THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

THE
POPULAR SCIENCE

MONTHLY

EDITED BY

J. MCKEEN CATTELL

VOL. LXIII

MAY TO OCTOBER, 1903

NEW YORK

THE SCIENCE PRESS

1903

Copyright, 1903,
THE SCIENCE PRESS

PRESS OF

THE NEW ERA PRINTING COMPANY

LANCASTER, PA.

A

THE

POPULAR SCIENCE

MONTHLY.

MAT, 1903.

THE CLASSIFICATION OF FISHES.

By President DAVID STARR JORDAN,

LELAND STANFORD JR. UNIVERSITY.

/CLASSIFICATION, as Dr. Elliott Coues has well said, is a natural
^-^ function of "the mind which always strives to make orderly dis-
position of its knowledge and so to discover the reciprocal relations
and interdependences of the things it knows. Classification presup-
poses that there do exist such relations, according to which we may
arrange objects in the manner which facilitates their comprehension,
by bringing together what is like and separating what is unlike; and
that such relations are the result of fixed, inevitable laws. It is, there-
fore, Taxonomy (rd^i^, array; pofio^^ law) or the rational, lawful dis-
position of observed facts."

A perfect taxonomy is one which would perfectly express all the facts
in the evolution and development of the various forms. It would be
based on morphology, the consideration of structure and form inde-
pendent of adaptive, or physiological, or environmental modifications.
It would regard those characters as most important which had existed
longest unchanged in the history of the species or type, thus consider-
ing all knowledge derived from paleontology. It would regard as of
minor importance those traits which had risen recently in response to
natural selection or to the forced alteration through pressure of environ-
ment, while fundamental alterations as they appear one after another
in geologic time would make the basal characters of corresponding
groups in taxonomy. In greater or less degree, the life history of the
individual, through the operation of the law of heredity, repeats the
actual history of the group to which the individual belongs. For this
reason the characters appearing first in the individual are likely to
have greatest importance in classification.

6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

In a perfect taxonomy, or natural system of classification, animals
would not be divided into groups nor ranged in linear series. We
should imagine a series variously and divergently branched, with each
group at its earlier or lower end passing insensibly into the main or
primitive stock. A very little alteration now and then in some struc-
ture is epoch-making and paves the way through specialization to a new
class or order. But each class or order through its lowest types is inter-
tangled with some earlier and otherwise diverging group. A sound
system of taxonomy of fishes should be an exact reflex of the history
of their evolution. But in the limitations of book making, this tran-
script must be made on a flat page, in linear series, while for centuries
and perhaps forever whole chapters must be left vacant and others
dotted everywhere with marks of doubt. For science demands that
positive assertion should not go where certainty can not follow.

A perfect taxonomy of fishes would be only possible through the
study, by some Artedi, Miiller, Cuvier, Agassiz, Gill or Traquair, of
all the structures of all the fishes which have ever lived. There are
many fishes now living in the sea which are not yet known to any nat-
uralist. • Many others are known to one or two, but not yet accessible to
those in other continents. Many are known externally from specimens
in bottles, or drawings in books, but have not been studied thoroughly
by any one, and the vast multitude even of the species have perished
in Paleozoic, Mesozoic and Tertiary seas, without leaving a tooth or
bone or fin behind them. With all this goes human fallibility, the
marring of our records, such as they are, by carelessness, prejudice,
dependence and error. Chief among these are the constant mistakes of
analogy for homology, and the inability of men to trust their own eyes
as against the opinion of the greater men who have had to form their
opinions before all the evidence was in.

The result is, again to quote from Dr. Coues :

That the natural classification, like the elixir of life or the philosopher's
stone, is a goal far distant.

It is obvious that fishes, like other animals, may be classified in num-
berless ways, and, as a matter of fact, by many different men they have
been classified in all sorts of fashions.

Systems have been based on this or that set of characters, and erected from
this or that preconception in the mind of the systematist. . . . The mental
point of view was that every species of bird (or of fish) was a separate creation,
and as much of a fixture in nature's museum as any specimen in a naturalist's
cabinet. Crops of classifications have been sown in the fruitful soil of such
blind error, but no lasting harvest has been reaped. . . . The genius of modern
taxonomy seems to be so certainly right, to be tending so surely, even if slowly
in the direction of the desired consummation, that all differences of opinion,
we hope, will soon be settled, and defect of knowledge, no perversity of mind
will be the only obstacle in the way of success. The taxonomic goal is not

THE CLASSIFICATION OF FISHES. 7

now to find the way in which birds (or other animals) may be most conveniently
arranged, but to discover their pedigree, and so construct their family tree.
Such a genealogical table or phylum (?iV(pov, tribe, race, stock) as it is called,
is rightly considered the only sound basis of taxonomy. In attempting this end,
we proceed upon the belief . . . that all birds, like all other animals and
plants, are related to each other genetically, as oflfsprings are to parents; and
that to discover their genetic relationships is to bring out their true aflSnities —
in other words, to reconstruct the actual taxonomy of nature. In this view
there can be but one * natural ' classification, to the perfecting of which all
increase in our knowledge of the structure of birds infallibly and inevitably
tends. The classification now in use, or coming into use, is the result of our
best endeavors to accomplish this purpose, and represents what approach we
have made to this end. It is one of the great corollaries of that theorem of
Evolution which most naturalists are satisfied has been demonstrated. It is
necessarily a —

Morphological Classification; that is, one based solely on consideration of
structure or form (fio(pp^, morphe, form) ; and for the following reasons: Every
ofi'spring tends to take on precisely the structure or form of its parents, as its
natural physical heritage; and the principle involved, or the law of heredity,
would, if nothing interfered, keep the descendants perfectly true to the phys-
ical characters of their progenitors; they would breed true and be exactly alike.
But counter influences are incessantly operative, in consequence of constantly
varying external conditions of environment; the plasticity of organization of
all creatures rendering them more or less susceptible of modification by such
means, they become unlike their ancestors in various ways and to different de-
grees. On a large scale is thus accomplished, by natural selection and other
natural agencies, just what man does in a small way in producing and main-
taining different breeds of domestic animals. Obviously amidst such ceaselessly
shifting scenes, degrees of likeness or unlikeness of physical structure indicate
with the greatest exactitude the nearness or remoteness of organisms in kinship.
Morphological characters derived from examination of structure are therefore
the surest guides we can have to the blood-relationships we desire to establish;
and such relationships are the * natural afiinities ' which all classification aims
to discover and formulate. ( Coues. )

A few terms in general use may receive a moment's discussion. A
type or group is said to be specialized when it has a relatively large
number of peculiarities, or when some one peculiarity is carried to an
extreme. A sculpin is a specialized fish, having many unusual phases
of development, as is also a sword-fish, which has a highly peculiar
structure of the snout. A generalized type is one with fewer peculiari-
ties, as the herring in comparison with the sculpin. In the process of
evolution, generalized types usually give place to specialized ones. Gen-
eralized types are therefore as a rule archaic types.

The terms high and low are also relative; a high type being one
with varied structure and functions. Low types may be primitively
generalized, as the lancelet in comparison with all other fishes, or the
herring in comparison with the perch ; or they may be due to degrada-
tion, a loss of structures which have been elaborately specialized in
their ancestry.

8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

The sea-snail (Liparis), an ally of the sculpin, with scales lost and
fins deteriorated, is an example of a low type which is specialized as
well as degraded.

In the earlier history of ichthyology, much confusion resulted from
the misconception of the terms 'high' and 'low.' Because sharks ap-
peared earlier than bony fishes, it was assumed that they should be
lower than any of their subsequent descendants. That the brain and
muscular system in sharks was more highly developed than in most
bony fishes seemed also certain. Therefore, it was thought that the
Teleost series could not have had a common origin with the series of
sharks. It is now understood that evolution means chiefly adaptation,
and adaptation among fishes is almost as often degradation as advance.
The bony fish is adapted to its mode of life, and to that end it is
specialized in fin and skeleton rather than in brain and nerves as com-
pared with its ancestors. All degeneration is associated with special-
ization. The degeneration of the blind fish is a specialization for better
adaptation to life in the darkness of caves; the degeneration of the
deep-sea fish meets the demands of the depths; the degeneration of
the globe fish means the sinking of one line of functions in the extension
of some other.

Referring to his own work on the fossil fishes in the early forties,
Professor Agassiz once said to the writer :

At that time I was on the verge of anticipating the views of Darwin, but it
seemed to me that the facts were contrary to the theories of evolution; we
had the highest fishes first.

This statement leads us to consider what is meant by 'high' and
*low.' Undoubtedly the sharks are higher than the bony fishes in the
sense of being nearer to the higher vertebrates. In brain, muscle, teeth
and reproductive structures, they are also more highly developed. In
all skeletal and cranial characters the sharks stand distinctly lower.
But the essential fact, so far as evolution is concerned, is not that the
sharks are high or low. They are in almost all respects distinctly
generalized and primitive. The bony fishes are specialized in various
ways through adaptation to the various modes of life they lead. Much
of this specialization involves corresponding degeneration of organs
whose functions have ceased to be important. As a broad proposition,
it is not true that 'we had our highest fishes first,' for in a complete
definition of 'high' and 'low,' the specialized perch or bass stands
higher. But whether true or not, it does not touch the question of evo-
lution wliich is throughout a process of adaptation to conditions of life.

In another essay. Dr. Coues has compared species of animals to ' ' the
twigs of a tree separated from the parent stem. We name and arrange
them arbitrarily in default of a means of reconstructing the whole tree
according to nature's ramifications."

TEE CLASSIFICATION OF FISHES. 9

If one had a tree, all in fragments, pieces of twig and stem, some
of them lost, some destroyed, and some not yet separated from the mass
not yet picked over, and wished to place each part where he could find
it, he would be forced to adopt some system of natural classification.
In such a scheme he would lay those parts together which grew from
the same branch. If he were compelled to arrange all the fragments
in a linear series, he would place together those of one branch, and
when these were finished, he would begin with another. If all this
were a matter of great importance, extending over years or over many
lifetimes, with many errors to be made and corrected, a set of names
would be adopted — for the main trunk, for the chief branches, the lesser
branches, and on down to the twigs and buds.

A task of tills sort on a world-wide scale is the problem of systematic
zoology. There is reason to believe that all animals and plants sprang
from a single stock. There is reasonable certainty that all vertebrate
animals are derived from a single origin. These vertebrate animals
stand related to each other, like the twigs of a gigantic tree, the lower-
most branches are the aquatic forms to which we give the name of fishes,
with their still more primitive fish-like relatives.

The aquatic vertebrates, reasonably called by the names of fishes,
constitute about three classes, or larger lines of descent. There are
lampreys, sharks and true fishes. If we include the extinct forms, we
may perhaps add two more, but this is uncertain, while below the fishes
are the protochordate classes of Enteropneustans, Tunicates and Lan-
celets, which stand nearer to fishes than to anything else. Each of
these groups differs from the others in varying degree.

Each of these again is composed of minor divisions called orders,
each containing many species. The different species, or ultimate kinds
of animals are again grouped in genera. A genus is an assemblage of
closely related species grouped around a central species as type. The
type of a genus is, in common usage, that species with which the name
of the genus was first associated. The name of the genus, as a noun,
taken with that of the species, which is an adjective in signification,
if not in form, constitutes the scientific name of the species. Thus
Petromyzon is the genus of the common large lamprey; marinus is its
species, and the scientific name of the species is Petromyzon marinus.
Petromyzon means stone-sucker; marinus of the sea; thus distinguish-
ing it from a species called fluviatilis, of the river.

In like fashion all animals and plants are named in scientific
record or taxonomy.

A family in zoology is an assemblage of related genera. The
name of a family, for convenience, always ends in the patronymic idee,
and it is always derived from the leading genus, that is, the one best

lo POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

known or earliest studied. Tlius all lampreys constitute the family
Petromyzonidfe.

An order may contain one or more families. An order is a division
of a larger group; a family, an assemblage of related smaller groups.
Intermediate groups are often recognized by the prefixes sub or super.
A subgenus is a division of a genus. A subspecies is a geographic race
or variation within a species; a superfamily, a group of allied families.

Binominal nomenclature, or the use of the name of genus and
species as a scientific name was introduced into science as a systematic
method by Linnaeus. In the tenth edition of his 'Systema Naturae'
published in 1758, this method was first consistently applied to animals.
By common consent, the scientific naming of animals begins with this
year, and no account is taken of names given earlier, as these are, ex-
cept by accident, never binomial. Those authors who wrote before
the adoption of the rule of binomials and those who neglected it are
alike ruled out of court. The idea of genus and species was well under-
stood before Linnaeus, but the specific name used was not one word
but a descriptive phrase, and this phrase was changed at the whim of
the different authors. Examples of such names are these of the West
Indian trunk-fish, or Cuckold: Ostracion tricornis of Linnaeus. Lister
refers to a specimen in 1686 as Piscis triangularis capiti cormitis cui
e media cauda cutanea oculeus longus erigitus. This Aretdi alters in
173i8 to Ostracion triangulatus aculeis duoius in capiti et unico longioro
superne ad caudam. This is more accurately descriptive and it recog-
nizes the existence of a generic type, Ostracion, or trunk fish, to cover
all similar fishes. French writers transformed this into various
phrases beginning: C off re triangulaire a trois comes or some similar
descriptive epithet, and in English or German it was likely to wander
still farther from the original. But Linnaeus condenses it all in the
word tricornis, which although not fully descriptive, is still a name
which all future observers can use and recognize.

It is true that common consent fixes the date of the beginning of
nomenclature at 1758, but to this there are many exceptions. Some
writers date genera from the first recognition of a collective idea under
a single name. Others follow even species back through the occasional
accidental binomials. Most British writers have chosen the final and
completed edition of the ' Systema Naturae, ' the last work of Linnaeus '
hand in 1766, in preference to the earlier volume. But all things con-
sidered, justice and convenience alike seem best served by the use of
the edition of 1758.

Synonymy is the record of the names applied at different times to
the same group or species. With characteristic pungency Dr. Coues
defines synonymy as *a burden and a disgrace to science.' It has been
found that the only way to prevent utter confusion is to use for each

THE CLASSIFICATION OF FISHES. n

genus or species the first name applied to it and no other. The first
name, once properly given is sacred because it is the right name. All
other later names, whatever their appropriateness in meaning, are
wrong names in taxonomy. In science, of necessity, a name is a name
without any necessary signification. For this reason and for the further
avoidance of confusion, it should remain as it was originally spelled by
the author, obvious misprints aside, regardless of all possible errors in
classical form or meaning. This rule is now generally adopted in
America, because attempts at classical purism have simply produced
confusion. The names in use are properly written in Latin or in
latinized Greek, the Greek forms being usually preferred as generic
names, the Latin adjectives for names of species. Many species are
named in honor of individuals, these names bearing usually the termina-
tion of the Latin genitive, as Sebastodes gillii, Liparis agassizi. In
recent custom all specific names in zoology are written with the small
initial; all generic names with the capital.

