows we contract to deliver certain results and, knowing the price of failure, the filling of our contract is a powerful incentive. The attainment of the social freedom usually connected with abundance of money is a powerful in- centive to some. Emulation influences many. The strongest of all incentives are self-preservation and the stern necessity of living up to a standard, the standard of our fellows or one set by ourselves perhaps. On an ethical or moval basis, our incentives are those of principle and duty. Our one fundamental duty is to be our best selves and live up to our possibilities. The hope of re- ward in the form of pleasure or happiness or the fear of dis- comfort are strong incentives in the less highly organized mind. To others, the satisfaction resulting from duty well performed is a sufficient incentive for any labor in achievement, even to the sacrifice of life itself. From the psychological viewpoint, incentives plus impulses FACTORS IN ACHIEVEMENT 331 are the stimuli to mental exertion. A series of more or less related impulses leaves in our minds that which is common to all of them in the form of a more or less permanent incentive. Upon that incentive depends the nature and extent of our reac- tion to fresh ideas as they come, our wish or will to develop the idea toward certain objectives or to suppress it into desuetude. We develop methods of inviting and forcing ideas of our choice, repeated reactions of similar nature lead to the formation of habits and of character. Experience teaches that the giving way to impulses of a certain nature (e. g., that of doing our best) is always approved by our judgment and an incentive to continue the same behavior is formed. In other words, in- centives determine the volitional choice of conduct. The voli- tional factor ranges from almost nothing in the case of the instinctive incentives to practically the whole of those incen- tives which are matters of judgment and principle. When under emotional stress we react much more readily and strongly along the lines of our dominant incentives. Apparently, a strong line of good incentives can not be created ; it must be built up by careful and persistent effort and that effort must itself be the result of incentive. With the adolescent, the aims and examples of friends and acquaint- ances and the teaching of parents are powerful formative factors. Youths pattern their lives after those they admire almost instinctively with little reason or judgment. A powerful factor in achievement is the inhibition of such contra-incentives as habit. In a sense, men are like snakes and other reptiles—in order to make the best progress it is essen- tial that they periodically shed a skin or shell of habit. A simple and natural method of doing this is to move into new surroundings and form new acquaintances from among a set of entire strangers. The formation of a new set of habits automatically dispenses with the old set. Fresh incentives arise and are given free play while old incentives are rejuve- nated. By this means, achievement is frequently enhanced many fold. The practical means of enhancing our incentives are very limited. We may stimulate ourselves to some extent by moving into new surroundings. We may contract with others or with ourselves to deliver certain results. No inconsiderable stimulus comes at times from merely getting started, mere contact with the work itself engendering interest and application. After the dominant point of view has once been located among the 332 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY six classes above outlined, best progress may be made by con- fining attention to that one line of appeal. If the boy tends to think in terms of moral principle appeal to his morals. If he is gregarious, teach him through his friends, and so on. The strongest of all incentives—self-preservation, the struggle for existence, competitive rivalry and the instinct to attain and retain the respect of our fellows—lie nearly or quite beyond our control. But it is frequently quite possible to imagine these as existing in greater measure than is actually the case and so spur ourselves from the field of fatuous content into increased activity and achievement. The story is told of a hen that was unable of herself to fly over a fence, but by induc- ing a dog to chase her was able to clear the fence and to spare! The incentive of the hen roost was insufficient, but that of self-preservation was ample for the task to be accomplished. 4. Fortuitous Factors in Achievement.—Among the con- tributory factors leading up to any great event in the world’s history may always be found ideas and impulses coming to certain individuals apparently from nowhere, vital in initiating whole series of events. Cesar hesitated at the Rubicon, but finally obeyed the impulse to cross and end the Roman republic. Many a great war started from an impulse to conquer the world, coming to some individual ruler. Had Lincoln not obeyed the impulse to take on Douglas in debate, it is quite probable he would never have been president and one of the dominant characters in history. Any man of great achieve- ment can recall many instances of fruitful lines of activity originating in some impulse. Since such impulses are fre- quently very important factors in achievement, it is well to scrutinize them with care, attempting to discover some general pattern, some laws of appearance and the best means of utilization. Countless impulses come to every one during his whole life, dozens during each waking hour in fact. Of these, a consider- able portion may be traced directly to suggestions made by our associates, others arise from our personal needs and desires. Many, however, simply flash into consciousness much as do words, faces or the solutions of problems. Impulses involving action are either inhibited or acted upon and our whole lives may hinge upon the result of the decision. Such impulses must be common to the whole animal world that is capable of volun- tary action. They range in quality from mere reactions to abstract ideas and in number from a few per day to many per FACTORS IN ACHIEVEMENT 333 minute. The frequency of occurrence of high-grade abstract ideas and impulses is a measure of mentality. That frequency is higher the more intimate our association with our fellows. During periods of isolation, in fact, we quickly run nearly dry of both ideas and impulses. The advanced civilization attained by the Greeks may be attributed in large measure to these gre- garious habits of association and discussion, resulting in a stimulation of the production of ideas and impulses. Every impulse involves a decision to do or not to do a cer- tain thing or to do this rather than that. As we habitually lean toward decisions of a certain nature, our whole lives are affected. ‘The one who is prone to follow up impulses involv- ing activities just within the limits of his powers will make the most rapid progress, come nearest to living up to his possi- bilities and make the most of his life and endowments. This is the whole secret of useful activity, of having the correct philosophy of life to make the proper decisions between im- pulses of trained judgment and great achievements in general. A good teacher is one who begets impulses in his students to undertake difficult tasks and to do their best in accomplishing them. Inherited tendencies to have original ideas and im- pulses and to undertake carrying out the most telling of these are our most valuable heritages. Of the influences at our command which breed valuable ideas and impulses, not much is known. Helmholtz stated that the solutions of difficult problems most frequently came to him in walking up a certain hill on a sunny morning. To most of us, however, such ideas and impulses doubtless come most fre- quently during animated discussions with our colleagues. Alcoholic beverages are notoriously inhibitive in their action. They may appear at the time to be effective, but cold judgment shows that this conclusion is illusory. Narcotics undoubtedly have a temporary stimulating effect on originality, but with reverse after effects. The incentives to activity discussed above are, almost without exception, effective in generating fresh ideas and impulses, productive effort and originality being developed together. Our judgment of fresh impulses in select- ing those worthy of further effort is partly instinctive, largely the result of a philosophy of life (of what is most worth while) developed during adolescence and partly the result of educa- tion and experience. Happy is he who instinctively takes a broad and far-sighted view of what is best worth while and who strikes while the iron is hot. 334 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY Summary.—The individual of great achievements is one with the thorough grasp of fundamental principles of the scien- tist, the ability to analyze and solve difficult concrete problems of the engineer or the originality to conceive and the skill to create the ideal or approximations to the ideal of the artist. He requires a heritage of originality and keen vision, unerring judgment obtained by proper education and experience, tire- less enthusiasm and energy to accomplish desirable ends and finally a continual flow of worth-while ideas and impulses. Any one with suitable inherited qualities, striving for a maxi- mum of achievement and usefulness to the nation, may prop- erly devote himself to the acquisition of sound judgment and of ample incentive to activity. Thus are experts made and the leading nation of the future will be a nation of experts occupied in furthering the interests of that nation. RELIGION AND SOCIAL CONTROL 335 RELIGION AND SOCIAL CONTROL By Professor CHARLES A. ELLWOOD UNIVERSITY OF MISSOURI ELIGION has fallen upon evil days, and civilization upon R still worse ones. To superficial scientific thinking there may seem to be no connection between the state of religion and the present disturbed state of the world. For have we not been assured, very often in the name of science, that all re- ligions are false and harmful to social progress? Self-styled “rationalists ”’ have repeatedly asserted that science can find nothing in religious beliefs except superstition, error, or “the will-to-power ”’ on the part of some privileged class. On the other hand, representatives of religion have not infrequently proclaimed it to be outside of the field of science, and have sometimes resented its scientific study almost as if it were a species of “sacrilege.” Both attitudes have made difficult a truly rational, scientific and objective understanding of religion as a social phenomenon. But the question of religion will not “down,” either through scientific or religious obscurantism. More and more men are beginning to ask the meaning of religion in human life. Can civilized society, they ask, afford to dispense with religion? Or is religion something which enters necessarily into the warp and woof of civilization? In the reconstruction of our civiliza- tion which we now face it is time that scientific thinkers have some definite opinions to offer in answer to such questions. For if religion is a vital element in civilization, nothing could be more foolish and short-sighted than ignorance arid indiffer- ence regarding its forms and functions. Real science, however, in seeking to understand religion as a social fact rather than to pass upon the validity of any of its particular doctrines, is far from taking a hostile or an indif- ferent attitude toward religion. The most unprejudiced an- thropologists and sociologists would probably agree with Pro- fessor Hobhouse, one of the most careful social thinkers of our time, when he says: The element of religion is common to all forms of society ...as an element involved in the social consciousness itself and as a factor strength- ening its hold upon the minds of men.1 But if this is so, and if science exists to serve humanity, then again it is time that the scientific world realizes the part which 1“ Social Evolution and Political Theory,” p. 128. 336 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY religion plays in social life, particularly as a means of social control. But what is civilization, and what is religion, and why are they vitally related? Civilization, as we have seen,? is a com- plex of acquired habits. It is not innate in man, but each gen- eration has to acquire the ever-increasing mass of habits and traditions which make it up. But these habits and traditions can not be passed on successfully from generation to genera- tion in human society without strong social sanctions or ade- quate means of social control; for many of them call upon the individual to restrain his animal impulses and even to sacrifice himself for the good of his group. The social values which these habits and traditions represent accordingly, especially those which involve sacrifice of individual interests for group interests, have to be brought to the consciousness of the indi- vidual in the intensest way; or else proper social adjustments and habits will not result. Hence develops the whole ma- chinery of social control—government and law on the side of the external acts of the individual, religion and morality on the side of the internal motives and beliefs. The most ancient of these means of social control is probably religion. As soon as the habits of any primitive group were reflected upon in con- nection with the welfare of the group they became inevitably associated with the elements of “luck,” of good fortune or bad fortune, of safety and danger, to the group—in brief, with the whole mysterious, wonder-working powers of nature. Thus superhuman sanctions became attached to those habits of action which were found to be safe and to conduce to group welfare. They became, in other words, the “mores” of the group; and the ‘‘mores” thus imbedded in religious sanctions became all- powerful. Out of them were developed all the other agencies of social control. It is for this reason that we find primitive science and art, as well as primitive government, law, morality, and education all associated with religion—often, indeed, in- distinguishable from it. Social control was thus primitively a religious control. And through all the subsequent centuries religion has been the core of social control, because it has been at the heart of the standards, the values, the ‘‘ mores,” of every civilization. We know, indeed, of no civilization which long endured that did not have a religious setting for its mores; nor of any which long endured after this setting was dissolved. When the religious sanction for the mores crumbles and dis- integrates, the mores lose their vital hold upon the individual, especially those which demand self-restraint and self-sacrifice, 2 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY, November, 1917, p. 439. RELIGION AND SOCIAL CONTROL 337 and the civilization of which they are a part itself crumbles and disintegrates. The reason why this happens will become more evident as we proceed. What, then, is religion, and why does it have this peculiar effect upon the mores? Fundamentally it is man’s valuation, in an ethical sense, of his world, especially of that unknown part which is not covered by his work-a-day experience. It is a projection of man’s social and personal values into the uni- verse as a whole. Man must have a way of meeting every crisis in life; and life is ringed about with crises. He must necessarily make adjustments both toward the known and toward the unknown. He must of necessity have beliefs in regard to all of the adjustments which he has to make; for from beliefs and values come adjustments and attitudes. Some sort of valuing attitude he must have, therefore, toward the “X” realm of experience. Now religion is just this valuing attitude toward the unknown powers which are behind the phenomena of the universe and the desire to come into right relationships with those unknown powers. It does not par- ticularly matter what formal definition of religion we may accept. We may subscribe to Professor Frazer’s definition that “religion is a propitiation or conciliation of powers superior to man which are believed to control the course of nature and of human life” ;? or we may accept a more recent definition that “religion is man’s attitude toward the universe regarded as a social and ethical force.’”* The essential thing is to see that religion arises as soon as man tries to take a valuing attitude toward his universe, no matter how small and mean that uni- verse may appear to him. Some sort of religious attitude is necessary as long as men think and feel with reference to their world as a whole, and do not, ostrich-like, refuse to confront the reality in which they live and move and have their being. Now in projecting social and personal values into the uni- verse religion universalizes and makes absolute those values. Accordingly, just as the rationalizing processes of the intellect give man a world of universal ideas, so the religious processes give man a world of universal values. The religious processes are, indeed, nothing but the rationalizing processes at work upon man’s instincts and emotions rather than upon his per- cepts. Man is the only religious animal simply because through his powers of abstraction and reasoning he alone is able to uni- versalize his values. What science does for ideas, religion, then, does for the feelings; it universalizes them, and in uni- 3“ The Golden Bough,” second ed., Vol. I., p. 63. 4 Barton, “ The Religions of the World,” p. 3. VOL. VII. —22. 338 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY versalizing them, it brings them into harmony with the whole of reality. It thus harmonizes man on the side of will and emo- tion with his world. Hence the noticeable individual effects of religion. It is the foe of pessimism and despair. It encour- ages hope and gives confidence in the battle of life to the savage as well as to the civilized man. It does this because it braces vital feeling; and it braces vital feeling, psychology tells us, because it is an adaptive process in which all the lower centers of life are brought to reinforce the higher centers. The uni- versalization of values means, in other words—in psycho-phys- ical terms—that the lower nerve centers pour their energies into the higher nerve centers, thus harmonizing and bringing to a maximum of vital efficiency life on its inner side. It is for this reason that religion taps new levels of energy, gives strength and confidence in oneself and in one’s world, and often enables men to perform deeds far beyond what are commonly regarded as normal human powers.® Now this fact that religion releases fully the energies of the individual in periods of crisis, braces his vital feeling, and helps him to face the issues of life and death with confidence in himself and in his world, is of course of the greatest social sig- nificance. For a social life without crises which demand self- effacement and self-sacrifice on the part of the individual is unknown and probably impossible. The dream which the hedonistic philosophers of the nineteenth century had of a “pleasure economy,” a social order in which there would be no need of sacrifice on the part of the individual, because the diffi- culties and evils of life would be all overcome, has for the pres- ent, at any rate, been rudely shattered. The World War has shown that there is as much need of faith, loyalty, self-sacri- fice, and self-devotion in the world as ever. And in the increas- ing complexity of human social life in the future there will probably be as much call for heroism, self-devotion, and self- sacrifice as in previous generations. Men will always need, in other words, for efficient, worth-while human living full com- mand of their adaptive powers; and highest among these stand- ing side by side as it were, the one intellectual and the other dominantly emotional, yet often in these latter days made strangely to antagonize each other, are reason and religion. However, the particular problem with which we wish to con- cern ourselves is not this energizing of life through religious beliefs and emotions, but rather the preservation of social order. Religion has been from the first a powerful means of social 5 For the psychological elaboration of these facts the classical work is, of course, James’s “ Varieties of Religious Experience.” RELIGION AND SOCIAL CONTROL 339 control, that is, of the group controlling the life of the indi- vidual for the good of the larger life of the group. Psycholog- ically it functions, as we have seen, to universalize values and make them absolute, so that they come into the consciousness of the individual in the intensest way. But the values thus universalized and made absolute are almost always those which come to the individual through the tradition of his group. They are values, in other words, which have been built up through the common life and transmitted from generation to generation because they have to do with the life of the group. They are social values. Again, it is the human world about him to which the individual has to adapt himself first of all. Hence values and feelings have more need to be universalized and made absolute on the side of the social environment; for it is to that environment that there is the most imperative need of adaptation. The life of the group must be a real working unity. In confronting its environment and the many foes which are often found there, the group must have unity of action; hence it must have unity of feeling, of values, among its members. The group as a whole needs this inner harmony on the side of feeling if it is to command the full energy, the unfailing devotion, of all its members. Its values, its emphasis upon the meaning of life, of service, and of sacrifice need to be brought to the individual in the intensest way—with that ab- solute sanction which only religion gives. Hence the group, like the individual, is under the psychological necessity of uni- versalizing its values if it is to realize a full and efficient life as a group. As a part of the cultural complex of every group it is the function of religion, accordingly, to universalize values approved by the group. Religion from the start, in the stricter sense of the word, therefore, has been a social matter; and at- tempts to attach superhuman sanction to values, beliefs, or practises of which the society does not approve have always been branded as “black magic,” or as “superstition,” or as “heresy.” Hence the close connection between the customs or mores of the group, as we have already pointed out, and religion in the social sense. As a social fact religion is, indeed, not something apart from mores or social standards; it is these as regarded as “sacred.” Strictly speaking there is no such thing as an unethical religion. We judge some religions as unethical be- cause the mores of which they approve are not our mores, that is, the standards of higher civilization. All religions are eth- ical, however, in the sense that without exception they support customary morality, and they do this necessarily because the 340 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY values which the religious attitude of mind universalizes and makes absolute are social values. Social obligations thus early become religious obligations. In this way religion becomes the chief means of conserving customs and habits which have been found to be safe by society or which are believed to conduce to social welfare. As the guardian of the mores, religion develops prohibi- tions and “taboos” of actions of which the group, or its domi- nant class, disapproves. It may lend itself, therefore, to main- taining a given social order longer than that order is neces- sary, or even after it has become a stumbling block to social progress. For the same reason it may be exploited by a domi- nant class in their own interest. It is in this way that religion has often become an impediment to progress and an instrument of class oppression. This socially conservative side of religion is so well known and so much emphasized by certain writers that it scarcely needs even to be mentioned. It is the chief source of the abuses of religion, and in the modern world is probably the chief cause of the deep enmity which religion has raised up for itself in a certain class of thinkers who see nothing but its negative and conservative side. It is not our purpose, therefore, to enlarge upon this nega- tive and conservative aspect of religion, but to discuss it as having to do with social control in a higher sense. We should remember, however, that order is the indispensable foundation of progress in society, and that even purely as a conservator of customary social values and standards religion has a great function to perform. It acts as a sort of “equilibrator” or stabilizer for social institutions. It prevents waywardness in individual character and aids in securing that conformity to type, that similarity of belief and of action, which is the essen- tial of social solidarity. As Ward said, it acts very much in the social life as instinct does in the animal world. It insures social order and so lays the foundation for social progress. There is no necessity, however, for the social control which religion exerts being of a non-progressive kind. The values which religion universalizes and makes absolute may as easily be values which are progressive as those which are static. In a static society which emphasizes prohibitions and the conser- vation of mere habit or custom, religion will also, of course, emphasize the same things; but in a progressive society religion can as easily attach its sanctions to social ideals and standards beyond the existing order as to those actually realized. Such an idealistic religion will, however, have the disadvantage of appealing mainly to the progressive and idealizing tendencies RELIGION AND SOCIAL CONTROL 341 of human nature rather than to its conservative and reaction- ary tendencies. Necessarily, also, it will appeal more strongly to those enlightened classes in society who are leading in social progress rather than to those who are content with things as they are. This is doubtless the main reason why progressive religions are exceedingly rare in human history, taking it as a whole, and have appeared only in the later stages of cultural evolution. Nevertheless, there are good reasons for believing that the inevitable evolution of religion has been in a humanitarian direction, and that there is an intimate connection between social idealism and the higher religions. There are two reasons for this generalization. The social life becomes more complex with each succeeding stage of upward development, and groups have therefore more need of commanding the unfailing devo- tion of their members if they are to maintain their unity and efficiency as groups. More and more, accordingly, religion in its evolution has come to emphasize the self-effacing devotion of the individual to the group in times of crisis. And as the complexity of social life increases, the crises increase in which the group must ask the unfailing service and devotion of its members. Thus religion in its upward evolution becomes in- creasingly social, until it finally comes to throw supreme em- phasis upon the life of service and of self-sacrifice for the sake of the group; and as the group expands from the clan and the tribe to humanity, religion necessarily becomes less tribal and more humanitarian until the supreme object of the devotion which it inculcates must ultimately be the whole of humanity. Again, religions have, for the most part, in the later stages of culture, after they have passed through the period of.ancestor worship, gotten their social ideals from the family life; and sociology shows that the social and moral ideals of higher civili- zation in general also have come from the primary forms of association, such as the family. Now social idealism is an at- tempt to realize in the wider social life these primary ideals which are gotten from primary groups; and as the higher eth- ical religions got their ideals from the same source they have the same aim. The higher, or so-called “ethical” religions, are, therefore, but manifestations of social idealism imbedded in religious feeling and accompanied by more or less formal religious sanctions. A somewhat detailed study of religious development would of course be required to throw a fuller light upon the necessity, the universality, and the function of religion in human society. 6 Cooley, “ Social Organization,” Chap. IV. 342 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY No one can understand religion, as has been well said, without understanding other religions than his own, any more than one can understand language without understanding other lan- guages than his own. The scientific student of religion must recognize, as Marett says, that there is a “soul of truth” in all religions.*. At any rate no religion lies in utter isolation from other religions, and from the most highly developed to the most lowly there are intellectual clews running back which are of the utmost value for the understanding of the relations of re- ligion to civilization. Let us very briefly sketch, therefore, the evolution of religion. If we take the commonly accepted seven stages of religious evolution, namely, pre-animism, animism, totemism, ancestor worship, polytheism, henothism, and monctheism, it is not diffi- cult to see that they not only embody man’s valuation of his world but also the social values of the age which they represent. Thus in the pre-animistic stage we have every reason to believe the conception of the “sacred” arose, as illustrated, for ex- ample, in the Melanesians’ conception of ‘‘ Mana.” This word was used by the Melanesians to signify a power or influence not visible, and in a way supernatural, showing itself in con- nection with both persons and natural objects... Fear and rey- erence were always attached to any person or thing which manifested ‘‘ Mana,” and thus such persons or things were “taboo”; and upon this idea of taboo the whole conception of the “sacred” as a means of social control seems to have been built up. The world was filled, in other words, with a mys- terious, wonder-working energy which was the source of all success, luck, or good fortune, and which must be dealt with in a certain way in order to insure these desirable effects both for the individual and for the community. The American Indian had much the same conception in such words as “‘ Manitou”’ and “Wakanda,” and among many other primitive peoples we find parallel conceptions. Nothing was more important for the in- dividual or the community in this stage than to put itself into right relations with this mysterious, wonder-working power which assured good or bad fortune. Hence already, though there were no “ gods,” the whole mental and social machinery of religion was at work with respect to the mores in the way which we have already described at the beginning of this paper. The second stage of religion came when this mysterious, wonder-working power was conceived of as a “double” or a “spirit” which resided in men, animals, and things. This 7“ Anthropology,” Chap. VIII. 8 Codrington, ‘‘ The Melanesians,” p. 118 f. RELIGION AND SOCIAL CONTROL 343 stage is known as “animism.” The mysterious, wonder-work- ing power was conceived as able to exist apart from the object in which it resided. Thus was born the conception of the “soul,” a conception which was bound to be reached by man’s power of abstraction, but which was made easier through man’s reflection upon the experiences of his dream-world. Out of the dualism of the ordinary and the extraordinary, the natural and the supernatural, grew the further dualism of the physical and the spiritual; and the mysterious, wonder-working powers were identified with the spiritual beings, the “souls” or “doubles” of men, animals, and things. A further step in the development of religion is shown in animism, because man now more definitely interprets his world in terms of himself, of his will, and of his values. This stage prepared religion to de- velop and emphasize the subjective element, and to make it the chief element in social control. A third stage of religious development was “totemism,” in which animals or plants became the chief objects of religious veneration. The totemic stage arose naturally from the ani- mistic, and marked a broadening of man’s knowledge concern- ing his world. It was correlated with the hunting stage of eco- nomic development. Man was surrounded by animals, he hunted animals, he lived on animals, he thought in terms of animals, and therefore, he mainly worshipped animals. It was the zoomorphic stage of religion. The mysterious wonder- working power was the animal or plant which was regarded with religious reverence and conceived of as having some mys- terious relation to the group, which usually bore its name. Kinship and religion now become definitely allied, and hence we may say that this was the first stage in which religion came to have an organized control over all the forms and relationships of social life. Art, education, and food-getting, also, now come under well-defined religious control. The fourth stage of religious development, the hero-ances- tor-worshipping stage, did not arise until the patriarchal fam- ily and pastoral industry, together with the power of the war chief, emphasized the human element. Thus the anthropo- morphic stage of religious evolution was reached. The mys- terious, wonder-working powers were now conceived to be the souls of departed heroes or ancestors. Each family had its own gods and its own domestic worship. This stage fostered the development of the domestic virtues, accordingly, and of the social ideals derived from the domestic virtues; but it had a great drawback in that, by apotheosizing the departed ancestor, it emphasized too much the values of the past. Religion took on 344 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY an ultra-conservative nature and made possible such static civili- zation as was, for example, illustrated for centuries by the Chinese. The abuses of religion, from a social point of view, now begin to appear. When small ancestor-worshipping groups were welded into city-states or small nations, the gods of the different groups, who included not only the heroic ancestors of the past, but also many nature spirits whose worship had survived from animis- tic times, formed a “ pantheon,” and we have the stage of re- ligion which is known as “polytheism.” In this stage there is a classification of gods. Not every blade of grass had a god, but there might be a god of the grass. Neither did every man have a god, but there was a god for practically every social ac- tivity of man, a god of war, a god of love, etc. All were highly personalized beings, and the community of gods was conceived as more or less like the community of men, though often ideal- ized. This stage was really transitional, and is marked by a confusion of ethical and religious conceptions and values. There was in it, therefore, the opportunity for the sanction of all sorts of practises, and the abuses of religion become more manifest, as seen, for example, in the various practises of idolatry. . Out of polytheism slowly developed another intermediary stage of religion known as ‘‘henotheism,” in which one of the gods of the pantheon was chosen by a people as its particular national god, without their denying at first, however, the exist- ence of other gods. Gradually the other gods came to be re- garded as “false gods” and the national god as the true god. All monotheistic peoples have passed through this henotheistic stage, though students of religion have sometimes failed to recognize it. The early Jews, for example, before the later prophets were unquestionably henotheistic. This national stage of religion’ served greatly to unify peoples in strong nationalistic groups. It is a serious question whether our civil- ization is not yet mainly in this stage of religion. Religion in this stage is crudely anthropomorphic, and the deity is thought of as having the national character of the people with very definite human traits. True monotheism is reached only when the mind of man sees that there is but one universal existence from whence all things, including his own mind, have proceeded and of which they are a part. Monotheism, in other words, is the recogni- tion of the infinite as God, that infinite and eternal energy from 9 Some special term like “ henotheism ”’ is certainly needed to designate the strongly marked “ national” stage of religious evolution. RELIGION AND SOCIAL CONTROL 345 which all things proceed and to which all things return. Such a conception has tended in our civilization to take the form of an ethical theism, and probably rightly, since mere “ energism ” satisfies neither the emotions nor the intellect of man. The one distinctive contribution which modern science, indeed, has been able to make to religious thought on the theological side is the recognition of the fact of “ creative evolution,” that the energy of the universe is “an ascending energy.” Thus under ethical theism the highest social values have been readily given a religious sanction, that is, universalized or projected into the universe. Hence social idealism has been stimulated by ethical monotheism as never before in the history of civilization. Now this rough outline of the development of religion shows clearly enough that religion has evolved with the social and mental life of man; that it is a thing which changes with the whole cultural complex which we call “ civilization”; and that changes in religion have had much to do with changes in man’s social and cultural life in general. Clearly enough, too, human history has been, from one point of view, a struggle to attain to a rational and truly social religion—such a valuation of all the experience of life in terms of the universe as accords with man’s reason and yet intensifies his social values. Only to an absolute skeptic would the great revolutions in religion appear other than as steps in social and cultural progress. But what will the next revolution in religion bring forth? Will it not be “atheism,” as so many have said? It hardly needs to be pointed out to the student of civiliza- tion that we have scarcely yet attained to a true ethical mono- theism ; that we left henotheism behind but yesterday, and that still the peoples of the world are prone to relapse into it. Ethical monotheism may, indeed, be a form of religious con- sciousness to which the masses of mankind never can attain, but if cultural progress continues religion should develop in this direction, if we can judge from its past history. Mono- theism is not outgrown; we have not yet grown into it. We need a more social and ethical form of it rather than a theo- logical and metaphysical conception merely. The religious revolution which now confronts us, in other words, concerns the transition from theological to ethical monotheism, from a metaphysical to a social conception of religion. But it may be asked, why should social values be expressed religiously? Is not the fact that they are social values, built up from the real experiences of mankind, sufficient sanction for them without attaching to them theological or mythological notions? This form of the question, however, indicates a mis- 346 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY understanding. For a religious sanction given to social values does not necessarily imply the attachment to them of any defi- nite theological notions; it only implies that they are made uni- versal and, as it were, absolute. The history of the evolution of religion shows this very conclusively because theological notions have constantly changed, but religion has remained. It is true that there is a minimum of theology and of meta- physics which remains in all religion and which is necessary to it. But the same statement is equally true of science. Re- ligion refuses to negate the universe, to deny the reality of existence, of life, or of mind. But equally so does science. Religion can not build itself upon negations; but neither can science, nor art, nor education, nor any of the other practical social activities of mankind. All such practical social activites are necessarily built upon a common-sense, constructive attitude toward “‘ the system of things.”’ Religion assumes, of course, that the system of things is not alien to ourselves. We can not rule theology out of religion altogether, any more than we can rule metaphysics out of science; but the place of theology in religion during the past few generations has been much exaggerated, and this has been one of the main impediments to the attain- ment by our civilization of a rational and humanitarian re- ligion. The recognition that religion is a thing which exists independent of definite theological doctrines is necessary, there- fore, for its free development, though this statement should not be interpreted to mean that we can build a religion, any more than anything else, upon a negative attitude toward life, mind, or the universe at large. The religious problem, then, is not the problem of merely maintaining religion in human life. For reasons which we have seen there is probably no such problem as that; for if we do not have a rational and ethical religion, the mind of man is such that we are bound to have irrational and unethical religion —if not a religion of social progress, then a religion of social retrogression and barbarism. The religious problem of our age is what the religious problem of every age has been, the problem of getting a religion adapted to the requirements of our present social life. But the requirements of social life are at present so much more complex than in any other period of human history that a socially superior religion is needed. The modern man lives in a more complex world in which the diffi- culties of adjustment are so great that pessimistic writers are wont to tell us that humanity has about reached its limits of ad- justment. At the same time higher intellectual development makes it more necessary for the modern man to see a meaning RELIGION AND SOCIAL CONTROL 347 in things beyond mere appearances if he is to adjust himself successfully to them. Finally, the delicate interrelations of all parts of our civilization make a stronger and more universal good will necessary, if social calamity is not to overtake us. Never before in the history of the world, then, did rational social values need more the sanction of religion than at present, because never before did they need to come to the consciousness of the individual in intenser form. The limits of adjustment have, of course, not been reached by humanity; in fact no one can scientifically set the limits of possible human adjustment. But in the new and complex world in which we now live, in which the interdependence of man and man reaches to the uttermost bounds of the earth, we need more of the guidance of reason and at the same time a stronger motivation for mak- ing complex social adjustments. In other words, while we need science, we need, not less, confidence in our world and uni- versal good will towards men. That is to say, we need religion and morality not less than science, to meet the problems of more complex human living together. Those who are interested in the development of an harmoniously adjusted social life for humanity as a whole can not afford, therefore, to ignore re- ligion as a means of social control; for, as we have tried to show, the more complex social life becomes the more impossible is an adequate social morality without a correspondingly high development of social religion. Obviously, it is only a rebirth of humanitarian ethics which can save the world from its present welter of seemingly unend- ing class, national, and racial struggles. But humanitarian ethics demands more in the way of self-sacrifice from the indi- vidual than class, tribal, or national ethics. It makes the least appeal of any system of morality to the natural egoism of the individual because it concerns the largest possible human group, having to do with the welfare of many individuals of whose existence the average individual knows nothing directly through experience, and concerning whose welfare he can have tangible ideas only through the exercise of the liveliest imag- ination. Humanitarian ethics, in order to be successful, must be supported by a religion which will stimulate a humanity- wide altruism in the individual. It must have the support of a religion of humanity. The social significance, then, of the attempt to develop in the higher stages of social and cultural evolution a humanitarian religion, a religion which sets up the love and service of humanity as the highest manifestation of religion, is nothing less than that zt is the process by which social evolution is endeavoring to transcend individual, class, 348 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY tribal, and national ethics and to replace these by a social, in- ternational, humanitarian ethics. This is the significance of the religious problem and of the truly progressive religious movements of our day. But in the meanwhile retrogressive tendencies have also shown themselves in the religious life of western civilization— tendencies which threaten to defeat the normal evolution of re- ligion into the humanitarian type. What then is to be done? The creation and establishment of a new religion under the complex conditions of modern life is almost out of question, because there would be little chance of such a venture becom- ing successful in time to perform the services which are needed for the control of our world-wide civilization. Nor is such a venture necessary; it is only necessary that the leaders of re- ligion of our day grasp the social significance of religion in our civilization and give it the positive humanitarian trend which the situation demands. Fortunately, the most advanced religions of our time have already attached themselves more or less formally to the cause of humanitarian ethics. This is especially true of the most advanced Christian sects. All that is needed, therefore, is that the churches of to-day should drop theological disputation, recognize that their essential work is the maintenance and propagation of rational social values, and teach clearly that the only possible service of God must consist in the service of men, no matter what their class, race, or na- tionality may be. In this work the churches would not only forget their traditional differences, but it is probable that they would rally to their support a very large part of those who are now their active opponents. Let the recognized basis of religious fellowship, in other words, become full consecration for the service of mankind, and all the irrational, unsocial, and unprogressive elements in our religious life would then disappear. We should then have a religion adapted to the requirements of our social life, and a basis of social control adequate for the highest civilization. There have been many stirrings in this direction in religious circles within recent years, but they are as yet far from frui- tion. After this war is over, if not before, however, it is to be hoped that we shall take seriously in hand the reconstruction of our religious life along humanitarian lines. For an actually realized humanitarian religion, sanctioning and enforcing a humanitarian ethics, would be our surest guarantee of estab- lishing social justice and future good will between classes, na- tions, and races, and the surest preventive of the recurrence again of such a calamity as the present war. THE METHOD OF NATURE 349 THE METHOD OF NATURE By Professor I. W. HOWERTH UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA ATURE is creative. This is no new and profound idea N originating in the mind of M. Bergson; it is a patent and familiar fact lying on the surface of things. Creation is merely the production of something new. Man creates, but only by application of the creative principles of nature. Na- ture’s creations do not differ in any essential respect from the created products of man. When two or more chemical elements combine by chance in certain proportions the result is some- thing new, something entirely different from either constituent ; a product manifesting new properties; it is a creation of nature. Such, for instance, are all the gases, liquids and solids, which go to make up the visible universe. Some of these man recreates by a process of creative synthesis, as, for instance, in synthetic chemistry. If, then, we conceive the existing universe as having been evolved gradually and naturally, that is, from the operation of inherent forces, and from diffused matter consisting of a few elements or of one; or, in other words, if we accept the current doctrine of evolution; we must recognize that all the various forms of matter, with all their peculiar properties, have come into existence at certain definite times in the past in a natural manner. From a state of existence de potentia they passed, sometime and somewhere and for the first time, into a state of existence de facto. They were, therefore, at their initial ap- pearance, absolutely new creations. The order of their appear- ance was more or less serial. Roughly speaking, it was per- haps as follows: the atom, the molecule, the inorganic com- pound, the organic compound, protoplasm, protists, plants, ani- mals, man, society. The principle involved is that of combina- tion. Nature creates by compounding. Creation is permuta- tion. Nature, then, is not only “ durch und durch causalitdt,” as Schopenhauer declared; it is through and through creative. All that now exists, whether in the inorganic, organic, or social worlds, save the relatively few products of man’s intelligence, is the outcome of a natural creative process and the manifesta- tion of a natural creative power. 350 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY Confining attention, for our present purposes, to the crea- tive principle as manifested in the organic and social worlds, we find it marvelously exemplified in the manifold and myriad forms of plant and animal life, and in the social groups and institutions which have come into existence spontaneously. With respect to plants and animals there are now known and classified more than two million species, and the number is increasing every day. In the classification of Linnzus, made in 1758, we find included only 4,136 species of animals. In modern classifications the number is multiplied more than a hundred fold. A recent writer places it at 716,000. A speaker at the American Society of Zoologists in 1912 gave a total of 522,400. Jordan and Kellogg, in their book entitled ** Animal Studies,” state that there are 300,000 named species of insects known to zoologists, and that this number represents only one fifth, or possibly one tenth, of those living throughout the world. Herbert Spencer, in 1852, on the authority of Humboldt and Carpenter, placed the number of animal species at 320,000 and of plants at two million, and declared that If to that we add the number of animal and vegetable species that have become extinct, we may easily estimate the number of species that have existed and are existing on the earth at not less than ten millions. Now what created all these forms of life with their infinite variations? Nature. The orthodox religionist would use the interrogative “who,” and answer, “‘God;” and there need be no objection to that reply. But inasmuch as science deals only with secondary causes, not at all with ultimates, the scien- tific answer must be as given; and there should be no objection on religious grounds to the answer thus made. Nature, by a distinctively creative process, then, brought into existence all the various species of plant and animal life, and animal and human societies, too; and controls them all in so far as they are not products of conscious human effort. We are aware that an objection may be raised to thus objectifying nature and apparently separating it from its products, but such separation appears to be a necessity of speech, and, aside from noting the possibility of such objection, it need not detain the argument. Now, nothing is produced, accomplished, or achieved with- out some describable mode or way of procedure. The mode or way in the process of human achievement is denominated method, and, by a figure of speech, we may employ the same term in describing the creative process of nature. What, then, is nature’s method of creation? THE METHOD OF NATURE 351 In spite of modern criticism of the Darwinian hypothesis, which appears oftentimes to be over-refined or misdirected, it may be said that the method of nature is most adequately de- scribed as a process of natural selection, meaning by that ex- pression all that may be rightfully implied. Darwin himself admitted that other factors are involved in the process. Taking natural selection, then, as the most important means or method of natural creation, we wish to point out some of its most conspicuous characteristics, the range of its application, and the folly of relying upon it for the realization of desirable human ends. The first element which reveals itself in an analysis of the principle of natural selection is a “multiplication of chances.” This is required to furnish opportunity for selection and is occa- sioned by the fertility of nature. Nature brings into existence many more organisms than can possibly survive. This is necessary in order to secure the requisite number and kinds of variants in a given type of organism to secure survival of the species and progressive adaptation. But it means, so far as any special and particular result is concerned, an enormous waste. The first, and most obvious, characteristic of nature’s method is its extraordinary wastefulness. To appreciate the waste of nature one has but to compare its potential with its actual achievement in the perpetuation of a given type of organism. Among microorganisms the possi- bilities of increase in number are most astounding. A minute form of life, hydrotina, is capable of producing offspring with such rapidity that, in a single year, they would form a sphere whose limits would extend beyond the confines of the known universe. A certain infusorium, stylonichia, is said to be capable of producing in six and one half days a mass of proto- plasm weighing one kilogram. In thirty days, at the same rate, it could produce a mass a million times larger than the sun, the weight of which in kilograms would have to be repre- sented by a figure followed by forty zeros.t. A plant which produces only two seeds a year, and there are few, if any, that are not more prolific, would have in the twenty-first year, if none was destroyed, 1,048,576 descendants. A horse-chestnut tree may produce a ton of pollen. A housefly lays a hundred and twenty eggs, and there are twelve to fourteen gen- erations in a season. Counting twelve generations only, a single fly, if all its offspring survived, might be the parent 1For these and other striking illustrations of the potential fertility of nature, see Morgan, “ Heredity and Sex,” p. 2; Marshall, A. M., “ Lec- tures on the Darwinian Theory,” pp. 39-40. 352 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY of a family numbering 4,253,564,672,000,000,000,000. A salmon lays 15,000 eggs, an octopus, 50,000, a large shad, 100,000, a codfish 1,000,000, an oyster 2,000,000, a conger eel 10,000,000, a tapeworm 1,000,000,000. In 1864 a man living on a sheep ranch near Melbourne, Australia, imported, from the Kew Gardens in London, three pairs of rabbits. In 1906, forty years afterwards, Australia shipped to Europe 25,000,000 frozen rabbits, and 96,000,000 rabbit skins. Horses were in- troduced in Buenos Ayres in 1537. In forty-three years they had spread to the Straits of Magellan. Fertility diminishes as we rise in the scale of animal life, but even the human being is capable of reproducing with such rapidity that from a single pair, doubling once in fifty years, there would be in three thou- sand years a sufficient number of human beings to cover the whole surface of the earth, land and sea, and piled on top of one another eight hundred deep. Such are some of the illus- trations of the potential natural increase of organisms. Notwithstanding this enormous fertility of nature, in spite of this enormous multiplication of chances, it is a well-known fact that the number of any given species remains, as a rule, practically the same from year to year. What becomes of the surplus? Why is it that “of fifty seeds She often brings but one to bear”? Obviously the surplus production is wasted, at least so far as the perpetuation of the given species is con- cerned. Says Asa Gray: The waste of being is enormous, far beyond the common apprehen- sion. Seeds, eggs, and other germs, are designed to be plants and ani- mals, but not one of a thousand or of a million achieves its destiny... . But what of the vast majority that perish? As of the light of the sun, sent forth in all directions, only a minute portion is intercepted by the earth or other planets where some of it may be utilized for present or future life, so of potential organisms, or organisms begun, no larger pro- portion attain the presumed end of their creation.? Nature’s economy, then, is no economy at all; its order is dis- order; its method is the absence of method, if that word be de- fined in terms of human procedure. The most conspicuous characteristic of nature’s mode of action in the process of crea- tion, or of perpetuation, is waste. This waste is manifested not alone in the number of ma- terial products destroyed but also in the amount of time re- quired to produce a given result. Lamarck perceived this. He said, For nature time is nothing. It is never a difficulty, she always has it 2“ Darwiniana,” by Asa Gray, New York, 1877, pp. 372-373. THE METHOD OF NATURE 353 at her disposal; and it is for her the means by which she has accomplished the greatest as well as the least results. It required millions of years to fashion the earth, millions to populate it with the lower orders of life, perhaps a million to develop man, and thousands of years to produce a civilized people. The method of nature is slow. Still another, and perhaps more significant fact, is that the method of nature is uncertain, so far as the realization of re- sults desirable to man is concerned. This arises from the ab- sence in all purely natural processes of the aims and purposes of man. All movements of nature, as far as we are able to trace them, are in the direction of balance or adjustment. As to whether the resulting conditions, or the products created thereby, are profitable to man, nature is wholly unconcerned. Whatever else it may be, nature is not Providence. According to the law of probabilities, it must sometimes happen, of course, that in the manifold activities of nature, and in the multiform products resulting from those activities, something will be found conforming to human desires, and certain processes will be directed toward the achievement of desirable human ends. Nevertheless nature is aimless, and the human benefits result- ing from the operations of nature’s method are wholly acci- dental. Such, then, are the leading characteristics of the method of nature; it is wasteful, slow, and aimless, therefore uncertain so far as the production of desirable human results are concerned. Let us now observe the range of its operations. Obviously the method of nature applies to all movements, and to the creation of all products, in which intelligence is not involved. Such, for instance, are the creation and movements of the planets, of the clouds, of the waves of the sea, of the earth and the convulsions in its crust, and the creation and development of all plants and animals in a state of nature. It should be equally obvious that it applies, also, to all incidental, that is, all unintended, results of intelligent action. But much that happens in human life is incidental to the pursuit of con- scious ends; it falls outside of the purposive; it is fortuitous, accidental, and belongs, therefore, in the realm of nature; and anything resulting from it is achieved by nature’s method. With this understanding it is easy to see that many, if not most of the movements of society, whether progressive or re- gressive, take place in accordance with the method of nature; they are unintended, wholly incidental to the human pursuit of other ends. For it is an obvious fact that individuals in VOL. vi1.—23. 354 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY pursuit of strictly personal ends, and corporate bodies in the pursuit of corporate ends, may affect society for good or ill. So far as society is thus affected it is under the control of nature. Social movements thus produced, social products thus created, are without conscious intent on the part of anybody. As a matter of fact most social movements, most of the social progress of the past, and much of that of to-day, are, socially considered, unconscious and unintended. Society to-day, then, is still, in large part, under the domain of nature, and the progress achieved is still largely the result of the operations of nature’s method. Such progress is, there- fore, wasteful, slow, and uncertain. War between social groups, and for national rather than social purposes, and business com- petition for corporate or individual ends, are often socially pro- gressive in results, but the progress achieved by them is at- tained by nature’s method, and is therefore as wasteful, slow, and uncertain as any of the other operations of nature. With some of the lower organisms, the domesticated plants and animals, the method of nature has long since been sup- planted by artificial selection, and the other more economical methods of mind. Waste is eliminated, development is has- tened, new types are developed, change is directed toward a predetermined goal. The same thing might be and should be true of social change. As society is a product of nature, and its movements subject to natural law, it may be modified by the intelligence and will of man. Its progress, as achieved by the method of nature, is wasteful, slow and uncertain. We should no more rely upon the method of nature to bring about a high form of civilization than we should rely upon that method to bring into existence the particular types of plants and animals most serviceable to man. He who hopes that the natural method of social develop- ment will of itself produce democracy, for instance, or perma- nent peace, or that the brotherhood of man will inevitably be reached as a natural goal, is in like case with the foolish op- timist who expects a good crop to be grown without cultiva- tion or a Micawber who expectantly waits for something favor- able to turn up. It is man’s prerogative to supplant, in the whole field of natural phenomena, the method of nature by the method of mind, and thus to control social events and social progress as he has long been controlling the progress of the domesticated plants and animals, and many of the processes of the physical world. If this idea, and this possibility, ever should become real- THE METHOD OF NATURE 355 ized, they must necessarily involve, as a preliminary step, the development of a social consciousness as distinguished from the narrower group consciousnesses which now prevail, and in which the latter will merge. This necessarily means a league of nations, and the surrender, on the part of national groups, of independent national sovereignty. To the idea of the neces- sity of such a league many have already come. The concep- tion is generally limited, however, to that of a league to secure and maintain international peace. But, if the method of nature is to be supplanted in the progress of society, the functions of such a league must be carried far beyond the establishment and maintenance of peace. It will not be enough to create a league within which the method of nature is to operate in the wasteful, even though peaceful, struggles of groups, in a “ war after the war.” There must be definite, constructive purposes looking to the elimination of strife and petty jealousies, and the organization of all the resources of society in the interest of human happiness. The internal operations of society must also be brought under social control, and social control, no matter where it is exercised, means the supplanting of nature’s methods by the more economical methods of intelligence. A league of nations, then, is necessary, and we do well to urge its formation. But if social progress is ever to become orderly, if we are ever to eliminate its terrible waste, if social change is ever to become certainly progressive, if we are to ap- proach with even pace the social conditions of which already many have dared to dream, the method of nature must be sup- planted everywhere throughout the realm of human interests, and society become a work of art, and not remain as it now is, largely a product of nature. Can this be done? Is man, who controls with such wonderful results the physical forces, and who determines in large measure the destiny of all lower crea- tures, powerless to determine the destiny of society? Shall it be said of Man, as it was said of the Son of Man, ‘‘ He saved others, himself he cannot save”? The achievements of science in every domain of natural phenomena, the gradual extension of a social art based on a science of society, deny it, and give ground for a more optimistic social philospohy. 356 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY THE CHEMISTS OF AMERICA By Dr. BENJAMIN HARROW COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY T a recent meeting of the Washington Academy of Sciences, the chemical representative with the British mission in this country told the audience that the side with the best chemists will probably win the war. This is worth remembering when our statesmen fill themselves, the news- papers, and the people with war knowledge. Perhaps some will take our Britisher to task for giving undue importance to his sphere of activity. If so, let the facts speak for themselves. Until shortly before the outbreak of the war the nitrate supply of the world came from Chili. With it the world’s supply of fertilizer was satisfied; with it, nitric acid, and hence our various modern explosives, were manufactured. But the deposits, like those of coal, have their limits; and the world’s needs were emptying the nitrate de- posits even faster than those of coal. The situation was alarm- ing but not hopeless, for at this point the chemist stepped in and suggested a solution. Approximately eighty per cent. of the air we breathe contains nitrogen. But this element, in the free state, is useless for most purposes—whether to feed the soil, or feed man, or prepare munitions. And to combine it with oxygen to get the necessary nitrates is not an easy matter. However, the chemists attacked the problem. Particularly so the chemists of Germany. As soon as war was declared, Germany’s supply of Chili saltpeter was cut off. But by that time her chemists had solved the problem of the fixation of nitrogen—as the process by which the nitrogen of the air is converted into nitrates is called. There is much plausibility in the assertion that the mili- taristic clique in Prussia awaited but the solution to this prob- lem before finding a convenient pretext for war. When, after the battle of the Marne, defeat stared the Prussians, who helped them to stave off defeat? The chemist with his gas. And when our allies had developed effective counter-measures for this added horror of modern warfare, THE CHEMISTS OF AMERICA 357 the German chemist introduced the gas shell. It is now being pretty generally conceded by those in a position to know, that the recent German drives on the western front have been made possible not merely because of added numbers from the Kast, nor because of Von Hutier’s new form of attack, but to a large extent on account of a prodigal expenditure of ‘‘ mustard” gas. Re-read the story of the evacuation of Armentieres. What has saved Germany thus far is not her organization, nor her generals. It is her chemists. Every one talks of Hin- denburg and Ludendorfi. But how many have heard of Baeyer and Fischer? Let not the reader, however, get the impression that Ger- many has a monopoly of chemists. By no means. Germany has made much of her chemists, whereas we have neglected ours. The German government, through its industrial organi- zations, has constantly encouraged them to further efforts; our statesmen, steeped in Greek, Latin or Tammany classics, have not. But the dawn of a brighter day is arising. The world trag- edy has opened the eyes of our people. When peace and good- will once again reign among us, let us hope that the leaders of at least two of our great democracies will take the lesson to heart—not, indeed, to encourage their scientists to devise fur- ther, and more horrible means for conducting warfare, as is done by the present German government, but to encourage our plodding philosophers in the search they love best—unfolding the secrets of nature, thereby adding to the knowledge and happiness of the world. * * * * * * * * Chemistry in America is a very young product. It prob- ably received its impetus from the Englishman, Priestly, the discoverer of oxygen, who came to these shores in the latter part of the last century, and from Robert Hare, the inventor of the oxy-hydrogen blowpipe. The flame was kept a-burning by a succession of well-known teachers at Harvard and Penn- sylvania, among whom may be mentioned Cooke and Wolcott Gibbs. The more modern period was ushered in by Charles Eliot in Boston, Ira Remsen at Johns Hopkins, Frederick Chandler at Columbia, and E. F. Smith at Pennsylvania. From small beginnings the science has enlarged a thousand- fold. Our American Chemical Society has a membership of 10,000. It publishes an erudite journal, devoted to recording the results of research by its members; a chemical abstracts, 358 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY embracing a digest of the world’s chemical literature; and an industrial journal which, in the last four or five years, has be- come unrivaled. Germany has for so long appropriated the ideas of some of the master minds of Britain and France, that it is a rather wel- come sign to find the Americans turning the tables upon the Germans now. Some of our leading chemists have received their post-graduate training in Germany. These men are mak- ing use of their training with a vengeance. Apart from their immediate services to the government, these men have, during the last twenty-five years, trained the younger generation to a degree which has called forth the admiration of their German masters. Even before the war, the number of American chem- ists at German universities showed a marked falling off. Our post-graduate departments at Harvard, at Chicago, at Califor- nia, at Columbia, at Johns Hopkins, at Yale, at Michigan, and others, have become the serious rivals of those at Berlin and Munich, Bonn and Heidelberg. The chemical advisers of the government are directing, and the larger body of chemists are actively engaged in work on explosives, on gases, on foods, on iron and steel, on copper, on aluminum, on fertilizer, on dyes, on drugs, on rubber, on leather, on paints, on glass, on fats and soaps, on paper, on cement, etc. Who are some of these men, so indispensable for the successful prosecution of the war, and just as indispensable for the de- velopment of our country after the war? In the mathematical branch of the science—that more par- ticularly concerned with the fundamental properties of mat- ter—we probably lead all other countries. Willard Gibbs (Yale), one of the profoundest mathematicians of the century, was the forerunner. Closely following upon him came Edward Morley (Western Reserve), whose work on the composition of water is among the classics in chemistry. At present there is T. W. Richards (Harvard), winner of the Nobel prize, and the great authority on the weight relationships of the elements; G. N. Lewis (California), the energy exponent, now with the oversea forces; and workers on the theories of solution and other kindred subjects; H. N. Morse and the late H. C. Jones (Johns Hopkins) ; W. D. Harkins (Chicago) ; W. D. Bancroft (Cornell) ; E. W. Washburn (Illinois); J. L. R. Morgan and James Kendal (Columbia) ; M. Rosanoff (Pittsburgh), etc. Closely associated with these, but particularly well known as the authors of successful text-books, may be mentioned A. Smith (Columbia) ; J. Stieglitz (Chicago) ; and C. Baskerville (College of the City of New York). THE CHEMISTS OF AMERICA 359 In the analytical field—the detection and estimation of the elements and their compounds—we have F. W. Clarke (U.S. Geol. Survey), particularly well known for his work on chemical geology; F. A. Gooch (Yale), originator of several well-known appliances in the laboratory; W. F. Hillebrand (U. S. Geol. Survey), the author of a splendid work on rock analysis, etc. In the field of organic chemistry, where we are introduced to glycerin, carbolic acid and toluol, leading on to the chemistry of modern explosives, we have M. Gomberg (Michigan) ; M. T. Bogert, in charge of the chemical service section of the National Army, and J. M. Nelson (Columbia), T. B. Johnson (Yale), W. A. Noyes (Illinois), C. S. Hudson (U.S. Dept. of Agriculture), ete. This branch of the science suffered a grievous loss a short time ago by the death of J. U. Nef (Chicago). Again, in the most recent offshoot of organic chemistry, the application of the science to physiology, to biology and to medi- cine in general, we are easily the leaders. There come to mind the names of such men as O. Folin (Harvard), who has revo- lutionized clinical chemistry; P. A. Levene and D. D. Van Slyke (Rockefeller Institute), R. H. Chittenden and L. B. Mendel (Yale), E. V. McCollum and W. Jones (Johns Hopkins), W. J. Gies (Columbia), H. D. Dakin (Herter Laboratory), C. Funk, C. Alsberg (Chief Chemist, U. S. Dept. of Agriculture), K. G. Falk (Harriman Research Laboratory), P. B. Hawk (Jefferson Medical College), A. E. Taylor (Pennsylvania), G. Lusk and S. R. Benedict (Cornell), A. P. Mathews (Chicago), ete. Closely associated with these, but more narrowly restricted to foods, may be mentioned H. C. Sherman (Columbia), H. W. Wiley, and W. D. Bigelow. Among those particularly interested in its agricultural as- pects are O. Schreiner (U. S. Bureau of Soils), C. B. Lipman (California), and T. J. Lipman (Rutgers). Though J. Loeb (Rockefeller Institute) and W. J. V. Oster- hout (Harvard) are directors of departments of biology and botany, respectively, their researches are wholly biochemical in nature. As might be expected, in the industrial field, where the in- ventive genius finds an immediate and successful outlet, the American chemist has done wonders. Every student who takes a course in elementary chemistry knows how Goodyear vul- canized rubber, how Hall revolutionized the manufacture of aluminum, how Frasch devised an ingenious method for ex- tracting sulphur from the Louisiana ores, how Castner invented his electrolytic process for the production of caustic soda, used 360 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY in enormous quantities in the manufacture of soap, how Ache- son discovered carborundum, artificial graphite, and defloccu- lated graphite, and how Baekeland discovered bakelite, used in electrical appliances, phonographic records, etc. And now younger America, in the shape of W. F. Rittman, is busily en- gaged in perfecting a process for “cracking” petroleum under pressure, whereby an amazing number of raw products neces- sary for explosives, and dyes, and motive power, are formed. And again, one of Parr’s students at Illinois has developed a method of extracting the dye from the wood of the osage orange, which dye is now used for the khaki uniform cloth of the Amer- ican Army. But this is not all. Bucher, of Brown University, and the chemists of the General Electric Company, are rapidly conclud- ing their researches into a practical method of extracting the nitrogen from the air; Day, of the Geophysical Laboratory, is preparing an optical glass which is superior to the German product; and various biochemists are putting on the market Salvarsan, substitutes for cocaine, adrenalin, and dozens of other German-made substances badly needed by our medical men. And so the story goes. E * * * * * * * A most encouraging augury for the future is the close co- operation that is beginning to exist between the universities, on the one hand, and the industries, on the other. For much of this our thanks are due to the late R. K. Duncan, for some years the director of the Mellon Institute at Pittsburgh, and the originator of the Mellon Industrial Fellowships. Inciden- tally, Duncan’s two or three books on popular spare et remind one of a Huxley or a Tyndall. An even better sign of the times is the research laboratories that our industrial corporations are establishing. A model of its kind is the chemical laboratory of the General Electric Com- pany. Its two chief chemists, W. R. Whitney and I. Langmuir, are among the leaders in their profession in this country. THE JURASSIC LAGOONS OF SOLNHOFEN 361 THE JURASSIC LAGOONS OF SOLNHOFEN By Professor EDWARD W. BERRY THE JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY HE aim of the true paleontologist is the elucidation of the history of the earth, and by the term earth history I do not mean merely the physical history, but also the biological his- tory, so that the result will be a complete picture of the relations of land and sea, the inhabitants of both, the climate, and the steady progress of events—both organic and inorganic. Such a picture is one of almost infinite complexity, as we at once realize when we endeavor to comprehend the mutual rela- tions of a single flora and fauna to one another and to their physical environment in even a small area of the earth’s surface at the present time. If it is almost impossible to arrive at cor- rect results in dealing with a contemporaneous flora and fauna, how much more difficult is it to deal with the often fragmentary remains that represent a mere fraction of the life of five or ten million years ago. Shall we then merely accumulate bricks and wait for the master builder of the future to build our temple? Already the bricks have accumulated in piles, mountain high, that threaten to bury us, and we sigh for the master builder that never comes. The older paleontologists, taking their cue from the scholasticism of medieval speculation, drew pictures of Carboniferous or © Jurassic landscapes and seascapes with a facile hand, but they were mostly catastrophists, and their materials were largely subjective rather than objective, so that to-day their results are considered largely fanciful. It is a most useful practise for the scientist to follow the example of mercantile concerns and to periodically take an in- ventory of stock on hand, make up a balance sheet and write off the discarded theories, hypotheses and misunderstood inter- pretations of facts with which his subject rapidly becomes cluttered. For some geological times or in some areas the rec- ord is so imperfect that the task is hopeless. For other times and in certain favorable regions we can gather the various threads derived from a study of the sediments, from the fossil animals and fossil plants, and weave these threads into a defi- nite pattern. 362 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY Such a region, a region with one of the most remarkable known assemblages of life—from earth, air and sea—is that of the lithographic stone quarries of South Germany. There is scarcely a museum throughout the world that does not contain some specimens from the Solnhofen lithographic stone, and while the Solnhofen quarries are less rich in fossils than others in the immediate vicinity, as for example those of EKichstadt, little attention has usually been given to exact horizon or locality. Johannes Walther has given us an exhaustive summary’ and drawn a picture of the life and environment of the late Jurassic at the time the lithographic stone was being deposited which in many ways should serve as a model and an inspiration for simi- lar attempts for other times and in other areas. This scholarly work leaves little to be desired in the way of facts. The inter- pretations of these facts, however, made before we knew very much about the origin of such fine-grained calcareous muds as formed the commercial lithographic stone, are not always the only or the most likely deductions permissible. Let us first of all glance at a few of the main features of Jurassic geography before describing Solnhofen and the relics of bygone life that are found there. What we now know as the Jurassic period of earth history was called the Oolite by Wil- liam Smith, the father of stratigraphic geology, because of the frequent occurrence in the rocks of this age of oolitic limestones or limestones made up of tiny calcareous concretions that re- sembled fish roe. These were famous building stones, so re- nowned even that the monuments that marked the Mason and Dixon line between the dominions of William Penn and those of Lord Baltimore were of this material imported from the quar- ries at Portland on the south (Dorset) coast of England. Alexander Brongniart, in 1829, proposed as a substitute for Smith’s name Oolitic, the term Jurassic because of the extensive development of the rocks of this age in the Jura Mountains. Smith had divided his Oolitic series into many subordinate zones based upon their characteristic lithology and fossils, and these he grouped into three major divisions. The lower was called the Lias, the middle Dogger and the upper Malm—these all being local quarrymen’s names in England that are still largely used in geological literature. They correspond to what Leopold von Buch, another grand old man of geology, in 1839 called the black, brown and white Jurassic. The Solnhofen 1“ Die Fauna der Solnhofener Plattenkalke,”’ Bionomisch betrachtet, Jena, 1904. THE JURASSIC LAGOONS OF SOLNHOFEN 363 deposits fall in the third or youngest of these subdivisions—the Malm or white Jurassic. During the long ages of the Triassic period the Paleozoic highlands of Europe had been very largely worn away by the slow processes of erosion, and the Jurassic history is in the main one of shallow seas gradually expanding over a land surface of low relief, and culminating in the almost complete flooding of the continent. North America, on the contrary, presents a striking contrast to Europe, for it is only in the Pacific coast region, and in Alaska, Texas and Mexico, that any marine Jurassic sediments have been discovered. The Jurassic seas of Europe were prevailingly shallow and warm. They swarmed with life of all kinds, and their sedi- ments were predominantly calcareous. The history of these successively expanding and contracting Jurassic seas, and of the teeming life of their waters, is a long and an intricate story —too long to be attempted in the present limited space. Pos- sibly if it had not been for the regular succession of the strata and the abundance of beautifully preserved fossils in the Juras- sic rocks of England, France and Germany, we should still be ignorant of the bearing of fossils upon stratigraphic succession and correlation. Certainly the rocks of no other age show so clearly the interrelations and replacements of what are usually called faunal facies, as do those of Jurassic time as they are traced from place to place. The Solnhofen deposits came at a time just subsequent to the maximum extension of Jurassic seas which had occurred in the immediately preceding times, the rocks of which now con- stitute the Oxfordian and Kimeridgian stages. That the seas still covered a goodly portion of Europe is shown by. the accom- panying sketch map. This stage of the upper Jurassic is known as the Portlandian (from Portland, England) or Bononian (from Bononia, the old name for Boulogne, France). Such a map, while based upon the synthesis of a vast num- ber of observations, is necessarily conjectural in areas where rocks of this age are absent or unknown, and it then has to be determined if they had once been present and were subsequently eroded, or whether this particular area was above the sea at that time. Moreover, errors in the correlation of distant strata are fruitful sources of misconception, and, finally, since even the map for a single stage covers some tens of thousands if not hundreds of thousands of years during which the coast lines were gradually changing, it is obvious that such a map can only approximate the true geography of any time and might aptly be 364 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY compared with the awkward-looking snapshot of a running animal as contrasted with a motion-picture film of the same animal. Turning now to the accompanying map, it will be noted that Europe was an archipelago at that time, not unlike the East Indies of to-day. The largest island, probably of a much more irregular outline than I have indicated, embraced Scandinavia, Finland and northwestern Russia. No traces of Portlandian sediments have been found in this vast region except in the lined area indicated around its margin. A shallow open sea appears to have covered most of Russia, broken by large islands in the Caucasus, and in Podolia, Kiev, Bessarabia, Kherson and Taurida, that is to say, southwestern Russia and the Roumanian border. Asia Minor was above the sea, and it is uncertain whether this last land mass extended to the northwest, or whether parts of Macedonia, Bulgaria, Serbia and Hungary constituted another large island. Ireland, Scotland and west- ern England were above the sea, as was most of Spain and the site of the Pyrenees. There were smaller islands in the Alpine region and elsewhere in Italy, and a large island occupied the western Mediterranean, the latter sea reaching the Atlantic across southern Spain on the north and Morocco on the south. The ancient rock-masses of Brittany and the Auvergne in France were land and it is uncertain whether or not the two were united across the Loire valley or whether the Atlantic fauna reached the Paris Basin across this area shown by broken lines on the map. Another large island extended from Norfolk across Flanders into Germany, and here also the map indicates by broken lines the uncertainty as to whether or not this island was connected with or separated from the island or islands on the site of Swabia, Franconia and northern Bavaria. The presence of traces of the Atlantic fauna in Germany has sug- gested that this fauna migrated in the northeasterly direction indicated by the arrow. Along the southern border of this Swabian, Franconian, Bavarian island or islands, there were reefs, extending south- westward into France, which prevented the mingling of the Mediterranean fauna of the Danube Basin and Dauphiné with the Atlantic fauna of the Paris Basin. There were other ex- tensive reef areas in the Alpine region, in Provence, and else- where at this time. The horizontally lined areas on the map, Fig. 1, mark the range of the Atlantic or occidental fauna characterized by the ammonite genus Pachyceras. The NW.-SE. or diagonally lined THE JURASSIC LAGOONS OF SOLNHOFEN 365 cs i=) 338 ad “5 ~~ & aot ra) os TE fe Ke aH Rothpletz, A., Abh. k. Bayerischen Akad. Wiss., Vol. 24, pp. 311-337, 1910. VOL. VII.-~-24. 