One class of exceptions must be made to the law of priority. No
generic name can be used twice among animals, and no specific name
twice in the same genus. Thus the name Didbasis has to be set aside
in favor of the next name, Hcemulon, because Diahasis was earlier
used for a genus of beetles. The specific name, Pristipoma humile, is
abandoned, because there was already a humile in the genus Pristipoma.

In the system of Linnseus, a genus corresponded roughly to the
modern conception of a family. Most of the primitive genera con-
tained a great variety of forms, as well as usually some species be-
longing to other groups dissociated from their real relationships.

As greater numbers of species have become known, the earlier genera
have undergone subdivision until in the modern systems almost any
structural character not subject to intergradation and capable of exact
definition is held to distinguish a genus. As the views of the value of
characters are undergoing constant change, and as different writers look
upon them from different points of view, or with different ideas of
convenience, we must have constant changes in the boundaries of gen-
era. This brings constant changes in the scientific names, although the
same specific name should be used whatever the generic name to which
it may be attached. We may illustrate these changes and the 'burden
of synonymy' as well by a concrete example. The horned trunk-fish or
cuckold of the West Indies was first recorded by Lister in 1686 in the
descriptive phrase above quoted. Artedi in 1738 recognized that it
belonged with other trunk-fishes in a group he called Ostracion treating
the word as a Latin masculine although derived from a Greek neuter
diminutive {darpaxiov, a small box). This, to be strictly classic, he
should have written Ostracium, but he preferred a partly Greek form
to the Latin one. In the Nagg's Head Inn in London, Artedi saw a

12 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

trunk-fish he thought different, having two spines on the tail, while
Lister's figure seemed to show one spine ahove it. This Nagg's Head
specimen Artedi called Ostracion triangulabus duohus aculeis in fronte
et totidem in into ventre suhcaudalesque hinis."

Next came Linnseus, 1758, who named Lister's figure and the species
it represented Ostracion tricornis, which should in strictness have heen
Ostracion income, as oarpaxiov, is a neuter diminutive. The Kagg's
Head fish he named Ostracion quadricornis. The right name is Ostra-
cion tricornis, because the name tricornis stands first on the page; but
Ostracion quadricornis has been most used by subsequent authors, it
being nearer correct as a descriptive phrase.

In 1798, Lacepede changed the name of Lister's fish to Ostracion
listeri, a needless alteration which could only make confusion.

In I8I18, Professor Mitchill, receiving a specimen from below New
Orleans, thought it different from tricornis and quadricornis and called
it Ostracion sex-cornutus. Hollard in 1857 named a specimen Ostracion
maculatus, and at about the same time Bleeker named two others from
Africa which seem to be the same thing, Ostracion guineensis and
Ostracion gronovii. Lastly Poey calls a specimen from Cuba Acanthos-
tracion polygonius, thinking it different from all the rest, which it may
be, though the chances are to the contrary.

This brings up the question of the generic name. Among trunk-
fishes there are four-angled and three-angled kinds, and in each form
species with and without horns and spines. The original Ostracion of
Linnaeus we may interpret as being based on Ostracion culicus of the
coasts of Asia. This we call the type species of the genus, as the Nagg's
Head specimen of Artedi was the type specimen of the species quadri-
cornis, or the one that was used for Lister's figure, the type specimen
of tricornis.

Cuhicus is a four-angled species, and when the trunk-fishes were
regarded as a family, Ostraciidas, the three-angled ones, were set off as
a separate genus. For these forms two names were offered, both by
Swainson in 1839. For trigonus, a species without horns before the
eyes, he gave the name Lactophrys, and for triqueter, a species without
spines anywhere, the name of Rhinesomus. Several recent American
authors have placed the three-cornered species, which are all American,
in one genus, which must therefore be called Lactophrys. Of this name
Rhinesomus is a synonym, and our species should stand as Lactophrys
tricornis. The fact that Lactophrys, as a word (from Latin lactus,
smooth, Greek oypu?, eyebrow; or else from lactoria, a milk cow
and ocppuq) is either meaningless or incorrect makes no difference with
the necessity for its use.

In 1862, Bleeker undertook to divide these fishes differently.
Placing all the hornless species, whether three-angled or four-angled in

TEE CLASSIFICATION OF FISHES. 13

Ostracion, he proposed the name Acanthostracion, for the species with
horns, tricornis being the type. But Acanthostracion has not been
usually adopted except as the name of a section under Lactophrys. The
three-angled American species are usually set apart from the four-
angled species of Asia, and our cuckold is called Lactophrys tricornis.
But it may be with perfect correctness called Ostracion tricorne in the
spirit called conservative. Or with the radical systematists we may
accept the finer definition and again correctly call it Acanthostracion
tricorne. But to call it quadricornis, or listeri, or maculatus, with any
generic name, whatever, would be to violate the law of priority.

By trinomial nomenclature we mean the use of a second, subordi-
nate specific name to designate a geograpliic subspecies, variety or other
intergrading race. Thus Salmo clarhi virginalis indicates the variety
of Clark 's trout, or the cut-throat trout, found in the lakes and streams
of the Great Basin of Utah, as distinguished from the genuine Salmo
clarkii of the Columbia.

Trinomials are not much used among fishes, as we are not yet able
to give most of these local forms correct and adequate definitions such
as is awarded to similar variations among birds and mammals. Some
of these forms will turn out to be real species, while others represent
slight individual variations. It will take long study of much material
to define these two sorts of subspecies and to separate one from the
other. It is easier to preserve and to study birds than fishes and more
people are engaged in it. For this reason the fine discrimination of
variant forms has been possible much earlier in ornithology than in
ichthyology.

14 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

STAGES OF VITAL MOTION.

By O. F. cook,
v. s. depaetment of agriculture.

^T^HAT the organic universe moves, all evolutionists believe; but the
-L opinion is still prevalent that species change only as the result
of external influences, and that evolution is thus a merely passive
process, a biological malleability or plasticity. What have been termed
static theories of evolution are based on this bald assumption that
species are normally in a state of rest or constancy, a notion contra-
dicted by every pertinent fact. Motion in the biological field is, in-
deed, more obvious than in astronomy, since every separate group of
organisms becomes different from its relatives, quite independent of
external conditions, except as these may influence the direction of
progressive change.

Adaptation and Environment.
No direct and causal connection between environment and genetic
variation has been demonstrated, in spite of many assertions and
theories. It is axiomatic that evolving organisms must vary from
where they are, or in characters they already possess; and as continued
existence presupposes adaptation to environment, variations often
strengthen adaptations, especially since characters favoring the geo-
graphical and numerical increase of the species are likewise best fitted
for distribution inside the species. In this way it is possible to under-
stand adaptations without the inheritance of 'acquired' characters
impressed upon the organism by the environment. Under the static
assumption that species normally maintain a stable average each specific
difference needs a separate explanation as the result of an external in-
fluence, and the preservation of each new variation must be supposed
to require the segregation of a new species. To make place for the
modified progeny and protect it against admixture it was thought
necessary that the parental type be eliminated, a method gratuitously
sanguinary and wasteful, since the new character can be much more
rapidly propagated by grafting it into the old species than by found-
ing a new species with a single ancestor — a suggestion often quite
impracticable. In contrast with the infinite complexity of this theory
is the general explanation afforded by the recognition of biological
motion, through which species achieve adaptation because they are
able to put forth variations in the necessary directions; not because
environment causes the variations, nor because the variants are isolated

STAGES OF VITAL MOTION. 15

from their unimproved relatives. Variation is not a consequence of
adaptation; adaptation is a result of variation.*

Heredity and variation are not two opposing forces, the one tend-
ing to preserve and the other to destroy the specific type; they are
two closely adjacent aspects of the single process of organic succession.
The permanence of types is not secured by stable or unchanging char-
acters, but by individual diversity or inconstancy, and the consequent
power to move in advantageous directions. Organisms are so consti-
tuted that the persistent repetition of the same form or character com-
plex is not possible; the supposition of a non-progressive heredity
comes from the pre-evolutionary period. Heredity does not oppose
variation ; evolution is the inheritance of variations, facilitated by cross-
fertilization. The causes of variations are also the causes of the ac-
cumulation of variations, and of the resulting diversity of species.
Variation and cross-fertilization are the means, while selection and
isolation are the incidents, of a continuous organic motion. Species
are not normally at rest, nor are their motions predetermined by ex-
ternal forces or by internal mechanisms; they are not compelled in
one direction, but must move in some direction, as variation and en-
vironment permit.

The Accumulation of Variations.

Static theories are further inadequate because they neglect the fact
that change or biological motion is necessary to maintain the vigor and
eflSciency of the organism. A kinetic theory,t on the other hand,
recognizes such motion as normal, and as facilitated by cross-breeding,
instead of being hindered. In whatever environment and however
propagated, organisms of all types and all categories of complexity are
changing or evolving, though with unequal rapidity. Organisms mul-
tiplied asexually and thus connected only in simple or linear series
make slow progress in comparison with groups in which variations can
be distributed through cross-fertilization. The more complex the or-
ganic structure the greater the necessity that it be supported, as it
were, by many diverse, intergrafting lines of descent. The reasons for
this have not been explained, but for purposes of expression it may be
ascribed to a special property or requirement called symbasis,| served at

* Reactions to environment are often termed ' adaptations,' but the word
in this sense is without evolutionary significance because it has not been shown
that any non-congenital variation is hereditary.

t'A Kinetic Theory of Evolution,' Science, N. S., XIII., 969, June 21,
1901; 'Kinetic Evolution in Man,' Science, N. S., XV., 927, June 13, 1902.

J Symbasis signifies etymologically a moving or standing with or together.
The similarity of the word to symbiosis is perhaps objectionable, but may assist
in the appreciation of the distinction between static and kinetic views. Sym-
biosis means the living together of different species of organisms on terms of

i6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

once by variation and by cross-fertilization. To what peculiarities of
substance or structure symbasis is due we have as yet no intimation, but
the same might have been said of gravitation and many other proper-
ties of matter for which names have proved useful, as well as of growth,
irritability, and similarly unexplained attributes of protoplasm.

Variations do not appear and are not selected or accumulated merely
because of their usefulness or desirability with reference to environment,
but useless or even injurious characters may be adopted as a means of
evolutionary movement.* Specialization in the sense of extreme ac-
centuation of characters is often harmful and therefore not to be
ascribed to adaptation. The influence of natural selection increases
with the nicety of adjustment already attained, or as the range of
permissible variation is narrowed. Adaptive specializations also com-
monly imply a narrow dependence on external conditions, and thus
give no assurance of permanence for the type; they are more common
on the side-twigs of life than on the main branches. Evolution is both
accelerated and retarded by narrow selection or segregation ; accelerated
if the motion be estimated on the basis of a single character; retarded
if the organism be viewed as a whole. Normal evolutionary progress
does not go forward on the line of a single character, but requires the
accumulation of many variations to maintain the structural coordina-
tion and functional cooperation of parts. External modifications re-
quire less coordination than internal, and are often exaggerated far
beyond the requirements of use, and beyond the limits of develop-
mental welfare, f

Organic change and diversity inside the species are necessary and
universal, but species and higher organic groups decline and become
extinct if their variations become limited to non functional parts and
do not provide, as it were, the facilities by which adjustment to chan-
ging environment may be maintained. Nevertheless, fitness for the
environment is only one aspect of the evolutionary problem; adapta-
tion is an incident and not a cause of evolutionary progress. Results
commonly ascribed to selection are due to the normal motion of organic
groups. Environment, including natural selection, segregation, isola-

mutual advantage. Symbasis refers to the fact that organisms exist and make
normal evolutionary progress together or in groups commonly called species
rather than in simple or narrow lines of succession.

* In Professor Baldwin's most recent and plausible improvement of the
static theory the preservation of new characters seems still to be ascribed
solely to natural selection. ('Development and Evolution,' p. 156, New York,
1902.)

•f- 'The Origin and Significance of Spines: A Study in Evolution,' by Charles
Emerson Beecher, Am. Jour. 8ci., VI., 1-120, 125-136, 249-268, 329-359, 1898.
I am indebted to Mr. Charles Schuchert, of the U. S. National Museum, for
bringing this able paper to my attention.

STAGES OF VITAL MOTION. 17

tion and other aspects, is a negative and not a positive factor in evolu-
tion. Instead of causing biological motion, environment is able only
to influence its direction by presenting obstacles to some tendencies of
variation while permitting others to go forward*

Potential Characters.

This separation of evolution from environment is not lessened by
the fact that environment frequently determines the existence or degree
of expression of characters. The absence of a substance necessary to
the formation of a certain color or pigment prevents its formation, as
may also the absence of the heat or sunlight necessary for its elabora-
tion. To expect that external conditions should not influence organ-
isms would be to ignore the fact that they grow by what they take in
from the outside, and can not build without materials. By being
placed under different conditions two individuals can be rendered far
more different than they otherwise would have been, but to call these
differences ' variations ' and then to generalize that variations are caused
by environment is simply the old-fashioned fallacy of the undistributed
middle.f There is not the slightest probability that the causes which
make related organisms different under different conditions are those
which make organisms of common origin different under the same
conditions. In his paper on 'Nutrition and Selection' Professor
De Yries shows that one of the variations of the poppy depends for
the degree of its manifestation upon the abundance of food, or is
correlated with vegetative vigor. This does not justify, however. Pro-
fessor De Vries' inference that all characters are so correlated; and
that the dependence was not absolute, even in the instance described,
was shown when a reversal of cultural methods did not eradicate the
character. The same reasoning applied to the human species would
discover that some characters appear only among well-fed people, and
that such characters are hereditary and persistent, but we are not
compelled on this account to infer that all the differences now existing
among us have arisen through over-eating.

Unsuspected differences or powers of variation sometimes appear
under new environments, but it has not been shown that such poten-
tial or latent characters are less congenital, or otherwise less normal

* As explained later on, a result of extreme segregation or narrow inbreed-
ing is to accentuate variation or produce abrupt changes or mutations. It is
as though the closing of all except one of the avenues of change compelled ab-
normal speed in that direction.

t Even under static theories it has been found advisable to distinguish
between ' physiological ' or ' direct,' non-hereditary variations due to environ-
ment, and ' congenital,' 'direct ' or ' fortuitous ' variations notably hereditary,
though doubtfully connected with environment.

VOL. LXIII. — 2.

i8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

in any evolutionary sense. The wonder is not that organisms build
differently with different materials, but that they are able to build with
the same materials such infinite diversity of form and structure.

Conditions Favoring Evolutionary Progress.

That with adequate materials supplied by abundant food a species
would be able to exhibit a larger range of variation, is undoubtedly
true, and offers no difficulties in a kinetic theory. The more favorable
the conditions or the more successful the adaptation, the more numer-
ous the individuals; also the more extensive would be the manifesta-
tions of the variational possibilities of the species, and the more rapid
^■he resulting evolutionary progress. If static theories of evolution
were correct numerical increase would not favor evolutionary change
because it would diminish the chances of the segregation on which the
preservation of variations has been thought to depend.