370 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY ooze, where they were stranded by the retreating tide. Bottom dwellers of the sea are mostly absent and are represented almost entirely by molluscs that were accidentally washed into the basins or voided by fishes. A single dinosaur, evidently bogged, has come to light. Several kinds of crocodiles have been found, all of the long slender-snouted gavial type, and there were sev- eral species of marine turtles. The vertebrate inhabitants of the air that occur in these deposits furnish the most weird ele- ments in the landscape that I am endeavoring to picture. By all odds the most spectacular find in the lithographic stone was the remains of the oldest known bird—the Arche- opteryx or lizard-tailed bird. Its uniqueness may be indicated by the fact that it alone constitutes a subclass (Archzornithes), while all other known birds are grouped in a second subclass (Neornithes). A single feather found in 1860 was named by H. von Meyer and shortly afterward a fairly complete indi- vidual was found at Solnhofen in 1861 and acquired by the British Museum. The enormous price that was paid for this specimen stimulated the quarrymen to a sustained interest in fossils and in 1877 a second and better preserved specimen was discovered near Eichstaédt and is now in the Berlin Museum. Owen, who monographed the British Museum specimen, called it Archxopteryx macroura; Dames, who monographed the Ber- lin Museum specimen, called it Archxopteryx siemensi, while the original feather described by von Meyer had already re- ceived the name of Archxopteryx lithographica, which therefore has priority. The two individuals supplement one another and undoubt- edly represent the same or closely related species. They con- stitute one of the few great landmarks in avian paleontology, since no other known form shows so many reptilian features. Archxopteryx was about the size of a modern crow. The head was small and flat, with very large eyes, and without body feathers except on the back and nape. There was no beak and both jaws were armed with small sharp teeth set in grooves. The nostrils were well forward and the body was long and narrow. The vertebre were bi-convex and about 50 in number, of which only 10 or 11 are regarded as cervical (the lowest number of cervicals in any modern bird is 13). Instead of the few caudal vertebre of modern birds terminated by a pygostyle for the support of the digitately arranged tail feathers Archex- opteryx had about 20 elongated tail vertebra, each of which appears to have supported a pair of tail feathers or rectrices, whose arrangement may be said to have been pinnate as opposed THE JURASSIC LAGOONS OF SOLNHOFEN 371 to the palmate arrangement of all other known birds. In the embryos of some existing birds the caudal feathers are the first to develop, the tail is relatively elongated and is said to show a pair of feather sacs for each vertebra. The hind legs were slender, wide apart and far back in position, but were other- wise much as in modern perching birds, except that the tibia and fibula were distinct, as in most reptiles. The wings were short and rounded, with three separate sharply clawed and func- tional fingers. The wings carried rather large flight feathers, of which six or seven pairs appear to have been primaries and ten secondaries, and there was at least one row of wing coverts. The three pelvic bones are perfectly distinct, as in most reptiles, and similarly the ribs lack the hook-like processes character- istic of modern birds. The fine-grained mud has preServed the feathers of the tail and wings with remarkable fidelity and traces of an incipient ruff at the base of the neck and rather conspicuous quill-feathers on the legs. No traces of body or contour feathers have been dis- cerned, so that it may be concluded that the body was naked or was covered with down or tiny feathers that were not resistant enough to be preserved. There has been much speculation regarding the true nature and habits of Archxopteryx and several restorations have been attempted. That by Heilmann, while somewhat realistic, is en- tirely too heavily supplied with contour feathers, the tail is too massive, and the birds are depicted as tearing at a cycad cone, although they were undoubtedly carnivorous, as their teeth clearly indicate. From the position and slenderness of the legs Beddard supposed that Archexopteryx must have stood on all fours when on the ground, but this is in a measure negatived by the distinctly perching feet. Others have held that the absence of observable openings for the admission of air into the bones proved that Archxopteryx could fly only feebly if at all, but even such good modern flyers as swallows have practically non- pneumatic bones, and, moreover, we know that Archxopteryx resorted to the mud flats in search of food and hence must have flown from the mainland where it habitually dwelt. Finally, the well-developed feathering of the wings settles the question of flight beyond reasonable doubt. The labor of sustained flight with such short rounded wings may, however, have been com- ° pensated for by gliding, for which the wings and the quilled legs and distichous tail were admirably constructed and which historically must have preceded true flight. In an interesting ee eS 5 chao donyory ‘duIg NMONS ISAITUVG AML 10 NOILVUOLSAY THE JURASSIC LAGOONS OF SOLNHOFEN 373 little article by Maurice Krosby," from which I have copied the attitude, but not the details, of a flying Archxopteryx, it is im- plied that Archxopteryx had four wings; in fact, it is called Tetrapteryx, a name suggested by Beebe for the hypothetical ancestral bird.’ Undoubtedly the quills on the legs made a plane of the hind legs, but they were not flapped, while the fore- legs or true wings undoubtedly were flapped—the skeleton shows this much. A comparison, rather remote, it is true, is suggested between the flight of Archxopteryx and that of the modern tinamous of South America, which have somewhat similar short rounded wings. As described by W. H. Hudson, the tinamous fly vio- lently for a maximum distance of perhaps a mile, but usually a much less distance, and then glide to the ground, repeating this two or three times before becoming exhausted. The tina- mous are ground dwellers and rapid runners, while Archex- opteryx was, on the other hand, clearly a partially arboreal form and scarcely arunner. Its functional clawed fingers must have been habitually used in climbing about in the branches, much as a young hoactzin of South America does and they were also useful in effecting a safe landing in flying from one tree to another or at the end of a glide. While Archxopteryx may be considered as about 25 per cent. reptilian, it is indubitably a true bird and a long way re- moved from its scale-covered and cold-blooded reptilian an- cestors. There were bipedal bird-like reptiles already present before the close of the Triassic, so that there were some mil- lions of years before the late Jurassic in which to evolve feathers and acquire the art of flying, and we know that the pterodactyls had successfully solved the problem of flight by another method in that same interval. The present restoration (Fig. 3), which is believed to be far more accurate as to environment and detail than any heretofore attempted, shows the strand of the upper Jurassic mainland with the beach-ridges covered with a low jungle, made up largely of a mixed stand of cycads, with a few tall leathery fronded ferns, together with a scattering of taller conifers, com- prising both scale-leafed (Brachyphyllum, Palxocyparis) and broad-leafed (Araucaria) types. High overhead is seen a small long-tailed pterodactyl or winged lizard (Rhamphorhynchus). In the foreground an Archxoptery~ is flying. Note the slender body, the short heavily flapped wings, the pelvic plane made by 6 Popular Science Monthly, Vol. 91, No. 1, 1917. 7 Zoologica, Vol. 2, No. 2, pp. 39-52, 1915. 374 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY the widely spaced hind legs with their quill feathers, and the long distichously feathered tail constituting a second plane. At the right another Archxopteryx is shown with a small fish in its sharply toothed beakless jaws. It is perched on the crown of a Zamites of the Williamsonia order of cycadophytes. Note the long tail, the free clawed fingers of the fore limbs firmly grasp- ing the cycad fronds and helping to sustain the long body. Flying reptiles were evidently much more plentiful than birds during Solnhofen times, judging by the abundance and variety of their remains in these sediments, for nearly 30 different species have been described. They were weird bat-like crea- tures with pneumatic bones, large eyes, feeble hind limbs, and a keeled sternum for the attachment of the wing muscles like that of a modern flying bird. Their fifth finger had become enormously elongated and strengthened to support the mem- branous wings, which were thus exactly like the wings of a bat, with this exception, that only one instead of four fingers was elongated. Ancestral pterodactyls go back at least as far as the Liassic or basal Jurassic. The Solnhofen forms were all relatively small and include over a score of species of the short-tailed Pterodactylus and five species of the long-tailed Rhamphorhyn- chus. Thus Rhamphorhynchus phyllurus had a total length of about 18 inches, of which two thirds was tail, and a wing spread of about 32 inches. An individual of the latter is shown, high in the air, in the accompanying restoration. Many thousands of years later, just before they became extinct, some of the pterodactyls lost their teeth and acquired bird-like bills and de- veloped to gigantic size. Thus some of the pteranodons from the Upper Cretaceous Niobrara chalk of Kansas had a wing span of 18 feet, which is greater than that of any known bird. Very many interesting tracks are preserved at Solnhofen, both those made on the emerged and on the submerged mud flats. These range from those of the Solnhofen Limulus or horse-shoe crab to that of an insect trying to extricate itself from the sticky mud, and include many that are problematical in character. One of the most well defined tracks that has been discovered and clearly that of some more or less bipedal verte- brate was early described and named Ichnites lithographica by Oppel. It consists of two rows of four-toed footprints at inter- vals of about 9 centimeters and about 7 centimeters between those of the right and left foot. Midway between the prints of the right and left foot is a small and shallow furrow of vary- ing width and depth, apparently the trail of a dragging tail. THE JURASSIC LAGOONS OF SOLNHOFEN 375 Alternating with the footprints and midway between them and the tail furrow are elliptical depressions with their long axes directed forward and outward. (Thistrack isshown in Fig. 4.) Fic. 4. PROBLEMATIC TRAIL, POSSIBLY OF AN IMMATURE Archeopteryz. (After 1 Oppel.) The question for decision is what sort of an animal made this track and how. Oppel thought that it was made by an Archxopteryx and many have followed him in this interpreta- tion. Any small long-tailed animal with bird-like feet such as birds or some of the contemporaneous bird-like reptiles would readily account for the footprints and tail furrow, but how are the alternating elliptical tracks to be explained. They are too constant and regular not to have been made by the same animal that made the other parts of the trail. It has been commonly supposed that Archxopteryx made the whole trail by using its wings like a pair of crutches, the point of rest being the carpal or wrist joint. This is of course possible. Or it is possible that some other and as yet otherwise unknown animal made the tracks. 376 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY The chief objections to their having been made by a mature Archxopteryx are the small size of the footprints—much smaller than the feet of the two known specimens, the fact that the pinnately feathered tail would hardly leave a tail furrow in the mud that would look exactly like this one does, and that the wing quills would hardly permit of the wings being used as crutches. Nor is it easy to understand why the functional fore feet were not used. Moreover, if the weight rested on the wings, as assumed, the extremity would sink deep in the soft mud and hinder rather than help locomotion, as well as ruin the quills for purposes of flight. This would be equally true upon hard ground unless the quills were held in an unnatural way. It would further seem that if this were the true interpretation, the long slender body would demand that the ends of the wings rest farther apart. How the bird managed to hop at all, unless the wing-prints were one or more intervals in front of the corre- sponding footprints is difficult to understand. It is useless to deny the possibility of the accepted interpretation. I am, however, more inclined to think that while this trail belonged to Archexopteryx, it represents the trail of an immature and as yet practically flightless individual, which progressed in this way when on the ground—their small size might suggest this, and the difficulties about the wing and tail feathers would be obvi- ated by their not having as yet become fully functional in size and possibly only sufficiently grown to permit gliding. The terrestrial vegetation still remains to be considered briefly. Fossil plants have been known from Solnhofen since the days of Sternberg’s “‘ Flora der Vorwelt.” In striking con- trast to the variety and abundance of the animal remains, the traces of the former vegetation that clothed the near-by land are only occasionally met with in the lithographic stone, and even when present they are for the most part fragmentary. The reasons for this absence of plants are to be found in the macerating action of the water, the non-deciduous charac- ter of the foliage of Jurassic plants, the activity of bacteria in the warm sea water, and most of all to the situation of the de- posits, away from any estuary with its stream-borne load of land-derived débris. That these reasons are valid is corrob- orated by the fact that the few plants that have been discovered are such as have leathery decay-resisting parts such as cone scales and coniferous twigs, thus indicating that all the more delicate plant fragments had been destroyed, and by the addi- tional fact that in other regions at this time where the sedi- ments are more clearly of an estuary type as in the fish beds of THE JURASSIC LAGOONS OF SOLNHOFEN 377 Cerin in France, a much more extensive flora as well as much disseminated vegetable matter and bitumen are present in the shales.*® The number of plant names in the literature would indicate that we knew a considerable flora from the lithographic stone, but a good many of these are names merely. Thus Saporta enumerated six coniferous species from Solnhofen, although at least half of these are now rightly regarded as synonyms of the remaining three. Similarly, Thistelton Dyer recorded 5 species of the coniferous genus Athrotaxites, although but one or two are valid. Ignoring the doubtful impressions which have been de- scribed as seaweeds and which are without botanical value, there are at least four genera of Solnhofen ferns, so-called. The most abundant of these individually is Lomatopteris jurensis (Kurr) Schimper, and the others are forms of the genera Sphenopteris, Odontopteris and Ungeria, and some of them at least are not ferns, but relics of plants of the cycad or “sago-palm” alliance which frequently had fern-like fronds. One of the most definitely identified plants is based on the characteristic one-seeded cone scales, which Dyer christened Araucarites Hdberleinti and which unquestionably belong to the Kutacta section of the genus Araucaria, an antipodean group in the modern flora, but one that was world-wide in its Mesozoic distribution. Another satisfactorily determined conifer is Brachyphyllum, which has been entirely extinct since the Upper Cretaceous, but which was exceedingly ubiquitous throughout the Mesozoic. It had thick, club-shaped terete twigs with the leaves reduced to scales somewhat similar to those of a modern arbor vitz or an incense cedar. Other twigs found at Soln- hofen represent a cypress-like conifer variously called Athro- taxites or Palxocyparis; and Ginkgo and its extinct ally, Baiera, have also been identified, but with doubt, however. The plants of these far-off Jurassic times are so different in every way from any that still survive that it is most difficult to picture their environment in terms of their physical require- ments. We know that the climate was warm from the charac- ter of the calcareous ooze in which the fossils have been found. We presume that it was also humid from the kinds of contem- poraneous terrestrial and arboreal animal life, and we also know that climates were more uniform then than now from the simple fact that the same Jurassic floras occur in the Arctic and Antarctic regions as are found in the equatorial zone. 8 Saporta, G. de, Ann. Soc. Agric. Lyon, Vol. 5, pp. 87-142, pl. 14, 1873. 5378 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY While it may be doubted if the reefs of Solnhofen supported a dense growth of vegetation, the mainland was more or less a jungle, although it was one prevailingly low in stature and one that might more appropriately be called a “scrub” or “ bush.” If we can imagine a chaparral made up of ferns and cycad- like plants with cypress-like conifers rising here and there above the general level, we shall have a fairly accurate pic- ture of the Solnhofen woods. Sequoia cones have been found Fic. 5. Two or tHE Most COMMON CONIFERS FROM SOLNHOFEN. (After Saporta.) a, Brachyphyllum (Echinostrobus) Sternbergi (Schimper) b, Palwocyparis (Athrotagvites) princeps (Sternberg) in the Portlandian of France, but all of the fossil sequoias were not giants like the California big trees. In Fig. 5 I have repro- duced two of the commoner types of scale-leafed conifers that have been found in the lithographic stone, namely Brachyphyl- lum and Palxocyparis. THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 379 THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE RAPHAEL PUMPELLY’S REMINISCENCES RAPHAEL PUMPELLY, distinguished as an explorer and geologist, has at the age of eighty-one years put through the press his reminiscences, well printed and illustrated, by Henry Holt and Company. It is an entertaining book, telling of many adventures in strange lands under conditions which no longer exist. Even in central New York a child eighty years ago lived under fron- tier conditions. forests, farms and stores; the Sus- quehanna River and later the Erie Canal were the means of communi- cation with the outside world. Pum- pelly was sent to school in prepara- tion for Yale College, but persuaded his mother to take him abroad, where in Germany, France and Italy there was a charm in travel which has largely vanished under modern conditions. The changes in Germany, for example, have been almost as great as in central New York and in Arizona. Then the cities were still medieval in char- acter, grass grew in the streets, sanitation was lacking, industries were carried on chiefly by indi- vidual handicrafts, the people were simple and kindly. Pumpelly’s most exciting adven- tures were in Corsica, where he lived with the mountain people and became interested in geology. At Vienna he by chance attended a meeting of the German Association of Scientific Men, corresponding to our American Association for the Advancement of Science, and casu- ally made the acquaintance of Pro- fessor Noeggerath, the Bonn geol- ogist, who advised him to study at the Mining Academy at Freiburg in Saxony, where he spent three years. On returning to America, after an absence of six years, Pumpelly went to Arizona to develop silver mines The family owned | in the Santa Rita Mountains. The conditions in the desert with its Indians, Mexicans and outlaws seem almost incredible and were reduced to chaos by the removal of the United States soldiers at the out- break of the Civil War. After countless adventures, Pumpelly made his way over the Old Yuma Trail to California. There he received an appointment to enter the Japanese service and had the advantage of intimate acquaintance with the coun- try and its people when it was first opened to the outside world. He ex- plored the mines and introduced the use of gun powder in blasting, but the anti-foreign party forced the Yeddo Government to cancel its con- tracts and Pumpelly went to China. There he received an imperial com- mission to examine the coal fields and had all sorts of adventures in regions practically unexplored and among natives to whom foreigners were almost unknown. Everywhere Pumpelly appears to have formed kindly relations with all sorts and conditions of people. He finally crossed Siberia and returned to New York at the age of twenty-eight. Pumpelly accepted in 1866 a chair of mining geology at Harvard which he held for nine years. His first class consisted of William Morris Davis, Henry Gannett and Archibald Marvin. But he only spent a lim- ited amount of time at Cambridge, being engaged in many enterprises and living in many places. He was on the U. S. Geological Survey, state geologist of Michigan and Missouri, and director of the Northern Trans- continental Survey. He was vice- president of the International Geo- logical Congress, held in Washing- ton in 1891. An illustration is here reproduced (by the courtesy of Henry Holt and Company to whom we are also indebted for permission to re- print the portrait of Pumpelly) RAPHAEL PUMPELLY, 1900 From a photograph by Elise Pumpelly Cabot THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE showing four distinguished directors of foreign geological surveys, together with Dr. Van Hise and the author,on an excursion which followed the con- gress. But all these things are passed over lightly in the _ book. Pumpelly was most happy in his married life and had innumerable friends among scientific men and men distinguished in other direc- tions; but he likes best to describe adventures among strange peoples. This he does again toward the close of the book, for at the age of nearly seventy he conducted an ex- pedition into Central Asia for the Carnegie Institution accompanied by his son, and with the cooperation of Profesor W. M. Davis and Pro- fessor Ellsworth Huntington. They made important discoveries concern- ing prehistoric civilizations and geo- logical and climatic changes. The next to last chapter tells of revisit- ing the Arizona desert in 1915. The final chapter discusses ancestry, heredity and environment. 381 The Duke of Wellington thought well of the idea, but with his prac- tical good sense pointed out that “two could play at that game,” a fact which the Germans have learnt to their cost. In 1846 the plans were again referred to a committee, which reported that it was not desirable that any experiment should be made on the ground that part of the plans “would not accord with the prin- ciples of civilized warfare.” Later, when again there was talk of war, Dundonald was asked about his plan, but once more it was rejected, the only objection to it being that it was “too terrible for use by a civil- ized community.” Dundonald’s ac- count of the plan is given in the cor- respondence of Lord Panmure, who was War Minister during the Cri- mean War. In a memorial dated August 7, 1855, he states that when viewing some sulphur kilns in 1811 he observed that the fumes which escaped in the rude process of ex- tracting the material, though first 'elevated by heat, soon fell to the THE USE OF ASPHYXIATING GAS THE British Ministry of Informa- tion, according to the British Medi- cal Journal, recently issued a com- munication relating to a statement sent out by the official German wire- less to the effect that the idea of using poison gas in warfare origi- nated with the British Admiral Lord Dundonald, better known to fame as Lord Cochrane. It is a matter of history that in 1812 Dundonald sub- mitted to the Prince Regent, after- wards George IV., secret war plans which included the use of an asphyx- lating gas. A committee of experts to whom this proposal was referred expressed the opinion that the mode of attack was “infallible and irre- sistible,’”’ but it was not sanctioned. In 1840, when there was a threat of war with France, Dundonald again submitted his plan to the British Government and offered by means of it to annihilate the French fleet. | ground, destroying all vegetation and endangering animal life to a great distance. With reference to the ma- terials required for the expulsion of the Russians from Sebastopol, ex- perimental trials had, he said, shown that about five parts of coke effec- tually vaporize one part’ of sulphur. Four or five hundred tons of sulphur and two thousand tons of coke would be sufficient. Besides these materials it would be necessary to have as much bituminous coal and a couple of thou- sand barrels of gas or other tar for the purpose of masking the fortifi- cations to be attacked, with dry fire- wood to kindle the fires, which ought to be kept in readiness for the first favorable and steady breeze. Dun- donald offered to direct the applica- tion of the plan himself, but the pro- posal was rejected. The use of as- phyxiating gas is a very ancient de- vice. Smoking out the enemy was one of the regular manoeuvres of war in antiquity. Polybius relates ~ ea ah al ald: fe * Four DIRECTORS OF ForEIGN GroLoaicaL Surveys, 1891 Group with the directors of the Swiss, Russian, french, and Norwegian Geological Surveys. THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE that at the siege of Ambracia by the Romans under Marius Fulvius No- bilior (B.c. 189) the AXtolians filled jars with feathers which they set on fire, blowing the smoke with bellows into the face of the Romans in the countermines. At the great naval battle fought in the waters of Ponza between Alfonso of Aragon and Genoa in 1485 the Genoese carried vessels filled with quicklime and red- hot cinders, the smoke from which was blown by the wind against the enemy. Leonardo da Vinci, who among his many other accomplish- ments was a notable military engi- neer, suggested the use of poisonous powders, such as yellow arsenic and verdigris, to be thrown from the top- masts of ships so as to choke the enemy. This formed a part of the war instructions given by Leonardo to the Republic of Venice in 1499, when the Turks had passed the Isonzo and threatened St. Mark’s. THE STUDENT’S ARMY CORPS THE possibilities of organization | in our educated democracy are shown by the arrangements which have been made to train students for the army in our colleges and universi- ties. have placed their faculties, buildings and equipment at the service of the government and in each of these a student’s corps will be in training after the first of October. In the eight institutions for higher educa- tion in New York City, there may be some 20,000 men in training. If there are half so many in other in- stitutions throughout the country there would be 500,000 recruits from whom will be selected candidates for officers’ commissions and _ technical posts in the army. THE War Department advises all young men, who were planning to go to college this fall, to do so. Each should go to the college of his choice, matriculate and enter as a regular student. He will have registered with his local board and opportunity Over four hundred institutions | 383 will be given for all the regularly- enrolled students to be inducted into the Students’ Army Training Corps at the schools where they are in at- tendance. Thus the Corps will be organized by voluntary induction under the Selective Service Act, in- stead of by enlistment as previously contemplated. The War Depart- ment announces that the students be- come soldiers in the United States Army, uniformed, subject to mili- tary discipline and with the pay of a private. They will simultaneously be placed on full active duty and contracts will be made as soon as possible with the colleges for the housing, subsistence and instruction of the student soldiers. The student-soldiers will be given military instruction under officers of the Army and will be kept under ob- servation and test to determine their qualifications as_ officer-candidates, and technical experts such as engi- neers, chemists and doctors. After a certain period, each man will be selected according to their perform- ance, and assigned to military duty in one of the following ways: (a) He may be transferred to a central officers’ training camp. (b) He may be transferred to a non-commissioned officers’ training school. (c) He may be assigned to the school where he is enrolled for further intensive work in a specified line for a lim- ited specified time. (d) He may be assigned to the vocational training section of the corps for technician training of military value. (e) He may be transferred to a cantonment for duty with troops as a private. Similar sorting and reassignment of the men will be made at periodical intervals, as the requirements of the service demand. It can not be now definitely stated how long a particu- lar student will remain at college. This will depend on the requirements of the mobilization and the age group to which he belongs. In order to keep the unit at adequate strength, men will be admitted from secondary 384 schools or transferred from Depot | Brigades as the need may require. In view of the comparatively short time during which most of the stu- dent-soldiers will remain in college and the exacting military duties awaiting them, academic instruction must necessarily be modified along lines of direct military value. The War Department will prescribe or suggest such modifications. The schedule of purely military instruc- tion will not preclude effective aca- demic work. It will vary to some extent in accordance with the type of academic instruction, e. g., will be less in a medical school than in a college of liberal arts. The primary purpose of the Students’ Army Training Corps is to utilize the ex- ecutive and teaching personnel and the physical equipment of the col- leges to assist in the training of our new armies. This imposes great re- sponsibilities on the colleges and at | the same time creates an exceptional opportunity for service. The col- leges are asked to devote the whole energy and educational power of the institution to the phases and lines of training desired by the government. The problem is a new one and calls for inventiveness and adaptability as well as that spirit of cooperation which the colleges have already so abundantly shown. There will be both a collegiate section and vocational section of the Students’ Army Training Corps. Young men of draft age of grammar school education will be given op- portunity to enter the vocational sec- tion of the corps. At present about 27,500 men are called for this section each month. Application for volun- tary induction into the vocational section should be made to the local board and an effort will be made to accommodate as many as possible of those who volunteer for this train- ing. Men in the vocational section will be rated and tested by the stand- ard Army methods and those who are found to possess the requisite. THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY qualifications may be assigned to further training in the collegiate section. SCIENTIFIC ITEMS WE record with regret the death of Samuel Wendell Williston, profes- sor of paleontology in the Univer- rsity of Chicago; of Maxime Bocher, professor of mathematics in Har- vard University; of Dr. Byron D. Halsted, professor of botany in Rut- gers College; of F. P. Treadwell, an American by birth, professor of chemistry at Zitirich, and of J. Koll- mann, professor of anatomy at Basel. It is officially announced that Yale University will receive, as residuary legatee of the late John W. Sterling, at least fifteen million dollars, which will nearly double the endowment of the university. THE new National Museum has been closed to the public by the board of regents, as all available space in the building has been occupied by the Bureau of War Risk Insurance. It is expected that the museum will be again opened when the new office building of the bureau, at Vermont Avenue and H Street, is completed. —A temporary exhibition was opened in a few of the galleries of the Brit- ish Museum on August 1. The ex- hibition galleries were closed by order of the government as a meas- ure of economy in the spring of 1916, and, owing to the necessity of in- creased precautions against air raids, all the most valuable objects have been removed to places of greater safety. The trustees, how- ever, have deeply regretted the clos- ing of their doors to visitors, and especially to soldiers from the over- sea Dominions. An exhibition has accordingly been arranged, consist- ing chiefly of casts and facsimiles, which it is hoped will both be in- structive in itself and representative of some parts of the treasures of the British Museum. THE SCIENTIFRIC MONDE LY NOVEMBER, 1918 SOCIAL CONDITIONS IN THE PIURA-TUMBES REGION OF NORTHERN PERU By PHILIP AINSWORTH MEANS BOSTON, MASS. N many parts of the world there are countries which once | were the exclusive property of a semi-civilized or civilized race with a very definite cultural character of its own. Now, because of the expansiveness of modern commerce, practically every one of these countries has been invaded, either through definite and political colonization or through indefinite and non- political commercial influences, by the white race of Europe bearing with it one phase or another of its own distinctive civilization. Consequently there has grown up, during the period between about 1450 and the present, a long series of countries having a dual population and a dual culture. In some cases this quality of duality has given rise to hybridity and harmony (as in French Indo-China), but more often it has given rise to social and racial disparity and disharmony (as in Latin America). The question of whether racial contacts of this kind were harmonious or not seems clearly to have de- pended on both the intellectuality of the invaded race and cul- ture and on the magnanimity and astuteness of the invading race and culture. I purpose to examine here the present conditions in a re- stricted area where the race and culture contact has always been of an unfortunate character, albeit by no means so much so as elsewhere in Peru and Latin America as a whole. In the first place, it will be well to sketch rapidly the chief geographical and historical facts about the Piura-Tumbes region. It forms the northernmost section of the long coastal desert which fringes the west coast of South America from Tarapaca in Chile up to the Gulf of Guayaquil between Peru 1See the present author’s former articles on this subject: Science, September 13, 1918; Journal of Race Development, October, 1918. VOL. VII.—20. 386 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY and Ecuador. As elsewhere in this desert littoral, there are, in the Piura-Tumbes region, trans- verse rivers which flow through very fertile valleys from the mountains of the interior to the Pacific Ocean. In the Piura- Tumbes region these streams are three in number, their names, from North to South, being: the Tumbes River (pe- rennial), the Chira River, (pe- rennial) and the Piura River (seasonal). Each of the val- leys is exceedingly productive and rather thickly populated for Peru. (1 should incline to say that the density averaged between 20 and 40 to the square IE, mile.) —— From the earliest pre-Colum- A STREET IN THE POORER PORTION OF bi ti hi . CATACAOS, PiuRA VALLEY. The houses lan times t is region has been are badly built, the materials being wood and sticks daubed over with a coating of mud. productive of fine cotton, fruits and vegetables. Politically, it was part of the great Chimu confederation until, about 1450, that confederation was absorbed by the Incas. The people be- longed to the Yunca or Mochica stock general on the coast. In 1532 Pizarro entered the region and set up Spanish power there. Since 1550 the population has been divided, on ethnic lines, into three groups: Pure or nearly pure Indians; pure or nearly pure whites; and mes- tizos or mixed-bloods of white and Indian parentage or ances- try. (There are, besides, a few Negroes and Orientals and their : A FISHING BALSA AT CHULLILLACHDE, descendants, but they are UNIM- Near tHH Mourn or THD PIURA RIVER. SOCIAL CONDITIONS IN PIURA-TUMBES REGION 387 portant from the point of view of this paper.) As nearly as I can judge from my own observations and from some figures given me by two anthropologically inclined parish priests in different parts of the region, the pure or nearly pure Indians form about 50 per cent. of the poulation, the mestizos form 35 per cent., the pure or nearly pure whites 10 per cent. and the other races 5 per cent. The pure or nearly pure Indians fall, on occupational grounds, into two categories. The larger is that which devotes itself to agriculture, and the smaller is that which follows the sea, gaining a livelihood from fishing or as sailors. The agri- cultural category dwells for the most part on the huge landed estates into which the valleys and the intervening deserts are THD CHIEF PLAZA, CATACAOS, PIURA VALLEY. The tower to the right is all that is left of the parish church, destroyed by an earthquake some years ago. largely divided. They act as laborers for the owners of the es- tates, receiving a wage of about a sol or a sol and a half a day (fifty cents equals one sol). The working day is about ten hours, the working time being arranged so as to permit of a siesta during the mid-day heat. Each family has its own house and lot. There seems to be no lack of food, and the relations be- tween the laborers and the employers seem to be genial. The state of the Indians, however, is by no means idyllic. Their houses are too often merely wretched huts made of old corn-stalks, canes or gasoline-cans. The people have in gen- eral no sense of how to keep either their persons or their houses: clean. Vermin and animals roam freely all over the hut, often dropping in close proximity to the food. The cooking utensils ww) (o 4) (0) THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY A STREET IN THE VILLAGE OF CHULUCANAS, PIURA VALLEY. These houses are unusual, having tiled roofs. are usually gourds or old tin cans and are usually in a condition of remarkable filthiness. There is absolutely no privacy in these houses and a large family often sleeps indiscriminately huddled together. It is not to be wondered at that diseases and bad habits are quickly communicated under these conditions. Clothes are often merely dirty rags. On some haciendas, and in some Indian households, the sit- uation is far better. The houses in some of the villages on the haciendas of Sojo and Macacara,? in the Chira Valley, are a ee SOME OF THE PEHROPLH OF CHULLILLACHE, NEAR THE MoutTH or THE PrurA RIVER. 2 The property of Don Miguel Checa and Don Alfredo Checa-Egui- guren. SOCIAL CONDITIONS IN PIURA-TUMBES REGION 389 great deal cleaner and more spacious than those of which I have spoken above. They are also better built, and the people have good clothes, which they change quite often, keeping themselves reasonably clean into the bargain. On a number of other haci- endas similar conditions prevail, the haciendas in the Chira Valley being, on the whole, better conditioned than those in the two other valleys. This is probably due to its greater acces- sibility and to the fact that absentee landlordism is here at a minimum. The maritime Indians live, for the most part, on land which has no formal possessor. They work for themselves or for the headman of their community, not for a white employer. Their houses are of the most primitive description ; driftwood, old bits A Corron FIELD ON THE HACIENDA SAN YSIDRO, NEAR SECHURA, PIURA VALLEY. This hacienda, belonging to the Perez-Vasquez family, is managed by Don Victor Chavez, and is one of the best of the smaller haciendas in the Piura Valley. of tin cans, bundles of dried grass and similar material being used in combination. Chullillache, a small port, or rather road- stead, near Sechura in the Piura Valley, is a typical community of this description. Colan, between Payta and the mouth of the Chira River, is another. About 400 souls live at Chullillache. In the early morning, before sunrise, all the men and boys go out to sea on their balsas, raft-like craft provided with a mast and sail. They take their nets (beautifully made) and with them encircle a good area of water. The circle is gradually re- duced until the catch, almost always plentiful, is made. The balsas return home about noon. The women then aid in the cleaning and drying of the fish, which is later sent up the valley to Sechura, Catacaos, Piura and other towns, on donkey-back. 390 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY A LARGE IRRIGATION DITCH ON THE HACIENDA OF SOJO, CHIRA VALLEY. This hacienda, belonging to Don Miguel Checa and Don Alfredo Checa y Eguiguren, is one of the largest and finest in Peru. The large white house in the background (two miles away) is the mansion of the hacienda. The population of the larger towns consists, with the excep- | tion of a small proportion of pure Indians who go out to work their fields every day, of mestizos and a few whites. The houses of this class are mostly built of adobe, often whitewashed, and from the front they look fairly substantial and sophisticated. Inside, however, a great degree of filth and slovenliness is often encountered. The clothes of the mestizos are much better made and more numerous than those of the Indians (except the richer class of Indians already alluded to). Proximity to market and to shops where canned food can be bought tends to make their diet better than that of the country folk. Though most of the mestizo class is occupied in shop-keeping, hotel-keeping and kindred employments, not a few of them are landowners, law- yers and clerics. The richer and more educated ones, of course, often have really good houses, well furnished and often pro- vided with a good piano or with a victrola. The temperament of the Indians is, in most localities, one of joviality and good humor. When skilfully superintended they work industriously enough, but when left to themselves they become spasmodic in their activities. On the whole their health and vitality are good, though virwela and smallpox are not unknown. Vaccination is now compulsory and is fairly well enforced. I saw very little venereal disease in the Piura- Tumbes region. The clean dry air of the desert tends to keep all illnesses at a minimum, although the conditions of living are often bad. Most of the children now get at least some instruc- SOCIAL CONDITIONS IN PIURA-TUMBES REGION 391 tion in reading and writing, but illitearcy is common among the older folk. At Tumbes and Morropon ! found the health condi- tions to be much worse than they are elsewhere. Bad irriga- tion, unaccompanied by proper drainage, has brought about a number of bodies of stagnant and pestiferous water. Malaria and various forms of anemia are common in both those places. Among the mestizos illiteracy is unusual, but many of them, and especially the women, have a peculiar bovine stupidity caused by a total lack of any sort of stimulating mental exer- cise. Unlike the Indians, the mestizos are given to unduly heavy drinking. One sees surprisingly little drunkenness in the Piura-Tumbes region, and most of what is seen is confined to the mestizo middle class. The whites chiefly fall into two groups: the land-holding gentry, and the professional men and their families. Socially, of course, it is difficult to distinguish between them. They are all well educated and delightful, being among the most gen- uinely hospitable people in the world. It is a difficult matter to exaggerate the power for good and likewise for evil which rests in the hands of the land-holding portion of the white upper class. On their vast estates the hacendados rule with unquestioned authority, using a system of overseers and headmen which has its roots in the ancient Inca régime. I am prepared to say that the great majority of the hacendados in the Piura-Tumbes region do not abuse their power, but neither do they avail themselves of the almost limit- THB MAIN HOUSE ON THE HACIENDA OF SoL-Sou, PruraA VALLEY. This hacienda belongs to Senator Victor Eguiguren, and it is typical of the more old-fashioned type of hacienda-house. d92 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY HOUSES AT CHULLILLACHE, NEAR THE MOUTH OF THE PIuRA RIVER. ‘The logs on the right were brought all the way from. Guayaquil for the purpose of building balsas. less opportunities for bettering the condition and brightening the lives of the Indians and mestizos on their estates. What Peru (and by implication other Latin American coun- tries) needs just now is benevolent paternalism systematically striving to build up a wholesome, sane and virile peasantry, sim- ilar to that of France or to that of Switzerland and that of parts of Italy. I am well aware that paternalism of any sort is gen- erally looked upon in this country as anti-democratic. But is it really anti-democratic? Those who declare it to be so lose sight of the very important fact that in a large proportion of the SOME HOUSES OF THE SOMEWHAT IMPROVED TYPE, AT TUMBES, SOCIAL CONDITIONS IN PIURA-TUMBES REGION 393 world the mass of the people is not yet ready for democracy, even for the simulacrum of democracy which prevails in this country and in England. Yet in such lands, and especially in countries like Peru, a certain small minority—the enlightened upper, or dominant, class—is already fit to receive and to em- ploy rightly real democracy, the democracy which recognizes the ineradicable inequalities existent in mankind and provides suitable social machinery to enable a gifted individual to reach the highest place in society to which his qualities entitle him. The problem which faces such countries is that of making the mass of their people as fit to receive true democracy as the minority now is. Only one social force, benevolent and pro- gressive paternalism, is capable of carrying out this task. Ob- A VIEW WESTWARD OVER THE CHIRA VALLEY FROM THH VERANDAH OF SOJO. viously some forms of paternalism, the stultifying and op- pressive paternalism of early Etruria, of ancient Egypt and so on, are indeed anti-democratic. But the sort of paternalism which is already making its appearance in Peru and elsewhere in Latin America, a paternalism which seeks diligently to for- tify the bodies and strengthen the minds and invigorate the souls of the masses, is far, far remote from any tinge of anti- democracy. On the coast of Peru to-day, I am convinced that selfish exploitation of the Indian and other laborers by the upper class (the hacendados) is the exception, not the rule. On the other hand, I also believe that hacendados like Don Victor Larco y Herrera (of Trujillo) and Don Antonio Grana y Reyes (of Huacho) and a few others, all of them systematically seek- ing to make every sort of condition on their estates as good as O94 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY UNIMPROVED HousSES At TUMBES. Built on piles because of floods. it can be made, are likewise the exception and not the rule. In short, I believe that the will to be benevolent is by no means wanting, though the information as to how to be benevolent and the realization of the importance of being actively benevolent undoubtedly are wanting. For the purpose of illustrating my point, I will say some- thing of what this sort of paternalism might accomplish in the Piura-Tumbes region. A hacendado who decides to devote himself whole-heartedly to the task of building up the physique and mentality of the dwellers on his haciendas should study intensively the tem- perament and the abilities of those whom he seeks to benefit. It will be found that the inhabitants of one village on an estate will have a peculiar aptitude for weaving, those in another, per- haps only half a mile away, will be especially adept at making objects out of wood, leather, straw or other materials. Again, the men of one village will be much better and more conscien- tious tillers of the soil than those of another, although the latter may have a special ability in making adobe or in carpentry. All these variations must be studied, and the special abilities must be taken advantage of, though wisely, not arbitrarily. When he thoroughly understands his people, and knows all their little tricks of mind and all their prejudices, the hacen- dado will know how best to set about his task, and how to avoid outraging old usages or established habits of mind. He should especially refrain from drawing undue attention to his activ- ities, for if he does, some one will be sure to start acting against him and undoing all his work. He should be patient, and should SOCIAL CONDITIONS IN PIURA-TUMBES REGION 395 make up his mind that, for a long time, he will have to go very slowly. Gradually and unobtrusively he should persuade the people to tear down their present unsuitable and insanitary dwellings and he should see to it that the materials for erecting new ones of good adobe, or, better yet, of concrete, are readily accessible. When several new houses are thus built, he should announce that in view of the fact that a spirit of progressive- ness seems to be abroad he will do what he can to aid those who are not sufficiently well-to-do to provide for themselves good houses of the new type. This would spur on the laggards, and, after a time, the whole village will be composed of neat, sanitary and pretty houses of adobe or concrete. The next step should be that of developing the love of beauty which is latent in the people. Flower-beds and shrubs should be planted along the streets, and in the plazas (in many places this is already done). To counteract the glare of the bright sunshine, the people should be shown the beneficial results of eschewing whitewash, and of painting their houses dark gray, or brown or other subdued colors. The ceramic ability of the people should be directed toward tile-making, so that good material for roofs (now usu- ally made of poor thatch) may be easily available. Finally, but perhaps most important of all, there should be provided suitable sanitary arrangements, baths and so on. Many travelers in Peru have declared that the peasantry is averse to bathing. This is not so. Whenever a village is near a river the people wash themselves with great care. It is only lack of facilities for washing that makes many of them go without it. In the A SCENE IN THE DESERT NEAR TAMBO GRANDE, PIURA VAILBY. The large tree is a zapote. > 396 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY A VIEW IN THE PIURA VALLEY NEAR CATACAOS., mountains the excessive cold and the lack of means for heating appreciable quantities of water are the chief causes of the gen- eral unwashedness of the mountaineers. All this can be rem- edied, and it should be—by the hacendados. These reforms having been instituted, the scarcely less im- portant ones of introducing better utensils for household work and of encouraging the use of better clothes should be effected. In connection with clothing, the people should be urged not to give up their wonderful hand-woven woolen and cotton tex- tiles in favor of the poor quality and rather dear foreign-manu- factured calicos and ginghams which are being extensively in- THE PLAZA AT SECHURA, NEAR THE MOUTH OF THE PIURA RIVER. SOCIAL CONDITIONS IN PIURA-TUMBES REGION 397 troduced. Personally, I am convinced that the Piura-Tumbes region could be made not only one of the greatest textile fiber- producing regions in the world, but also one of the greatest tex- tile manufacturing regions. Excellent cotton and wool are al- ready produced there. With proper scientific study and prep- aration, the two other great textile fibers, silk and flax, could also be grown in large quantities. I would strongly urge that the ordinary factory and mechanical methods of manufacture be not introduced, at least not in totality. The people of the Peruvian coast have, for many centuries, manifested a genius for hand weaving. It is a pity that this genius should be stulti- fied by the ordinary super-efficient but entirely unimaginative manufacturing methods of other countries. Instead, I think THE CHURCH AT SECHURA. Built about 1750, to replace the older one which was destroyed by the earthquake of 1746. that the people of the Piura-Tumbes region and other parts of the coast should be provided with hand-looms sufficiently im- proved to ensure commercial profit, but yet of a sort which will allow play to the imaginative and technical abilities of the In- dian weavers. Such a combination of qualities would not be unduly difficult to arrive at. In my opinion these people, given cotton, wool, silk and flax linen to work with, and given just the right type of loom, would very quickly show the world new sorts of cloth, and new combinations of material and pattern which would profoundly stimulate the jaded esthetic faculties of the world’s dressmakers, tailors and upholsterers. Quality, not quantity, should be the aim. The fact that Piura linen, Piura cotton, Piura silk, or Piura linen-and-silk, or Piura linen-and- cotton or other Piura fabrics were excessively fine and beau- 398 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY A VIEW OVER THE TOWN OF MoRROPON, PIURA VALLEY. Note the two bodies of insect-breeding stagnant water. There is much malaria at Morropon. tiful, even though proportionately dear, would not in the least impair the demand for them, any more than it does the demand for any other choice article of luxury. I mention the matter of weaving simply as an example of the sort of commercial activity, based upon the most funda- mental traits and abilities of the people, which might be created by the exercise, on the part of the hacendados, of the correct sort of paternalism. Commercialism of this description, far from being baleful, would give depth and meaning to the bet- TH VILLAGER OF YAPATPRA, ON THE HACIENDA OF SOL-SOL, PIuRA VALLBY. This is a typical unimproved Indian village. There is no provision here for any sort of diversion for the people, nor is there even a church and a priest, the nearest being at Chulucanas, some miles away. SOCIAL CONDITIONS IN PIURA-TUMBES REGION 399 tered conditions of life. It would be very powerful in creating a sane and self-respecting peasantry, half commercial and half agrarian, from whom the material for real democracy would ultimately be derived. To aid in the work, attention must be given to such matters as sports, both individual sports like boxing, wrestling, fencing and foot-racing, and team-sports, preferably football, lacrosse and basketball. The beneficial influence of these games in creating a spirit of generosity, self-reliance and general virility is well recognized in this country and in England; it is begin- ning to be realized in the Latin countries, and sports of all kinds are already common among the upper class in Peru. But the task of making the hacendado perceive the necessity of provid- ing sports for the Indians is as yet only just begun. Of diver- sions of a more mental and intellectual type the cinema can be made one of the most beneficial. Films that show life as it really is, especially those in which humor (real humor) is im- portant, and films of all kinds provided that they are free from indecencies and brutalities, should be shown in every village of appreciable size at least two or three times a month. I have reserved mention of the importance in all this of the priest and the school teacher till the last, for the reason that it is obvious. These two individuals can do things that the hacen- dado can not. It is for them to give point and authority to his efforts, and to supervise the actual carrying out of his carefully planned reforms. To many, especially to the hawk-eyed and sour-visaged type of predatory European or North American commercial traveler (one is often tempted to term him a peripatetic despoiler of the unsophisticated), all that I have said will seem distinctly utopian. But that opinion will be caused by the fact that they look upon the Indian and mestizo with a view to discovering what they can get out of him rather than what they can put into him. I have studied this matter very closely in a number of representative regions in Peru and Bolivia, and I know that, even where the present conditions are seemingly most hopeless, there is some hope. In regions like that which I have called the Piura-Tumbes region, where even to-day conditions might be much worse than they are, and yet be better than those prev- alent in the remote mountain districts, the human material which offers itself to the manipulations of benevolent and con- structive paternalism is full of latent possibilities of a most cheering sort. Whether or not these possibilities become actual- ities depends on the hacendados, and on the upper class as a whole. 400 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY THE RATIONALE OF TESTING INTELLI- GENCE, WITH SPECIAL REFERENCE TO TESTING IN THE ARMY By DANIEL W. LA RUE CAPTAIN, SANITARY CORPS, U. S. A. School to investigate the freedom of the will. After two or three years of investigating, he concluded that there is no such thing! For some decades, we psychologists have been measuring general intelligence. Are we sure there is any such thing? In- vestigation has been steadily deleting the definite article out of psychology: “the”? memory, “the” imagination, “‘ the” intellect —to use these terms with serious face is a confession that you have been reading the antique books on ‘‘ mental philosophy ” and neglecting the modern ones on differential psychology. But is not general intelligence “the” intelligence? Can it fare any better? And to test it—is not that like testing the pulling strength, not of horses, but of “the” horse, a logical concept which stands in nobody’s stable? There are certainly two sides to the question, unless we can make out definitely the meaning of the phrase. It appears that general intelligence can be defined in terms of (1) mind, or of (2) brain, or of (3) environment. 1. The word “intelligence” throws back by contrast that which we are not measuring, namely, the feelings, and (if there is any such thing apart from intelligence and feeling) the will. Sensation and the sense-complexes, perception, memory, im- agination and thought, these constitute intelligence. General intelligence is efficiency in the formation of sense-complexes as a means of dealing with the outside—yes, and the inside, world. 2. Speaking in terms of the brain, we know that it has two general levels: the lower level, like the entire brain of such an animal as a dog or a cat, is composed of centers which respond, more or less independently of each other, to such outer subjects as can excite them. The visual tracts see, the auditory neurons hear, and so on. The intelligence of a dog, or a horse, or of a one-story-brained homo, is the net result produced by these cen- ters, unguided as they are, by any superior neurons. And such, too, roughly, is the intelligence of even a bright child, whose higher, reflective nerve cells have not yet come to command. But these nether neurons of the brain are like the privates \ BRIGHT young man went to the Harvard Graduate THE RATIONALE OF TESTING INTELLIGENCE 401 of an army, taking the direct shock and beat of the aggressive world about. The superior cells are the headquarters of an- other kind of general intelligence, a kind of commanding gen- eral intelligence. It has a dual duty: it deals with concepts, symbols and abstractions instead of material things; and it issues general orders to all subordinate centers. Here is the home of “the” faculties, “the” attention, for example, which gives the command, “ Attention,” to all the lesser faculties, visual, tactual, auditory, and the rest, and re- minds them to “make it snappy”! Here, too, lies the reason why it is so much easier to test the intelligence of a high, than of a low, subject: it is the difference between getting a single report from the head of a unified command, and collecting the muster rolls of all the scattered detachments of a Russian or a Mexican army. Also, here is one explanation of why testers are so prone to use numbers, words, symbols, concepts, abstrac- tions, in their measuring schemes: they commit the psycholog- ical fallacy of assuming that others are like themselves, double- decker intelligences, and that in so far as one can deal with these higher things, certainly all the lower must have been added unto him. “General” intelligence, from this point of view, is the uni- fied, supervisory intelligence of the superior centers of the brain. Finally, intelligence is (intellectual) power of adaptation to environment. This involves (a) sensing the situation, per- ceiving it, (b) comprehending, elaborating, perhaps analyzing or synthesizing it, and (c) responding (mentally) to it. “ What would you do if you missed your train?” To ask this question of a subject is next best to seeing him in such a situation. He must exercise his ‘‘sense of reality” on it, size it up, plan his reaction. Testing seems simple enough. But this world is made of situations. And if they are new enough to require much adaptation, we may not be able, with words merely, to create in the test room a replica of them that will be real. It is useless to ask a savage what he would do if he missed his train, or an old bachelor what he would do when the baby cried, or a green soldier how he will behave when a shell bursts near him. Further, just which of many millions of situations are so important, or so typical, or so closely corre- lated with a web of others, similar or dissimilar, that they should be admitted among the select few that form atest? The answer is coming as a slow deposit from the stream of expe- rience and experiment. If we are clear as to the more obvious outlines of what we VOL. VII.—26. 402 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY are testing, the next question is, what are we testing for? It would be interesting, and perhaps instructive, to collect from common life many varied instances of the application of test processes. Teasing, teasing, Just to see what you would do; Teasing, teasing, To find out if your love was true. Here is a thrilling test, with a fairly well-defined object. So Abraham undergoes a kind of divine teasing, to find out if his love for God is true enough to compel the sacrifice of his son; Elijah sets up a test to find which Lord really is God enough to make the fire fall; the farmer tests his seed by planting a sam- ple; a small metal column is cast beside a great pillar, and of the same stuff, to find its breaking strength, and so on. What is all this for? Not for classification merely, but for action. It is not a mere museum arrangement of individuals that we are working for, to put them in place and gaze at them: we want to know what some person or persons can or will do in our common environment, or in some special situation. That is the best test, and he is the best tester, that can most definitely predict and control how the subject will turn out. This.is the test of a test, designed to lower any prematurely lifted brow that may be found among us. Let us suppose a complex machine, consisting of many parts, such as an automobile, or the brain of a soldier, which must per- form under new and trying conditions: the soldier is going to France; the automobile is to leave the paved and level streets of the city for country mud, hills, ruts and rocks. How, here in the garage, can we find whether our machine will stand the new strain? That test will tell best which is most like the new conditions that must be met. A certain automobile company, wishing to test out tires, exhausted all its laboratory ingenuity in vain, and finally fell back on an actual run of the road, through thousands of miles, as the only test conclusive. But war will not wait for soldiers to be selected on this plan. They must be tried out in the tent, so to speak, and quickly, by our best means of predicting what they will do in the fighting field. Let us have a symbol or two: Let T stand for the great and ultimate trial and test, which is life itself; t shall be our petty laboratory test, by means of which we predict how the subject will turn out in T, the life situation. Then we can safely lay down the general principle that t should be as much like T as possible. It is the old laboratory game right over: construct a THE RATIONALE OF TESTING INTELLIGENCE 403 miniature of your big problem, keeping the same principles at work. So the electric spark in the physical laboratory is a small sample of lightning, and the first wireless waves we know of traveled half way across a room instead of half way around the world. There are at least two special reasons why t should be like T in much human testing. The first is that only so can we be sure of inducing the attitude necessary for success in T, and that is half the battle. “The will to win is half the victory.” The animal psychologist meets this demand by setting his task, perhaps the threading of a maze, between the animal and some strong natural satisfaction, as that of hunger. Trivial as it may sound, there are few American soldiers who would not work hard at an intelligence test that permitted them, in some symbclic way, to can the Kaiser! On the other hand, if there is something about t that rouses the subject to supreme effort, whereas T proves so dull as to leave him apathetic, he will be rated too high. Perhaps the constant attitude of ‘‘ You’re in the army now,” which means among other things, that you will put through what you are told to do whether you like it or not, makes this warning less necessary in military testing. But we know how much morale counts in execution—and morale is sim- ply mental attitude. The second reason why ¢ should resemble T is that t may be So specialized and limited as to miss some of the important action features of T altogether. In case of the automobile, for instance, we might test its valves, radiator, carburetor, trans- mission, and so on—do not advertisers thrust some one of these things into our attention as if it were the whole car?—only to find that a bad spring or differential or axle made proper per- formance impossible. It is the total run that counts. To put it in terms of neurons, or, as Thorndike would say, connections: T is bound to bring into play certain nervous con- nections between stimuli and responses. In any such complex situation as soldiering, there is sure to be a wonderful web of them, some old and well worn, some thoroughly new. Through t we must find out whether our subject actually or potentially has these connections. Testing them all, in a limited time, is often out of the question. We can (1) test a certain few of these connections which seem to be typical and fundamental, or (2) test other connections whose functioning is highly cor- related with that of the T-neurons, or (3) test those connec- tions, relatively rather low-lying in the brain perhaps, which are involved in the exercise of “common-sense,” assuming that one who has a good sub-structure of common-sense connections 404 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY can probably build up a superstructure of special-purpose con- nections, or (4) test the high-level neurons with symbols, thought processes, etc., taking it for granted that any brain which is equal to these lofty tasks can certainly perform all lesser. Actually, in the army, we are doing all four. If we are testing old achievement, which will not require much variation to fit it to new conditions, t can almost become T, as in the trade tests in the Personnel Department of the army, where a man actually drives a truck as a test of his truck- driving intelligence. But as a rule, some adaptation to the new is required in T; and if we merely bring well-established con- nections into play in ¢, such adaptation is but doubtfully tested. But if t is absolutely new, as when we ask a savage what he would do if he missed his train, or if we use strange language, or require really new reasoning processes, it is too difficult. The solution lies in a new combination of old mental materials. So it is not surprising to find that we can distinguish the feeble- minded from the normal much less well by having them count forward, or tell their age, or go through some other practised activity, than by having them count backward, or answer prob- lem-questions. The adaptable mind distinguishes itself, not so much by the wealth of its information, but by its ability to or- ganize its facts and processes in new ways to meet new de- mands, to set its neurons to work in new systems, involving new connections. Now, t is like a small stereopticon slide by means of which we project our picture of what the subject’s larger future per- formance will be. For this reason, we must take care that ¢ is not marred or distorted by anything which is not likely to enter into T. For example, objection is sometimes made to certain tests used in the army, on the ground that they require reaction within a fixed time limit, and a limit so brief that no subject ever completes the full test. But the military game is a fast one: wherever the soldier is placed, he is likely to find fast in- telligence at a premium as compared with slow. To some ex- tent, this principle would even justify the examining of recruits who are undergoing the effects of fatigue or inoculation, since the military T demands a clear head in spite of a suffering body. But in ¢, it is difficult to make the suffering uniform, and so make it fair. It may help us further in determining what our scheme of intelligence testing should be if we consider what a complete inventory of intelligence would require. There are here, as everywhere, two great questions to be answered, What kind? and How much? To find a way to the answering of these ques- THE RATIONALE OF TESTING INTELLIGENCE 405 tions, we must revert to the nature of intelligence and analyze it a bit further. “ Intelligence is intelligence,” it is sometimes said, “‘ whether in the skull of a Negro, white man or Chinaman. There are no kinds.” I believe the bio-psychological concept of traits will help us here. To put it briefly: the cerebrum is not a single, simple, homogeneous organ, but rather a collection of organs. Doubtless there are separate determiners in the germ plasm for its separate parts, so that these parts are “independently her- itable and independently variable.” These parts—call them centers, or better, tracts—are the cerebral counterparts of those various objects or aspects of the environment which it has proven most important, evolutionally, for man to respond to. Each of these tracts is the seat of a trait. And each trait should be defined, not in purely mental terms, but as a reaction to something environmental, as the trait of acute color percep- tion, or the ability to remember words well. A person is the sum of his traits. Here, then, is the basis of the question, What kind? To test one set of traits with t, and then use another T, may prove as useless as to test one man and then use another. Tracts may be wanting in this brain or that, and hence the corresponding abilities wanting in the personality. Now for the question of How much? Intelligence is not a unit power plant, a single motor which can be belted to any- thing indifferently, with equal prospect of running it. The ensemble of mental traits which make up a personality is more like a collection of separate motors of varying size, which, though they may influence each other’s running, nevertheless operate ordinarily with considerable independence. In meas- uring completely the efficiency of a machine, say an ‘automobile, we must find (1) what kind of parts it has and (2) how strong each part is. To measure a mind completely, we must find (1) what kind of traits it has, and (2) to what level of effectiveness each trait rises. Now, what possible levels are there? Suppose several peo- ple have the trait of reacting strongly to color. One may per- ceive and act, as certain of the lower animals are said to react to red; the second will perceive-remember-act, will admire the rainbow and try to reproduce it when he gets home; the third will perceive-remember-imagine-act, will juxtapose re- membered colors in fanciful combination; the fourth will per- ceive-remember-imagine-think-act, will work out the laws of color contrast, harmony and balance, and so set forth results by rule. The levels of a trait, then, are those of perception, 406 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY memory, imagination, and thought. The last two are likely to involve pretty prominently the processes of discrimination, comparison, analysis, synthesis. Here appears the reason for avoiding the alternative test, the yes-or-no test: it leaves no leeway for trait-power to rise by degrees until it reaches its true test-level, but simply shows presence or absence of some more or less indefinite degree of the trait,—and this not very certainly, since there is always a fifty per cent. chance of a correct guess. Here, too, we can see clearly the value of special tests for special purposes. We are sometimes asked whether the intel- ligence test, as used in the army, does not discover special abil- ity of this kind or that, special fitness for some special military position. In a limited way it may do so, and in half-accidental cases; but we can not substantiate any broad claim of this kind. For it is characteristic of the general intelligence test, so far as its what kind, its range of traits tested, is concerned, to deal almost wholly with the materials of the everyday environment only—how else could it be fair to all?—-and with regard to its how much, the height, or degree of the traits, to rise to the level of the thought processes, but to require the most common of them only, and not to run through their whole catalogue. Our test for literates (Alpha) accomplishes these two things by means of abstract symbols; and leaves much, in the case of these favored subjects, to individual initiative; whereas the test for illiterates (Beta) makes the paper work more concrete, putting in pictures and diagrams, and leads the subject on by the at- traction of imitation, to do about what he has just seen done on a blackboard. The general intelligence test, then, tries out simply the cen- tral core of consciousness, so to speak, and that in a general way only. Its t is very small as compared with the T, the life situation, for which it tests. Since the ratio t: T is so small, we must be careful how we translate minute and perhaps accidental variations of t into the large and serious terms of T. A few points up or down on the testing scale, in any individual case, may not mean much with regard to pragmatic intelligence, ex- ercised over a long span of time. Because the general intelligence test leaves unexplored so many traits, and certain ranges of all traits, there are necessary as many special tests as there are special situations into which ability is to be fitted. And they have the advantage that T is smaller, just because it is a special, and not a general situation, and hence t can be made proportionately larger. In many cases, t practically becomes T—the ideal situation. THE RATIONALE OF TESTING INTELLIGENCE 407 Take a case of this. An Ind:an captain has told me of an Indian soldier who is blessed with a wonderful ‘‘ bump of local- ity.” His friends tested this out ty taking him to Washington, D. C., pointing out Potomac Park, and then whirling him from point to point of the city in the endeavor to confuse him as to direction. But in no case did he fail, after scanning the horizon a bit, to point straight toward Potomac Park whenever and wherever challenged to do so. It seems certain, after such a try-out as this, that he has at least one invaluable qualification for scouting. In the army, such discovery of a special talent for a particular purpose falls in the Personnel Department. Let us look next at some of the obvious dangers of intelli- gence testing. In the first place, we must beware how we use a high-level test to measure low-level intelligence. If our scales are set to weigh nothing less than a hundred pounds or upward, we can not tell accurately the weight of an eighty-pound man. In particular, since devisers of tests are usually expert in the use of literary symbols, and since ordinary test conditions limit seriously the possible variety of responses open to the subject, we slide easily into the belief that a dextrous manipulation of symbois is the prime display of intelligence. No doubt it is true that in an ideally developed brain, the language centers (tracts) are well webbed up with every other trait-tract. Ideally, to experience anything is to be able to utter it. But the stammer- ing lover is matched by the stammering thinker, and there cer- tainly may be intelligent action without the power to put it ade- quately into words. Probably Cesar is the only great general who could describe a battle as finely as he could plan it or fight it. Words without deeds, deeds without words: we must be pre- pared for both. Our old test question, ‘‘ Why should we judge a person by what he does rather than by what he says,’ applies to the test itself. The bulk, and sometimes one hundred per cent., of those who fail in our army test for literates (Alpha) raise their grades when they take the test for illiterates (Beta). This suggests (though it does not prove) that the intelligence is “there,” all right, but whereas it can not “come through” in literary terms, it does break out successfully in the more concrete form. A further danger lies in the use of a general test for special vocational fitness. To a limited extent, this is justifiable: for gumption is valuable in all vocations, and a good intelligence test does test gumption. But the general test tries out, chiefly, what I have called the core of consciousness, and special voca- tional ability often lies in traits outside that core. So we hardly expect the general test to determine whether one is, or can be, 408 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY a good typist, musician, farmer, blacksmith, or social worker. But the general intelligence test should yield us two results even here. (1) Other thing: being equal, he will be best in any vocation who has the highest general intelligence. It is worth while—and the effort is being made—to have intelligence scales carefully worked out for each vocation, to accompany and sup- plement the special tests fer special abilities. (2) General in- telligence, among novices in any vocation, should be, on the whole, a good index of rapidity of improvement and final limit of development. It may be objected that testing in the army has tumbled into the very pitfall here pointed out, of applying a general test to find out the fitness of a man for the special vocation of soldier- ing. But soldiering is not mere gun-pointing and trigger-pull- ing: it is a multiplex and all-inclusive vocation, involving nearly every kind of activity found in civilian life and some besides. Soldiering is full of general situations that require general in- telligence. There is a third danger which is just the opposite of the second. It lies in passing from a specific test to a general con- clusion. Strangely enough, even some who deny the efficiency of formal discipline, seem to accept the efficiency of formal test- ing. For example, they assume that they have tested ‘memory ” when immediate memory span for numbers has been tested, or that they have tested “attention” or “perception” by having the subject cancel all the A’s out of a page of pi. A fourteen- year-old girl whom I once taught never did remember the mul- tiplication table, yet she could easily catch complex pieces of music, retain them, and play them from memory. We test what we test; but just how much more we measure, in the mass of subjects, we must find out by calculating correla- tions. And in the individual, nothing but complete, exhaustive probing is adequate. Here is further justification for the em- ployment of several sub-tests as components of a complete gen- eral-intelligence test. Finally, we must guard against giving a test, standardized by extensive mass methods, too close an intensive, individual appli- cation. Whenever we apply a standardized general test to any assemblage of complex parts, such as an automobile, or a horse, or a brain, we are sure that we can divide any collection of such units into grade groups, ranging from high grade tolow. But any particular machine or animal or brain may hold up or break down contrary to our prognostication, based on the test. For this reason, we should make haste slowly (to avoid making progress backward) in establishing dividing lines that cut THE RATIONALE OF TESTING INTELLIGENCE 409 sharply. It is taking too much responsibility to say that pos- itively no one who can not make a certain average-to-high nu- merical grade in an army intelligence test is fit to be an officer —or apresident. If Hughes had tested out higher than Wilson —why not give all candidates for office an intelligence test ?— would it, and should it, have changed any votes? With regard to testing in the army, two large questions arise: 1. Can we measure the intelligence of army men? 2. What military value has such a measure? When a man enters the army, he is tested in practically every part: there is a board to look after his bones, muscles and joints, a heart board, a lung board, and so on. At length ap- peared a brain board, so to speak, the Neuro-psychiatric Board. Certainly there should be a board to pass upon the nervous sys-" tem, for it is the controlling system of the body. Though all other organs be sound, they will be ineffective without a good governing system. But all these various boards give, in general, a yes-or-no judgment, “ good enough for service,” or “not fit for service.” They do not measure degree of fitness. Their attention is not so much on the normal as on the abnormal, and their chief effort is to keep that abnormal out of the army (or, if possible, to improve it sufficiently to serve). The neuro-psychiatrists aim to eliminate the neuro-mentally abnormal. But now appears a new board, the psychological board, more accurately, the psychometric board, whose fundamental prop- ositions are (1) that intelligence can be measured and graded; and (2) that grade of intelligence is so important that place- ment in the army should be made accordingly. An interesting innovation, surely; for nowhere else are all recruits measured and graded, beyond the yes-or-no, accepted-or-rejected plan, ex- cept in the Personnel Department, and not even there by such exact, objective standards. If the two propositions above are true, they fully justify the use of the increased space and per- sonnel which the Psychological Board uses as compared with other boards which do not attempt such measurement, and fully justify also the total expense of psychological examining as the price of effective classification and placement. With regard to the possibility of measuring intelligence, two extreme views are found. The first is, that it can be read off so readily from the subject’s face, walk, etc., that there is no need of further measurement. The second is, that it can not be meas- ured at all! Those who take the first view can usually be con- vinced out of it by actual trial—if they are game enough to 410 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY make one under controlled conditions. They succeed about as well as did the three teachers who were asked by Binet to esti- mate, off-hand and independently, the intelligence of each of a group of children. It is recorded that the three sets of results showed hardly any agreement. Intelligence can certainly be measured. The only question is, How accurately? Here, it is only possible to mention a few of the lines of evidence which give the psychometrist faith in his results. (1) Certain tests have already enabled us, in civil- ian life, to predict educability, school progress. (2) The psy- chometric rating agrees fairly well—and too close correlation would arouse suspicion—with the rating of intelligence as given by officers who know their men thoroughly by long contact. (3) Officers, ‘‘non-coms” and privates show three very different averages, in the order mentioned, and three distinct, character- istic curves. (4) Racial difference stands out as previous in- vestigations would lead us to expect. (5) The lowly-educated, who have had limited opportunity, sometimes surpass the more highly educated, which indicates that we are measuring innate ability rather than conventional education. (6) Repeated, in- dependent measurements, give harmonious results. By setting men at various tasks which test the heart, lungs, muscles, and so on, we can get a gauge on their general physical efficiency. By setting them tasks which tax perception, memory, understanding and the like, we measure their mental (intel- ligential) efficacy, can try out the running gears of their in- tellects. Now for the second big proposition, which I think we can state, in extreme form, in this way: Granted a passingly good physique, intelligence is thereafter the most important factor in military efficiency. . It appears to me that neither the yes nor the no of this can be proven at present. The practical importance of intelligence in every-day situations is brought out by the much-repeated in- junction to “Use your head!” On the other hand, our tests do not go far in measuring response to social environment. There are many cases in daily life where one is impressed with the truth of the adage that ‘Good nature is worth more than good sense.” Line officers sometimes place on intelligence a lower value than we would expect, emphasizing rather such qualities as loyalty, obedience, adaptability and dependability. If you insist that a regiment should be balanced on the basis of intel- ligence, placing the same amount of it in each company, the line officer might reply that he wants it balanced according to disci- pline, or courage, or initiative. That the superior intelligence THE RATIONALE OF TESTING INTELLIGENCE 411 of man has been the decisive factor in placing him at the head of the evolutionary race seems extremely likely. And Terman states that “with the exception of moral character, there is nothing as significant for a child’s future as his grade of intel- ligence.”” Yet intelligence lies largely in the upper, most re- cently evolved, most delicate portions of the brain. It may be a very significant fact that, although the ratio of officers to men at the front is about 1:30, and among the wounded 1: 24, yet among the patients admitted to special hospitals for war neu- roses in England during the year ending April 30, 1917, the ratio of officers to men was 1:6. This may be due to the greater mental strain which falls on the officer, or to the fact that his more intelligent, and probably more sensitive, delicate nervous system, suffers shock more easily. If the latter, it is a question as to whether highest intelligence means greatest military ef- ficiency under the most trying conditions. The answer to this question lies in France. However, there is an interesting and closely related problem which the military psychologist should undertake to work out on this side of the ocean: To what extent is intelligence corre- lated with general military efficiency as displayed in our mil- itary life? To test this, we measured at Camp Meade, the in- telligence of 765 men of the 17th Infantry (Regulars), all of whom had been at least several months in the service, and under the same officers. These officers were then asked, without see- ing our grades, to rate their men, not as to intelligence pri- marily, but as to “military efficiency, which means practical soldier value to the army, all things considered.” In estimating military efficiency, the officers were told to “keep in mind such points as dependability, judgment, discipline, comradeship and initiative.” Five grades of rating were used, both by the psy- chological examiners in measuring intelligence and by the of- ficers in grading military efficiency. The results show that in 49.5 per cent. of the total number of cases, the intelligence rating and rating for military efficiency were the same; in 38.9 per cent., there was a difference of one grade only between the two; in 11.0 per cent., a difference of two grades; and in 0.7 per cent., a difference of three or four grades. If we leave out the last five companies, which reported tardily, and whose commanders, we suspect, took the exper- iment less seriously, we find the two ratings in perfect agree- ment in 52.7 per cent. of the cases, within one grade of each other in 36.5 per cent. more, and agreeing within two grades in 10.2 per cent., or practically all remaining cases. Such experiments should be repeated to find whether they 412 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY prove the implication of the present one, namely, that if we place a man according to his intelligence rating alone, we shall have placed him, in the great majority of cases, substantially according to his military efficiency, his general camp value. It appears reasonable to suppose, until facts from the front prove the contrary, that camp value and trench value, enemy-killing value, are closely coincident. At