The most advanced organic types — those which have traveled
farthest on the evolutionary journey — are not natives of islands, but
of continents. The greatest and most rapid evolutionary progress has
not been made among organisms of localized distribution, but among
those having facilities for wide dissemination and free interbreeding.
Large species move faster than small. Insular species become diverse
from their continental relatives mainly because they are left behind
by the latter rather than because isolation favors evolution.

Segregation did not denote evolution either in the remote or in the
more recent past. As the geological record is followed backward the
more generalized types are found to have more generalized distribution,
and if in former ages evolutionary changes were more rapid than at
present in any particular group this may well be correlated with a period
of very favorable conditions permitting the simultaneous existence of
vast numbers of individuals in species continuous over large areas. The
later subdivision of these generalized types betokens less favorable cir-
cumstances which reduced the numbers or otherwise localized the distri-
bution, and thus segregated the new groups. The birds outnumber the
reptiles,* the insects the myriapods, the composites the palms. The
better the facilities for distribution the more rapid the evolution.

On the other hand the greater the localization and the fewer the
individuals the slower the evolutionary progress of a species, and the
more uniform the characters. Their supposed constancy leads systema-

* ■

Mr. F. A. Lucas calls my attention to the interesting fact that a sim-
ilarly accelerated development occurred among the pterodactyls, a second
winged group of reptilian ancestry. In the Jurassic and Cretaceous periods
pterodactyls attained a rapid and extensive differentiation of genera and
families. Likewise the early Eocene mammal types appeared very abruptly
and had a very wide distribution.

STAGES OF VITAL MOTION. 19

tists to ascribe specific rank to insular forms differing in details utterly
inadequate for the diagnosis of widely distributed continental types.
Multiplicity of species does not signify that the land-snails of the iso-
lated valleys of the Hawaiian Islands are in a state of more rapid evolu-
tion than other mollusca, but that the characters of these segregated
groups are so uniform that systematists can readily define and distin-
guish them. Many very small species are known, but they are extremely
few in comparison with those of larger distribution, and with suggestive
frequency they present indications of approaching extinction.*

The Significance of Mutations.

The uniformity of such narrowly segregated groups is the same as
that of many of our varieties of domesticated plants and animals, the
history of which is also brief. We have, moreover, with these the oppor-
tunity of observing the further symptoms of the process of decline.

As though to compensate for the want of access to the normal num-
ber of variations, those which occur become more and more striking,
and may even be more different from the parent form than the wild
species of the same genus are from each other. They have been said,
in other words, to * answer the definition of species. ' Professor De Vries
has courageously accepted the results of this reasoning and has equipped
his new Oenotheras with specific names and introduced them to the sci-
entific world as new members of the vegetable kingdom in regular stand-
ing, while the description of many other 'De Vriesian species/ is
threatened by some of our too-progressive naturalists.

The inadequacy of natural or other forms of selection as an explana-
tion of evolution has become more and more appreciated, and has
decreased confidence in the Darwinian idea that species originate by
imperceptible gradations, impelled by natural selection. Professor De
Vries and his followers argue accordingly that species must originate by
definite and abrupt changes, and have set out to search the biological
field for instances to support this theory. But if the present interpreta-
tion of evolutionary facts and factors be correct the forms described as
'mutations' are not true evolutionary species, either actual or potential.
Mutations more fertile than the parent type have not been reported.
They do not arise through normal evolution, but are symptoms of
debility due to the absence of evolutionary opportunities; they are not
parts of an ascending series, but are obviously declining toward extinc-
tion. This difference of interpretation well shows the antithesis of static

* Degeneration and extinction as the result of inbreeding has not been
suflBciently considered as an explanation of the dying-out of insular animals
protected from competition and other dangers of continental forms. There are,
for example, human remains on many Pacific islands uninhabited at the time
of their discovery by Europeans.

20 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

and kinetic theories of evolution. Under the former mutations have
been accepted as genuine examples of the methods by which species
are formed in nature, while under the latter they appear as but the
dying spasms of small groups of organisms suffering a fatal separation
from the life of their species.

Mr. A. F. Woods has kindly brought to my attention an important
confirmation of this association of mutation with reproductive debility,
namely, that cultural methods calculated to encourage vegetative growth
at the expense of reproductive vigor or fertility are also distinctly
favorable to the appearance of mutations and of physiological abnor-
malities such as variegation of foliage. Professor De Vries made Oeno-
thera the special object of his study because the frequency of fasciation
and other monstrosities seemed to indicate a high degree of structural
instability. The abnormality of this class of evolutionary phenomena
was not considered. It was inferred instead that the condition of ' muta-
tion' is a somewhat rare and temporary state through which organisms
pass at the period of formation of new species, and the failure to find
equal 'mutability' in other plants did not prevent the drawing of gen-
eral conclusions.

Definitions of Evolutionary Stages.

As a summary of the above discussion three evolutionary condi-
tions may be formally distinguished:

1. Prostholytic or Progressive Stage. — The prostholytic or progres-
sive stage of evolution is found in large species of wide distribution
containing abundant individuals with free intercrossing of numerous
lines of descent. There is unlimited diversity or inconstancy of in-
dividual characters, and variation is indefinite and continuous in the
sense that endless fluctuations and intergradations are present. The
requirements of symbasis are fully met; interbreeding is normal and
reproductive fertility is high.

2. Hemilytic or Retarded Stage. — The hemilytic or retarded stage
of evolution is reached in species or subordinate groups of restricted
distribution containing a limited number of individuals with few and
closely interrelated lines of descent. Characters are nearly uniform
and variation slight. The requirements of symbasis are not fully met,
but the deficiency has not yet resulted in reproductive debility.

3. Catalytic or Declining Stage. — The catalytic or declining stage
of evolution appears in closely segregated groups of relatively few indi-
viduals propagated by inbreeding or on single lines of descent. Varia-
tions are few, pronounced, and abrupt or discontinuous, also relatively
constant and with little or no intergradation. The catalytic stage
implies a violation of the law of symbasis, or inadequate cross-fertiliza-
tion, together with the resulting deficiency of fertility.

STAGES OF VITAL MOTION. 21

Effects of Inbreeding.

These stages or states of evolution are distinguished and named in
the belief that they will afford a useful addition to our evolutionary
vocabulary. They are, however, parts of a connected series of events
with no lines of separation between them. All organisms which too
close segregation has brought to the catalytic stage have passed through
the hemilytic. For example, the recently domesticated pecan tree of
our southwestern states is still in the first or normal stage of evolution,
and only a small proportion of the seedlings produce nuts like those
of the parent tree. Selective inbreeding for a few generations would
first produce imiformity, or 'fix the type,' as the expression is, by in-
ducing the hemilytic or retarded stage of evolution, while a too narrow
and persistent selection or the segregation of a single line of descent
would hasten the decline and eventual destruction of the very type it
might be designed to perpetuate. Coffee has not been domesticated for
much more than a thousand years, and although selection has not been
practised, very pronounced and constant variations are now appearing
in considerable numbers, but all less fertile than the parent stock.
That inbreeding tends to 'fixity' of characters is true only for a time;
organisms in the catalytic stage are rendered less uniform as well as
less fertile by continued inbreeding. Uniformity and vigor can be
restored, as breeders already know, only by the repetition of the pro-
cess of selective segregation after cross-breeding with another stock.

The catalytic stage is attained more slowly by asexual propagation,
and the variability is far less pronounced, but partial or complete ste-
rility has appeared in a considerable series of unrelated tropical plants
long propagated only by cuttings, such as the banana, pine-apple, sugar-
cane, sweet-potato, Irish potato, taro and yam.

Parthenogenesis may also be viewed as a form of asexual propaga-
tion, and habitual self-fertilization is another stage of sexual and evo-
lutionary decline. Self-fertilization is supposed to be normal in sev-
eral of the cereal grasses and in many other plants, though it is obvi-
ously unsafe to infer that cross-fertilization is entirely superfluous
because frequently absent. With the cereals and other plants of sim-
ilar history self-fertilization may prove to be a result of cultivation in
northern latitudes where the weather is often unfavorable for pollina-
tion by the wind or by insects, so that selection would encourage varia-
tions least dependent upon cross-pollination. I learn from Mr. Jesse
B. Norton that the more primitive, hardy, and disease-resistant oat
varieties of South Europe open their glumes widely and thus invite
cross-fertilization, while in most of the varieties bred in the colder and
more rainy climate of Northern Europe the glumes separate much less,
and do not expose the stigmas, thus showing that cross-fertilization has
been abandoned. Darwin proved that there is no benefit in the cross-

2 2 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

ing of closely related individuals, as distinguished from fertilization by
the pollen of the same flower, and since domestication implies inbreed-
ing the habit of self-fertilization would involve no additional injury,
but would have an important practical advantage in greatly increasing
the chances of pollination and seed-production.

Mutations and Hybrids.
The recognition of symbasis, or the necessity of a broad foundation
to sustain the organic structure, permits the inference that some hybrids
are sterile and variable for the same reason that closely inbred plants
and animals decline in fertility and produce mutations or deviations
from the normal type. A hybrid is a mixture or cross between indi-
viduals which would not be expected to mix in nature. Among domes-
ticated plants hybridization signifies the reverse of selection, the cross-
ing of varieties which the breeder commonly strives to keep separate.
Generalizations to the effect that hybrids as a whole are sterile, variable,
weak or vigorous are fallacious, since the results of the crossing depend
upon the evolutionary status of the parents. By segregation or in-
breeding normal or progressive variation gradually gives place to uni-
formity and then to mutation, but hybrids between distant types pass
at once from the progressive stage to the catalytic. On the other
hand, crosses between inbred or closely segregated stocks may show
increased vigor and stability, and thus reverse the process of decline.
Hybrids, therefore, may be either prostholytic or catalytic as they tend
upward or downward in the evolutionary series.

Diagram of Evolutionary Stages.
Sterility.
Catalytic or Aberrant or mutative hybrids.

declining stage.
Dialytic or Mendelian hybrids, characters an-

divergent stage.* tagonistic.
Symbasis. Prostholytic or ' Inconstancy ' with intergrada-

progressive stage. tions, as in natural species.

Hemilytic or Uniformity or ' fixed' types.

retarded stage.
Catalytic or De Vriesian mutations or ' sports.'

declining stage.
.Sterility.

Cross-breeding and close-breeding have the same limits of sterility;
and between each and the mean of normal evolution there is, as shown
by the experiments of Mendel, Garton, De Vries and others, a region
of the relatively infertile abrupt variations variously termed sports,

* The dialytic or divergent stage might be described as the reverse of the
hemilytic; it is characterized by the facts discovered by Mendel, Spillman and
others, which may be taken to signify that the characters upon which close-bred
varieties have diverged do not combine into an average in the hybrid offspring,
but remain antagonistic and follow one or the other of the parental lines.

Cross-breeding.

Inbreeding.

STAGES OF VITAL MOTION. 23

mutations and hybrids. The weakness and sterility of too distant
crosses and of too closely isolated or inbred plants or animals may be
due alike to a deficiency of normal fertilization, and may be accepted
as evidence that the true course of evolution lies along neither of these
extremes but follows the natural mean between them.

Disconiinucms Variation,
Catalytic variations have not the indefinite number and diversity of
the progressive stage; like the symptoms of other disorders of plants
and animals the same or closely similar mutations recur in somewhat
definite proportions, and are not peculiar to single species, but many
members of a genus or family may be similarly affected. It is there-
fore not necessary to interpret the independent repetition of the same
symptom of evolutionary debility as an evidence of the inheritance
of definite character complexes or units.* The truly admirable but
often misinterpreted experiments of Mendel did not result in the dis-
covery of 'principles of heredity' so much as they revealed limits of
hybridization, in that hybrid plants were found which inherited the
characters of only one parent. The failure of strongly divergent or
antagonistic characters to combine into a permanent average in hybrids
gives, however, no basis for denying that normal evolution proceeds by
the synthesis or accumulation of acceptable variations, nor is abrupt or
discontinuous variation in individuals in any way incompatible with the
probability that in nature evolution goes forward only tlirough the
gradual transformation and subdivision of species. The emphasis
placed by Bateson, De Vries and others upon abrupt variations is war-
ranted by no general pertinence of the facts, and is but a consequence
of the failure to perceive that the origination or multiplication of spe-
cies is an incident rather than an instance of evolution.

Cross- fertilization Accelerates Evolution.
Organic succession will not persist on too narrow lines of descent,
does not normally leap aside from its course, and will not bridge over
too broad a chasm of evolutionary divergence. Amount of difference
in the external characters of two groups affords little indication regard-
ing the behavior of their hybrids. Some groups treated by the sys-
tematists as closely related species will not even hybridize, while in
other instances plants assigned to different genera are mutually fertile.
Such discrepancies are doubtless due partly to inadequate classification
and partly to the fact thal^ organic evolution is attended also by a
cytological or cellular evolution the progress of which may not be con-

* Criminologists have found in the human species the same tendency of ab-
normal individuals to fall into recognizable types. Inbreeding is also recognized
as a frequent cause of aberrations from the mental and physical average of the
race, just as sterility and emotional abnormality are among the most frequent
phenomena of criminality.

24 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

sistently uniform. That the cytological or cellular evolution is com-
monly slower than that which affects external characters seems probable
because domesticated plants and animals more different than mutually
sterile wild species are still completely fertile. That all the types
produced under domestication from the same wild species hybridize
freely, and thus do not have the stability and isolation of natural
species, was frankly admitted by Darwin and Huxley as 'one of the
greatest obstacles to the general acceptance and progress of the great
principle of evolution,' and it is no less an obstacle to the acceptance
of the complicated and self-contradictory static theories formulated as
alleged improvements of the views of these evolutionary pioneers. If,
however, evolution be recognized as a kinetic process this fundamental
difficulty completely disappears, since the cross-fertilization which
hinders the segregation of species is not on this account an obstacle
to evolution, but is, on the contrary, the most important agency for
the acceleration of vital motion. By overlooking this fact builders of
evolutionary theories have continued, as it were, to stumble over the
corner-stone of the biological structure.

TEE SLAVIC IMMIGRANT. 25

THE SLAVIC IMMIGRANT.

By Dr. ALLAN MCLAUGHLIN,

U. 8. PUBLIC HEALTH AND MARINE HOSPITAL SERVICE.

TT^VEEY new factor of our immigration is looked on with suspicion.
-*— ^ It is the right and duty of every American to criticize justly the
raw material for future citizenship passing within our gates and to
insist that this material shall be measured and weighed, measured by
the standard of humanity, weighed in the scale of justice, and if found
wanting sent back without ceremony or sentiment whence it came.
But too often the criticism is blinded by race prejudice and ignorance
of the immigrant. Every race that has figured prominently in our im-
migration statistics has had to bear the brunt of attacks by well-mean-
ing pessimists, who, in many instances, never saw an immigrant in the
rough. In this regard the Slav is not more fortunate than his prede-
cessors, the German, the Irishman and the Scandinavian.

One of the most striking facts shown by recent immigration statis-
tics is the rapid increase of Slavic arrivals. From almost nothing
before 1868, it has grown progressively year by year, until it now con-
stitutes nearly one fourth of our total immigration. In view, therefore,
of the fact that the desirability of Slavs as immigrants is in question at
the present time, and that they constitute such a large proportion of
our total immigration inflow, a consideration of the Slavonic immi-
grant seems pertinent.

Great Russians.
Eastern Division. -i 2. Little Russians.

L 3.

Balkan or Southern Division.

Western Division.

White Russians.

1. Croats.

(a) Croatians.

( b ) Slovenes.

2. Serbs.

3. Bosnians.

4. Montenegrins.

5. Bulgars.

1. Poles.

2. Slovaks.

3. Czechs.

(a) Bohemians.
(6) Moravians.

4. Lusatian Wends.

The Slavic race may be conveniently divided into three great divi-
sions according to their geographical distribution in Europe : an eastern
division, embracing all the Russian Slavs; a southern division, the
Slavic inhabitants of the Balkan states, and that portion of Hungary

26

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

south of the Danube; and a western division, comprising those Slavic
peoples whose progress westward in Europe has formed a Slavic wedge,
separating the Germans of upper and lower Austria from the Germans
of Saxony and Brandenburg, The above table indicates a simple
geographical classification.

71

mm

us 5 /A

Gre&'f' A v»9 '*•>».

''^tsu

'«»a

The unshaded portion of the map shows the territory in Europe
occupied by Slavs.

Since of the many subdivisions given in the preceding table only
five furnish us with more than one thousand immigrants a year, and
since these five races aggregate ninety-seven per cent, of the total Slavic
immigration, a consideration of them practically covers the whole field.
The following table shows the numerical strength of the Slavic arri-
vals for the year ended June 30, 1902.

Poles 69,620

Slovaks 36,934

Croats 30,233

Ruthenians 7,533

Czechs 5,590

All other Slavs including Russians, Bulgars, Serbs, Montene-
grins, etc 5,879

Total Slavs 155,789

The Poles.

The lot of the Polish peasant has always been unhappy. Wlien
Poland at the zenith of her power ruled White Kussians, Ruthenians

THE SLAVIC IMMIGRANT. 27

and Lithuanians, when her dominion extended from the Oder to the
Don and from the Baltic to the Black Sea, the position of the Polish
serf was as unenviable as it is to-day. Poland was an oligarchy in
which the ruling nobles and their miserable serfs had no bond of sym-
pathy. There was no Polish middle class to carry on commerce and
trade, to serve as a connecting link between the two widely separated
classes. Commerce and trade were in the hands of foreigners, chiefly
Jews. The Pacta Conventa (1572) or, as it has been called, the Polish
Magna Charta, was in no sense a charter of the liberties of the people.
It is true that it curtailed the power of the king and made him a mere
figurehead, but it greatly increased the power of the nobles and, if
anything, added to the misery of the peasants. These conditions made
impossible a universal national feeling, and paved the way for Poland's
downfall.

No doubt Russian treatment of Polish landowners and nobles has
been unjust, even cruel, but it must be remembered that the first real
freedom the Polish serf ever enjoyed he received from liis Eussian mas-
ters. Russia abolished serfdom and, after the Polish insurrection of
1863, the Czar sought to conciliate the Polish peasant class by certain
agrarian reforms. By these measures the peasants settled upon land
and were made owners, the government compensating the landlord and
exacting from the peasant a small sum yearly until the amount ad-
vanced was paid. Following the suppression of the revolt, wholesale
confiscation placed upon the market thousands of acres of good farming
land, and in a great measure broke up the large estates which kept the
peasant a serf, even after he was declared free. Unfortunately for the
Polish peasant, he was usually too poor to buy any of the land thus
placed in the market.

But the conciliatory policy of Czar Alexander II. is not favored by
the present ruler. His efforts at Russification are aggressive and per-
sistent. It is to America that the Pole looks as the only land likely
to give him a chance. The Polish immigrants possess the general char-
acteristics of the Slavs. They are of medium height or very slightly
below it, very strongly built, with the broad face and brachycephalic
head of the Slav type. Their complexion shows all gradations from the
blue eyes and light hair in the Slavs of the north to the pronounced
brunette type of the southern Poles. Five sixths of the male Polish
immigrants are unskilled laborers. They are very willing to work and
are especially useful in the mines, mills, manufacturing concerns and
great works of construction.

The geographical distribution of Poles arrived in America during
the year ended June 30, 1902, is shown below:

Ratio to

Total Poles Landed.

32

per cent.

21

((

11

«

8

»

8

«

5

€t

4

€(

3

«

2

((

6

((

100

per cent.

28 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

state Number of Poles.

Pennsylvania 21,929

New York 14,364

Illinois 8,818

Massachusetts 5,916

New Jersey 5,689

Connecticut 3,299

Ohio 2,502

Michigan 1,899

Wisconsin 1,059

All other states 4,225

Total 69,620

The Slovaks.

There are two factors that more than any others tend to preserve
the purity of a race. They are the inaccessibility and the Tininviting
nature of the country it inhabits. Thus, races occupying a barren moun-
tainous country or a country covered by trackless forest and impassable
marshland are apt to be of purer racial type than the races living upon
the great natural highways of commerce and trade or occupying terri-
tory rich enough to be inviting to covetous eyes. These factors have
had much to do with the preservation of the purely Slavic type as
represented by the Slovaks. This people occupies the rough mountain-
ous country on the Hungarian side of the Carpathians, well back from
the vallev of the Danube.

The Slovak is very closely allied racially to the Bohemian or Czech.
Their languages are similar, the Slovak being the more primitive and
more like the old Slav. Up to the beginning of the nineteenth cen-
tury, the Slovaks used the Bohemian language for all printed or writ-
ten forms, but about that time a separatist movement began and an
effort was made to develop a Slovak literature. This movement was
unfortunate for both Czech and Slovak, because they had to resist the
same natural enemies — aggressive Pan-Germanism on the one side, and
the ever-intrusive Magyar on the other.

Physically, the Slovaks are a sturdy stock, a little taller than the
Poles. The great majority of the men are unskilled laborers. The
following table indicates how the Slovaks were distributed for the year
ended June 30, 1902 :

Ratio to

State. Number of Slovaks. Total Slovaks Landed.

Pennsylvania 19,930 54 per cent.

New York 4,904 13

New Jersey 3,479 9

Ohio 3,153 9

Illinois 2,114 6

Connecticut 1,025 3

All other states 2,332 6

Total 39,934 100 per cent.

THE SLAVIC IMMIGRANT. 29

The Croats.

The Croatians and Slovenes occupy the two large provinces to the
south of Hungary, Croatia and Slavonia, that lie between the Drave
and Danube rivers on the north and the Save Eiver and the Bosnian
boundary line on the south. A large number of the same race also come
to America from the adjoining provinces of Carniola, Carinthia, Styria,
Istria and Dalmatia.

Croatia and Slavonia formed part of ancient Pannonia. The Slavs
took possession about the seventh century after Ostrogoth and Hun
had come and gone. They recognized the authority of the Emperors
of the East until 1075, when their leader, Zwonimir Demetrius, threw
off the Byzantine yoke and received the title of king from Pope Gregory
VII. at Eome. The country was subdued by the Turks (1524) and,
from the time of their expulsion some years later, has been considered a
part of the Kingdom of Hungary. The Croats took sides against the
Magyars in the revolt of 1848, and Austria rewarded them by making
them independent of Hungary, but in 1860 Austria's attitude changed,
and to conciliate the Magyars she restored them to Hungary. They are
not content. Their national feeling is intense, and, though loyal to the
house of Hapsburg, they desire complete autonomy, with the Emperor
of Austria as their king. They detest their Magyar rulers, and there
exists as a consequence a constant clashing of Magyar and Slav through-
out the provinces. This race of southern Slavs presents some pecu-
liarities when compared with the recognized Slav type. They are dark-
eyed and swarthy skinned (very different in complexion from the north-
ern Slavs). Their heads are brachy cephalic, not so much from great
width as from a very short antero-posterior diameter. This peculiarity
is striking if the subject be inspected in profile. The line of contour
from the vertex of the skull to the root of the neck is almost perpen-
dicular. Compared with the average Pole or Eussian, who is not above
medium height, they are very tall. Their stature is remarkable not only
because it is so unlike that of the typical Slavs, but also because it is an
exception to the general rule that European races are tall in the north
and short in the south.

The Croats are of slighter build than Pole or Slovak, but they have
fewer physical defects than any other Slavic people.

More than seven eighths of the males are unskilled laborers, strong
and willing to work. The table given below shows how they were dis-
tributed in the United States during the year ended June 30, 1902 :

30 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Sffttp Nnmhpr of Croats ^**'o *° "^^^^^ Number

''*"®- JN am Der ot Croats. of Croats Landed.

Pennsylvania 16,726 56 per cent.

Illinois 3,547 11

Ohio 2,923 10

New York 1,651 5

All other states 5,386 18 "

Total 30,233 100 per cent.

The Ruthenians.

The statement that nearly all Russian immigrants in America come
from Austria may seem strange, but it is true. Last year 7,540 Rus-
sians came from Austria and only 1,536 Russians from Russia.

The Russian Slavs are divided by philologists into three divisions:
Great Russians, White Russians and Little Russians. The Great Rus-
sians occupy a large quadrangular area in Russia consisting of the cen-
tral governments, from Novgorod and Vologda on the north to Kiev on
the south ; from Pensa and Simbirsk on the east to the Polish provinces
on the west. The White Russians number less than four millions and
occupy some of the western governments adjoining Poland. Great Rus-
sians and White Russians do not emigrate. The Little Russians occupy
the great fertile treeless plain, the black mold belt in southern Russia,
which extends from Kiev to the Black Sea. They also people the two
Austrian provinces of Bukowina and Galicia. It is said that a line
drawn eastward on the map from Cracow in Galicia through Kiev in
Russia will divide the Little Russians from the Great Russians. The
Little Russians occupying Galicia and Bukowina, Austria, are known as
Ruthenians. They are also called Russniaks and Red Russians. Nearly
all our Russian immigrants come from these two Austrian provinces.
The Ruthenians are typical Slavs. They have a rugged, sturdy
physique, and the men are almost all unskilled laborers. They were
distributed in America as follows, during the year ended June 30, 1902 :

otnta Number of Ratio to Total Number

°'''^^^- Ruthenians. of Ruthenians Landed.

Pennsylvania 4,153 55 per cent.

New York 1,594 21

New Jersey 746 10 "

Ohio 328 4

All other states 732 10

Total 7,533 100 per cent.

The Czechs.
From within the boundaries of the kingdom of Bohemia and the
adjoining province of Moravia come each year several thousand immi-
grants of Slavic blood. There is little difference racially between the
Bohemian and Moravian and they are usually classed together as

THE SLAVIC IMMIGRANT. 31

Czechs. "Bohemia constitutes the point of the wedge formed by the
advance of the western division of the Slavic race into Central Europe.
For this reason Bohemia has been the bulwark of Slavic supremacy,
and has acted the part of a buffer in checking the progress of pan-Ger-
manism in the Slavic states. The German element is stronger in Bo-
hemia than in any other Slavic state, and the Bohemian Slavs are taller
and more blond, possibly because of a strong infusion of Teutonic
blood.

The Czechs possessed a native literature as early as the ninth cen-
tury. Their country is well supplied with schools, in about one half
of which the Czech language is spoken. They are far better educated
than any other Slavic immigrants.

The valley of the Elbe is a rich agricultural country, and through-
out the kingdom industry and manufacturing are highly developed.
For this reason more than fifty per cent, of Czech immigrants are
skilled laborers or mechanics — an unusually high percentage for Slavs.

The Czechs have a very wide area of distribution in this country.
This is natural, for, being skilled in various occupations, they can find
employment anywhere. They have scattered from New York to Ne-
braska and Texas. The following table shows the destination by states
of the Czechs arrived last year:

ef„*„ vr„_v„- ^fri-^^uo Ratio to Total Number

State. Number of Czechs. ^^ ^^^^^^ Landed.

New York 1,387 25 per cent.

Illinois 1,375 25

Ohio 660 12

Pennsylvania 571 10 "

Texas 391 7

Wisconsin 217 4 "

Nebraska 194 3

All other states 795 14

Total 5,590 100 per cent.

There are certain cardinal requisites in the make-up of a desirable
immigrant. He must have a good physique, he must be willing to do
rough hard labor, and he must be a man who intends to make this coun-
try his permanent home. Observations of the Slavic immigrants will
show that they have a very rugged physique, that they are very willing
to work at the most arduous labor, and that they have no desire to re-
turn to the oppression and grinding poverty of the old world, A dis-
passionate study of their history in Europe reveals nothing to their
disadvantage. In addition their moral standard is a very high one.
They are a simple, right-living people, intensely religious and mindful
of family ties. They are guileless compared with the Hebrew, Italian
or Levantine races, and before the Board of Special Inquiry they usually
tell the plain truth.

32 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

The demand for rough unskilled laborers has steadily increased with
our wonderful industrial growth. It is generally admitted that this
demand cannot be supplied by native American applicants. Of all for-
eign laborers none is better qualified for this work than the Slavs.
Eighty-five per cent, of the male Slavs are unskilled laborers, and nearly
ninety-five per cent, come to this country between the ages of fifteen
and forty-five, when their economic value is greatest.

These people do not crowd the tenements of our large cities, but
tend to establish themselves in little homes of their own in the country
or in the suburbs of manufacturing towns and cities.

The Slav is popiilarly supposed to be mentally slow and without
energy or ambition. This is not entirely true. In comparison with
the Hebrews who transact nearly all the business in Poland and Gali-
cia, the Poles (in business acumen) seem as children. The Slovak
appears mentally slow compared with the alert Magyar, but it must be
remembered that the Hebrew in business makes other races than the
Slav seem slow, and that, while almost all Magyars can read and write,
one third of the Slovaks are illiterate. This seeming mental deficiency
and absence of ambition in the Slav is due mainly to lack of education
and to centuries of subjection to tyrannical masters. It is hard to con-
ceive how a peasant in Eussia under existing conditions could develop
such a quality as ambition, and judgment as to the Slav's energy and
his intellectual possibilities must be suspended until his children in
this country have had a chance to show that American schools and
American environment can quicken the slow apathy of the serf into
the energetic activity of the freedman.

The Slavic immigrant fills a place in the industrial fields of this
country in which he hears no call for such attributes as ambition, en-
ergy and mental brilliancy, a place which no American envies him, and
where he is as necessary to American advancement as the coal and iron
that by his labor are mined and made ready for the American mechanic
and manufacturer.