this point, we pass the question of placement on to our military and social leaders, to generals and statesmen. It is our work to discover the intelligence of the division, to point to the heads that hold it: the commanding general must determine where, in his organization, it shall be placed, whether it shall be concentrated in machine gun companies chiefly, or in the am- bulance train, or whether it shall be distributed uniformly throughout. Further, our statesmen and other social leaders, taking counsel with the eugenists, must decide to what extent the winning of the war demands the exposing of the most intel- ligent portion of our general population to the highest mortality. General intelligence, then, while it is not the only quality that makes a man valuable, is not only highly important for its own sake, but is, in the mass, bound up with other qualities which make for military efficiency. In individual cases, the in- telligence rating may prove to be an inexact index of a soldier’s general value; it may even go agog as an accurate measure of his intelligence itself, owing to his peculiar condition when tested, or to the too particular application of a general method. But that psychometric methods and measures have a high value for army purposes there is no doubt. Officers are to be chosen for training camps; a corps of quartermaster’s clerks or personnel assistants must be selected ; in our haste, we must sometimes choose “‘non-coms” overnight; | the feeble-minded must be eliminated; the Depot Brigade holds several hundred illiterates who are to be divided between an in- fantry regiment and a labor battalion, according to their native ability to respond to training; the commanding general has a company of uneducated thrust into his division shortly before its departure and wishes to know whether their intelligence warrants taking them to France; the development battalion is swarming: who of the swarm can be successfully developed and sent back to the line, and who should be rejected? Companies, regiments, whole armies are to be balanced, for the saving of time in training, for the just rating of the officers responsible for them, and, most important of all, for effects in the field. Wherever appear the problems of mental classification and placement, there the psychometrist can be of service. PAYING THE COST OF WAR 413 THIS GENERATION CAN NOT ESCAPE PAYING THE COST OF WAR By Professor C. C. ARBUTHNOT WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY HAT are the “costs of war”? The answers to this ques- \ \) tion will depend upon the angles from which the great problem is attacked. The wastes of fighting impress different observers according to their individual outlooks and bulk large within each particular range of view. Perhaps the chief mat- ters of concern in such an inquiry lie in the fields indicated by three topics: (a) The human costs, (b) The cost in materials, (c) The cost in money. The subdivision of the subject should not convey the impression that the parts are unconnected or sharply marked off one from the other, but rather that the whole theme will be easier of comprehension if the parts are considered one at a time. 1. THE HUMAN COSTS OF WAR The pen halts at the thought of recording the human costs of war. The broken bodies and the shattered minds, the pains and anxiety, the horrors and despair, the wrecked relationships and the accumulations of hate, the benumbed hearts and the seared souls, all that the soldier endures at the front, and carries through life with him if he returns, all that his friends and rela- tives bear while he is away and bend under if he does not come back: all these costs are too many and great to be numbered. Of this, the greatest cost, only the least may be said. The words are too few and the expressions are not strong enough to tell the story of human sacrifice forced upon the people of this gen- eration by the raging conflict. This burden can not be passed on to future generations. Whatever human losses are trans- mitted as an inheritance to the people of to-morrow do not lessen the burden of to-day. They add to the unreckoned human costs of war. 2. THE COST OF WAR IN MATERIALS The materials consumed in warfare are the product of toil and sacrifice and may not be too independently considered as distinct from the human elements of the problem. Men and women have changed the current of their lives and undergone 414 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY risk and strain second only to those of the soldier in order that the latter might be properly equipped for the direct conflict with the foe. The materials now devoted to the purposes of war are largely the product of current efforts. Not a great amount of goods and equipment have been carried over from the stocks of past years. Little can be obtained at the expense of the future. What men are to fight with in the immediate struggle must be turned out here and now. Upon their entrance into the war the different nations were possessed of varying amounts of military and naval equipment. But much of this original outfit has been destroyed and must be replaced by current products. Germany has turned some past products to present account as in the cases where copper roofs and church bells have been made into instruments of destruc- tion. But the accumulations from earlier years can do little for the fighters of to-day. These stocks and stores have been quickly dissipated, with the increasing needs ever demanding more and more. In a sense the future can be drawn upon for material help, but again the amount, compared with what must be secured, is not of great significance. During the war the wear and tear on machinery, factories, railways, buildings and other durable goods may be allowed to go on to an amount unusual in time of peace, though not to a degree that would interfere with operat- ing efficiency. By allowing this permissible amount of depre- ciation to take place, the labor and material that otherwise would be used for repairs and replacement could be turned to the production of munitions of war. As a result this war ma- terial would be produced at the expense of the future to which would be handed on an equipment in capital and durable con- sumption goods of less effective character than otherwise would have been the case. After all possible allowance has been made it is only too clear that the materials of war must be made as the struggle goes on and that the people of to-day must pay this cost by in- creased labor and saving. This burden of providing the enor- mous quantities of munitions and supplies is as imperative a daily, current duty as is the service of the soldier in the trenches. It can not be put off nor escaped. The soldiers of to-day fight with the products of civilian laborers of to-day. The costs of war in materials must be paid by this generation, it can not be passed on to the future. This fact is so simple, clear and plain that multitudes of people do not realize its significance. The the real economic direct cost of war. It must be met here and PAYING THE COST OF WAR 415 now. No methods of combining note issues, bond sales, and production of the material equipment for the fighting force in taxation can alter the situation. While the fighting is on and not after it is over, must the civilians work and save to make the needed goods. The economic costs of reconstruction when peace comes will be additions to the costs of war, not payments for it nor reductions in the expense. The call to work and save is as immediate and pressing as the call to fight. Neither can be escaped nor postponed. Saving is important because it releases labor and material from civilians’ uses and turns them to the public service. The spender in essence asks people to work for him or furnish ma- terial for his own satisfaction. On the other hand, if he saves and turns his funds over to the government he gives to his coun- try the power to secure this labor and material for public de- fence while he foregoes its private enjoyment. Saving thus in- creases the materials available for the army and navy. Saving and increased production both will have to be pushed farther than ever in our past experience if through this war we are to win a durable peace. Greater saving and greater exertion in making equipment must precede the fighting not follow it. The cost of war in terms of goods must be met to-day. It can not be passed on to succeeding generations. 3. THE COST OF WAR IN TERMS OF MONEY In earlier times when wars were fought with little money and no credit paper the basic costs in human pains and in ma- terials were outstanding. The fighters and their generation paid these costs with little chance of misunderstanding in re- spect to who were the real bearers of the burden due to the struggle. In later days when governments issue paper money, sell bonds and collect taxes the situation has become complex and a great deal of confusion has arisen concerning the ulti- mate effects of the different methods by which the costs of the war in terms of money may be paid. Some of the difficulties seem to be due to an inability to examine the matter from the same point of view or to hold to a given angle throughout the discussion. The effect of a given policy on individuals, on eco- nomic classes, and on successive generations is not likely to be clear unless one keeps in mind the specific part of the problem that is being considered. The principal methods through which money for war pur- poses may be obtained are six in number: 1. Requisitions in occupied territory. Germany’s practise in Belgium serving as an example. 416 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY 2. Indemnity from a conquered enemy. Germany’s policy at the end of the Franco-Prussian War and at the beginning of this war. 3. The profits of state-owned industries, as the German rail- ways or the mines of England as suggested by the Fabian social- ists. 4, Issue of paper money, as the greenbacks in our Civil War and Germany’s present issue, disguised though they are as issues of banking institutions. 5. The sale of bonds to be paid for by taxes after the war. 6. Taxation during the war. The following discussion will concern itself with the con- sideration of the effects of the second three methods of raising the money needed for war purposes. The issue of paper money and sale of bonds are alike in that they are both loans, though very different in that the note issue is a forced loan that inflates the currency, while the bond pur- chase is a voluntary transaction that does not necessarily pro- duce inflation. All three are alike in that the taxpayers have to foot the bills, though collection is postponed in the case of the first two. Bonds and taxes are alike in that the bond buyer and the taxpayer must turn over the money to the government at once, though what is received for the money, a bond in one case and atax receipt in the other, differ widely. Furnishing the money, like furnishing the men and the materials for war can not be passed on to later generations. All three must be pro- vided now by the people of to-day. Whatever may come back in the future does not alter the fact that all three, the money, the men and the materials must be given up by the people of the present if there is to be any future worth looking forward to. An examination of the differential financial expedients for putting the government in funds will indicate the characteristic features of each one and the economic consequences of its em- ployment. A. The Issue of Paper Money.—This is the easiest way, but the suggestion of its adoption is the counsel of folly or despair. Our experience in the Civil War and the bitter lessons from other times and countries ought to keep us from repeating the monumental blunder of financial incompetence. Just now the thing seems improbable, but if the war is drawn out to great length and the financial load grows steadily greater, some be- lated financier will probably arise and tell us of a burdenless way of paying war expenses by running the printing presses. When a government issues paper money and compels its citizens to accept its notes in payment for goods and services, PAYING THE COST OF WAR 417 its action amounts to a forced loan without interest. But this forced loan differs from an ordinary loan in that the citizens’ purchasing power is not diminished as it is when money is handed over to the government in exchange for bonds. In the latter case the lenders turn over part of their power of buying to the nation and to that degree take themselves out of the market. The demand for goods is transferred from private to public hands, but it is not increased by the funds derived from this type of loan as such. To the existing supply of goods the usual demand is presented, except that it is made by the gov- ernment instead of by private individuals. The result is that there is a minimum disturbance of the price level and the gen- eral business situation. When a government issues paper money and goes into the market with it to buy supplies a very different result obtains. The government’s new purchasing power is added to that of its citizens and the greatly increased demand presented to the ordi- nary supply of commodities drives prices upward at a rapid rate. The tendency toward higher prices, inseparable from the imperative needs of war, is greatly exaggerated and the whole business of the country is disturbed by an abnormal change in the level of prices. Ordinarily the citizens’ increase in purchas- ing power is due to an increase in their productive efforts in making goods and the greater demand is matched by a greater supply of commodities, so that the exchange ratio is not altered and the price level is more or less constant. Not so with the increase in buying power acquired by a government through the issue of paper money. No simultaneous increase in output meets the enlarged demand and the existing stocks of goods are subjected to the pressure of normal private buying plus this ab- normally created public purchasing power. The consequent rise in price favors a few and upsets the calculations of the great mass of citizens, with the hardship falling usually on those least able to bear it. A second influence works in the same direction. A resort to paper issues is a confession of weakness and an evidence of in- competence. The first step is quickly followed by the second and the government is soon unable to redeem its notes in stand- ard money. The country suspends specie payment and the paper dollar itself then becomes the standard money in which values are expressed. The paper standard fluctuates in value as compared with the specie standard according to the prob- ability that eventually it will be redeemed in coin. The volume of the issues, the prospects of success in the war, and the chang- VOL, Vil.—27. 418 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY ing policies of the changing officers in charge of the administra- tion will affect the public’s faith in ultimate redemption and hence in the value of the paper standard. The result of this fall in value and these fluctuations in the standard are rises and al- terations in the prices of commodities due to no influence in the field of production or consumption but to unpredictable changes in the paper standard whose gyrations reflect an unhappy com- bination of the fortunes of war with the compromises and sec- ond choices of political and often partisan policy. The unproduced purchasing power put in the hands of the government and the erratic paper standard in terms of which the prices of commodities are quoted lead to the type of expe- rience described by Louis Blane when he wrote of a French sit- uation, ‘‘Business was dead; betting took its place.” Rising costs of living lead to labor disturbances that cut down produc- tion. People with fixed incomes suffer hardship. The govern- ment pays the inflated prices for its war supplies, and the sol- diers find what they can buy with their meagre pay marked by low visibility. The increased cost of the war falls upon the tax- payers when the bills are eventually passed to them and they have their perennial privilige of paying for blunders that should have been avoided. The country ought to set itself like flint against any suggestion of issues of paper money, directly or in- directly, that would lead to a departure from a specie basis. The war can be fought without inflation of the currency by the government or banks, just as the navy can fight without a ration of rum. With this discussion of paper issues for the purpose of elim- inating them as a practical policy we can turn to a consideration of borrowing by bond sales as a method of raising money in time of war. B. Borrowing by Seliing Bonds.—No nation is ever likely to put into operation an adequate taxing system upon the outbreak of war. A militant oligarchy hopes to pay the expenses of its adventures out of indemnities collected from the defeated en- emy, while democracies will never be so prepared for war that they will have at hand a system of war taxes devised in advance and ready for immediate enactment when the crisis comes. But money must be secured at once. Resort is therefore had to the sale of bonds as the effective method for obtaining the required funds, usually preceded by issues of short-time certificates of indebtedness in anticipation of the proceeds from the bonds. Bonds have this very great advantage of the superior quickness with which they yield the required funds. PAYING THE COST OF WAR 419 A second significant feature of bond sales arises out of the fact that their purchase is a voluntary action. Joined with this is the convenience in denomination and terms of payment. As a result citizens can adjust the amount purchased to their re- spective abilities in a fashion that will allow persons of modest means to turn over their savings to the government, as well as offer the opportunity to every other group in the country to ad- vance the needed money in such measure as their resources will permit. By tapping each store in accordance with its contents the bond shows itself a flexible instrument by means of which the hidden wealth and unsuspected financial resources of the great body of citizens are made available for the public service. People voluntarily turn over to the government in exchange for bonds great sums of money that otherwise would lie beyond the ken of the tax-gatherer or that could be reached only by the most inquisitorial methods, which would tend to defeat them- ’ selves by arraying the ingenuity of the owners against the in- adequate knowledge of the officers of the law. The fruitful resource of bond sales is so effective because it unites the two powerful appeals of patriotism and personal profit. Citizens are urged to put their funds at the disposal of the government because the safety of the country and all they hold dear depends upon the expenditure of money in the public defence. They are shown that others are going into battle for the security of the citizens at. home and that the soldiers’ hard- ships are not even poorly matched by the pecuniary sacrifices that must be made by the civilians if the fighters are to be given the support with equipment, food, weapons and ammunition that they must have in order to discharge the duties to which they have consecrated their lives. To this call upon patriotic feeling is added the prospect of economic advantage due to the safety of the principal and the payment of pure interest on the loan; that is, interest from which nothing need be deducted as insurance against risk or for care and skill in management. The probable premium on the bonds after the war is also an inducement. A much greater advantage is promised by the probable fall in prices after the war. If we assume that present prices are about fifty per cent. higher on the average than pre-war prices, then a dollar to-day will buy no more than 65 cents bought in 1914. If prices after the war fall to the pre-war level a dollar then will buy as much as a dollar and fifty cents will purchase to-day. The saver who chooses to buy a one hundred dollar bond to-day rather than spend $100 for current consumption is in reality choosing be- 420 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY tween $65 worth of goods now and $100 worth of goods after the war, measured on a peace-price basis. In other words $100 invested in a bond now will command when the bond is paid as many commodities as $150 will buy to-day. This is a real pre- mium and a large one, overlooked usually because people think too much in terms of money and not enough in terms of goods. Added to this gain after the war is another advantage that comes from saving now. Refraining from unnecessary buying for private use during the war reduces the demand for com- modities and thus lessens the tendency of prices to move in an upward direction. People by continuing their usual buying compete with each other and the government in the purchase of goods. By this persistent bidding among private individuals and against the government the level of prices is raised all around and money spent does not go as far as before. On the other hand, turning part of one’s outlay into bonds reduces this competitive demand, checks the rise in prices, and makes what one does spend for consumable goods able to get more goods in the market. Saving thus makes more saving easier by mod- erating the rising cost of living. When it is evident that buying bonds combines. these eco- nomic advantages of (1) safety of principal with (2) pure in- terest, (3) a probable premium on the bonds after the war, (4) an even more probable advantage of greater amount through a fall in prices when peace comes, with a consequent increase in the purchasing power of their savings, and (5) a tendency to mitigate the rise in prices during the war: when it is seen that these individual advantages are joined with the opportunity to be of public service, the combination of patriotism and profit places at the government’s disposal great sums of money with remarkable speed, a result that is vital at the outbreak of war. C. Taxation in War Time.—It has long been suggested that part of the prudent preparedness for war should be an outline scheme of taxation, drawn up in advance, ready to be filled in and enacted promptly upon mobilization. But for reasons in- dicated above this has never been done. The process of enacting tax legislation is slow, considering the emergency to be met, and the result is likely to be a statute satisfactory to no one, oppressive to many, and unworkable in some of its parts unless supplemented or modified by adminis- trative rulings. The crudities have to be hammered out on the anvil of experience. With these disadvantages to be met, the returns from taxes come into the public treasure slowly, too slowly to furnish funds PAYING THE COST OF WAR 421 for the great emergency, without the assistance to be had from bonds. Along with this defect, taxation has the great merit of com- pulsion that is lacking in the case of bonds except so far as it is provided by the pressure of group or public opinion. Tax- ation forces many persons who are able to pay to do their pa- triotic duty whether they are willing or not. Much money that would not come to the help of the public voluntarily is reached by the strong arm of the law and drafted into the service of the country. There are so many varieties of citizens that no one method of reaching all of them is adequate. The government must go equipped with every possible collecting agency in order to get, by both persuasion and compulsion in their varied forms, all of the enormous sums that must be raised to meet the pecu- niary outlays of modern warfare. The rigid rules of the taxing machinery have an important role to play, though they have limitations in their effectiveness in raising funds. These rules must be general, broad in appli- cation, and inelastic in execution, applying to groups rather than to individual and special cases. They get with consid- erable effect whatever comes within their scope, but much of the country’s resources escape beyond the limits of these laws. To reach the resources of some would require such rigor in the law that the burdens upon others would be intolerable, and the harsh rules would so interfere with the free play of business enterprise that the productive efficiency of the country would be reduced. While the limits to the amounts that can be raised by taxation can be greatly widened by education and experience, the policy takes time and can never hope to attain the bond’s ability to reach individual capacity. The tax-gatherer’s task is made easier in war-time by the patriotic enthusiasm for the support of the fighting men. Cit- izens who are unable to go to the front find an outlet for their devotion to their country through tax-paying and the exchequer is enriched by the willing payments of many who find relief in the consciousness that their money is representing them in the raging contest. This war-time tax-paying impulse dies down when peace arrives and paying taxes for the discharge of war obligations takes on the character of paying for a dead horse. It behooves the finance officers, therefore, to collect while the collecting is easy and the taxes are fruitful. There are some types of earnings that are war-bred in char- acter, such as excess or war profits and incomes swollen through the increased business activity due to military operations and 422 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY the by-products of such enterprises. These temporary, in- creased incomes should be reached at once, because they will not be available if time is allowed to pass. Moreover, if they are reached quickly before the recipients have had them long enough to develop a feeling of possession in them, a larger fraction of such incomes can be taken, with less mental anguish on the part of the taxpayers, than would be possible if the process of shar- ing the new gains with the nation were longer delayed and time given for a vested interest to develop in this type of unearned increment. Prompt, vigorous taxation of war profits or excess profits due to war business, direct or indirect, will make it clear that these gains are due to the general situation and not to ex- ceptional industry or management on the part of the recipients, and that they are not in origin or character to be regarded as private property. Considerable difficulty is encountered in those cases where businesses must be extended in order to produce supplies neces- sary for the conduct of the war. No ordinary profit would jus- tify the construction of plants whose product would be without a market should peace suddenly come. Here it would be better not to make the extension on the basis of a speculative, private enterprise but to have the government underwrite the risk in- volved in the additional investment as a public expense. The excess-profits tax bristles with difficulties, but these must be met in order that the rich revenue it will produce may be secured in this time of exceptional need. THE RELATION OF BONDS AND TAXES IN DISTRIBUTING THE COST OF WAR From what has been said it is evident that as a matter of practical, sound finance both bond sales and taxation must be employed in order to get quickly and in adequate amount the money needed to pay the cost of war. The debatable question is the proportion of the income that should be raised by each method. One of the curious and widespread illusions respecting the advantage of raising funds by borrowing instead of by taxation is to the effect that through the later payment of the loan part of the money cost of the war will be passed on to future gen- erations. It is evident, as indicated above, that this generation furnishes the money required for war expenses, whether it is raised by taxation or by bond sales. The taxpayer gets back a tax receipt while the man who lends to the government receives a bond, but both have handed over money to the public treasury. PAYING THE COST OF WAR 423 This generation has put up the hard cash. When the bonds come due and future taxpayers furnish the money to pay the obligations, to whom is the money paid? To this generation which gave the government money for the bonds? Assuredly not. This generation will have gone to its reward by that time and the taxpayers of the next generation will pay the bond- holders of the next generation, not the bond buyers of this gen- eration. As long as the problem is considered from the point of view of the mass of the people described as “‘ this generation ” as contrasted with future generations, there is no doubt that “this generation” must furnish the men, materials and money needed to win the war and that it will be impossible for the people of to-day to collect anything in return from the people of to-morrow. It is when the problem is approached from the angle of the interests of individuals or economic classes that the difference between taxes and bond sales becomes of sig- nificance. In these relations it is possible to pass the burden to others in case of bond issues when it would not be possible should the money needed be collected by taxation. The signif- icant facts from these angles may be made to appear in a few simple suppositions. For the purpose of illustration let us suppose that (1) the entire cost of the war were met by selling bonds and (2) that all citizens were able to buy the same number of bonds and (3) that the bonds were eventually to be paid for by a poll tax of so much a head, assuming “ that all other things remain the same.” If each citizen bought a $1,000 bond and later paid $1,400 in poll taxes to cover the interest and principal of the bonds, the effect would be essentially the same, apart from the cost of ad- ministration, as if the burden had been met by taxes during the war. Each citizen would have given up at once $1,000 in either case, receiving a bond in one instance and a tax receipt in the other. Were the bond method chosen the government later would reach into the bondholder’s right-hand pocket for taxes and pay into his left-hand this same money as interest and prin- cipal. If the bonds ran for a long time the same relation be- tween taxpayers and bondholders would continue, paying and receiving would balance each other. There would be no choice between bonds and taxes as methods of raising money. If the bonds were unpaid for fifty years and the generation of buyers passed away and a new generation inherited the bonds and the obligation to pay taxes, the case would not be altered. This earlier generation would have turned over the money to the government and passed on the bonds to its heirs, who would 424 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY pay off the bonds with taxes, but this earlier generation would get none of the money. The future taxpayers would pay the future bondholders and in this supposed case no one would be ahead or behind, seeing that bondholding and taxpaying are assumed to be equal for every citizen. The original bondbuyers might as well have paid taxes as bought bonds. It is of no par- ticular advantage to pass to one’s heirs an asset like a bond if it is accompanied by the equal liability to pay taxes. This supposition of equal power to buy bonds and pay taxes is too far removed from reality to serve for more than an illus- trative point of departure. Imagine that the citizens are classed in groups according to their ability to buy bonds, e. g., in the relation of 1, 5, 10, 15, 25, etc., and that they are assessed for taxes in a similar ratio. This might be nearer the real sit- uation, but it is still evident that they would have to give up the price of the bonds at once upon buying them, and that later they would be taking out of one pocket to pay taxes the money would be returned to the other as interest and principal on the bonds, leaving them neither richer nor poorer. These suppositions are intended to illustrate what is per- haps evident upon mere statement, that there is no advantage to the individual in the policy of public borrowing rather than in pay-as-you-go taxation if his purchase of bonds as an invest- ment is matched by an obligation to pay taxes later in propor- tion to his holdings of bonds. He might as well accept a tax receipt at once for his money as to get a bond that he must later pay off himself by turning over money for tax receipts. He gives up cash at once in both cases and his later income from coupons and final payment when the bond system is adopted are matched by his payments of taxes. When later taxation is pro- portioned to bond purchases it is an illusion to think of the bond as worth more than a tax receipt. All of this is based on the assumption that the purchaser of the bond holds it until ma- turity or passes it on to his heirs. But it may be objected that the bondholders can sell their bonds, whereas there is no market for tax receipts. If the money were reinvested the new income would be reached by our supposed system of taxation according to ability. If the price received from the sold bonds were used in untaxed consumption the seller would be in the group indicated later who would find advantage in the system of public borrowing rather than in tax- ation. There is no escape from the conclusion that if the people generally buy bonds according to their ability and are taxed ac- PAYING THE COST OF WAR 425 cording to their ability to pay the interest and principal of the bonds, there is no advantage to any one in the purchase of bonds rather than the payment of taxes during the war. If one should turn an abnormally large proportion of his property into bonds would the situation be changed? Not at all, because he would lose the higher income that might have been gained in other fields as an offset to the income from the bonds. On the other hand, buying no bonds or relatively few would not give any one an advantage. His investments in other fields might yield a larger gross return but if the taxes, as we are sup- posing throughout these illustrations, were actually adjusted according to ability to pay, these higher returns would be reached by the tax-gatherer and no advantage left to the holder of individual or corporate investments as contrasted with the owner of government bonds. The taxes paid by the former would be paid to the latter until the national debt were paid. In all three of the supposed cases, whether one buys bonds according to his ability or more than the normal amount or less than could have been expected, there is no gain to individuals in the bond system as compared with taxation during the war, provided the taxes after the war are collected according to the citizens’ ability to pay and the individuals and their heirs con- tinue in the same classes as far as taxpaying ability is con- cerned. If every individual retained the same relative economic rank and were obliged to pay taxes according to his ability after the war he might as well pay taxes during the war. When either of these conditions does not exist there enters the pos- sibility of individual advantage when the government raises money by selling bonds rather than by collecting taxes at once. The persons who would gain directly by the bond system would be chiefly the ones for whom postponed taxation would mean escaped taxation: the recipients of war profits or enlarged incomes during the war, the citizens who would be saved from consumption taxes during war and thus be able to buy com- modities cheaper, those who would be able to escape their pro- portional burden through the character of the tax system adopted after the war. The essence of the matter is to be found in its effect upon the ultimate resting place of the burden of taxation. Bonds make it possible to redistribute the cost of war among the different economic classes through modifica- tions of the tax system or the opportunities to avoid its pressure that might give results after the war of a kind which would not be possible during the conflict. A statement of some of the pos- sible combinations of bondholding and taxpaying will suggest 426 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY the possibilities of thus shifting the burden of the money cost of the war among the different groups of which the nation is com- posed. It would make a significant difference in determining who would pay the cost of the war if in constructing the revenue system a strong preference were shown either for taxes upon articles of common use or for direct taxes such as income, in- heritance and excess porfits taxes. If the money to pay interest and principal of the bonds were raised by taxes on sugar, coffee, tea and other staple consumption goods, either through internal taxes or tariff duties, the cost would fall upon the ordinary cit- izen with a weight exceeding his relative ability to pay. If the bonds were widely held the mass of the people would go through the experience of paying higher prices for the necessaries of life in order to get back the money they had advanced in war-time. An increase in the cost of living would be required to pay the war debt, one offsetting the other, but the mass of the people would be out the original purchase price of the bonds. On the other hand, if the tax system were one largely of direct taxes and the bonds widely held, the burden would be thrown upon the well-to-do groups while the redistribution of the receipts from taxes as interest and principal of the bonds would increase the income of the mass of the people at the ex- pense of the richer taxpayers. It would amount to this: that whatever money people of modest circumstances advanced dur- ing the war would be repaid to them with interest by their wealthier fellow citizens and the general tendency would be to reduce the inequality of the economic classes in the nation. A very different situation would result if the bonds were held by the relatively few people of large fortune and the taxes were collected by tariffs and excises on staples. The mass of people of lesser fortune would pay the bulk of the taxes and the money would flow to the stronger economic groups as in- terest and principal, with the consequent increase in the in- equality of possessions. To suggest another possibility, the bond system might be combined with post-war taxation in a way that would keep down the burden of taxation for the mass of the citizens during the war by making it possible to forego general consumption taxes on staple goods. Taxes on incomes, inheritances and ex- cess profits might be supplemented by bond issues during the war and later the war taxes be continued in peace-time until the bonds were paid off. By such a plan bond issues would aid in placing the money cost of the war upon the shoulders of the PAYING THE COST OF WAR 427 recipients of the larger incomes regardless of who bought the bonds originally. If this group bought them they would have advanced the money during the war and paid themselves off after the conflict. If the people of modest means purchased the bonds from the government they would have advanced the money during the war and would be reimbursed out of the re- ceipts of taxes paid by the stronger group. Without exhausting the possible combinations of bonds and taxes doubtless it is plain from these perhaps over-sharply con- trasted comparisons that the effect of bond issues is largely determined by the type of taxation finally resorted to in order to pay off the obligations. The issue of bonds postpones the resort to taxation, an advantage in some cases, but its chief ultimate result lies in the possibility of redistributing the money cost of the war among the economic classes of the nation, not in passing it to future generations. Looking at the matter from the limit of unpatriotic mean- ness, it may be said that to the degree to which one may hope to escape paying the taxes that will have to be laid after the war to cover principal and interest of the bonds, to that degree he may logically favor bond issues that will enable him to escape taxation during the war. As long as there is the chance that the post-war taxing system will bear less heavily upon some cit- izens than upon others, as long as there is the expectation that individuals not now able to pay much in taxes will later grow into the heavy tax-paying group; as long as individuals through losses may need to turn bonds into money for current expenses and through reverses decline in tax-paying power, so long will it seem more advantageous to individuals to give their money during the war for bonds rather than tax receipts. The key to the situation is not that this generation is not able to pay the money required to carry on the war (it must do that), but that the purchase of bonds may permit the burden of finally paying the tax to be shifted to other individuals or to the heirs of others. An illustration may be found in the possible effect of immigration after the war upon the number and composition of the tax-paying body of the United States. If peace brings a flood of people from Europe they will divide the burden of taxation with the taxpayers now here and their descendants. In such case bond issues now would be effective in lessening the cost of the war to the latter group and their heirs, and in that degree be more advantageous than taxes during the war. On the other hand, if peace should send a wave of emigrants from our shores to Europe the loss of these potential tax-payers and 428 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY the probable industrial dislocation following the war would make tax-paying then to meet interest and principal of the bonds more difficult and borrowing would be the more burden- some policy in the long run. To strike a balance between these possibilities would require the peculiar foresight so glibly re- vealed by passing social soothsayers. Bonds are an investment to all those who do not later have to pay taxes or a proportionate share of taxes to meet the in- terest and principal. To all others they are the means through which patriots may contribute to the support of the war and later wipe the slate clean by putting money into the govern- ment’s vaults in paying taxes and drawing it out again by cash- ing coupons and eventually receiving the face of the bonds. Lest there be misunderstanding it ought to be said that fail- ure to buy bonds does not enable one to escape the burden of later taxation, whereas the thrift practised in saving to buy bonds will enable one later to carry the burden of taxation with greater ease. If the bulk of the bonds are bought by that portion of the people whose incomes are above two thousand dollars and if the bulk of the taxes are paid by such persons in the form of in- come, inheritance, excess profits and corporation taxes, the bur- den of the war debt will be wiped out in the process of paying themselves with taxes that come from their own pockets. The real sacrifice in such case is made in buying the bond, not in paying it off. If the country can stand the burden in war-time, it need not worry about the load of debt in years of peace. The claims of the citizens against the government can be offset by the government’s claims for taxes against the citizens and the obligations will cancel each other. The nation need not break down under the economic strain. Excluding the cost of collec- tion, every dollar that is taken from the citizens after the war to pay the debt will be returned to the citizens. There will be no drain upon the country’s resources of a wasting sort such as is experienced during the war. When the war is over its cost in money to the country as a whole will have been paid. Clear- ing off the debt involves a redistribution of a portion of the com- munity’s wealth among the bondholders and taxpayers, not a reduction of the country’s assets. Political sagacity and balanced economic judgment in dis- tributing the burden of taxation will be the prime essential in the debt-paying period. The system of taxes then especially should be constructed with keen attention to those sound prin- ciples of finance that will least interfere with the fruitful de- PAYING THE COST OF WAR 429 velopment of the nation’s economic strength and most nearly meet the demands of equity and justice. Looking at the question from another point of view, a com- parison of the interests of the soldier