OBITUARY NOTICE OF A LUNG-FISII.

33

OBITUAKY NOTICE OF A LUNG-FISH.*

By Professor BASHFORD DEAN,

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

n^HEEE died recently in the aquarium room of the department of
-■- zoology of Columbia University, a specimen of the African lung-
fish, Protopterus annectans. Here it had lived for nearly five years,
thriving at the cost of generations of living earthworms and increas-
ing in size nearly three-fold. From the fact that this interesting fish
is relatively rare in aquaria, the present specimen is possibly deserving
of a formal memorial notice.

It arrived at Columbia University in July, 1898, in a sun-baked clod
of earth, in which under native conditions the fish lies dormant dur-
ing the summer drought. In this state it had been living for several
months, and during the interval it had been breathing air, thanks to
its lung, in a very unfish-like way. Its earlier history may be written

Fig. 1.

Fig. 2.

Clod of Earth containing Cocoon of Lung-fish. Fig. 1 shows entrance burrow, Fig. 2
remains of cocoon after escape of fish.

with tolerable accuracy. Its early life was spent in some African
stream in the region of the Congo, where it had lived successfully

* The lung-fish is generally regarded as a little modified survivor of the
ancient ' connecting link ' between the water-living fishes and the air-breathing
and four-legged amphibians. There is the clearest evidence that in the early
geological periods the lung-fi.shes represented a flourishing stock both in numbers
and kinds. At the present day they are reduced to three genera, one Australian^
one South American, and one African.

VOL. LXIII. — 3.

34 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

hunting and unsuccessfully hunted, until the approach of the dry sea-
son. Then as the stream dried up, it had taken to the last pool, and
when this in turn had dried, the fish, like its neighboring friends and
relatives, had burrowed deep into the thickening mud, rolled itself up
into a ball, secreted a mass of mucus about its coiled body, and made
ready for a summer 'sleep.' One of its first precautions was to keep
its nose uppermost and to see that its ' breath ' found a passageway
out of its slimy capsule into the open burrow : in this way, then, it could
breathe throughout the summer, while awaiting dormantly the return
of rains, and the melting of its 'cocoon.' In this stage in its history
it came to be dug up, and, together with other cocoons and their sur-
rounding clods of earth, was crated and shipped to Europe. I am
told that the shippers take pains to surround the crate with iron gauze
to preserve the fish from the attacks of rats on shipboard, and that the
clods of earth are disposed in such a way that the sides containing the
breathing apertures face outward so that the imprisoned fish run the
least possible danger of becoming stifled.

The present shipment came into the hands of Professor H. 0.
Forbes, Director of the Public Museums of Liverpool, and through his
kindness the present specimen was donated to Columbia. A photo-
graph, Pig. 1, shows the cocoon just as it came to the present writer.
The tubular burrow through which the fish worked its way into the
mud is seen conspicuously, and one may note that it was somewhat
crooked, in spite of the fact that part of its margin has been broken
away in the present specimen. Its usual length appears to depend
upon the character of the bottom ; from two to five inches are the meas-
urements stated. At the end of the burrow lies the cocoon, a roundish
mass, brown in color, paper-like in texture, but greatly roughened
on its outer surface by attachment to rootlets and foreign matter. Its
inner surface, as one would expect from the mucous nature of the
shell, is found to be smooth and delicate. Where the cocoon meets the
outer burrow its shell is somewhat flattened, and here, near the side,
it is perforated by a delicate straw-like tube, formed of dry mucus,
which passes downward into the mouth of the fish, and through this the
fish respires during the dry season. It has, indeed, been shown by Pro-
fessor W. N. Parker that this tube passes within the mouth of the fish
and conducts the air to the entrance of the fish's lung.

In liberating the fish from the cocoon, the usual procedure is to
allow the mass to remain in warmish water until the earth softens and
melts, but in the present case a sliorter, but somewhat more perilous,
course was adopted. One side of the block was cautiously sliced away
until the side of the papery cocoon became visible: then the earthy
margins of the opening were carefully removed, so that the process
of liberating the fish could be observed. The entire mass was next

OBITUARY NOTICE OF A LUNG-FISH. 35

placed in an aquarium in water slightly warmed. In a few moments
slight movements of the fish could he seen through the papery
shell; and upon lifting out the earthen hlock and touching the
cocoon, a distinct croaking sound was heard several times. Ke-
placed in water, the capsule soon softened and ruptured like wet paper,
and for a moment a glimpse was had of the fish tightly rolled up, with
its tail folded over the head and only a single thread-like limb pro-
truded. This, however, was but for a moment, for with an energetic
squirm the animal liberated itself and sank to the bottom of the aqua-
rium. For a moment it lay motionless, then swam briskly around
the aquarium, coming to the surface several times and gulping
air. At this time it showed the crimson flush of blood in the tail re-
gion where, according to Wiedersheim, the skin aids the lung as a
respiratory organ. The fish, as one might indeed have inferred from
the size of the burrow in the clod of earth, proved to be small, meas-
uring a little over five inches in length. It was, however, larger than
one would have estimated from the diameter of the tubular opening
and from the actual size of the cocoon, the latter measuring about two
inches in length and one inch in thickness. In Fig. 2 is shown the
remains of the cocoon after the escape of the fish, the upper portion of
the papery case alone being preserved.

From the small size of the fish this was possibly its first season of
aestivation. How long it had been out of the water was not laiown, but

Fig. 3. Lung-fish, Protopteriis. Resting position in aquarium.

certainly this was a matter of several months. I have, indeed, learned
from Dr. Forbes that a fish will sometimes survive a period of eight
months out of water.

Shortly after its release from the cocoon the writer's colleague,
Dr. Edward Learning, took a number of photographs of the fish,
some of which are shown herewith, to give a graphic idea of its
appearance and unfish-like movements (Figs. 3 to 6). In side view,
Fig. 3, the fish is shown in a position of rest, its body resting upon the
bottom, its long, paired extremities extended out, braced against the
glass side of the aquarium. When moving, however, the fish would

36

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

lift its body by means of the paired fins, and these would then serve
after the fashion of the arms and legs of a quadruped as the fish
' walked ' slowly about;, alternating the forward and backward move-
ments of its extremities. This condition is illustrated in Fig. 4, in
which the bend of the arms and legs, where they support the weight of
the fish is shown satisfactorily. In this figure^, which, together with
Figures 5 and 6, were photographed from almost directly above the
fish, one observes that the strain upon the limbs falls, not upon their

Fig. 4.

Fig. 5. Fig. 6.

Lung-fish showing Vakious Movements.

tips, but near the middle. Thus one notes in Fig. 6 that the tip of
the right-hand pelvic limb curls upM^ard and is free from the bottom.
One observes especially in Fig. 3 the stress upon the left pectoral limb,
which causes it to be bent almost at right angles in an elbow-like fash-

OBITUARY NOTICE OF A LUNG-FISII. 37

ion. This limb, by the way, has lost its tip, and is being regenerated,
the lighter portion, as shown in the figure, having already been grown.
I miglit note that at the point where the injury occurred a small trans-
verse branch later made its appearance, but after this had grown for a
year or two and become one eighth of an inch in diameter, it gradually
degenerated and finally entirely disappeared. A characteristic move-
ment is illustrated in Fig. 5; here the fish, having reached the
end of the tank, draws back before turning in another direction. To
accomplish this result, the fins again operate in a quadrupedal fashion :
pressing on the limbs firmly, the fish recoils, pushing itself back by
means of its shoulder and pelvic muscles, the tail and body taking
little or no part in the process. In this figure we again note the strain
which is laid upon an extremity, for the left arm is bent almost to the
shoulder.

Another characteristic movement is pictured in Fig, 6, where the
animal is circling around. The weight of the hinder body is supported
firmly by the outstretched legs, and the arms swing forward and back-
ward, turning the anterior part of the body. In the present position
the animal is on the point of again advancing, and in this event the
limbs will move alternately as shown in Fig. 4. Throughout these
varied movements the fish is slow and deliberate, reminding one rather
of a newt than of a fish. In the present figures attention should be
called to the great length of the uninjured arm, which in this small
specimen indicates doubtless a larval feature of the fish. Also note-
worthy is the position of the external gills, which stand out at the sides
of the head very much as they do in a larval salamander.

From this stage onward the life of the lung-fish was a rather
uneventful one. It received its daily diet of earthworms with apparent
relish, and upon them it thrived and grew. Its yearly increase in size
varied between two and three inches; at the time of its death it meas-
ured eighteen inches. Its movements in the aquarium were like those
of larval salamanders, axolotl, for example. Only on rare occasions did
it swim in a fish-like manner by means of caudal fin and undulating
body, and only twice a year did it show of what sudden movements and
great activity it was capable. On these occasions it was taken from the
tank and carried to or from the New York Aquarium where, through
the courtesy of the officials, it was kept during the summer. Cold
weather, as might be inferred, it was least capable of enduring. On
several occasions during winters, when the temperature in the aqua-
rium room became less than 50° F., the fish was found in a semi-
torpid condition. It was then taken out and handled with scarcely
a movement, but was revived by immersion in warm water. It gave
its attendant no uneasiness on the score of appetite, for it took its
food with clock-like regularity. Its great difficulty, however, appeared

38 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

to be due to defective eyesight, for even though a moving worm were
put in its immediate neighborhood, the fish did not appear to detect
its presence through the sense of sight. At first, stimulated probably
through its lateral line system, the fish seemed to feel the movements
of the earthworm; it would then turn in the direction of the food,
move towards it with apparently increasing enthusiasm, but when only
at close range did it seem actually to see the prey. The fish's move-
ments in feeding reminded one rather of a turtle than of a fish, or,
best of all, of its kindred salamanders. Eyeing the moving worm
steadily, it would make a sharp snap at it. If this movement failed,
it would appear to deliberate, gaze fixedly at the object, and snap again.
If more successful this time, it would pause with the food in its mouth,
then with a series of accelerating snaps, the entire worm would be
ingested. Occasionally a worm would be cut entirely in two by the
quick snap of the fish's powerful jaws, and this would result in the

Fig. 7 a.

Fig. 7 6.

Fig. 7 c.

loss of the worm and in the feeding beginning anew. During this
entire process the fish's arms would be spread widely apart, so as to
support the weight of the head.

In later years the fish became quite tame, and would feed out of
the hand of the laboratory attendant, who always maintained that the
fish distinguished him from other visitors. Certain it was that he
finally accustomed the fish to a diet of raw meat, and this substitute
for earthworms proved a convenient one during the cold season. A
finger thrust into the aquarium and stirred vigorously would be enough
to attract the fish's rather sluggish attention: it would slowly leave
its resting place, 'walk' toward the region of the disturbance, rise to
the surface and after giving the usual evidence of bad eyesight would
finally get its mouthful of food. The fecal material of the fish, one
might mention, showed the cast of the spiral intestinal valve which in
lung-fishes is almost as well developed as in sharks. Possibly, there-

OBITUARY NOTICE OF A LUNG-FISII. 39

fore, some of the coprolites from early geological horizons which
have generally been referred to sharks may have belonged to contempo-
rary lung-fishes. The fecal material at the time it is deposited appears
as in Fig. 7a; after remaining in the water for several hours it pre-
sents the appearance 7h, and finally, after twenty-four hours, uncoils
as in Fig. 7 c.

The air-breathing movements of the fish were irregular. At times
it would come to the surface about every five minutes and swallow a
mouthful of air; then again several times this period would elapse
before the fish would rise to the surface. In all cases escaping air
passed out through the gill clefts, usually through those on the left
side.

40 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

THE OPPORTUNITY OF THE SMALLER MUSEUMS OF

NATURAL HISTORY.

By WILLIAM ORE,
SPRINGFIELD, MASS.

WITH the rapid growth of 20iiblic libraries and the multiplication
of books^ periodicals and newspapers, there has arisen an
nrgent need for the direction of popular reading and for the promotion
of serious study. Librarians are striving, with the aid of schools and
teachers, to counteract the general tendency towards aimless superficial
reading. Another educational agency that promotes exact knowledge,
quickens observation and leads to research and consecutive study is the
museum of natural history.

The near future may well see as great an interest in the establish-
ment of museums as there is now in the founding of libraries. Such
an institution can do an especially valuable service in the smaller city
or town, provided its directors sense and seize their peculiar oppor-
tunity and clearly recognize the limitations imposed by local conditions.
There should be no attempt to imitate the expensive buildings, ex-
haustive synoptic collections and the elaborate research and explora-
tion of museums in the great centers of population. Salaries and inci-
dental expenses can be kept at modest figures. Volunteer workers
should be enlisted to cooperate with the paid officials. Public interest
and the practical support of men of means are important factors to
secure and retain. Connection with the public library under one gen-
eral management makes for efficiency and economy.

For distinction and reputation the small museum must depend on
special excellence in a few departments, on its representation of the
local natural history and on its influence as an educational force in the
community. Large sums may be spent to advantage on groups or on
individual specimens when by such features local pride is aroused and
visitors attracted. Carefully selected index collections can be used to
give general views of the animal, plant and mineral worlds, while in-
dustry and ingenuity find full room for exercise in illustrating clearly
and vividly the geology, botany and zoology of the region in which the
museum is situated. As an agent of popular instruction the museum
in the smaller centers possesses important advantages in the compara-
tive ease with which people may be reached and interested. Usually
the tone of life and the freedom from distracting influences are favor-

MUSEUMS OF NATURAL HISTORY.

41

42 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

able to earnest study. Adequate moral and financial support are assured
by the promotion of a general interest in the museum. The open coun-
try is accessible for excursions by various scientific societies. Eambles
are a delightful means of leading girls and boys to a knowledge of the
treasures of nature in the hills and valleys near their homes. Even in
the village, much may be done to relieve the monotony of life and to
enrich the intellectual interest — so often mean and meager. As an
active educational agency the museum should be in close and sympa-
thetic touch with the public schools. Visits of teachers with groups of
pupils should be encouraged. With people beyond school age, much
may be done by lectures, classes and by scientific organizations. Atten-
tion should be directed not merely to the strictly scientific features of
natural history, but also to the broader aspects and deeper meanings
of nature, whence come sympathy, insight and refreshment of spirit.

As a setting for this work, the museum building should be simple
in construction and planned with a view to economical management.
Elaborate decoration or architectural effects are not desirable. Money
can be expended to better advantage in other ways. Problems of light-
ing, construction and arrangement of cases, and the distribution of
material call for careful attention. The general color effect and the
background for objects are important elements in adding to the at-
tractiveness of the collections. Cleanliness, neatness and abundant
light are the cardinal virtues of the museum.

An illustration of the possibilities open to a small museum is
afforded by the recent development of the Museum of Natural History,
in Springfield, Massachusetts. This institution had its beginning in
1859, and was in a measure the result of interest aroused by a meeting
of the Association for the Advancement of Science, held in Springfield
that year. At the outset, the museum was placed under the control
and care of the City Library Association, and this relation has been
maintained ever since to the advantage of both institutions. For many
5'ears but little was done apart from the gathering of specimens, and
dependence was in the main placed on contributions from local col-
lectors. The result was a large amount of material, not always cor-
rectly classified, and decidedly miscellaneous in character. Better
quarters were provided in 1871 in the new library liuilding. and the
museum was reorganized and brought into close relationship with
the scientific department of the high school. In 1895, a commodious
and suitable hall was provided for the collections in the Art Museum.
The material was carefully classified and arranged for the first time
on a systematic basis. With the new facilities, there came a notable
increase in activity; public interest was enlisted and large gifts of
specimens and money were made. Class-work, lectures and scientific
societies were begun. In a few years the museum had outgrown its

MUSEUMS OF NATURAL HISTORY.

43

new quarters, and in 1898 it was provided with an attractive and com-
modious building for its own use.

The general plan and details of the building are made in accord-
ance with the recognized needs of the institution, so that without any
sacrifice of appearance, the care and supervision of the collections are
reduced to lowest terms. The dimensions are: width, fifty feet; length,
one hundred and fifty feet. In the front portion, which contains two
stories, there are on the ground floor a library and the curator's office,
and up-stairs a small class room and the department of archeology and
ethnology. Beyond these apartments, and approached by a wide
entrance hall, is the main exhibition room, forty-six feet wide and

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SCIKNCE BUILDING • FLOOR I'LANS

FI.0011 PLAN SHOWING ARRANGEMENT OF JILSEUM
OF NATURAL HISTORY

twenty-two feet high. All the collections are on one floor and are
lighted from overhead, a method that has proved most successful. Side
windows are used chiefly for ventilation. By an abundant supply of
electric lamps in the form of ceiling disks and wall brackets, the room
can be brilliantly lighted in the evening. A series of radiators is
placed under the side windows, so that there is no loss of wall or floor
space. The floor is of selected maple, finished with an oil varnish. A
simple and systematic arrangement of the collections is made possible
by the size and shape of this room. Especial care has been taken to
make the basement suitable for the storage of duplicate material for
class and laboratory work. The floor is of Portland cement. At least

44 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

six feet of the room is above the grade of the building, and there is
generous window space so that the lighting is better than is found in
many museum halls. In general the building is a modern French
adaptation of Greek and Eoman styles and is constructed of Pompeiian
brick with trimmings of Indiana limestone and terra-cotta. The chief
ornamental feature is the portico with massive limestone foundations
and its four great columns of polished granite. The building is some-
what removed from the street so that the noise of traffic is escaped. It
is situated near the center of the city and in close proximity to
Library, Art Museum and High School. The opportunity thus afforded
of cooperation between these institutions has been utilized with excellent
results.

An important element in the success of the museum is the excel-
lence of the cases. They have been designed so as to secure the largest
possible glass surface and adequate protection against dust. The frames
are of quartered oak and are fitted with the highest grade of plate-glass.
In adjusting the shelves, the display of specimens to the best advantage
has been constantly kept in mind, and the cases have been modified ac-
cording to the kind of material exhibited. A buff color has proved most
satisfactory for a background. On the main floor there are now ten
standing cases, each ten feet long, four feet wide and seven feet high.
This height seems most convenient for the utilization of all shelf space.
There are thirteen wall cases of somewhat smaller dimensions than the
standing floor cases. Four table cases are used for material in botany
and two desk cases for shells and birds ' eggs. For animal groups there
are in all seventeen cases, making a total of forty cases in the main
museum, to which must be added eight wall eases and two desk cases
for the material in archeology, and historical relics. In the desk cases,
only the upper part is used for display of specimens, and the space below
is fitted with drawers for the preservation of duplicate and study col-
lections.

The arrangement of the museum has been based on the principle of
a simple and systematic grouping that should give an attractive ap-
pearance; where such a course seemed desirable, liberty has been taken
to depart from a strictly formal classification. On the left side of the
main hall are collections in mineralogy, lithology and geology. One
alcove contains the Samuel Cotton Booth collection of local minerals,
and a wall case is devoted to specimens of unusual rarity or beauty.
This material is supplemented by relief maps, as, the Colorado caiion,
the Volcanic District of the Auvergne in central France, the United
States with a representation of the glacial ice-sheet, and southern New
England. Photographs, wall maps and models complete the geological
exhibit. In the basement there is a large amount of material for labora-
tory work and for illustration of local formations. In time, the latter

MUSEUMS OF NATURAL HISTORY.

45

will be placed in the main room and will constitute a fine presentation
of the geology of Springfield and vicinity. Botany shares with geology
the left side of the main hall. Under this division there is an extensive

The Museum of Natural History. Some of the Cases.

herbarium of local flora, specimens of woods of North America and the
Bahamas, that show tangential, cross and radial sections, and illustra-
tions of the cocoanut palm, Indian corn and vegetable fibers.

The Museum of Natural History. View from Near Entrance

Zoology, on the east side of the room, is represented by a very com-
plete collection of local birds in the form of individual specimens and
as groups in reproductions of the natural environment. There are
fifteen of these groups, and they comprise the following species: song

46 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

sparrow, American robin, spotted sandpiper, Indian bunting, Balti-
more oriole, red-winged blackbird, wood-thrush, oven-bird, rose-breasted
grosbeak, scarlet tanager, vireo, king-bird, bobolinlv and quail. The last
group to be installed is an excellent representation of the prairie-hen.
These realistic imitations of birds and insects amid their environment
of foliage, blossoms and grasses constitute a feature of the museum
that appeals with peculiar interest to children. Under the head of
zoology there are good collections of corals and shells; the latter with
over two thousand specimens, representing two hundred and twenty-
nine genera and one hundred and seven species. Entomology is rep-
resented by twenty cases of butterflies with a total of two hundred
and thirty-five specimens, twenty-two cases of moths with three hundred
and twenty-three specimens and five boxes containing orthoptera, gall
wasps and micro-lepidoptera with ninety-seven specimens, and three
cases showing the life history of moths. There is also a study collection
of one hundred and seventy-two noctuid moths. Some notable additions
have been made to the department of mammals in the past few years.
Mention should be made of an albinistic northern Virginia deer, an un-
usually rare specimen. A muskrat group, measuring five feet by seven
feet, six inches, and showing the home of the animal in winter and sum-
mer with the environment carefully reproduced has been recently
installed.

Last summer the museum received two remarkable gifts, a group of
elk and one of buffalo. Each requires a case sixteen by sixteen feet on
the floor and twelve feet high. The elk family of three members is
placed among barberry bushes, quaking ash trees, moss-covered logs
and stumps, in a veritable imitation of a woodland scene. Eemarkable
skill has been shown in the mounting of the animals, the arrangement
of material and the modeling of the plant life, the leaves and blossoms.
A bit of open prairie, with characteristic vegetation, constitutes the set-
ting for the group of bison and is as effective in all respects as that of
the elk. These additions are a means of attracting visitors and thus
promote the popularity of the museum. As specimens of native
animals, whose numbers are rapidly decreasing, their value will increase
with years. The mounted mammals are supplemented by a series of
skeletons of typical vertebrates. Attention is now being given to the
better development of the department of mammals, especially in the
direction of the local fauna.

In the upper story of the front portion of the museum building,
there is on exhibition material in archeology, historical curios and
ethnology. The Indian relics are of wide range in kind and geograph-
ical distribution, and the Connecticut A^alley in which Springfield is
situated is well represented. Out of a total of over three thousand
specimens, seven hundred and sixty-six are from this valley and four

MUSEUMS OF NATURAL HISTORY

47

hundred and forty-nine from Massachusetts and Connecticut beyond
the limits of the valley. Professor Albertus T. Dakin, of the Peabody
Museum, at Cambridge, has made this report on a part of the collec-
tion: " It constitutes a very interesting and valuable addition to any
museum, but is of more than ordinary value to this community because
of the fact, that with few exceptions, the entire collection of stone im-
plements was gathered in the near vicinity of Springfield and all the
specimens of stone art have been found within the confines of the Con-
necticut Valley. It is, moreover, one of the largest, if not the largest
collection of distinctly local material that has been brought together
and exhibited under one roof." Two important gifts, the Booth loan
collection, and fifteen hundred carefully selected specimens given by

Catharine L. Howard Memorial Library of Science. Fireplace, Tablet and Bookcases.

Dr. Philip Kilroy make up the largest part of the Indian relic collec-
tion. In the arrangement of the material a scheme has been followed
that shows the geographical distribution, while at the same time the
various implements have been grouped to illustrate the development of
primitive art and industry and the uses of the different articles. Photo-
graphs, maps and descriptive labels furnish additional information in
regard to the life of the Indian. Every facility is offered in the use of
the collection for study and research. Under the auspices of the
museum, a beginning has been made in the examination of old camp
sites, quarries and fireholes in the vicinity, and some interesting results
have been obtained already, with the promise of richer discoveries in the
near future. A few cases devoted to historical relics and curios com-
plete the material on exhibition in the museum.

48 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

The Catharine L. Howard Memorial Library, which is placed in a
room at the left of the entrance hall, is a valuable aid in the work of
the institution and is an efficient factor in encouraging study and re-
search. It contains about six hundred standard reference volumes in
the different branches of natural history. Geology is represented by
the latest editions of Geikie, Dana, Lyell, Sedgwick, Le Conte, Lap-
parent and Credner, monographs on local geology, Dana's 'System of
Mineralogy,' Williams' 'Crystallography' and Zittel's 'Paleontology.'
Students of l)otany will find among other books the 'Natural History
of Plants,' by Kerner and Oliver; Britton, Gray and Sargent.
Zoologists will find Scudder on butterflies, 'Das Tierreich,' 'Cambridge
Eo3^al Natural History,' Woodward on the mollusca and authorities of
like standing in all lines of the study of animal forms. The library is
furnished after the fashion of a private room and provided with facili-
ties for quiet reading. All books are accessible to readers, but none may
be taken away.

By reason of the simplicity of the museum building, tlie excellence
of the cases and careful installation of the collections at the outset, the
work of administration has been conducted at very slight expense and
with a small staff of attendants, and much time has been given to the
active educational work of the museum. Constant effort is made to
enlist volunteer assistants in the various lines of activity and to awaken
popular interest in the different phases of natural history. The open
hours are from two to six o'clock during the summer season and from
one to five o'clock in the winter, but tlie collections are practically ac-
cessible at any hour of the da}^ Various devices are employed to make
the room attractive and clieerful. The main hall is decorated by trop-
ical plants, as palm, sago and century plants, in themselves an interest-
ing study.

An especial effort has been made to bring the museum into close
and helpful relations with the public schools. Out of duplicate material,
collections illustrative of geolog}'", mineralogy and lithology have been
prepared and placed in various scliools in the city and in near-by towns,
where they have done good service in the branches of nature study un-
dertaken by the teachers. Within the past year arrangements have been
made with the school authorities whereby pupils arc brought to the
museum in charge of instructors and in groups of such size that the
greatest advantage may be gained. It is an interesting sight to see eager
children gathered around a case or about a table of specimens, intent
on the explanations and busy with pencil and note-book. While the
scheme of museum visitation has not yet been thoroughly systematized,
there is a steady growth in attendance, interest and results. During the
year 1901-02, sixty-six classes, accompanied by teachers, visited the
collections, with a total attendance of eight hundred and sixty-three.

MUSEUMS OF NATURAL HISTORY. 49

Apart from the class visits, teachers are making a practice of sending
individual pupils to look up specimens and seek information at first
hand. This plan has been followed more particularly in bird and plant
study. Another means of rousing interest is through competition for
prizes for the best collections or reports. Last year the supervisor of
nature study offered a prize for the best collection in mineralogy, and
the twenty-seven sets of specimens entered were exhibited in the museum
and attracted much attention. This fall prizes were awarded for the
best work done in collecting and studying beetles by any pupil below
high school grade. In connection with this contest, two talks were given
on 'Beetles and how to collect them,' and two excursions were con-
ducted under the auspices of the museum. Ten children presented col-
lections numbering in all 1,806 beetles. The prize winner had collected
202 species and 28 food plants. A number of rare specimens were
among those presented, and the results showed that the young people
had spent much time on the work with genuine interest and careful
thought. There are many profitable lines on wliich such contests may
be conducted.

Pupils from the high school are encouraged and guided to use the
museum in connection with the study of zoology, botany, mineralogy
and physiography. Teachers in the high school draw freely on the re-
sources of the collection for specimens and are allowed under simple
conditions to take out specimens for use in recitations and lectures.

Cooperation between schools and museums has been worked out in
detail in many places in England, notably in Liverpool, Leeds and
Manchester, and with excellent results. The director of the Liverpool
Museum, Henry 0. Forbes, in a special circular dated July, 1902,
reaches the following conclusion: 'That these efforts to interest chil-
dren in nature study are producing good results is strikingly demon-
strated by the way in which school children avail themselves of holidays
to voluntarily visit our museum — the fact of a school holiday being of
late always unmistakably indicated by the invasion of the museum by
school children who evince a growing interest in the exhibits.'

Each year definite class-work is conducted in the Springfield
Museum. During the past winter, twelve exercises on the chemical and
physical properties of minerals with simple tests for determination were
given by the assistant curator. A volunteer class in plant study was
formed in the early spring and has continued to hold weekly meetings,
with the exception of the two months of summer. Another means of
arousing public interest has been found in the informal evening open-
ings. During the season of 1901-02, six talks were given at these
openings on such topics as 'Vegetable Fibers,' 'Industrial Insects,*
'The History of a Lake,' and on 'Plants,' 'Buds' and 'Galls.' Special

voii. liXiii. — 4.

so POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

invitations were sent to people who do not generally visit the collection,
and the results in attendance and interest were most gratifying. The
daily attendance on the museum makes a total for the year of about
30,000, and this number steadily increases.

Several scientific societies find their home in the museum building.
The botanical society has for many years held weekly meetings during
the spring, summer and fall. The herbarium is in charge of the curator.
The geological club uses the collections and reference books and as one
result of its excursions specimens are added to the museum. By means
of this club young people are given an interest in local geology and with
this object in view the organization is making a careful study of the
formations in and about Springfield, with excursions to interesting
localities. The zoological club maintains a series of valuable meetings
and has been fortunate in securing able lecturers from the many educa-
tional institutions in the near neighborhood. Meetings of all these
societies are open to the public. There are now under consideration
plans for the organization of holiday and vacation rambles whereby
groups of children may be brought into sympathetic and intelligent
relations with their surroundings and individually interested in par-
ticular phases of nature study. For mature minds regular lecture
courses conducted on university extension methods are a possibility of
the near future.