and the civilian makes the choice between the policies of borrowing or taxation a matter of importance. The soldier has left his business and prospects of economic advancement to defend his country. The civilian at home enjoying in many cases increased opportunities ought to bear the money cost of the war. It is the least that he can do. While it is true as indicated above that ultimately the dif- ference between bonds and taxes is not as great as is commonly supposed, nevertheless the bond method carries the possibility of disadvantage to the soldier. When he leaves the ranks of fighting men he may find himself conscripted into the army of taxpayers who will be obliged to pay off these bonds at a later date. Every claim of fairness, decency and patriotism demands that the civilians shoulder the financial load now by taxing themselves to cover the largest practicable portion of the war expense, willingly yielding their money as others are offering what is of infinitely greater value. No one should think of ad- mitting to himself that he would prefer a bond to a tax receipt if the bond meant that in later years some one-armed hero would have to pay more for his taxed tobacco in order to pay interest on the bond. Cutting the coupons from such a bond would blister the owner’s fingers. Admitting, as has been done, that bonds are an indispensable adjunct to war finance under existing conditions, nevertheless the soldier has the right to call upon the civilian to pay taxes to the utmost while the war is on so that broken men will not come back to share in paying the money cost of that for which they have already paid in pain and sacrifice while they reflect with bitterness upon the ingratitude of civilian slackers. In their effect upon the saving that turns men and materials from individual to national service bonds and taxes will differ with individuals. Persons who could not well be reached by taxes will find the appeal of the bondseller convincing, while others need the compulsion of taxation to make them change their habits of consumption and release for the public good what they have usually consumed in private enjoyment. The feeling that the bond is an investment leaves many owners with the idea that they have provided for their future and may therefore spend freely in the present. They forget that bonds are but the evidence of postponed taxation. On the other hand, the tax- payer is subject to no illusion. He knows what has happened 430 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY and, finding himself deprived of his money, is in a mood to restore his depleted assets by saving. He is more open to the appeal for patriotic thrift than is the complacent bondbuyer who has parted with anything like the same amount of money. It is al- together probable that the pressure of taxation is more likely to bring home to the thick-skinned the need for private economy than is the opportunity for the purchase of bonds. The relative effect of the two methods of finance upon the level of prices is closely connected with their effect upon saving. If bond buyers paid for their securities by cutting down their expenditures and investments, and taxpayers met their tax bills in the same way, the purchasing power of both would be trans- ferred to the government and, so far as demand is concerned, there would be no inflation of prices from either source. De- mand that was formerly private would now become public, but its total would not be increased. Its direction would be changed and prices of commodities needed in relation to national de- fence would be raised while other goods would fall off in sales. Such changes are not to be called inflation. They are part of the process of turning the forces of production from non-war to war industries and are necessary as long as the government does not resort to a policy of industrial conscription and the civilians hang back in the readjustment of their lives, while they cheer on the boys who are offering theirs to the country; the civilians who keep the home fires burning under the flesh-pots of their old desires. While it is conceivable that neither bond issues nor tax- ation necessarily leads to inflation, it is probable that in practise bonds lend themselves more readily to produce such a condition than do taxes. What is inflation? Ordinarily an increase in purchasing power comes from an increase in the production of different types of goods. These can be sold and the money received used to buy other goods. That is to say the increased demand for goods arises simultaneously with an increased supply, the two offset each other and the price-level is kept about as before. When a good harvest enables the farmers to send agricultural products to the cities as demand for factory-made goods and the enlarged supply of factory products makes an increased de- mand for the farmers’ output, brisk business may be transacted with no particular change in the price level and with an in- crease in general well being. The food sent in by farmers as “demand” for implements helps to create the supply of imple- ments, while the implements sent out to the country as “ de- PAYING THE COST OF WAR 431 mand” for food aid in the production of the supply of food. On the other hand, the essence of inflation is the creation of purchasing power or ‘‘demand” without the creation at the same time of goods or “supply.” Enlarged “demand” arising outside the current productive processes is not balanced by greater “supply” and the pressure of an increased buying power upon the ordinary stock of goods drives the general price- level upward to an inflated stage. The agency through which purchasing power may be thus abnormally swollen is credit, either in the form of paper money issued by a government or loans by commercial banks on secu- rities based on something else than saleable commodities already in the channels of trade. When a government issues its paper money it goes into the market and uses its notes to buy in competition with and in ad- dition to the buying power of its citizens without increasing the amount of goods to be sold. Thereupon prices move upward. The issue of paper money is an indication of weakness and is in fact a stride toward suspension of specie payment. The metal standard money is supplanted by the new paper. From then on prices are expressed in the paper standard. The value of this money changes with the prospect of its redemption in coin so that the new high level of prices moves up when the prospect of redemption is lessened and down as the outlook improves, as has been pointed out earlier. In the second case when the inflation comes as a result of extensions of bank credit it may be brought about by the issue of bank notes or by the granting of deposit accounts against which checks may be drawn. The current level of prices in nor- mal times is adjusted to conditions in which bank loans are made freely on credit paper arising out of commercial transac- tions that have but a short time to run. Increasing the volume of loans of this character does not inflate prices because the in- crease in purchasing power made available merely meets need for it due to the greater supply of saleable goods. When, how- ever, commercial banks, that can safely lend their credit only to facilitate commerce in the form of short-time loans, begin to lend on securities that do not arise out of current buying and selling such as government bonds or other types of investment such as constantly renewed notes of governments or investors, the dangey of inflation is at hand. The purchasing power that is thus created abnormally increases the power to demand goods with no accompanying increase in the supply of saleable com- modities and the price level rises. The process amounts to coin- 432 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY ing capital into money. It acts as would a huge addition of gold to the existing stock of money if it could be made without an ex- penditure other than the stroke of a pen. It lowers the value of the standard and hence raises the price level. These extensions of credit do not cause higher prices; rather they permit the powerful war demand to express itself in more compelling terms in attempting to call for quicker and greater production of essential articles. More dollars are offered as a premium for speed and volume of output. The value of dollars thus falls in relation to goods and the new relation is expressed by the inflation to a higher level of prices that spreads over the whole field of buying and selling with all the painful adjust- ments that are involved. The evil is an unnecessary one and adds to the cost of the war by raising still more the prices that the government must pay for supplies; prices that are high enough for unavoidable reasons of increased cost of production without adding inflated credit to the list, and these higher prices mean heavier issues of bonds or more taxes. Eventually the taxpayers have to foot the bills when the bonds are redeemed after the inflation has subsided in time of peace, and the prices of labor and commodities are lower. It has been authoritatively estimated that the inflation of prices due to the greenbacks of the Civil War made the war cost the taxpayers $600,000,000 more than it would have cost had the country kept itself on a specie basis. The inflation due to bank credit is similar in its consequence. Because bonds lend themselves to this type of extension of credit, their existence in large amounts tends to inflate prices. They have even been used directly in the purchase of commod- ities when business houses in a mistaken spirit of patriotism have offered to accept them in exchange for goods. While as stated before it is to be conceded that bond issues do not necessarily lead to inflation and a higher level of prices, it is so easy to tread this primrose path to torment that the pros- pect is sufficient to make a restraint upon unnecessary bond issues of real importance. Another problem of some complexity is emerging with each additional issue of bonds and is certain to become more serious if borrowing is given too large a place in our war finance. The threatening trouble arises from the fact that the rate of interest offered on bonds is below the market value of loanable funds to many investors, on the one hand, while, on the other, it is not pos- sible to increase the rate without creating a form of investment that would jead to serious and disturbing competition with sav- PAYING THE COST OF WAR 433 ings-banks deposits and investment securities, to say nothing about the great increase in the eventual burden upon taxpayers. There are indeed many persons to whom the bonds at the pres- ent rate are attractive as investments and many others whose patriotism can be counted upon to make the financial sacrifice involved in buying the government securities whatever the rate of interest. If the rate of interest is to be kept down the bond issues should be held within the limits of the purchasing power of these classes and taxes be relied upon to make this possible. Taxes laid upon business would tend to lessen the excess gains of industry and hence act somewhat as a restraint upon the rate offered for loanable funds for industrial and commercial pur- poses. If there were less opportunity for huge war profits bor- rowers for business extensions would not offer such high rates of interest on capital, with the consequence that the government and business generally would not be compelled to borrow upon such unusual terms in competition with abnormally stimulated types of industry and trade. Increasing the proportion of war revenue from taxes and lessening the amount raised by bond issues will thus make it easier to sell bonds at a moderate rate of interest and enable us to avoid an injurious disturbance of values in the field of savings and investment that would add to the burdens of the war. The outstanding conclusion in this consideration of some of the principles of war finance is that the costs of war in men, ma- terial and money are present costs that cannot be saddled on the future. Pay-as-you-go taxation is the logical way to carry the pres- ent money cost, but it is impracticable as the sole method be- cause it does not yield fast enough and has never been suf- ficiently developed to reach fully individual capacity to pay. It must be combined with bond sales to get at once the desired re- sults. The latter yield large sums because of their appeal to patriotism and personal profit. The latter idea of an invest- ment with a net return is true for the individual when the bond- holder is not obliged to pay proportionate taxes later for the redemption of the bond. In case he must do so the bond is not in reality superior to a tax receipt gotten at once, though it does rank with any other investment whose returns are destined to pay taxes, and all investments now being made are likely sub- jects for future taxation. However, the future is so uncertain and the general run of citizens so little given to looking forward that most people regard the bond as an investment. As a result the psychological strain of raising huge sums is greatly reduced. YOL. VII.—28. 434 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY The bond method in addition allows more latitude in the ad- justment of taxation in and after the war than would be pos- sible in case all expenses were paid by taxation during the con- flict. This possibility of redistributing the financial cost of the war among different persons by the particular system of taxes adopted makes it important to give attention to the types of taxation chosen both during hostilities and when peace comes, in order to make the whole scheme meet the demands of equity and justice. The presumption in favor of vigorous taxation in war-time is strengthened by the patriotic willingness to pay taxes while the struggle is on, by the increased ability to pay of many with enlarged incomes, by the temporary character of some of these larger incomes that makes it desirable that they be reached at once, by the fact that returning soldiers should not be com- pelled to face heavy taxation to pay interest and principal of bonds owned by civilians, by the probability that in many cases taxation is more effective than bonds in leading people to save, and finally that bonds are likely to be the basis of inflated credit which will raise prices, while their excessive issue with the nec- essary higher rate of interest will introduce a disturbing factor in the field of savings and investment. The sum of these considerations of war finance is this: the largest practicable portion of war expenses should be carried by taxation while the war is being fought, and the issue of bonds be kept within the limits set by necessity. ETHICAL VALUE OF SCIENCE 435 THE ETHICAL VALUE OF SCIENCE By Professor E. P. LEWIS UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA HE object of scientific study is to learn all that we can con- aR cerning ourselves and the universe in which we live, with the aid of the senses and reasoning faculties which were pre- sumably given us to use. Such studies can only enhance our devout admiration and respect for the works of the Creator, yet from the earliest times we find that the devotees of religion and of philosophy, whether pagan or Christian, have looked askance upon the scientist and have challenged his conclusions. Plato in his “‘ Republic” voices contempt for scientific studies in the remark: “If any one undertakes to learn anything of sen- sible objects, whether he gape upwards or bellow downwards, never at all shall I say that he learns, for I aver that he has no real knowledge of these things, nor shall I say that his soul looks upwards, but downwards, even though he learn lying on his back, either at land or at sea.” Throughout the Christian era theological dogma has fought a losing fight against the de- velopment of science. To-day the force of this attack is almost spent, but there lingers still in many orthodox minds the hazy belief that the scientist is a materialist who ignores all spiritual values, who is oblivious to beauty in nature, poetry, and art, and whose labors are devoted to devising means for securing material wealth and selfish gratification. Those whose training has been confined to the humanities seem inclined to the view that there was once a golden age when all men were just and generous, enlightened and happy, when religion was pure and undefiled, and that science has destroyed this happy state. Man has eaten of the fruit of the tree of knowledge, The fruit of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste Brought death into the world and all our woe. A recent writer in The Atlantic Monthly holds science largely responsible for the extirpation of culture, and claims that it has challenged the supereminence of religion, has turned philosophy out of doors, has thrown contempt on all learning not dependent on it, and has purchased support by the bribe of material comforts. Some have attributed the great war to the suppression of spiritual values by the influence of science, and 436 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY its horrors to malignant investigators who spend their lives in devising agencies of death and destruction. Usually this is suggested by innuendo rather than by specific allegations. As an example, consider the following statement of Stephen Cole- ridge in the Saturday Review for April 7, 1917: “‘ Science never elevated conduct nor aggravated virtue; it never bade any one sacrifice his life for another nor to lead a forlorn hope; it never illumined charity nor condemned cruelty; its one positive per- fected concrete human production in the modern world is the German.” To the unthinking this rhetorical sophistry produces the effect of a convincing condemnation, whereas all that it really charges is that science has not done certain good things, without specifying any particular evils that it has wrought— except the German by-product. We must remember, however, that the Prussian is not a modern product—that morally he is to-day, in all international relations at least, what he was in the time of Frederick the Great, when there was little science in Prussia. Science has not made him what he is, but it is he who has perverted it to base uses. And what shall we say of the theologians, the clergymen, and the philosophers who have made the Hohenzollern ethics their own? Shall we therefore condemn all philosophy and religion? Coleridge’s statement would be quite as true if we should substitute for the word science the word art or food, neither of which is regarded as antagonistic to the better impulses of human nature. The statement would be quite as true—but how different the implications—if it were worded thus: “Science never degraded conduct nor diminished virtue; it never for- bade any one to sacrifice his life for another nor to lead a for- lorn hope; it never rebuked intelligent charity nor fostered cruelty.” Further, it may be said with truth that science has never burned martyrs at the stake; it has never forbidden the use of the reason given by God to man, nor attempted to throttle human liberty; it has never bribed its disciples with power and wealth; it has never maintained that the end justifies the means nor claimed divine sanction for its evil deeds; it has done none of those things which have made religious dogma so feared and mistrusted that some highly civilized nations do not permit religious instruction in their public schools. We may see all around us the evidence that every implication of Coleridge’s statement is untrue; that science does elevate conduct; that it does cultivate the spirit which causes men to lead forlorn hopes and to sacrifice their lives for others; that its whole influence is to foster the clean, the wholesome, and the good in our social ETHICAL VALUE OF SCIENCE 437 life; that it leads inevitably to the condemnation of cruelty and injustice; and the scientific study of history, with overwhelming evidence gathered from the experimental laboratory of human experience, gives the lie to the doctrine that any individual or state can with impunity violate the ethical laws upon which the safety and happiness of mankind depend. This doctrine has often been defended and put into practice by philosophers, the- ologians, statesmen and those who claim to rule by divine right. It would be impossible to find many scientists of repute throughout human history who inculcated or defended unethical conduct—with one recent exception, when a group of scientists surrendered their reason to a false philosophy of state and ap- pended their names to a famous manifesto likewise signed by theologians, philosophers and lawyers. Many scientists, such as Galileo, have led forlorn hopes in defence of truth. In our own day and own country there have been men who have laid down their lives in the effort to discover through science the way to save their fellow men from suffering and disease; and science is seeking to salvage what it can of life, property and civilization from the holocaust which it had no hand in kindling. I do not wish to cast opprobrium upon true religion, the re- ligion of the Sermon on the Mount, which certainly gives no sanction to persecution or to the doctrine that might makes right. We must make every allowance for the spirit of the times, for ignorant religious zeal, for blind devotion to author- ity; but the fact remains that in all the celebrated cases, such as that of Galileo vs. Urban VIII., or those of Huxley vs. Glad- stone and Huxley vs. Bishop Wilberforce, the balance not only of intellectual honesty, but of the Christian spirit of fairness, was overwhelmingly on the side of the scientists. I believe, moreover, that sober scientific judgment will ultimately con- vince mankind that the religion of the Sermon on the Mount, not that of the Hebrew God or of the Prussian God, is the nec- essary basis of an enduring civilization. This conviction cer- tainly will never come from wrangling over creeds, rituals or articles of faith, nor by keeping such matters as Sunday ob- servance and divorce in the ethical foreground. It has sometimes been suggested—in fact, that was what Coleridge evidently intended to imply in the words quoted— that science is responsible in large measure for the great war and all its horrors. The claim that it contributed in any way to bring about the war is too fantastic to consider, for science has nothing to do with conquest, with commercial exploitation or with upholding the divine rights of dynasties. So far as the 438 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY horrors of war are concerned, it is quite true that many of the results of scientific investigation have been applied to the work of destruction, but they have been so applied, not by scientists themselves, but by those whose position and power rest upon the traditions and the superstitions which science has always challenged. We must remember, moreover, that the same prin- ciples have been used to combat the perverted uses which have been made of them. Nothing can be more unfair than to at- tribute to science the unworthy uses of it that have been made for selfish purposes. It seems sufficiently evident that science is not antagonistic to righteousness, and there is abundant reason to believe that it has a positive ethical value—that it is, indeed, the greatest ethical force of our time. The end of scientific investigation is to discover the truth about all things, so far as man is able to grasp it—the truth concerning not only the material things and phenomena of the universe, but also the truth concerning man’s instincts and impulses and all the relations of human society, and the truth concerning the consequences to mankind of the conduct of men and of states. Religion may and should incul- cate righteous zeal, but this impulse alone, no matter how in- tense and sincere it may be, does not necessarily enable us to distinguish between right and wrong, and may even make us all the more zealous in wrong-doing. To make an ethical de- cision we must see all the relations of the subject to ourselves and our fellow men, and see them disinterestedly, without prej- udice and without regard to authority and tradition. This is a mental attitude which is essentially scientific, and which is con- sistently developed by scientific studies alone. As an illustra- tion, let me mention my own early experience. In the southern states slavery was regarded as having divine sanction. Any teacher or preacher who taught otherwise was ostracized or banished. For years after the civil war this tradition survived, and I was taught and believed that the abolitionists had thwarted the purposes of God. While still a boy various scien- tific books fell into my hands. Not one of them mentioned slavery or considered any ethical questions, but they quickly brought about a change in my mental attitude which caused me to see that slavery was wholly bad—a wrong to the enslaved and evil in all its effects upon the slave holders—not bad from any « priori consideration, but because human experience had proved it to be so. Blindly its defenders had taken their stand on the ground of moral principle, when a searching self-analysis would surely have convinced them that the only consideration ETHICAL VALUE OF SCIENCE 439 which determined their attitude was that of material self- interest; and a very short-sighted self-interest, overlooking the ultimate decadence of their civilization. John C. Calhoun, who received his early teaching from a Presbyterian minister, and who later received a classical and legal education, wrote: ‘‘ We regard slavery as the most stable basis for free institutions in the world,” and Judge Harper’s legal training led him to the conclusion that “‘ Nothing is more evident than that the insti- tution of slavery is the cause of civilization.” It would be im- possible to imagine a man of scientific training making such palpably absurd statements as these. The fact is that no civil- ization tolerating slavery has ever endured; and that, in the words of John Stuart Mill, “slavery is incompatible with any high state of the arts of life and with any great efficiency of labor.” Science did not flourish in the south—it is impossible to imagine that science and slavery could continue to coexist in the same community—but orthodox religions and classical scholarship have found nothing uncongenial in such associa- tion. It is well for us to ponder over such historical facts. There probably exist to-day among us evils as great as that of slavery. Our religious scruples are too easily overcome by self- interest ; but science may open our eyes to the dangers that con- front us. Notwithstanding the lamentations of many that this is a ‘degenerate age, when faced with the facts every one must ad- mit that during the past thirty years there has been an immense improvement in the ethical standards of society. The political spellbinder has lost his grip; politics has in some measure been purified; official corruption has diminished; the standards of efficiency of our public officials have been raised; for the first time in our history the application of ethical principles to busi- ness affairs has made a little headway; we are beginning to question the perfection of our legal procedure; a new sense of civic responsibility and of our duty to our fellow men has been created, and we are acquiring new and higher ideals of pa- triotism and of international relations. This can hardly be the result of religious training, for this is generally acknowledged to have lost much of its efficacy; and furthermore, on the whole the influence of religious organizations has been conservative in all social and economic matters. They seem to consider that the antiquity of an institution or belief endows it with a vested ethical right to continued existence. It is probably more than a mere coincidence that the awakening from our moral stagna- tion began with the sudden increase of opportunities for edu- 440 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY cation in high schools and colleges and the general introduction of scientific studies into these institutions. None of the formal sciences undertakes the consideration of ethical questions, but the common aim of all the sciences is to discover the truth, re- gardless of tradition, authority, prejudice or personal interest. The habit of mind thus acquired can hardly fail to influence conduct in all social relations. I believe that Huxley’s words are profoundly true: ‘It is becoming less and less possible for the man who puts his faith in scientific methods of ascertain- ing truth, and is accustomed to have that faith justified by daily experience, to be consciously false to his principles in any matter.” To illustrate, scientists are rarely political partisans. Probably none could be found who would approve the giving of public office as a reward for political service, and this not be- cause of any special virtue, but because their mental habits cause them to see clearly the evils of such a system. It is the rule rather than the exception that politicians of the highest Christian professions, or with predominantly classical and legal training, defend or tolerate this practise. No doubt pre- scribed courses in science would do much to purify the political atmosphere. It would surely promote the administration of justice to give every lawyer a sound scientific training. Can any one doubt that scientific methods of obtaining evidence would be more effective than those followed by the courts? Would it not be better for society if the prosecuting attorney and the at- torney for the defence should have the common aim of ascer- taining the exact facts in each case, with a view to obtaining a just application of the law, rather than to have the former de- termined to convict, and admitting only those facts which will help to convict, while the latter is even more determined to make use of every possible technicality or perversion of the facts in order that his client may escape merited punishment? How strange and wholly unscientific the logic by which the op- posing lawyers can from identical premises deduce precisely opposite conclusions! Economics is called a science, but it would seem that it might employ scientific methods more extensively with profit. There is probably some ground for the suspicion that this gen- eration is fettered with economic dogmas as past generations were fettered with religious dogmas. It seems to me that the accepted laws of economics are fundamentally unscientific in so far as they give only partial recognition to the feelings which determine human conduct and to the influence of the ETHICAL VALUE OF SCIENCE 441 conduct of individuals or of classes upon the general welfare of society. Political economy does not sufficiently take into ac- count the qualities which differentiate men from the lower an- imals, and which should be recognized in any scientific study of the economic relations of men to each other—or rather, it makes a differentiation wholly in favor of the lower animals by as- suming that man is dominated solely by a selfishness rarely found among brutes and a greed for material possessions which they wholly lack. As a result men of naturally good impulses are sometimes swayed from their better impulses under the compulsion of what they are told are inexorable laws of nature. To justify this impression, let me quote an early definition by John Stuart Mill: Political economy is concerned with man only as a being who desires to possess wealth. . . . It makes abstraction of every other human passion or motive. . . . It considers mankind as occupied solely in acquiring and consuming wealth. Walker summarizes the attitude of the English school of econ- omists in these words: The end of wealth man never fails to desire with a steady, uniform, constant passion. Of every other human passion or motive political econ- omy makes entire abstraction. Love of country, love of honor, love of friends, love of learning, love of art, pity, shame, religion, charity, will never, so far as political economy cares to take into account, withstand the efforts of the economic man to amass wealth. It would seem that the economic man is not a very desirable citizen. Mill later in his life rose to a higher level in his ‘‘ Prin- ciples of Political Economy,” which is a social philosophy giv- ing some weight to the considerations which affect the highest welfare of society. There is probably a wide diversity of opin- ion among economists of the present day, but I am’‘under the impression that teachers and leaders in business and law-mak- ing usually adhere to the principles set forth in Walker’s sum- mary. If these are indeed the principles which have governed the economic life of civilized countries, we need not wonder at the industrial and economic ills which seem to grow more acute as the years go by and the crowding of population makes the individual more and more dependent upon his fellows for op- portunities of existence, development and happiness. Perhaps a more comprehensive scientific view—one which this war has already done much to advance—may some day give us a polit- ical economy which has for its end the welfare of society at large rather than that of the limited class of individuals who control the means of production and can at will increase their 442 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY wealth at the expense of the majority of mankind. This new political economy may convince us that the principle of laissez faire leads to anarchy, that the law of supply and demand may be controlled to man’s uses as we control the law of gravitation, and that only those are worthy of liberty who are ready to make a free-will offering of it on the altar of social welfare. In less enlightened times science was attacked because it contradicted what was regarded as divine revelation. The most orthodox will now admit that science was right in regard to these questions, but many still maintain that it is antagonistic to spirituality and beauty. If this is true, it must be because spirituality and beauty are attributes of supernaturalism, not of naturalism—because nature is ugly and sordid, so that only violations of natural law can make a legitimate appeal to man’s nobler feelings. It is true that scientists study material things, but they are a part of the universe. Does God repent having made this universe? If so, why does he not destroy it as an unclean thing? If mind and soul are not degraded by their residence in the material body, why should it be considered de- grading to study that body? Of late much scandal among the godly has been created by the speculations of some scientists as to the possibility that mental processes are direct consequences of physical and chemical changes. This is still an open ques- tion, but it is difficult to see why it has any more religious bear- ing than the Copernican theory, to which the churches have be- come reconciled. Behind these physical and chemical changes there is a first cause—call it God if you will—which no human mind can fathom or explain. It seems rather rash to assume that the powers of this God are so limited that he could not make a self-directing universe in which thoughts and emotions are determined by the interplay of atoms, as our bodily move- ments are directed by muscular contractions. Surely such a creator would deserve more admiration than would one who had bunglingly constructed a universe te which he must con- stantly lend a hand to keep it going. Although the scientist studies material things, there is perhaps no other class of men so unworldly, so little diverted from their life work by the temp- tations of wealth or power, idle pleasures or bodily comfort. No man is more impatient than he with narrow views concern- ing practicality or with the notion that the chief end of science is the invention of machines or industrial processes for man’s material comfort and aggrandizement. The boundaries of science will always be enlarged by spe- cialists who will in many cases be so engrossed in their work ETHICAL VALUE OF SCIENCE 443 that they may be justly criticized for narrowness—but we often find specialists in art, literature and religion who are likewise deficient in Greek symmetry. Nevertheless, the scientists will always receive more censure, because his narrowness is not so like the narrowness of the average man as that of the workers in other fields, who are concerned with things more specifically human. But the good to humanity at large, which is our chief concern, comes not from the training of the specialist, but from the residual effects of various subjects upon the minds and conduct of those who study them. Certainly we must grant that the humane studies, which touch most closely upon man’s intercourse with his fellows and with his esthetic enjoyments, are the indispensable basis of a sound education, but much of man’s capacity for using his reason in the problems affecting his own life, including ethical problems, will surely be lost with- out some acquaintance, not so much with the facts of science, as with the method by which science attains demonstrated truth. Many of the opinions and institutions which society has: in- herited must be taken with a grain of salt. Science is the sav- ing salt; but it does not follow, because a little salt is a good thing, that a diet exclusively of salt will be better. In this discussion it has been necessary to refer to some of the limitations of formal religion, which claims the custodian- ship of ethics, and of the humane studies which make spir- ituality and beauty their aim, for the purpose of showing that science may be of help to both in realizing their ideals of the true, the beautiful, and the good. There has been no intention to decry genuine religion or to deny the fundamental impor- tance of humane studies. The necessary basis of the most ef- fective education must be the studies concerned with immediate human relations, the rules of conduct, the languages, the liter- atures, the arts, which spiritualize and beautify our lives and enable us to share them richly with others. But we can not ex- clude science with impunity, for if we do we shall surely lose much of the significance of the humane studies, and we shall fail to establish the highest criterions of conduct unless we see clearly the truths and understand the relationships which it di- rectly or indirectly puts us into the attitude to perceive. The past has bequeathed to us a precious heritage of thought and of beauty, and among those long dead are many whose intel- lectual and spiritual authority will live for all time; but we have also inherited traditions which fetter our minds and souls, and institutions which weigh heavily upon us. Each generation must challenge the validity of the beliefs and institutions which 444 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY the past would impose upon it, and they must justify their claims to continued existence. The humane studies make us familiar with the treasures of the past, but they also sometimes render us unduly subservient to authority and tradition. Sci- ence inculcates the questioning and discriminating spirit; it respects no tradition that does not justify itself to reason, and listens to no authority which can not demonstrate its validity. It cultivates the open mind which is ready to accept new truths and the discriminating mind which presents their too hasty ac- ceptance. Most people who have had some scientific training will quickly forget the details of the sciences they have studied, but the effect of the scientific method upon their minds will rarely be completely effaced. This method is simple and direct, and makes no use of the dialectic subtleties with which law- yers, theologians and philosophers have so often deluded them- selves and their disciples. Many great humanists have recognized the important part played by science in the ethical development of civilization. In “ The Hope of the Great Community’”’ Royce writes: Some motives which tend to render the genuine Pauline charity, the genuine love of the unity of the great community to which all civilized men may, when enlightened, consciously belong—such motives, I say, have been furthered by the arts, the industries, the sciences and the social develop- ments of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries as thousands of years of previous activity have never furthered them. . . . How far reaching the abundant phases of human life are tending to become under the influence of those humane arts and sciences which of late have so successfully com- bated disease and brought together nations and men who once could not in the least feel their brotherhood. Matthew Arnold was not over-partial to science, and rendered great service in criticizing the over-zealous claims of some of its adherents, but he clearly saw its place in liberal culture. He wrote: Hard unintelligence must be supplied and reduced by culture, by a growth in the variety, freshness, and sweetness of our spiritual life; and this end can only be reached by studying things that lie outside ourselves, and by studying them disinterestedly. Let us unite ourselves with our bet- ter mind and with the world through science. Religion and philosophy, literature and art, history and science, each in due proportion plays its part in the intellectual and moral development by which alone we can understand and express the best that is ourselves and in the world. Each helps to show the path of wisdom, righteousness and fruitful living to him who seeks it, but none of them can help him who lacks the desire or the will to do right. Granted this inclina- ETHICAL VALUE OF SCIENCE 445 tion, I believe that the habit of mind which is developed by scientific studies is at least as important an ethical agency as the others, and I am inclined to think that in the present stage of civilization it is the most important. The scientist has the same human failings as other people; he may have no better in- tentions nor be no more righteous-minded than they; but he can sometimes act more intelligently in carrying out his good inten- tions. Science teaches us to seek the truth without prejudice; it develops the habit of disinterestedness; it leads us to con- sider all known elements in making ethical judgments; it prompts us to seek the amelioration of the health, the well- being, the happiness, of our fellow men; it diverts our vision from the fruitless contemplation of a past in which we can play no part to the present wherein lies our task; and it bids us to consider the future and the welfare of generations still unborn. The humanist seeks to perpetuate the wisdom and beauty of the past, and in doing this he renders no mean service; but he is apt to depreciate the present and to despair of the future, to forget that it is the task of each new generation to winnow the chaff from the gathered harvest and to plant the seed for new harvests. With the mutual sympathy and united efforts of humanism and science, civilization, firmly rooted in the past, may grow unhampered to its full fruition. When this war is over it will be in a large measure the mis- sion of science to rebuild a shattered civilization. It will re- store the industries of nations; it will house the homeless, feed the hungry and cure the sick. But it will be even more potent in healing the deep-seated ills of society which are the conse- quences of past social misconduct, whether innocent or mali- cious. Good intentions and religious training, unaided by un- derstanding, will not carry us far. Whatever good may come from prayer, intelligent men prefer to have their ailments treated by a physician who seeks the causes and cures of dis- ease in a scientific manner, or the firm-handed surgeon whose knowledge of anatomy enables him to remove cancerous growths without killing the patient. It will be the task of men of scien- tific training or of scientific spirit to heal the wounds which have been wrought by the duplicities of statesmanship, by the selfishness of privileged classes, and by false philosophies and religions, and to remove malignant economic growths by rad- ical operations. It is, I believe, the highest mission of science to contribute its part to the training of such men. The ob- jective by-products of science, such as the telephone and the automobile, seem to me to be of relatively little importance; but 446 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY its subjective influence on man’s intellect and conduct is of the highest consequence. In universal scientific training in this larger sense lies the hope of democracy. Science has much to contribute to the happiness of the world in a material way, and it is right that it should be encouraged in this work. No doubt the lessons of the war will convince our government, our educational institutions, and our industrial organizations that too much can not be done to stimulate the material applications of science. But there is a real danger that too much stress may be laid on these material aspects of research, which are not science, but only its by-products. Com- petent investigators should not only be provided with facilities for their work, but they should be absolutely unhampered by any demand that their researches should be of immediate prac- tical utility ; and it is equally important for the interests of so- ciety that teachers of science should lay more emphasis upon its intellectual and ethical significance. Much of the ineffective- ness of scientific teaching in this country, its failure to inspire interest and to win respect, is undoubtedly due to laying too much stress on its practical, vocational, or narrowly scientific aspects, rather than on its humanistic side. There is a materialism which in every age, especially: dur- ing times of great prosperity, has insidiously weakened the mental and moral fiber of mankind—a materialism of wealth, of self-indulgence, of inordinate luxury. This materialism thrives on modern industrialism, but it has an economic rather than a scientific basis, although science is often held respon- sible for its defects, because scientific discoveries have had such a wide industrial application. The primary object of applied science is not to create wealth for individuals, but to lessen the hardships, cure the bodily ills, and increase the legitimate com- fort and happiness of mankind at large. If this is materialism the good Samaritan was a materialist. An unscientific pclitical economy has made it possible for individuals to prevent the general diffusion of these benefits, to acquire fortunes which have in no sense been really earned by bodily or mental effort, and to bring about a condition of industrial servitude which can only result in a social upheaval unless it is corrected. It would be well if religion, humanism and science, with a sym- pathetic mutual understanding, would join in a united and un- ceasing attack upon this materialism, which is their common enemy. Wealth has its worthy uses, but selfish greed for riches and power blinds man’s spiritual eyes and causes him to strive for ETHICAL VALUE OF SCIENCE 447 sordid and ignoble ends. Some scientists, in common with other human beings, have limited vision; but at the worst this vision is not directed to ignoble things and their aims are not selfish. They do not deny the existence or depreciate the value of the human attributes and aspirations which defy analysis in their laboratories. The aim of the scientist is to see clearly that which is, even though he cannot explain it; and he sees that the wages of sin is death for the individual or the state; that in mankind there is an instinct for the good, a reverence for self-sacrifice and moral heroism, for mercy and magnanim- ity, which is rarely completely suppressed in the worst of men; that men will die for immaterial ideals, and that the mysterious thing called beauty exercises a potent and wholesome influence over mankind. How these things came about and whither they tend he can not tell, but he knows that they are as real as the laws of mechanics, and that he, like other men, is swayed by them. Intent upon his daily task, the individual scientist is hardly conscious that he has a creed, and could with difficulty define the forces which drive him. But there is a strong impelling force behind his activity. It is not a conscious ethical force, but neither is it a desire for wealth, popularity or power, nor for any wider recognition than that accorded by his fellow workers. This force is surely something more than idle curios- ity ; there is in it an element of devotion and of self-sacrifice, an impelling desire to contribute to the ultimate good of humanity in more than a material sense. Were he driven to make his aspirations articulate, he might formulate them in words not very different from those of St. Augustine: Let us not leave thee alone to make in the secret of thy knowledge, as thou didst before the creation of the firmament, the division of light from darkness; let the children of thy spirit, placed in their firmament, make their light shine upon the earth, mark the division of night and day, and announce the revolution of the times. The old order is passed, the new arises; the night is spent, the day is come forth; and thou shalt crown the year with thy blessing, when thou shalt send forth laborers into thy harvest sown by other hands than theirs, when thou shalt send forth new laborers to new seed times, whereof the harvest shalt be not yet. 448 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY THE PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION By Dr. P. G. NUTTING DUCATION covers the span of life from the cradle to the grave. Impressions are received in bits and blocks in an endless stream. Some of these pass almost at once into ob- livion, leaving the merest trace in our minds. Other impres- — sions, stimulating more or less interest through partial or an- ticipated connection with something already in our minds, are seized upon, inspected and then, if found true and worthy, tagged and pigeon-holed with other associated impressions. An occasional new impression of unusual strength will dom- inate a whole group of old impressions. The mind then makes abstracts (ideas) of groups of im- pressions to connect with abstracts of other groups. The best measure of mentality is probably this tendency to interconnect and abstract the essential ideas in a wide variety of other ideas and groups of impressions. And mentality in this sense is a measure of the degree of education in an individual. The impressions of an infant are limited to those received from its immediate surroundings. During school days, the mind receives and assimilates ideas from farther afield not as- sociated with desire or discomfort. Later on, in high school and college days, the mind likes and readily assimilates groups of abstract related ideas and even probes the infinite and un- knowable. In middle life, the dominant interest lies in the practical problems of everyday life. The field of our activities is our school and the newspaper and magazine our text-books. The mind demands fresh facts and new ideas. In later life, after the details of most minor problems have become familiar, interest turns once more to general principles and larger prob- lems, details are reduced to routine when possible. In short, education is as long and as broad as our lives. National welfare requires that it be recognized and treated as such. What we now call education is a mere generalization of parental instruction covering the period of most active interest in the most abstract ideas. Real education in the interest of the nation should be such as to develop and bring into action all the latent possibilities in every individual. Whatever our useful activities at any period of our lives, we should be con- tinually receiving and assimilating new ideas with both bodies and minds fresh and active, with a code of ethics firmly estab- lished and a philosophy of life equal to any emergency. PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 449 In our present system of education, the responsibility of the nation to the individual is recognized for that part of the individual’s mental education which he ordinarily receives from text-books. No attempt is made to instruct him or even to supervise his instruction in later life. He obtains by expe- rience and the experience of others gleaned from chance con- versation, from newspapers, magazines and from books such information and ideas as may better fit him or unfit him for his work and his share in the government. The value of knowl- edge gained in this manner is not to be decried, but it might be made much less casual than it is; the nation might at least see to it that false information and false doctrines are not dissem- inated and that no inquiring mind goes unsatisfied. The physical education of its citizens has been left almost entirely to chance by nearly all nations, although physical strength and fitness are very important factors in the work of every one. The play and work of their daily lives, together with a casual indulgence in sports on the part of a few, make up the physical training of the masses. Considering its great value to the nation, it would appear advisable to encourage athletic sports, to provide numerous leaders for the specific purpose of encouraging athletic contests and getting all, even the modest, into the fields, golf links and tennis courts. The great value of universal military drill in strengthening the physique of the young adult is beyond question. For the moral education of its citizens, the nation assumes no responsibility whatever. The code of ethics of the average individual is partly instinctive, but largely the product of home influence supplemented by that of one’s associates. Various churches and Sunday schools essay the great task of looking after the morals of the public, but reach comparatively few in any vital manner. It must be admitted that their appeal. to the public is not very general, partly on account of the nature of the material taught and partly on account of the methods used. Thethought of possible punishment or reward ina future life are neither necessary nor sufficient to direct the activities of the average individual. As a matter of fact, the strongest force influencing behavior is the instinctive desire to attain the respect and esteem of our associates. We know that in an hour we may, by improper conduct, lose the respect which required months or even years to build up and are careful accordingly. By hard experience we obtain knowledge of the safe limits of conduct and by gen- eralization build up codes of morals, ethics and etiquette to gov- VOL. VII.—29. 450 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY ern our actions on future occasions much as a professional man builds up a knowledge of the fundamental principles used in his profession. The individual who does his best and lives up to his best is sure of the respect of his associates, and since that respect is a criterion for correct behavior it is necessary and sufficient that we strive to attain and retain that respect. Having pleasure and attaining happiness and contentment are by some con- sidered proper and sufficient objectives in behavior, but such motives and criteria are neither necessary nor sufficient in all cases. . Correct education in morals, ethics and manners consists in the formation of codes which, if followed, will lead to the continued and increasing respect of one’s fellows. The great school of such education must ever be the complex activities of daily life. The lessons drawn from such activities, the funda- mental principles involved, are the vital part of such education. What those lessons and deductions shall be is determined largely by the nature of previous mental reactions to somewhat sim- ilar conditions, hence results are strongly cumulative, correct or incorrect deductions are rapidly built into the structure and are difficult tormodify later. As stated, our codes of behavior are chiefly the result of our reactions to conditions of daily life. These are supplemented by lessons drawn from history, from fiction and at the present time, to a considerable extent, from motion-picture drama. Fiction and drama are nominally at least under state and na- tional supervision. It is conceivable to even conservative minds that the nation might well exercise such control as would safe- guard the general welfare or might even take steps to promul- gate proper ideas and ideals. Possibly teachers of morals and ethics could be provided to conduct schools of morality and ethics for immature minds. The greatest teacher of morals of all times taught largely by parables and this method is second to none. In essence, it is instruction by the study of practical moral problems. Tendencies in education at the present time are decidedly toward the objectives outlined above. High-school and college curricula are being pruned and modified to eliminate the less desirable in favor of the more useful studies. Those past school age and those whose duties do not permit school attendance are being reached by university extension courses and by corre- spondence schools. Certain colleges and universities are in favor with certain prospective students on account of the PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 451 superior opportunities offered in athletics, that is physical edu- cation as such is in demand. Technical schools are multiply- ing in numbers and improving in quality. Universal military training is being seriously considered. However, there has yet been no attempt at systematic general moral education nor any connected effort to instill the principles of industry or morality in our schools. Taking it for granted that such instruction is in the interest of the general welfare, fundamental principles should be worked out and taught by example and the study of practical problems. The interrelations between mental, physical and moral edu- cation and general well being are well known, but rarely taken cognizance of and never made use of for definite ends. An active, healthy, well-trained body is no inconsiderable asset to the intellectual worker and an important factor in good morals. Athletic training and contests make for fair mindedness, pa- tience and the faculty of concentrated effort. The height at- tained by Greek civilization is in no small measure attributed to the out-of-door life and fondness for athletic sports of the average Greek citizen. The value of sound morals and a sound philosophy of life on the general welfare of individuals and of a nation needs no argument. On the other hand, the value of the average college education to the average citizen is frankly questioned by many and not without reason. The defect in a poor academic education lies in its being a mere accumulation of knowledge; it fails to give that command of fundamental principles that comes only through research and the solution of numerous practical problems. Even the average college edu- cation, however, generally leads to a considerably enhanced ability and national tendency to “see straight and think straight,” that is it tends to eliminate delusions of all kinds. A good education results in increased knowledge, training and activity; along mental, physical and moral lines in its broadest aspect or in some limited field at its narrowest. Many of our great and useful citizens, by unstinted activity and through wide experience in practical problems, have made good in every sense of the word without any academic training. Mere breadth and depth of knowledge is of least avail, teachers and clerks generally are well supplied with it, but without first- hand knowledge of first principles and strong incentives to apply them, never make much progress. However, the gap between academic and industrial life, formerly so wide and deep, is now rapidly narrowing. In many industries college men are preferred as factory superintendents on account of 452 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY their clearer vision and lack of bias, while on the other hand our universities and scientific societies are coming into closer and closer touch with industry. Many of our best teachers of professional subjects are men who have become experts by practical work. With education at its best, every field of in- struction in every institution of higher learning should be dom- inated by an expert having a thorough command of funda- mental principles gained by research or practical work or both. The Education of the Expert.—The interests of the public and of the nation will be served if all important problems, public as well as private, are in the hands of experts for solu- tion. In administration, legislation, the public health service, agriculture, all branches of engineering, commerce and educa- tion, practical problems are continually arising and upon the correct solution of these problems depends the welfare of many individuals and even of the nation itself. The engineer applies fundamental principles to practical problems and to insure progress by the elimination of rule-of-thumb methods requires good engineering practise all along the line. In some fields present practise closely approaches all that it might be, in others almost barbaric incompetence is the rule. Our supply of possible experts is ample, our methods of training them produce good results, although open to much criticism, but our methods of getting the right men into the right places are woe- fully inadequate and costly. The older economics recognized two chief factors in indus- trial welfare, labor and capital. It is now coming to be recog- nized that there are not two, but three, of these important fac- tors—capital, the trained expert and labor. Without the expert neither capital nor labor can exist to-day for very long in any of the greater industries. He is neither a capitalist nor a mere laborer, but a solver of problems to clear away obstructions and open up new fields of activity. Industries to-day must progress or perish and advances can be made only by the application of organized administrators, engineers, chemists or other profes- sional men. It behooves us therefore to use every effort to im- prove the quality and increase the number of our trained experts. Statistics show that genius knows no caste. Men of great achievements originate in all classes in about equal percentages —they can not be bred. If eugenics plays a part, its influence is greatly overshadowed by other factors. Getting the right start and then giving fuil play to one’s bent are the vital factors in developing capacity for great achievement. The right kind PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 453 of education helps all along the line, in the proper choice of life work, in the preparation for that work and in the development of special ability for advanced work. There are doubtless plenty of individuals capable of very much greater achievement had they but sufficient incentive to overcome their natural modesty, indolence or caution and the proper educational facil- ities for obtaining the knowledge required and technical skill in its use. In early youth, before he begins to specialize, probably the best mental education for the future expert is not very different from that now generally received in this country, namely, an accumulation of abstract knowledge with training in the three R’s. His physical education also is probably not subject to much improvement beyond a more universal indulgence in more out-of-door sports and games. But his moral, ethical and psychical education falls far short of what it might be. Be- tween the ages of about ten and seventeen he reasons out what is worth striving for in life, forms his code of conduct, and sets up a scale of relative values in possible achievement. At this stage he is very sensitive to external influences, since such influ- ences are strongly cumulative. And for the average youth such influences are of the most casual nature! A tutor of Peter the Great is said to have formed and crys- tallized in his youth his purpose to raise Russia from semi- barbarism to civilization, and this he accomplished in the most energetic and single-minded manner in spite of his being delib- erately surrounded with pleasures and temptations to wreck his career. It would appear advisable to tell to the young the stories of individuals of great achievement; of Peter of Russia, of Pasteur, of Joan of Arc, Columbus, Franklin and Lincoln, emphasizing the elements of their greatness; their mastering of first principles, their singleness and soundness of purpose, their readiness to attempt the difficult and well-nigh impossible, and their continual hammering away along their chosen lines of activity. In such lessons the moral, ethical and psychic are closely interwoven and the treatment should bring out all three. Nowhere in our schools do we have such teaching, but it is everywhere of vital importance to the general welfare in the education of the future expert. While we are discussing the teaching of the Bible in our public schools we overlook the op- portunity of instruction in a field full of the greatest possibil- ities for national progress. It is doubtful whether any selection or segregation of spe- cially fit students is advisable before or during the high-school 454 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY period. No psychologist can select at sixteen just the individ- uals who will at forty be the most useful citizens in various fields of activity. Some mature early and achieve great results early in life, while others mature slowly and go further. Too early selection and specialization are likely to cost more than they are worth. Up to and through the high-school course the aim should be to give a broad and thorough grounding in the more important branches of academic training, together with a sound physique and a correct, efficient code of behavior. Following the high school probably the best results are ob- tained by two years’ work at a small college, followed by two years of partly specialized work at a good university with finally two to five years’ work in a high-grade graduate or pro- fessional school. In all this work the first aim should be to secure a thorough grounding in the fundamental principles of the subject covered. Any profession first attains high standing when the fundamental principles upon which it is based are worked out and formulated. Any professional man can attain high standing in his profession only through a thorough knowl- edge of the fundamental principles of his profession and the ability to apply those principles. In the interest of national welfare, mental qualifications alone should be the deciding factor in selection for advanced training. The best of college, university and technical educa- tion should be available to students in the humblest circum- stances, with free tuition and opportunity for earning living expenses. It is the general impression that students who earn their own way are better represented in proportion among those of great achievement than those supported by their parents. Certainly no one should be excluded or subjected to a heavy handicap because of poverty. The best of our graduate and technical schools, professional schools, industrial research laboratories and the government departments at Washington offer very nearly ideal training for the future expert in many fields of activity. There is a judi- cious combination of instruction and practical work under the supervision of capable experts to give the combination of knowledge and technical skill in solving problems required by the specialist. Those contemplating research as a profession should possess a thorough knowledge of the fundamentals in their chosen field, together with demonstrated skill in research. These are attained by well-directed study and research work. The lesser teaching positions in our universities offer excellent facilities for training the future expert; the teaching organizes PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 455 and hardens his command of fundamentals while graduate study and research advance his knowledge and skill in solving problems. To provide more and better training for experts, we need (1) more high-grade technical and professional schools, (2) closer relations between the pure research of our universities and industrial research, (3) a broadening of the curricula of our graduate and technical schools to cover fields (such as city administration, illuminating engineering, glass technology, etc.) at present neglected and (4) a central national university of the highest grade to centralize and lead activity in the various fields of professional education and research. It is a hopeful sign that present tendencies are toward all these re- search ends. Present methods of training the future expert are open to considerable criticism. The story is told of one of our leading experts in the geology and metallurgy of gold that when the ambition to become such first stirred him he went to Agassiz for instruction. Agassiz gave him a turtle and told him to study it. After several weeks of patient effort he took his re- sults to Agassiz with the statement that he knew all that was to be found out about that turtle and was ready to start the study of gold. He was, however, sent back again and again to his turtle until he knew every detail of its markings, its habits, its appetite, its rate of growth and every movement. Finally, after months of work on the turtle, he was told to go and study gold. The critical period in his career of achievement was that during which he learned how to observe and study. Our higher education is not sufficiently intensive. It is too hurried and lacks definiteness of purpose. Fundamental principles are not emphasized by the teacher nor mastered by the student. Side issues are allowed to divert the attention and break the chain of concentrated effort to completely solve definite problems. These defects are due partly to a national trait of mind, but the proper influence from leaders would do much to correct it. Although national welfare demands that education should be provided for all and the aim of every individual may prop- erly be that of becoming an expert in some one line of activity, it is by no means to be expected that the yield of specialists will be 100 per cent. There will always be a percentage of partial defectives of all degrees of efficiency. These will always supply the unskilled and the less skilled labor for the rule-of-thumb trades. If universal military service were adopted, not all would be found physically capable of full training, but only cripples would be unfit for some sort of physical training and 456 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY service. In any case equal opportunities should be provided for all and actual fitness should be the sole deciding factor in deter- mining whether education of any given grade is to be provided for any individual. Education in middle and later life is chiefly through two channels: increased technical skill through practical work, in- creased knowledge of fundamental principles through the tech- nical journals. Education in its broader aspect, fitting the in- dividual for his broader duties as a citizen, comes through sim- ilar channels, daily intercourse with one’s fellows and through reading the newspapers and magazines. It is probably because the human mind has for ages been developed by this dual form of education that similar methods give best results during the student period. The proper kinds of magazines, scientific journals and news- papers are powerful tools for educating the general public in their various fields of activity. Instead of the present laissez- faire policy of our government, ignoring the fact that such channels of information are powerful factors in general edu- cation, it would seem to be in line with general welfare to ex- ercise some supervision over their conduct. Newspaper char- latanism, in which the interest of the individual or of a party has been placed above that of the nation, has worked untold mischief in this country. Inane editorials are the rule rather than the exception. It would doubtless be in the interest of national welfare if editorials were written only by those famil- iar with the basic principles of national welfare. The nation could well spare all papers run in the interest of individuals, of political machines or any organization that puts its own interests, even in times of peace, above those of the nation. In the conduct of our scientific and technical journals there is much room for improvement. The best of these are models of their kind, others are run in the interest of the society whose organ they are, regardless of future value as works of ref- erence. At least one journal prints articles in fields as diverse as archaeology, pure mathematics and physiological chemistry. No one reader is interested in perhaps more than a fifth of the matter printed, yet the whole is bound together. There is a great deal of overlapping in some fields while other fields are without any good reference journal. In practically all cases, the individual members of scientific societies are under heavy burdens of expense to maintain their journals. It would seem advisable to see that all fields of science and technology were properly cared for in the interest of general welfare, to the extent of regulation and subsidy if necessary. MINERALS AND POWER 457 MINERALS AND POWER By Professor F. E. WILLIAMS UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN HE importance of minerals in warfare is attracting the con- - sideration of nations as never before. In time of peace the value of a nation’s mineral deposits is easily underestimated. The higher the stage of development, the more essential become its mineral supplies. We have used the terms stone age, copper age, bronze age, iron age and coal age to designate different periods in the evolution of progress. Now, not only are we using far more coal per capita than ever before, but also vastly greater quantities of the materials that characterized former periods, namely, iron, copper and stone. The development of the United States in industries, other than agriculture, is illustrated in the increased use of its min- eral resources. Agricultural exports have increased greatly, but not in proportion to the mineral exports and the manufac- tured articles which have resulted from their utilization. In the period since 1880, foodstuffs (though showing an actual increase) have fallen from 55 per cent. to 21 per cent. of the total exports, while the export of manufactures has increased from 24 per cent. to 58 per cent. Exports of mineral products and manufactures thereof have increased from, less than 4 per cent. in 1880, to 42 per cent. of the total exports in 1913 (the latest year unaffected by war conditions), an increase in value of more than one and one half billion dollars. It is even more surprising if we compare the Seb per capita of the more important minerals for the last one third of a century. While the population has but doubled, the produc- tion and consumption of coal per capita has increased from less than 11% tons to nearly 6 tons—an increase of 357 per cent. The United States took first rank in the production of coal in 1899 when Great Britain was surpassed and this lead has been maintained ever since. The production of iron ore increased 337 per cent.; petroleum 391 per cent.; copper 1,200 per cent.; cement 2,087 per cent.; gold, 28 per cent.; silver, 22 per cent.; lead, 125 per cent., and zinc 638 per cent. At the same time, the increase in agricultural products has but little more than kept pace with the growth of population, with the exception of cotton and sugar, which show advances of 130 per cent. and 394 458 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY per cent., respectively. Especially has the south increased its mineral production. In 1882 the Southern States produced but 8 per cent. of the mineral output of the United States; in 1890, 14 per cent.; in 1900, 16 per cent.; in 1910, 19 per cent.; and in 1914, 22 per cent. The future of the mineral industry is assured, because of the increasing diversity of products and the known reserves of many minerals. In 1880 the statistics of mineral production in the United States covered about fifty articles, while the accom- panying table shows over 75 items of considerable importance, and the report of the United States Geological Survey (1915) mentions about 90 additional products. Before 1880 the base metals and nonmetals were of subordinate importance, but now the former have come to the front and the latter have exceeded the total value of all the metals. The accompanying table shows that gold and silver have increased but a comparatively small percentage. Part of the output of these two metals, es- pecially the silver, is from the by-products of copper and lead mines. Sulphuric acid, another by-product, has been in the past an embarrassment to operators of smelters, but is now a com- modity of great price. Much of the platinum produced in this country is won from the refining of gold bullion and copper matte. During this period of marked growth in mineral production, there has been a change in the character of the deposits worked —a passing from the exploitation of bonanzas to the working of low-grade deposits. This has led to the establishment of larger and more permanent communities and hence to a safer foundation for progress. The relation of mining to other industries is obvious, and, for the last few decades, especially in western and northwestern America, the miner has been the pioneer of civilization. Since there has been such an enormous production from lean ores it follows that estimates of our reserves are constantly being raised. This increase in estimated reserves has also been brought about by further exploration. A few years ago it was estimated that the visible reserves of copper ore for four dis- tricts in three states was about 160,000,000 tons. Now these four districts are known to have 600,000,000 tons of reserve in spite of the fact that 60 million tons have already been mined. In like manner there has been an added estimate of phosphate rock and coal reserves. The field work done by the United States Geological Survey has increased the estimates of reserves of phosphate rock from a few hundred million tons to more than MINERALS AND POWER 459 five billion tons. The quantity of easily accessible anthracite and bituminous coal exceeds the estimated tonnage in 1909 by 440 billion tons, an increase of nearly 30 per cent., and the day of opportunity for both exploration and investigation of the mineral resources of this country is not by any means past. The accompanying table shows the enormous growth of min- eral production in the United States in the last thirty-seven years. Some of the statistics are a little misleading, as is always the case where values are given instead of amounts. Prices change from time to time and often enormously. Amounts for the earlier years are hard to obtain, and it was thought best to keep the values as a basis for comparison throughout. It can be seen that most of the outputs have in- creased much more rapidly relatively than the population. In some cases there has been a steady growth in the utilization of some particular product; in others there are sudden rises due to new discoveries or inventions or to abnormal conditions in trade or manufacture, for example, the exigencies brought about by the present war. The effect of the war is easily seen if we consider our exports since 1914. The exports of the ar- ticles considered in the accompanying table show an increase of about 300 per cent., or from $515,000,000 in 1914 to $2,043,000,- 000, in 1917. The value of the exports of coal and coke rose from $62,700,000 in 1914 to $89,400,000 in 1917; copper and copper manufactures from $149,400,000 to $323,900,000; iron and steel, including manufactures but excluding machinery, from $135,800,000 to $867,100,000; lead and lead manufactures, from $3,100,000 to $16,500,000; zine and zinc manufactures, from $1,000,000 to $67,100,000; brass and brass manufactures, from $7,400,000 to $383,200,000; cartridges from $3,500,000 to $65,100,000, and petroleum, from $152,100,000 to $230,900,000. With the anomalous conditions brought about by the war there has been a great development of many of the rare min- erals. Many others, formerly of but little industrial value, have been used for substitutes for those which are practically indispensable. Whenever other factors do not interfere the in- dustries of any nation are generally more stable when it con- tains within its borders the basic raw materials for the main- tainance of its industries, but with the great diversity of mod- ern manufactures many nations demand a variety of substances all of which are rarely available on one continent. The cheap water transportation between continents permits the competi- tion of foreign and domestic resources. This is especially true if there is no tariff. The tendency has been, therefore, for the 460 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY richest deposits to supply the markets of the world. This con- dition has been changed by the location of many resources with respect to warring countries and by the great scarcity of ships, hence, the development of the substitutes and rare minerals of the United States. Titanium, which had declined in use because of the open- hearth method of making steel, having supplanted the Bessemer process, is again in demand as a substitute for manganese in some processes, and also for aluminum in deoxidizing steel. Much manganese dioxide was used before the war in neu- tralizing the greenish color of untreated glass. Much of this had come from the Turkish empire, and the available ore from other sources furnished the material at too high a price. It was found that selenium, which had been but little more than a curiosity, could be substituted. As a result there were about 50,000 to 60,000 pounds of selenium used in 1917. Selenium is a by-product of copper refining, and made only in the United States. Its success in connection with glass seems to assure its permanent use in the future. Uranium and vanadium have also been used much more ex- tensively since the war began; the former in ferro-alloys in con- nection with tungsten to reduce the quantity of the tungsten and the latter in ferro-alloys which have great shock-resisting qualities, as for heavy frameworks for locomotives. Molybdenum is in great demand, having doubled in the world’s production in the last two years. It has many im- portant uses where resiliency and shock-resisting steel is needed. One of the important uses at present is in the lining of cannon and gun barrels which greatly lengthens the usefulness of each. Cadmium is a mineral whose output was hardly worthy of mention in 1913; in 1916 there were produced 135,212 pounds, valued at $205,433. Before the war the chief output came from Silesia and hence was shut off from world trade. Some has been recovered in various processes in which zine compounds are involved. It is used as a pigment and at present is im- portant in some secret war use. Chromium gives hardness to an alloy and prevents rust, con- sequently there has been a great demand for chrome steel for war purposes. Hence a great increase in production of cromic iron ore has been brought about since 1914. Another im- portant use of chromium is in the tanning of chrome leather. In 1913 the United States produced 255 long tons, valued at $2,854; in 1916, 47,035 long tons valued at $726,243; and in 1917 there was a slight increase over the latter figure. The prin- MINERALS AND POWER 461 cipal sources of production were Rhodesia and New Caledonia, with lesser amounts from Russia and India. Prior to the war, from 90 per cent. to 95 per cent. of the world’s platinum came from Russia. The only other important source was Colombia. The normal world’s production is about 250,000 troy ounces. In 1913 the United States produced 1,034 troy ounces of platinum (and allied metals), valued at $46,530 ; in 1916, 28,088 troy ounces, valued at $2,301.762. It is used in jewelry, chemistry, dentistry and electrical contact points. Paladium may be substituted for platinum in dentistry where great strength is not needed. At present there is a strong de- mand for platinum for use in the manufacture of sulphuric acid. Because of the enhanced price quicksilver has increased in production very rapidly in the last few years. The chief pro- ducers are Spain, Italy, Austria-Hungary and the United States. In 1913 the United States produced 20,213 flasks (75 pounds net), valued at $813,171; in 1916, 29,932 flasks, valued at $2,576,547 ; in 1917, 36,351 flasks, valued at $3.857,000. It is used mainly in the manufacture of fulminate for explosive caps, of drugs, of paint, of electrical appliances, and scientific appa- ratus, and in the recovery of precious metals by amalgamation. The first use mentioned above caused the great demand and high price, with consequent increased production. Ten years ago, tungsten was only of moderate use in the steel industry. Now the world’s production is about 10,000 tons and the United States is the largest producer of tungsten ore in the world. Before the war, Germany controlled the out- put from ore supplies, largely from British possessions, but it is manifestly the intention of England to control most of the min- erals of the Empire in the future. Tungsten is the most im- portant of the metals used in high-speed steel. About 90 per cent. of the tungsten output is used in alloys, mostly in steel. In the case of manganese ore which has become so necessary to modern industries and which for a period of years was sup- plied by many deposits in several countries, there has been a steady decline in the production from minor deposits relatively near markets and a corresponding increase in production from a few rich, even though remote, deposits. None of the indus- trially important nations produce more than a very small part of the manganese ore that they need; all of them have procured most of this in normal times from the three important sources in the world—Russia, India and Brazil. Manganese and man- ganiferous ores (the two chief sources of manganese) were pro- duced in the United States in 1913 to the amount of 4,048 and 462 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY Asbestos Asphalt Barytes (crude) Borax (crude) Bronine’. eet eee eer Calcium chloride Pcrcr eat om oO ©) ©, ye in. lea, om) ae: Coal Bituminous 4,312 4,400 80,000 277,000 115,000 | 1,853,000} 1 200,000 (potter’s) ee Pennsylvania prieira| CiLeee ten crete ei Gobaltoxide: . 122 2%): << Coke 2 inl etaie’.m wheres ees, 6» es Diatomaceous or infuso-| rial earth and tripoli BIMEE yon See cre oes Heldspari-p one ees os Fluorspariae 220, os%:..%' Fuller’s earth 42,197,000 24,000 | 6,631,000 45,600 29,000 60,000 16,000 Garnet (abrasive pur- DOSES) ee ee el c Gems and preciousstones Graphite: 22 Lees.) Amorphous......... Crystalline';........ Grindstone and pulp stone Magnesite (crude)..... Marlee sti ecedeees 6 Mica BGPAD emai esti cine Sieay 35. CaN | WAsMIstones 15 53h5.0, s1. oor s Mineral paint Natural pigments... Zine and lead pig ments . Mineral waters........ Natural gas..... Oilstones Peat.) 28 ial ea ey tides Petroletim=: + een. Phosphate rock....... POtselis a. eh coer ee Pumice ........00seee | ereeeess F 5,000 Pyrite i: eae ee ee ee ee a 100,000 50,000 500,000 | 400,000 19,000,000 500,000 "198,000 | 200,000 146,000 764,000 500,000 | 8,000 3 24, 601, 000 | 4,830,000 1,124,000 Non-METALS 1900 1913 Dente rely 3 159,000 16,000 11,000 416,000} 5,282,000 188,000 156,000) 1,018,000! 1,492,000 141,000 115,000) Lh oes ane ee 130,000 13,284,000) 89,551, 000) 96,212,000) 181,289,000 1,840,000} 4,180,000 85,758,000) 195,181,000 L2G) lee wee 47,443,000) 128,922,000. 24,000; 286,000 103,000 4.800 181,000 777,000 95,000| © 736,000 68,000! 370,000 123,000! 183,000 233,000! 319,000 ‘cel as ts a ee { 198,000] 924'bnn 710,000 856,000 1,627,000] 6,775,000 6,797,000} 14,648,000 19,000/ 77,000 30,000]... . 55,000 83,000 93,000 354,000 33,000] 56,000 644,000 512,000 3,667,000} 9,021,000 6,245,000] 5,631,000 23,699,000; 87,847,000 174.000 207,000 | 197,000 "75, ‘989, 000! 237,121,000 5,359,000} 11,796,000 RS SPQ ca ic - "55, 000 “i 1,286,000 6,945,000) 10,123,000 1917 555,000 448,000 | 7,102,000 | 1,011,000 2,409,000 922 000; 217) 000) 104,689, 000, ‘Slight increase | 1916 | ~~ 1,300,000 Leuba 5,752,000 53,444,000 |220,930,000 565,235,000 665,116,000 Increase, 8.3 per cent. | 202,010,000 Increase, about | 20 per cent. 170,841,000. 