Another means of enlisting popular interest and promoting serious
study has been found in special exhibits made from time to time. In
the late winter, spring and early summer, the migrant birds that appear
each month are displayed on the table and the specimens denoted by
their scientific and popular names. Reliable reference books are near at
hand. On the bulletin board a calendar is kept of the appearance of
each species and a comparison made with the dates of previous years.
These observations are printed in the annual report of the museum.
The results for last spring, 1902, pointed to an unusually early arrival
of many migrants. A similar arrangement is followed on the table
devoted to botany, where one finds buds and blossoms as they appear.
Early in the year the winter condition of certain plants is shown, and
the progress in the development of leaf, buds and blossoms as they
advance. On February 15, the chickweed, Stellaria lucidca, was found
in bloom, and on the twenty-eighth, the skunk-cabbage, Symplocarpus.
fcetidus. The hood of the latter was cut so as to expose the spadix with
its many flowers. Then followed in order, hepatica, bloodroot, marsh
marigold, trailing arbutus and other spring flowers and tree blossoms.
By the opening of June the exhibition had reached such an extent that
another table was added. Twelve species of orchids were shown. One
rare and beautiful flower, the Pentstemon grandiflorus, not supposed
to exist east of the Mississippi, was found on the outskirts of the city.

MUSEUMS OF NATURAL HISTORY. 51

In all about four hundred separate plants were shown to the close of
July. The exliibit was discontinued in July^ but in September was
opened again with various compositae, as asters and golden rod, together
with gentian and witch hazel, and as winter came on with cryptogams,
as toadstools, lichens and mosses. Pupils in the high school have coop-
erated in the work by preparing lists to show the dates of the appear-
ance of different blossoms. Corrected lists are published in the annual
report and in time these will add materially to our knowledge of the
flora of the region. There is also printed in the report a classified list
of flowering plants and ferns growing on the museum grounds. Plans
are under way for an exhaustive study and complete herbarium of the
flora of Forest Park.

In planning lectures and exhibits, the museum officials are on the
alert to take advantage of any special interest in the minds of people.
Some years ago when there was much discussion of the value of mush-
rooms and the importance of care in collecting them, there were placed
on special tables with careful descriptions many of the most common
and important species. The exhibit of birds and plants appeal to an
innate interest, easily aroused and maintained. Evidences are many
that these various activities and influences of the museum are in a quiet
but effective way developing in the community a spirit of S3anpathy,
power of observation and a delight in the wonderful treasures of na-
ture.

A city of the wealth and population of Springfield is certainly for-
tunate in the possession of a museum of natural history of such excel-
lence and of collections so extensive and of such value for exhibition
purposes and for study. These things have been made possible by the
fine public spirit that characterizes the community. The City Library
Association, including the Library, Art Museum and Museum of Nat-
ural History, constitutes a rallying point for the various interests in
matters literary, artistic and scientific. Much of the efficiency and
influence of the association is the result of the untiring and unselfish
devotion and labors of the late Eev. Dr. William Eice, librarian from
1861 to 1897. Such is the confidence of the people in the work
of the institution that the city makes each year a generous grant
of money to meet the running expenses of the three departments of
literature, art and science. In land, buildings, books and collections
the total value of the property is nearly, if not over, $600,000, most of
which has been the gift of public-spirited citizens. On account of the
simplicity of the museum building and the excellent work done on the
cases, and care taken in the installation of the collections, this depart-
ment of the association is conducted at a minimum expense. The total
annual appropriation to cover salaries, repairs, cleaning and lighting is
$1,200, and this amount is rarely exceeded. Yet the museum is em-

52 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

phatically an active institution, and has never lacked zealous and enthu-
siastic workers. By an inevitable law of growth, as the museum is
active and progressive, it constantly demands more room and greater
facilities. Already in the short space of eight years it has twice out-
grown its quarters. While the present building is commodious, the
needs of the future were kept in mind in both construction and site,
so that successive additions can be made until the building forms a
quadrangle. When this extension is completed the main divisions of
natural history, geology, botany and zoology will each have a floor space
equal in extent to that of the present structure. With such a building
Springfield's needs for museum facilities will be amply satisfied and
the range of work and influence broadened.

And the field for the museum of natural history when conducted
with enterprise and wisdom is one that well repays all effort and labor.
Much of the best instruction in the public schools, training in observ-
ing and reflecting on the facts of nature is well adapted to assist the
museum, while the latter institution, rightly used, widens the outlook.
A growth in familiarity with the region surrounding the city makes
possible profitable holiday rambles and vacation outings for the study
of local natural history. There may be developed a love and apprecia-
tion of the delights that nature has in store for her students. Such
pursuits are antidotes for the cares and perplexities that burden too
many lives, so that a more healthful tone will pervade the social life
of the community; nature opens her treasures to rich and poor alike,
and the fullest indulgence in these joys carries no sorrow with it. In
the larger centers well-equipped museums may well serve as training
schools and points for the distribution of materials and examples of the
best methods of administration. Their influence could be brought to
bear on the smaller towns. Such a system with a very moderate ex-
penditure of money would do much to relieve the barrenness and mo-
notony which too often characterize the intellectual and social life of
the country town.

COLLEGE ENTRANCE EXAMINATIONS. 53

COLLEGE ENTRANCE EXAMINATIONS.

By ABRAHAM FLEXNER,

LOUISVILLE, KY.

OF all the influences molding secondary education in the United
States at the present time, among the most powerful are the
college entrance examinations. To the schoolmaster they seem to
embody in tangible form the object of his efforts; to the student they
form a barrier that must be cleared, interposed as they are between
him and that fascinating interplay of social, athletic and perhaps
scholarly activities, called college life. It becomes, therefore, a ques-
tion of immediate and pressing importance — what conception of edu-
cation do these examinations tend, perhaps unconsciously, to establish?
In scholarship tests they yield a result that is treated as abso-
lute; no consideration suggested by the development or individual
history of the student is suffered to modify or illumine their ver-
dict. The ignorance and the impartiality of the examining author-
ity compel the rejection of all factors except the visible question
and its answer. But in the secondary school period neither knowl-
edge nor the rehandling of knowledge can, save at the peril of
growth, be regarded as the sole or main educational end. The
accumulation of facts, the mastery of tools must be subsidiary
to the inward ordering of the pupil. While this work of organiza-
tion must proceed side by side with, indeed largely by means of,
the acquisition of knowledge, the two processes do not form an equa-
tion. In a word, definite quantitative, even definite qualitative
performances in certain limited areas of knowledge can not be
immediately translated into mental and moral terms. A limited
acquaintance ■with, certain predetermined selections from Greek, Latin
and English literatures may or may not connote the concentration,
energy and power of resistance which genuine training should confer;
there is no necessary or inevitable connection between them. What
we want is a method for measuring energy, growth, organization. An
examination, therefore, which seeks not only to value past effort, but
to decide the very possibility of future opportunity simply upon the
basis of a uniform scholarship test, emphasizes scholarship, such as it
is, at the expense of organization. It tends inevitably to produce a
special, narrow fitness for meeting a particular form of test at the cost
of spiritual spontaneity, and, in consequence, the verdict of the schools
is usually upset by the verdict of subsequent experience.

54 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

I say the examinations emphasize scholarship; but do they? In
each subject they aim to cover a clearly defined requirement. As a
means of eliminating caprice this is excellent and effective; but too
literal insistence upon the most admirably defined requirement is fatal
to the scholarly, the vital quality. The larger interests, the vaguer
gropings, that in youth mark the mind with developmental possibilities
are distinctly discredited in favor of the nimble, lightly cumbered,
Athenian knack of the trained 'examinee.' Knack is the quality pro-
duced and honored by the examination test, hastily and externally ad-
ministered. Ability to guess the answer through the question, me-
chanical celerity in applying the formula to the problem — be the
problem historic, linguistic or mathematical — cleverness in seizing
and elaborating an idea frequently implied in the interrogatory, a
special trick of remembering odds and ends, phrases or comments —
in a word, breezy facility — such is the ideal equipment for the college
entrance test. The candidate will surely be overweighted by genuine
love of his subject, witnessed by large, though necessarily vague and
immature acquaintance with it. His chance of passing will be better
if he has not wandered beyond the 'assigned' and has that at his
finger tips. For the foreign examiner is not seeking evidence of
power, of energy liberated and directed to intelligent purpose. With
this — the real business of the real teacher — he has no concern. He
stands fast by the letter; he must have the special nuggets of knowl-
edge. The effort to satisfy such tests is thus not only fatal to a lofty
conception of the teacher 's office — it is equally fatal to genuine scholar-
ship, poor a substitute as is mere learning for that spontaneity of con-
sciousness at which culture and training should aim. Taste, capacity,
originality are thus heavily discounted by staking the issue on some-
thing that taste, capacity and originality soon learn to regard with
disgust. Hence, too often, those who have most successfully lent
themselves to the 'mill treatment' prescribed, are those whom the fuller
tests of scholarship, professional training and practical life reject as
lacking scope, pliability, and interest.

I am sure that our collegiate 'lords and masters,' overwhelmingly
interested as they are in specialties rather than in boys, do not realize
the deadening and restrictive effect of this mechanical emphasis of
the letter. What shall it profit a student to develop a real love of
Shakespeare at the expense of a thorough and intimate knowledge of
the notes to Macbeth? What shall it profit him to extend his acquaint-
ance with Milton beyond the designated poems and books, if in the
process he forget why the 'Vision of the guarded Mount' looked 'to-
ward Nomancos and Bayona's hold'? Of course, no student retains
such lore beyond the day appointed for its display. The melancholy
truth is that it is retained so long only by means of mechanical reitera-

COLLEGE ENTRANCE EXAMINATIONS. 55

tion, much more likely to injure than to encourage good taste, and
patiently submitted to only by those who never read literature as
literature at all.

If too precise insistence upon arbitrarily assigned tasks is thus
fatal to both vital teaching and scholarly interest, rigid limitation to
brief and uniform examination periods is equally fatal to thought.
We profess the desire to train students to coherent, logical ratiocination,
to supplant the capricious mental spurt with the steady stream of
thought. But the written examination, as now carried on, places at
a marked disadvantage the intellect that has learned to work with
deliberate discrimination. At a given moment the examination
athlete darts his eye swiftly through the question paper, searching for
some familiar sign, and at its sight dashes off the answer that is wait-
ing for that particular provocation. No adequate time for reflection,
no allowance for individual or accidental variations ! The mind that
refuses to operate in this reckless fashion is not 'ready'! The student
who has read widely rather than crammed recently, is not ' ready ' !
Meanwhile, the sprinter equipped for just these spurts, without real
power of thought, observation or concentration, satisfied with super-
ficial compliance with requirement — or less — moves nimbly from topic
to topic, touches lightly here and there, and with a 'make-believe'
that the stranger can not penetrate, presents as the hammer falls a
smooth and more or less finished result.

Such conditions are so far from promoting readiness of thought
that they simply negative all thinking. They substitute a lightning
reflex for the deliberate working of the higher thought centers. I
can not believe that top-speed has, even in practical life, the impor-
tance here attributed to it by implication; and if it be urged that only
'average' speed is desired, I answer that the supposed process of aver-
aging is an absurdity. The slower intellects refuse to be averaged with
the swifter. Each has the sacred right of individuality, and no edu-
cational effort can be considered sound that suffers one to waste part
of its natural superiority, while it endeavors to compel the other to be
something that it is not and, except in a limited way, can nevei
become. Doubtless speed will increase with the formation of a thorough
and logical mental habit. But the seriousness of the occasion, the
liability to temporary fluctuation, which the examiner can not distin-
guish from permanent characteristic, and the importance of ascer-
taining things of infinitely greater significance than the boy's ability
to work under pressure for a time, combine to render the present
method both unfair and unwise.

I have referred to the ' Jack-be-nimble, Jack-be-quick,' type of
examination athlete; let me not overlook his heavy-laden brother —
the hoplite to whom the thing is as earnest and important as it pre-

56 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

tends to be. For him there is no youth; his life is a hard and unre-
mitting cram, and he comes out of the ordeal, bereft of spirit, orig-
inality, spontaneity, too often of health besides. In exchange for
these he carries a premature load of ill-assimilated pedantry, of neither
disciplinary nor inspirational value, and destined soon to slip from
his all-too-rigid grasp. Often enough, the college years witness a
violent recoil — mental and physical. But for the time being he is the
idol of the examination boards. He is ready to solve in all seriousness
their linguistic and historic puzzles. He will promptly state facts
to illustrate any random quotation; he has at his tongue's end
a sentence each to describe 'the successive governments in France be-
tween 1789 and 1870'; he can mark all the long vowels in 'Csesar,' and
tell you what goddess gave any oracle that you can cull from the ' Meta-
morphoses ' !

I regret that lack of space makes it impossible for me to submit
complete specimens of recent examination papers in support of these
criticisms; but the system as a whole is condemned by the abso-
lute exclusion of all evidence beyond the answers submitted. I insist
that it is fit for little more than to measure superficial knowledge ; that,
if it pretends to measure thought at all, it does so under conditions
that practically forbid thought; that necessarily its influence on
previous education tends to develop the external, mechanical and
insincerely imitative at the sacrifice of the internal and spontaneous.
The erection of so artificial a standard must lead to neglect of the
proper educational business of youth, viz., the organization of each
individual from within in harmony with his environment. Whatever
connection may be charitably supposed to exist between such organiza-
tion and the pursuits prescribed for college entrance, it can not be
seriously maintained that the correspondence is so definite that it can
be described in uniform quantitative terms, applicable to all students
in all circumstances. Therefore, howsoever the questions be prepared
and appraised, they can not alone be made the means of determining the
issue without shifting the pedagogical emphasis from within to without.

In support of my contention that in its present administration the
examination system is needlessly absurd, I have before me a very im-
pressive mass of evidence. Here, for instance, is an examination in
Roman history covering two printed pages, in which, under eight sub-
divisions, of which the candidate must select four, forty-one queries
are submitted. ' Time allowed, thirty minutes ' ! Thirty minutes
within which the youth is expected to comprehend the way the paper
is put, read the questions in order to exercise the privilege of selection
and commit to writing the answers to about twenty questions. Some
of them are, it is true, mere matters of memory; but in this space of
time, the candidate who stops to recollect is lost. Hence, nothing but

COLLEGE ENTRANCE EXAMINATIONS. 57

the sort of cram that disappears the day after the examination and
risks the loss of all pleasure in history will provide instantaneous
knowledge of such facts as 'The attitude of the Achsean league toward
Perseus of Macedon; punishment inflicted by Eome for this; Polybius,
the historian, as connected with this punishment,' etc. All this de-
pends on the merest mechanical memory, but there is more to come.
In the same thirty minutes, he is to display quick-action historic
insight; for, as an original effort, he must 'tell the story of Appius
Claudius as his political enemies would tell it, then as his political
friends would tell it. ' Now if the answer to this is merely a repetition
of a previous attempt it is worse than worthless; if devised at the
moment, assuming that the candidate has what he can not have —
sufficient information at his command to warrant an honest answer
■ — it must necessarily be superficial. The companion paper, in Greek
history, requires the student in an equally brief half hour, after a
varied memory performance, to 'argue that the Athenians were or
were not wise in their final rejection of Alcibiades in 407,' and to
tell 'what was the opinion of the comic poet Aristophanes in 405 about
the wisdom of recalling him.' One can hardly go far wrong in recog-
nizing the same keen educational intelligence in two previous papers,
one calling mainly for the history of Capua, the other for the history
of the Messenian wars. The display of such learned and irrelevant
trifles is taken to indicate a proper knowledge of Greek and Koman
history; and a teacher who is really trying to train boys must employ
the history-tool so as to satisfy such tests ! In truth this attempted
draft on the historical imagination is but a transparent imposition,
deceiving, not the children, who know the hollowness of the 'make-
believe,' but the learned scholars who gravely require boys and girls
after a study of the outlines of ancient history to 'compare Plato and
Aristotle,' and in the same two hours, select and answer eleven other
questions out of a paper containing forty, many of the single questions
demanding from five to ten distinct answers.