242,000) 124,000) 702,000 923 ,000) 707,000, 209,000) ' 218,000 | 21,000) 915,000 Increase, 24 per cent. 766,000: 7,959,000 18,619,000 Decrease, 10 per cent. 1,394,000 Increase, 100 per cent. 70,000) 524,000 45,000 Value given under unspeci- fied 23,516,000! 24,614,000 5,735,000 120,227,000 155,000 369,000) 1330,900,000| Increase, 14 per cent. 5,897,000 4,243,000 82,000 1,966,000 | 13,646,000 Increase, 9 per cent. MINERALS AND POWER Non-METALS 463 Sand Glass . Molding: Building avid gravel . Sand, lime Back Silica alee Slate . MMM UPE, wiciars oeveilorsc Sulphuric acid ........ Tale and soap stone. Talc (fibrous) ...... Thorium minerals (monazite) . ETC ONG Ee ott se) 5) 5 Nes Wnspecified.. 3. \o..-2'. 1880 1900 "80,000! 127,000 1,530,000! 4,240,000 20,626,000 | 36,971,000 21,000 88,000 67,000! 384,000 55,000} 500,000 AE gu 49,000 6,000,000} 1.000,000 1913 1,896,000 22,322,000 1,238,000 201,000 6,175,000 $3,733,000 5,480,000 4,346,000 1,120,000 789,000 ZHU eaicisicosebisabd bao 420,000 1916 1917 1,958,000 27,852,000 1,474,000 243,000 5,339,000 79,042,000 Under unspecified 14,100,000| Increase, over 50 per cent. 1,292,000 962,900 3,400 | 15,000,000 Figures for the year 1917 must be regarded as approximate, rather than final. “Increase” or “ decrease” applies to amount, not values. METALS 1880 1900 1913 1916 1917 Aluminum cone tion) . a .......| $1,920,000! $13,845,000!$33,900,000 enonal lead. ayauie sysye Le 240,000; 995,000; 1,592,000! 4,464,000 PATITUIMI ONY: << /yes ies 2 aks 10,000 838,000) 429,000/ Figures not available Lib Mic be oop due ps coop made 90,000 998,000 2,296,000 MG SEUTTNTVLTT A ey odch cence shay cicid vein ill gate isbehes kehatel [tbateeehen se erers 205,000 Chromic iron ore...... 28,000 1,400 2,854 726,000) Slight increase Copper (value at New BVIOTICNCIDY)) << (214 see 'ms 12,943,000 100,615,000; 189,795,000|474,288,000; 510,000,000 SGUTOSALL OVS! os, calcle sess || sis sh cued) s\siey eter = pol avePatade 13,015,000} 50,282,000 Gold................--|36,000,000} 79,171,000} 88,884,000} 92,590,000) 84,457,000 Iron ore..............-| 23,157,000} 66,590,000/130,906,000|181,902,000) 236,178,000 EYEAICOM pase eles os net nes 89,316, 000 259,944,000|458,342,000|663,478,000 Slight decrease Lead (refined value at New York city)’..... 9,573,000! 22,961,000) 36,245,000! 76,207,000)’ 78,816,000 Manganese ore........ 86,000 100,000 40,000 627,000 Increase 300% Manganiferous ore ... .| Included under iron ore 25,000) 2,005,000 Nickel (value at New | Decrease, Orc City) oe -1sc) oars ok 257,000 3,886 79,000 671,000 about 20% BAtimin 2 ors kos Sele 400 2,500 47,000) 2,302,000 Quicksilver (value at } San Francisco)...... 1,858,000} 1,273,000 813,000} 2,577,000 3,857,000 Silver. .| 84,717,000| 35,741,000) 40,348,000) 48,953,000, About same Tin (metallic equiva- lent) . Sick ah chase atts | UO ote eee Tene atotate raves 47,000) no figures Titanium ore (rutile) . 400 1,300 49,000) no figures Tungsten ore (60 per | Increase SOOT cent. concentrate) . 11,000 672,000. cite) LO) Uranium and vanadium AVUETIET AES. hay'el cs bh cvsts etal Me Oeedek ch Tall cherteiesl yiores cake 609,000) no figures Zinc, sales values......{ 2,833,000] 10,902,000) 37,772,000/151,005,000, 102,350,000 464 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY 59,403 long tons, respectively, and valued at $40,080 and $25,- 124; in 1916, 26,997 and 548,803 long tons, valued at $627,417 and $2,005,491. In 1917 there was an increase over the 1916 production of manganese ore of about 300 per cent. The use of ferromanganese and spiegeleisen in manganese steel is a well established industry. Manganese is used to remove oxygen and sulphur from steel and thus render it very hard, but still duc- tile, therefore, such steel is used for a number of purposes re- quiring a hard, tough steel. Manganese ore is also used in dry batteries and in the flint-glass industry. Magnesite has increased in production many fold. It is used for refractory bricks in open-hearth furnaces, composition flooring, fire-resistant paint, sulphite process in wood pulp manufacture, heat insulators or covering for steam pipes, and in magnesia cement. Magnesia cement is used for making decks of ships, floors of hospitals and railroad cars, and has been employed successfully in the European war for making gun emplacements, as it sets quickly and has some resilience. There are many other substances that have increased abnor- mally in the last three years. Of these may be named, asbestos, barytes, potash, sulphur, iron pyrite and sulphuric acid. In a report to the President a few years ago, the Secretary of the Interior, in speaking of the resources of the country, gave minerals a high rank and referred to them as “‘ The Foundations of Power.” ‘A nation that produces under normal conditions 40 per cent. of the world’s coal and 66 per cent. of its petroleum surely has its share of the two great fuels; add the fact that our mines, furnaces and smelters yield 40 per cent. of the world’s iron, 60 per cent. of its copper, and 32 per cent. of its lead and zinc, and the reason is patent for America’s industrial great- ness.” REFERENCES Engineering and Mining Journal, January 12, 1918. Macfarlane, John J., “ The Foundations of Power,” Commercial America, January, 1918, pp. 15-21. Smith, George Otis, ‘The Public Interest in Mineral Resources,’ Min- eral Resources of the United States for 1915, pt. I., pp. la—9a. “The Americas,” vol. 4, February, 1918, pp. 26-380. “Mineral Resources of the United States for 1914,” pts. I. and II.; ibid., for 1915, pts. I. and II. Preliminary Mines Reports of Mineral Resources of the United States for 1916. United States Geological Survey Press Bulletins from December, 1917, to March, 1918, inclusive. 1Smith, George Otis, “ The Public Interest in Mineral Resources,” Mineral Resources of the United States for 1915, Pt. I., pp. la, 2a. MEDICAL LABORATORIES 465 MEDICAL LABORATORIES By ELLIS KELLERT, M.D. DIRECTOR OF THE BENDER HYGIENIC LABORATORY, ALBANY, N. Y. HE utilization of laboratory methods in the diagnosis of a infectious diseases probably dates back to the time when the Bacillus anthracis was found to be the microbe causing an- thrax in sheep and when Pasteur discovered the organism pro- ducing “‘pebrine” in the silkworm. In 1880, the protozoan causing malarial fever was identified in the blood and thereafter in rapid succession the bacteria inducing many other diseases were described. Methods for the isolation and study of the varlous disease-producing germs were developed to such an ex- tent that the new science of bacteriology became established and subsequently expanded so greatly that few bacteriologists claim expert knowledge in the entire subject. Asa result of the study of the action of pathogenic bacteria on the animal body, it was found that many organisms induce the formation of specific substances, the presence of which may be readily found in the blood. Two common illustrations of this phenomenon are typhoid fever and syphilis. In all departments of science, what are primarily toys or curiosities soon become useful and necessary appliances in everyday life. This constitutes progress. The science of med- icine in particular leaps forward with each new discovery or new method of procedure. Witness the germ theory of disease and its subsequent elaboration and proof; the far-reaching ef- fects of the observation by Theobald Smith and Kilbourne that insects may act as the intermediate hosts in the transmission of disease; the value of prophylaxis, the perfection of the micro- scope, the invention of the stethoscope and the use of the aniline dyes in bacteriology and pathology. The story of the marvelous progress of medical science during the past fifty years is more interesting than anything hitherto published and yet the tale is but begun. The narration of medical progress is of extreme interest to the lay public and this is testified to by the avidity with which magazines and newspapers publish medical news in all detail. This interest should be encouraged and stimulated, for only with the active cooperation of the public can medicine accomplish its greatest triumph—the elimination of disease by preventive measures. VOL. vil.—30). 466 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY The hot-house of medical progress is the laboratory. De- stroy the laboratory and we revert to the medical practice of the fifteenth century. The physician would again take up his indi- vidual method of guessing in which he is frequently justified by a kind nature which has limited the progress of most dis- eases. In the absence of animal experimentation the old “ shot- gun” prescription would again come into vogue, and the un- scientific and irrational use of a multitude of drugs would be the prevailing fashion. Since laboratory methods are often precise in the information which they yield and in many other instances give highly suggestive findings, it is logical to conclude that they should not be neglected even in apparently trivial cases. Ex- perience may be extensive, knowledge deep and the special senses highly developed, but instruments and exact methods should be employed for confirmation if not for purposes of actual diagnosis. Information thus obtained is a source of great satisfaction because a permanent record is established, and the subsequent treatment justified. Diagnosis of the disease present is essential because upon it depends not only the character of the treatment, but also the prognosis which frequently is of great importance and inva- riably most earnestly inquired about by the patient. While he may feel interested in knowing the name of his affliction, the sick person is more concerned regarding the ultimate outcome of his case. The value of prognosis is well illustrated by typhoid fever. This disease is caused by the Bacillus typhosis and the diagnosis may be established by finding the microbes in the blood during the first three or four days of the illness, or by subsequent examination of the blood by the Widal method and by counting the leucocytes. Typhoid fever is a “self-limited” disease and the mortality is usually 5-20 per cent., varying somewhat in different epidemics. Closely related to the typhoid bacillus is the paratyphoid bacillus, of which there are two strains. Infection by these organisms produces a train of symp- toms similar to typhoid fever but more mild. Fatal cases are extremely rare and in paratyphoid fever the physician would have no hesitancy in predicting a favorable termination of the illness. The diagnosis between these conditions can only be established by laboratory methods. In medical practise the physician finds many diseases the manifestations of which are so typical as to leave no doubt re- garding the diagnosis. Thus scarlet fever, measles and small- pox are detected without great difficulty. There are many others, however, with variable signs and symptoms in different MEDICAL LABORATORIES 467 individuals and it is in these cases that the laboratory plays so important a part. As a matter of interest, let us group the various diseases commonly found in this country according to their dependency for diagnosis on laboratory methods. GROUP A Diseases diagnosticated with certainty by laboratory methods Typhoid fever Leprosy Syphilis Tetanus Diphtheria Gaseous gangrene Cholera Diabetes Cerebrospinal meningitis Malaria Gonorrhea Intestinal parasites Tuberculosis Trichinosis Actinomycosis Anemia Bacillary dysentery Pernicious anemia Amebic dysentery ~ Leukemia Anthrax Chlorosis Pneumonia Hemophilia Glanders Tumors GRouP B Diseases in which the diagnosis is greatly assisted by laboratory methods Septicemia Abscess Nephritis Appendicitis Gout Peritonitis Lead poisoning Asthma Poliomyelitis Erysipelas ; Typhus fever Influenza Vincent’s angina Whooping-cough Pneumonia Smallpox Meningitis Tumors The above list, although not very long, includes by far the greatest amount of morbidity ordinarily prevalent. Most dis- eases are due directly or indirectly to bacteria and the demon- stration of the presence of the suspected pathogenic organisms usually suffices to establish the diagnosis. The exceptions are the few instances in which individuals normally harbor disease- producing bacteria. Such persons are termed “carriers” and the most frequent examples are those that harbor diphtheria bacilli in the throat or typhoid bacilli in the intestine or gall- bladder. In the army cantonments it has been shown conclu- sively that normal individuals act as carriers of virulent menin- gococci and pneumococci. In recent years laboratory work has received great emphasis in medical education. Medical colleges are usually judged and 468 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY rated by the quality of their laboratory courses and consequently the young graduate of the present day considers, and rightfully so, that laboratory methods are essential to the successful prac- tise of medicine. He regards the necessary apparatus as part of his armamentarium and, indeed, as important as the stetho- scope or thermometer. Laboratory technique, however, is so time consuming that busy practitioners find it impossible to perform any but the simplest examinations and so turn to the nearest well-organized institution for assistance. While recent graduates maintain a proper viewpoint toward the diagnostic laboratory, the older practitioners are too often indifferent and unwilling in many instances to avail themselves of laboratory service. They are content with their clinical diagnosis and, while undoubtedly correct in most instances, yet they should confirm their estimate of the case by an exact method if avail- able. In this way only can they successfully claim to be scien- tific practitioners of medicine. When we speak of exact methods in diagnosis we usually mean an accuracy of 90—95 per cent. Because of the multitude of variable factors concerned and the changing conditions of the body, it is scarcely possible to attain greater accuracy. , Usu- ally in practice the chief reason for the failure to arrive at a correct diagnosis lies in the lack of thoroughness on the part of the physician or the omission of repeated tests and examina- tions. When one considers the complex human organism and the frequent variations in the course of disease it is scarcely to be expected that a given set of factors necessary to the diag- nosis will remain constant through any great period of time. Thus by way of illustration is leukemia a progressively fatal disease in which, however, ‘‘ remissions” occur, that is, periods, usually of brief duration, when the patient is practically normal so far as can be determined objectively. Of course, an exam- ination made at such a time will yield negative results and yet a few days later decided and positive changes will occur. Again, in malaria, the blood when examined between chills may be negative, but shortly before the chill will be found to contain myriads of the specific organisms. In diabetes, no sugar or very little, may be found in the urine, but the blood, on exam- ination, will be found to contain a greatly increased amount. Thus it will be seen that the intelligent application of laboratory methods is essential to success. Properly speaking, the medical laboratory should not and can not as a rule make a diagnosis. The laboratory worker reports his findings to the physician, who correlates the results with his clinical observations and MEDICAL LABORATORIES 469 thus arrives at the true diagnosis. Medical laboratories are frequently termed diagnostic laboratories, but improperly so, for their function is to obtain additional data for the attending physician who is the only one qualified to make the diagnosis. Laboratories may occasionally be in error in their reports, either because of the natural fluctuations or complications of disease or because of incomplete observations, or more rarely error in technique. That “‘experience is fallacious and judg- ment difficult” is just as true to-day as in the time of Hippo- crates, but the degree of error in diagnosis is constantly decreas- ing. The personal equation, however, is still an important factor in the work. In every community where hospitals are situated, many sur- gical operations are performed during the year and tissues or organs removed from the body, but not always submitted to the pathologist for examination. All such specimens should be sent to the laboratory for microscopic study. Complete records, in- cluding stained sections of the tissue, should be made and kept permanently. Thus in later years, if necessary, it will be pos- sible to examine these records in the light of new illnesses or symptoms that may arise. This is more frequently necessary than is commonly believed, particularly in the case of abdominal operations, where the removal of an appendix or ovary, for in- stance, is in question. Our best surgeons have such examina- tions made as a routine for several reasons, chiefly, however, as a matter of scientific interest and to confirm their pre-operative diagnosis. That many physicians who are indifferent to the advantages offered by laboratory assistance can no longer remain so is be- coming more evident with each succeeding year. The public is gradually acquiring a rather extensive knowledge of disease and the application of laboratory methods, and many patients now show a decided interest in the laboratory reports. This attitude should be encouraged because it will lead to greater cooperation on the part of the patient in treatment and preventive meas- ures. During the present Great War the sanitary department of the army has acquired a position second to none in impor- tance and the chief reliance of that organization is upon the laboratory. The increasing activity of state and municipal health departments who insist on laboratory examinations in suspected cases of tuberculosis, typhoid fever, poliomyelitis and meningitis is but one indication of the importance of the med- ical laboratory. The war has brought about a serious and earnest attempt to control venereal diseases. Registration of 470 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY infected individuals will undoubtedly soon be required in many states and the basis for the acts of the authorities will depend largely, if not entirely, on the laboratory examinations. When this war is over, millions of men will return to civil life im- pressed with the value of the laboratory in the diagnosis and prevention of disease. They will know that typhoid fever, pneumonia, meningitis and many other diseases are only prop- erly diagnosed by the finding of the causative organism, that the rational treatment of wounds and other infections depends upon knowing the nature of the bacteria present, that the efficacy of the treatment for syphilis can be best judged by the Wasser- mann reaction and that the diagnosis of a host of other condi- tions requires special skill and training on the part of the physi- cian. The doctor can no longer arbitrarily say to his patient that he has such or such ailment, but must in support of his diagnosis cite the laboratory report. This information not only helps the patient, but is also instructive to the physician. Diagnosis, however, is only part of the work of the medical laboratory. No such institution is properly organized unless ample funds and facilities are available for research. While the efficiency of the laboratory may be kept at a high point in the performance of routine tests, the systematic investigation of new problems should be part of the daily labor. Research may be carried on to elucidate new facts, to confirm previous studies, to record isolated cases of scientific and practical in- terest, to improve existing methods, or to collect statistics for future study. This special investigation minimizes the dulling effect of routine and acts as a mental stimulus to the laboratory worker. Thus we find the best laboratories continually engaged in research and they who have thus acquired the experimental viewpoint are much more likely to explain an uncommon train cf symptoms or determine the nature of a puzzling case. What is the future of the medical laboratory? Although re- markably well developed at the present time, we find that, in view of the many great problems which medical science must yet solve, these institutions have only begun their work. The discovery of disease germs, yet to be made, new methods in the diagnosis and prevention of infections, and even improvement of existing methods, offer fields for many years of labor. Here and there isolated workers have contributed valuable facts and made important discoveries, but innumerable fundamental prob- lems yet remain. Only recently the advent of new methods have led to morphologic studies of great importance, thus again opening a field which at one time was thought closed. The ex- MEDICAL LABORATORIES 471 tensive subject of functional diseases is being clarified by the methods of chemical analysis now in use and the new science of colloidal chemistry will further aid greatly in the solution of many perplexing medical problems. Hand in hand with the discovery of the cause of disease is the problem of therapy. In comparatively few instances can diseases be cured after they have become well established. Chief among these are diphtheria, malaria, hook-worm infection, syphilis and cerebro-spinal meningitis. There are a host of other diseases dependent upon functional derangement of various organs and their alleviation depends largely on hygienic and dietetic measures. Many other abnormalities are relieved usually by the removal of the offending organ and then nature reestablishes the normal state, with or without further assist- ance. Examples of these are appendicitis, goiter, calculi and tumors. Thus it is seen that the greatest practical progress made in medical science has been along lines of prevention. This has been accomplished primarily by isolation and the elim- ination of conditions favorable to the growth and transmission of microbes and secondly by preventive inoculation. Consider for a moment how successfully malaria, yellow fever, plague and smallpox have been controlled. These dis- eases, in the past, decimated whole populations and at times threatened to destroy entire nations. Who can estimate the value to the world of the control of these four infections alone? The destruction of mosquitoes and rats, the method of vaccina- -tion, simple procedures and not at all difficult of application, have already been of immeasurable benefit to mankind. They all represent the work of the medical laboratory, except small- pox vaccination, which was made known to the world by Ed- ward Jenner before the days of medical laboratories. Later day improvements in the production and use of vaccine were made, however, in the laboratory. The two great objects of medical endeavor in recent years have been to prevent infection, either before or shortly after exposure, and to apply a specific remedy after the onset of symp- toms. The success of Pasteur in preventive inoculation against anthrax in sheep led to the adoption of similar methods in many other infectious diseases with varying results. Having ap- parently exhausted all possibilities along these lines, the lab- oratory workers turned to chemistry and sought to obtain drugs or chemical products which when injected into the body de- stroyed the parasites, but without inducing harmful changes in the organs. The most brilliant results obtained have been by 472 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY the use of atoxyl in sleeping-sickness and salvarsan in syphilis. Thus it is seen that medical investigation has become an exceed- ingly complex subject and that the united efforts of the physi- cian, the biologist, the chemist and the physicist are necessary in order to obtain favorable results. Physical science is rapidly looming to the front as an aid in the solution of medical prob- lems and has already accomplished much, as in the application of our knowledge concerning the X-ray and radium in the treat- ment of disease. The organization of a well-conducted medical laboratory calls for a competent staff and adequate equipment. The pri- mary object is to render immediate and necessary service in the diagnosis and prevention of disease. This means that a certain amount of routine work will be conducted for the physi- cians and hospitals in the neighborhood. The second important object of the laboratory is to engage in research. This may be along lines to which the institution is committed, or will depend on the interests of those in charge of the laboratory, or upon accidental findings during the routine examinations. Much valuable work has been accomplished as a result of chance ob- servations, but they really are not accidental, because the work- ers are ever on the lookout for unusual phenomena. Owing to the liberality of wealthy citizens of this country, many build- ings have been erected and equipped for diagnostic and research purposes and they are sufficient for years to come. What is needed urgently is endowment for existing institutions and funds for salaries and materials to conduct research. Many laboratories well equipped as to working space and apparatus are unable to carry on investigations because of lack of finances. It is futile to erect buildings for scientific purposes unless funds are also provided for the work. With such support and encour- agement the problem of the infectious diseases and tumors will soon be solved and their eradication is certain to follow. The greater portion of the remaining diseases will be cared for by the science of hygiene which is making such rapid progress. GROVE KARL GILBERT THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE GROVE KARL GILBERT FRoM the time of Benjamin Frank- lin and Count Rumford, America has produced distinguished men of science; but it is only in recent years that it has rivalled the older na- tions in research work. The two sciences first to attain this position were astronomy and geology, in which opportunities for research work were opened through the en- dowment of observatories and through the state and national sup- port of geological surveys. When the United States Geolog- ical Survey was organized in 1879, Grove Karl Gilbert had been for eight years engaged in the survey of the western territories under Wheeler and Powell. He was not only a member of the survey from its organization until his death, but shared in the work leading up to its organization, and was in large meas- ure responsible for its admirable methods and results. During this long period Gilbert represented the highest ideals of scientific work, careful observation and sound judg- ment, philosophical broadness, com- plete straightforwardness. Gilbert was born in Rochester in 1843, his father being the portrait painter, Grove Sheldon Gilbert. After graduating from the Uni- versity of Rochester, he was for some time engaged in Ward’s Natu- ral Science Establishment, the train- ing school for a number of distin- guished naturalists. In 1869, he be- gan his geological work on the Ohio Geological Survey under Newberry. At that time, when only twenty- eight years of age, he prepared maps showing the ancient glacial waters in the Maumee Valley, the first ever made of ancient lake beaches. His later important work on Lake Bonneville describes the large pre- decessor of the present Great Salt Lake, which existed in glacial times and overflowed northward to the Co- lumbia River. One of Gilbert’s most important early papers was his re- port on the Henry Mountains pub- lished in 1877, describing a new type of mountains, originally areas of sedimentary strata lifted by the in- jection of lava from beneath, to which the name laccolith is now given. Each of the large number of papers and monographs prepared by Gilbert during his fifty years of scientific activity contains a contri- bution to the subject. Professor Herman LeRoy, Fair- child, of the University of Rochester, | the early home of Gilbert, at a me- morial meeting held by the Ro- chester Academy of Sciences, said: Dr. Gilbert’s mind was of the re- flective, philosophic type. He sought for the explanation and relationship of phenomena. His calm judgment and clear discrimination joined to a spirit of fairness and with gentle manners caused him to be much sought as a critic and helper. He was a sort of father-adviser to the members of the survey. Doubtless much of his thought has found ex- pression in the writings of the younger men who revered and loved him. The writer of this apprecia- tion never heard him say a harsh word of any one. Gilbert was twice president of the Geological Society of America, no other American geologist having re- ceived the honor of a second elee- tion. He was president of the American Association for the Ad- vancement of Science and of the American Society of Naturalists. On the approach of the seventy-fifth anniversary of his birth on May 6, GROVE Karr GILBERT 476 his friends were asked to send to the | Geological Survey letters of con- gratulation to be handed to him on that day, but he died on May 1. THE UNIVERSITY OF PARIS THERE was published last year an appreciation by American scholars of “Science and Learning in France” with a survey of oppor- tunities for American students in French universities. The volume is edited by Professor John H. Wig- more, of Northwestern University, at the time of its preparation presi- dent of the American Association of University Professors, and contains articles on French contributions to the several departments of scholar- ship and science by leading Amer- ican students with an introduction by Dr. Charles W. Eliot. Appendices give practical details concerning edu- cational advantages for American students in France and the organ- ization and degrees of the institu- tions of higher learning. There has now been issued under the auspices of the council of the University of Paris a volume en- titled “La Vie Universitaire a | BR a fp sit 5 ae C: ) nee | , aM | " pra | Say aes THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY Paris” prepared by a number of leading French scholars and to a certain extent addressed to the American student. The publication of such a volume at the present time bears witness to the fine spirit of the French people in maintaining the historic institutions of the country and planning for their future development. Professor Durkheim, who con- tributes the chapters on the history and the organization of the univer- sity, tells us that Paris is the oldest and largest of the world’s universi- ties. It is a position for legitimate pride, even though the margin is not large in either direction. In respect to size, comparisons are diffi- cult, for it depends on which of the educational institutions of a city are included and on how the students are counted. According to Minerva, the University of Paris had, before the war, 17,512 students, followed by Berlin with 14,034, Moscow with 9,516 and Petersburg with 8,955. It will now be the United States rather than Russia which will rival Paris in the size of its institutions. Apart from summer school and ex- an . Aye . ‘ f ij 4 'g j ipPibcenrcaktes, ie [we AS BuriLtr BY RICHELIEU of Richelieu. From 1E SORBONNE an engraving by Chureh contains the Tomb Aveline. IN 1642. The 477 PROGRESS OF SCIENCE monument before the The r PRESENT TIME THE AT SORBONNE Church has been erected in Honor THE OF THE CHURCH of Auguste Comte. Steps the from Photographed SORBONNE. THE OF HONOR COURT OF THE Church, of the 478 tension courses Columbia had Michigan, 6,276 and California 6,467. But the different institutions for higher learning in Boston or in New York, if their students were combined, would in size rival or sur- pass Paris and Berlin. Salerno, a medical school in the ninth century, may claim to have been the earliest of universities, but it was finally closed in 1817. The universities of Paris and Bologna arose in the course of the twelfth century, but Paris claims a slightly earlier organization. Bologna was primarily a law school controlled by the students, Paris a school of theol- ogy and philosophy controlled by the masters. Abelard, teaching first in the cathedral school of Notre Dame, at-) tracted crowds of students. He founded other schools teachers established schools from which gradually arose the University | of Paris. In the thirteenth century and later, colleges or dormitories for in | 1916, 7,327 students, Harvard 5,226, | and other. THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY poor students were endowed. The Sorbonne was founded in 1303 by Robert de Sorbon for theological stu- dents, and was rebuilt by Richelieu ‘in 1627. It survived as a school of theology until the revolution, and in a sense became the university, which for centuries was controlled by the Jesuits, while the forward movement of science and letters pro- ceeded outside, largely under the auspices of the academies. French education was centralized and made professional and practical by Napoleon, and it was only under the third Republic that Paris once again became a great university and the universities of the provincial cities were recreated. The Sorbonne has been rebuilt and enlarged threefold, and made the ad- ministrative center of the university, whose various buildings are grouped about it. Some pictures are here reproduced from the book which are of interest in relation to the archi- tectural developments of American universities. EXAMINATION HALL OF THE FACULTY OF LETTERS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF PARIS. PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 479 THE CouncIL RooM or THE UNIVERSITY OF PARIS. THE CHEMICAL WARFARE SERVICE THE meeting of the American Chemical Society in Cleveland and the National Exposition of Chemical Engineers in New York have brought to general attention the great part played by chemistry in national welfare and in the conduct of the war. Modern warfare is essentially engineering, and there is scarcely any department with which chemistry is not vitally concerned. The part that has been played by our chemists in warfare is well de- scribed by Dr. Charles L. Parsons, the secretary of the American Chemical Service, in an address that he gave at Cleveland. Before the entry of the United States into the war, a census was taken of American chemists, and full information was obtained concern- ing the qualification of some 15,000. In the early part of February, 1917, the president of the American Chemical Society, Dr. Julius Stieg- litz, offered the services of the mem- bers to President Wilson in any emergency that might arise and re- ceived an appreciative reply. Active work was begun by the Bureau of Mines and other agencies which culminated in the organiza- tion of the Chemical Warfare Serv- ice in June, 1918. As Dr. Parsons says it was a real epoch in the his- tory of chemistry in warfare when, as a result of conferences held at the Bureau of Mines with officers from the Medical Corps, War Col- lege, General Staff, Navy and civil- ian chemists, the Chemical Service Section was established as a unit of the National Army. All newly drafted chemists are as- ‘signed to the Chemical Warfare Service to be detailed or transferred or furloughed where needed. It is charged with the “responsibility of providing chemists for all branches of the government and assisting in the procuring of chemists for indus- tries essential to the success of the war and government.” It has an authorized personnel of 45,000, of 480 which any portion may be chemists if needed. At present there are ap- proximately 1,400 graduate chemists in the Chemical Warfare Service. Dr. Parsons concluded his address with the words: War, the destroyer, has been on the other hand the incentive to marvelous chemical development with a speed of accomplishment in- comprehensible ‘in normal times. Discoveries made in the search for instruments of destruction are al- ready in use for the development of chemical industry. Many others, unpublished as yet, and to remain unpublished until the war is over, will prove of the utmost benefit to mankind. The same agencies that add to the horror of war to-day, the same reactions which are used in the development of explosives and poi- sonous gases on the one hand, and in counteracting their effect on the other, will find immediate and use- ful application in the years to come. The war has been prolonged by chemistry. The German _ chemist, apparently working for years with war in view, has supplied the Ger- man armies with the means for their ruthless warfare, but the chemists of America and our Allies have met them fully in chemical development, and when the chemical story of the war is written where all can read, it will be the verdict of history that the chemists of America were not found wanting. The chemical pro- gram of the United States Army and Navy has been at all times ahead of our trained man power and the mechanical devices necessary to apply what the chemists of America have produced. SCIENTIFIC ITEMS WE record with regret the death of Aaron Nicholas Skinner, former- ly professor of mathematics at the U. S. Naval Academy and assistant astronomer of the Naval Observa- tory; of Charles R. Eastman, of the THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY American Museum of Natural His- tory, the author of important con- tributions to paleichthyology; of Bert- ram Hopkins, professor of mechan- ism and applied mechanics in Cam- bridge University, Colonel in the British Army, and of O. Henrici, F.R.S., emeritus professor of me- chanics and mathematics in the Cen- tral Technical College of the City and Guilds of London Institute. MAJOR GENERAL MERRITTE W. IRE- LAND, of the Medical Corps, has been appointed Surgeon General of the Army, to succeed Major William C. Gorgas, who was retired on October 5. General Gorgas will remain in Europe as the medical representative of the United States Army at the Interallied War Council.—Dr. Ar- thur L. Day, director of the Geo- physical Laboratory of the Carnegie Institution of Washington since its establishment in 1906, home secre- tary of the National Academy of Sciences, has resigned to accept a re- search position with the Corning Glass Works, Corning, N. Y. THE statutory meeting of the gen- eral committee of the British Asso- ciation for the Advancement of Science was held in London in July, and at this meeting much disap- pointment was expressed that for the second year in succession it has been found impossible to arrange for an ordinary meeting. A _ resolution was passed unanimously asking the council to arrange for a meeting in London next year, if it should prove impossible to arrange to meet at Bournemouth. The question as to the type of meeting which it was desirable to hold was left to the council to decide. THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY DECEMBER, 1918 CAMOUFLAGE By ABBOTT H. THAYER MONADNOCK, N. H. costume. In their superhuman perfection, the concealing coats of an- imals that hunt or are hunted are now the models for the armies’ camouflage corps: models so perfectly adapted to con- cealment in every conceivable scene, they are the despair of humanity. To study the principles underlying them, and to adapt them to the needs of the army, is now man’s job. The most totally effacing costume can not be counted on to prevent its wearer’s being detected when he moves enough; but even in this case it makes him a poorer target when it comes to dodging, whether it be man or beast. The white sky-faking tail feathers of warblers serve to help save these birds when pursued through the woods by hawks, where the swiftness of the chase sets all the background optically into the same motion. Whatever question there is as to the need of animals to be concealed, as to the evolution of the patterns on them, and the purpose of these patterns, one fact in regard to the costumes of animals is demonstrable, 7. e., that these conceal their wearer most of all from the viewpoint of the very eyes that we believe this wearer most needs to avoid: in some the greatest need is to be enabled to catch, in others it is to escape being caught. In the one case, the skunk’s or badger’s white top, faking the sky, effaces their looming heads from the sight of the field mice and ground insects they are hunting; in the other case, the same black and white scheme saves on the same principle the zebra from the crouching feline. It is a comment on the use that men make of their eyes, that with all the various uses, utilitarian, scientific and esthetic, a principle, always in evidence, the principle that patterns al- VOL. vu.—31. \ BORIGINES in general have used camouflage in their war LANDSCAPES PHOTOGRAPHED THROUGH STENCILS OF SKUNKS TO SHOW THE PROTECTIVE COLORATION OF THE WHITE SKY COUNTERFEITS, = f fo : c% THE LANDSCAPES PHOTOGRAPHED THROUGH THE STENCILS OF THE SKUNKS. 484 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY THROUGH A STENCIL. ways inevitably tend to conceal, has waited till now to be dis- covered. Two main oversights have caused the whole misconception as to the concealing effect of pattern on animals: one, the fail- ing to study an animal’s markings from the viewpoint, always, as a matter of course, of the animal whose sight was to be de- ceived; the other, the perfectly fatal confounding of detection with identification after detection. Any pattern having color notes that are conspicuous from man’s point of view insists upon recording itself upon men’s minds, and has come to be considered as intrinsically conspic- uous. Take, for instance, the part a skunk may play in our minds. We probably detect him oftenest by noticing a white patch going about at twilight in perhaps the neighboring field as we look down on it from our piazza. For this reason this CAMOUFLAGE 485 little beast has been set down, without further investigation, as conspicuous; while the case really is that nature has colored him for concealment from the small creatures on which he feeds, and above which he looms against the sky. (One would guess that because this white patch is so easily seen by hawks over- head nature has given him other means for his own protection.) Exactly contrary to the conceptions of Darwin and his fol- lowers, pattern conceals its wearer everywhere against all backgrounds in direct ratio to its strength, 7. e., the degree of difference between the notes that compose it. Monochrome, no matter how gray, reveals its wearer against all backgrounds whatsoever (and most of all if these are mono- chrome) except a background which is an absolute repetition of itself. (Of course it is the practically universal counter- shading of the world’s animal life that alone could give it a monochrome aspect, changing the look of solidity to that of a flat surface.) Anybody will see at a glance that a monochrome area in the scene, having the shape of man, horse or bird, will THROUGH A STENCIL. 486 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY catch the eye whenever it does not absolutely match its back- ground, whereas, if the countless details of the scene recurred in the form of patterns right across this man-, horse- or bird- form, this form would be buried under this counterfeit of the scene. On the other hand, the most monochrome of backgrounds opposes no difficulty to the concealing effect of pattern on an object seen against it, because some one of the colors of the pattern is almost sure more nearly to match the background than the other colors of it, and consequently it will seem to be- long to the background rather than to the object. A Brook SCENE PHOTOGRAPHED THROUGH A DUCK-SHAPED STENCIL. In cases where the colors of the pattern are all of them char- acteristic of the region, the deceptive imitation of the back- ground is overwhelming; yet this resultant background-imita- tion is practically the universal accomplishment of animals’ patterns. I have been left alone in the world to point this out; yet this whole fact is simply the ABC of all painter craft. Every painter in the world could have told you all about it the = * ‘ : Be” - oe Moravia ©) = [ © iinga Ferny Ste\ Ganda Bap | 400 Z Atwaters =e 7 , cr “hrhabatba ha diiterd Ss i "4 \ / TUT tiie 42° “= ~