The English papers present equally pernicious illustrations. ' In
these days of the "new' education, prominent educators congratulate
us on the 'system' that has unified the entrance requirements in Eng-
lish ! A board of experts selects in two groups some dozen or two
everything everywhere. Now English A, so-called, consisting of
things so appropriate to the universal youthful mind as Tennyson's
classic gems, a knowledge of which is required of all candidates for
'Princess' and Lowell's 'Sir Launfal,' is to be touched lightly as a
mere basis for composition; the examination uses the material thence
derived to test the candidate's powers of expression. A process better
calculated to torture the teacher and to divorce expression from experi-
ence in the pupil could hardly be devised. For the way in which the

58 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

selections must be used can be guessed from the fact that one paper
before me requires the pupil to write in an hour and a quarter three
original essays, 'correct in paragraph and sentence structure and gen-
eral arrangement/ on subjects selected from twelve, of which the fol-
lowing are samples : ' What are the essential characteristics of the life
described by Addison and Goldsmith as contrasted with the life in
Ivanhoe'? or 'Compare the Ancient Mariner and the Vision of Sir
Launfal with regard to the representation of a moral idea in each'?
In one and a quarter hours a boy is to read and choose three out of
twelve such problems, get his ideas into shape and set them down
'correct,' without the chance to reconsider, readjust, rewrite or recopy,
which the most practised writer demands, and which every good teacher
tries to get the pupil to require of himself!

English B is worse. The specimens consisting of ' Lycidas, ' Burke 's
speech, Macaulay's 'Milton,' etc., must be dissected and 'crammed'
in minute detail. One question before me requires the student to
enumerate Burke's 'six causes'; another, after quoting five lines from
the body of the speech, gravely asks what part of the oration follows
immediately after; while still another requires, on the basis of
Macaulay's two essays, a comparison between 'the political element in
the life of Milton with the same element in the life of Addison ' !

It is useless to go further into details; but I must not omit to call
attention to the close connection between the examination papers in
Latin and Greek and the fraud that is generally practised in their
study. It is well understood among boys that to pass in these subjects
one must have at ready command the assigned portions of the classics —
one must be able to pick up the thread of narrative or argument,
wherever the caprice of the examiner may choose to cut into it. The
most effective and expeditious way to prepare is through the persistent
use of ' interlinears ' and ' trots. ' A smattering of syntax, a fair knowl-
edge of the forms, such as class room drill alone may be relied on to
give, and a glib translation, such as daily surreptitious use of the
'trot' will infallibly ensure — these may be safely counted on to satisfy
the present form of examination. What successful preparation for
such tests costs the candidate in honesty, love and capacity for work,
interest in the subject itself, one need not pause to calculate. It is only
another illustration of the way an external and 'impartial' examination
makes shipwreck of sound educational practice. The pupil detaches
a fragment of his power, devotes it to devious uses, and 'passes' —
the rest of his nature remains an unweeded and untilled garden.

I contend, therefore, that however the examinations be modified,
the system that relies upon them . solely is fundamentally unsound.
For the closer the apparent articulation thus secured between secondary
school and college, the more certain becomes the internal educational

COLLEGE ENTRANCE EXAMINATIONS. 59

hiatus. The larger the examination specter looms before student and
teacher, the more decisive the tendency to neglect individual discipline
and development, in order to perfect in their stead an organization
calculated to meet the exigencies of a critical moment. Preparation
for college entrance examinations, rather than preparation for college
or preparation for life, insensibly becomes the educational goal. For
clearly, when the whole future is staked on this single throw, the temp-
tation to be effectively ready for it is irresistible. I say advisedly — the
whole future; since by insistence on an academic degree as a pre-
requisite to the pursuit of law or medicine on the most highly favored
terms, the professional schools aid in the production of the artificial
crisis. Under these conditions, the field for pure educational effort in
the secondary period threatens, despite the enrichment of the curriculum,
to become steadily narrower. The initial and determining factor in
the planning of a student's course of work is neither his endowment
nor his opportunity, but the caprice that carries him to one institution
rather than to another. This choice once made, it becomes increasingly
difficult to persuade him to cooperate with his teacher in the endeavor
to sound fully and genuinely his personal power. His absorbing in-
terest lies in the statement of the college requirements ; and so marked
has this factor become that prominent schools do not hesitate to an-
nounce the particular colleges by whose requirements their curricula are
regulated, as if any uniform requirements could possibly outline an
educational procedure strictly applicable in even a single case.

Doubtless the secondary teacher will be roundly criticized by his
collegiate superiors, just when he has, through the suppression of the
student's individuality, succeeded in perfecting the preparatory ma-
chinery warranted to turn out the qualities and accomplishments de-
manded. For amidst collegiate conditions that begin by conceding to
the student the possession of an individuality, which his previous train-
ing has, under collegiate compulsion, absolutely denied, it becomes at
once manifest that preparation for college entrance examinations is
not preparation for college. Indeed, for a college life, offering at the
outstart liberal election in the whole field of knowledge and experience,
what adequate training can be supposed to reside in the mechanical
and uniform drill demanded by the entrance requirements? The
articulation that seemed from superficial inspection so neat and com-
plete turns out a delusion; the educational sine qua non leads nowhere.
In bygone days it may have fitted immediately into the prescribed
freshman course. But no such justification now remains. Every-
where the developmental idea of power has driven out the superstitious
faith that attached magic virtue to certain symbols — everywhere ex-
cept in the peculiar domain where the nimble mastery of a few formulae

6o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

ie still thought to indicate a definite degree of mental growth and moral
strength !

The situation, therefore, calls at once for examination reform,
but it calls also for far more : we must harmonize under a sufficiently
large ideal the various phases of developmental education. The ele-
mentary school, the secondary school, the college, have not yet been
viewed and organized as essentially a single educational institution.
Pending and in aid of their reorganization on this basis, I urge the col-
leges to emphasize the vital, not the mechanical, side of preparatory
teaching"; to establish fixedly no machinery that may impede the crea-
tion of a system subtly adapted to the individual. Our sore need now
is of an intellect that shall conceive as a single whole the progression
from childhood to maturity; that shall embody this progression in a
connected series of educational institutions, from which every false,
every mechanical, every pedantic test and motive shall have disappeared.
Throughout, the system must be dominated by the effort to organize
the child in effective harmony with his environment — it must aim at
nothing else; it must be satisfied with nothing less.

A NEW SOURCE OF HEAT: RADIUM. 6i

A NEW SOUKCE OF HEAT: EADIUM.

By henry CARRINGTON BOLTON, Ph.D.

A T a meeting of the French Academy of Sciences held in March
-^-*- MM. Curie and Laborde announced a newly discovered prop-
erty, of that extraordinary substance radium — its salts emit heat con-
tinuously and to a measurable extent. Headers of the Popular
Science Monthly may remember that in the number for July, 1900,
we sketched the history of the discovery of this new body by M. and
Mme. Curie in 1898, and we gave some account of its marvellous
physical and chemical properties so far as known at that date; its
power of giving out light perpetually without any exciting cause, its
emission of rays that penetrate solids like the X-ray, its faculty of
acting on sensitized plates, and of causing air to conduct electricity.
Now a fifth property must be added, that of the emission of heat.

During the few months that have elapsed since the publication of
the above summary, physicists and chemists on both sides of the
Atlantic have been actively experimenting with the interesting body,
in no wise discouraged by its excessive rarity and by the great diffi-
culty of obtaining it unmixed with the mineral substances by which
it is always accompanied in nature. Tons of minerals have been sub-
mitted to laborious processes in the chemical laboratory to obtain a
few grammes of the precious material; and at the end of the task
the conscientious scientist can only claim that the product is such
and such a salt containing a small, unknown percentage of radium.

To enumerate the peculiar activities of radium with any degree
of completeness would occupy more pages of the magazine than could
well be spared; for details we must refer to the purely technical jour-
nals, but some points arrest the attention of every one.

Becquerel, the French physicist whose name is attached to the rays
emitted by uranium, observed the powerful physiological action of
radium when in a comparatively pure state; a few grammes enclosed
in a bottle carried in his waistcoat pocket burned holes into the flesh
in six hours, producing superficial sores that took several weeks to
heal. Some experimenters have remarked that their fingers are made
sore by handling its salts. Aschkinass and Caspari have exposed cul-
tures of Micrococcus prodigiosus to the influence of its rays and ascer-
tained that they were fatal to the bacteria.

The character of the rays given out by radium has been the sub-
ject of special research; MM. Curie and Danne observed that solid

62 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

bodies submitted to the rays issuing from radium in a confined space,
became active themselves in an analogous manner. On removing the
bodies from this influence the power thus excited passes off in accord-
ance with a given law independent of the nature of the bodies. In
this connection experiments were made with bodies of diverse consti-
tution, such as aluminium, copper, lead, bismuth, platinum, silver,
glass, alum, parafiine, celluloid and caoutchouc.

Professor Eutherford, of Montreal, has found that this induced
activity is produced by an 'emanation' that behaves like a gas, but
this gas has not been isolated, or tested chemically or physically. In
this connection it is of interest to note that Dr. Giesel, of Germany,
also mentions a peculiar, colorless gas, having radio-active properties
obtained by the decomposition of radium bromide.

The nature and extraordinary energy of the rays emitted by this
singular substance has attracted much attention; it has been shown
that they are of different kinds, a part being identical with cathode
rays and another part capable of being still further divided into
very penetrating rays, and those easily absorbed. Their energy is esti-
mated by Rutherford and McClung to be prodigious; they calculate
that one gramme of radium would radiate in a year energy equivalent
to 3000 gramme-calories, which is about one foot-pound per hour. The
source of this energy is a mystery; the savants last named suggest that
it is due to the breaking down of atoms into smaller particles which
themselves constitute these radiations.

Since it is universally admitted that the radiations are material
the problem arises, does radium lose weight in the course of time?
This question has been answered differently by two authorities. Bec-
querel has calculated from experimental data that one square centi-
meter of radium-surface would lose 1.2 milligrammes of matter in
one thousand million years. On the other hand, Heydweiller found
that five grammes containing only a small percentage of pure radium
lost about 0.02 of a milligramme per day, and he observed a total loss
of one half milligramme in a time not stated. The excessively small
quantities of material available for examination and its exceeding
rarity (a very small sample is valued at twenty-five dollars) will ac-
count for such contradictory statements.

The discovery by Curie and Laborde that radium emits heat was
the result of two experiments. By a thermo-electric method they ascer-
tained that a specimen of barium chloride containing one sixth of its
weight of radium chloride indicated a temperature 1.5° C. (2.7° Fah.)
higher than a sample of pure barium chloride; the temperature was
determined by comparing the heat emitted with that excited in a wire
of known resistance by an electric current of known intensity. In
the second experiment they employed a Bunsen calorimeter. The ex-

A NEW SOURCE OF HEAT: RADIUM. 63

perimentcrs found that one gramme of active barium chloride emits
about fourteen small calories per hour. The specimen contained only
about one sixth its weight of radium chloride, but on testing 0.08
gramme of purer material they obtained identical results, from which
it can be calculated that one gramme of radium would emit 100 small
calories per hour, or one atom-gramme (225 grammes) would emit
each hour 22,500 calories, an amount comparable with the heat disen-
gaged by the combustion in oxygen of one atom-gramme of hydrogen.

The continuous emission of such a large quantity of heat can not
be explained by any chemical action, and must be due to some modifi-
cation of the atom itself; if so, such a change must be very slow. As
a matter of fact, Demargay observed no change in the spectrum of
radium examined at intervals of five months.

An English writer, commenting on the figures given by M. Curie,
says that a radium salt in a pure state would melt more than its own
weight of ice every hour ; and half a pound of radium salt would evolve
in one hour an amount of heat equal to that produced by burning one
third of a cubic foot of hydrogen gas. And the extraordinary part
of this is that the evolution of heat goes on without combustion, with-
out chemical change of any kind, without alteration of its molecular
structure, and continuously, leaving the salt at the end of months of
activity just as potent as in the beginning. Yet this state of things
must have a cause, for it must not be imagined that perpetual motion
has been at last attained.

Persons who are not practically familiar with the work carried on
in the laboratories of physics and chemistry are in danger of drawing
unwarrantable conclusions from the statements made by imaginative
reporters in the daily press, and of concluding that radium will eventu-
ally replace gas for illuminating purposes as well as anthracite for
heating. Such persons do not realize the great scarcity of the raw
material yielding this substance, nor the exceedingly minute quantities
used in the experiments which have furnished these astounding results.
A tea spoon would probably hold all the pure radium as yet prepared,
and its price would amount to thousands of dollars.

And what may be expected from future researches? Do the other
rare bodies, polonium, actinium and thorium, that behave in many
respects like radium, also share its most recently discovered power of
emitting heat? Will not scientists be compelled to revise some of the
theories of physics that they regard at present as cardinal ? And what
are the conditions in the earth beneath our feet, when inert matter
manifests energy to such an amazing extent without a known cause?
The future opened to students and to philosophers is fraught with
mysteries, the solution of which will be eagerly awaited by the rest of
the world.

64

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

THE DECEEASE IN THE SIZE OF AMEEICAN FAMILIES.

By Peofessor EDWARD L. THOENDIKE,

TEACHERS COLLEGE, COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY, NEW YORK.

THE vital statistics of three other eastern colleges show the failure
of Harvard graduates to produce their share of the present gen-
eration to be but a single example of a widespread condition. They
further prove that the common discussions of the theoretical and prac-
tical questions which this failure suggests are superficial and mislead-
ing. In reality its explanation leads us directly to the fundamental
problem of evolution. The facts are best seen in tabular form.

Size of Families of American College Graduates.*

The first number in each column gives the average number of children;
the number in parenthesis gives the number of cases on which the average id
based.

Middlebury.

Wesleyan.t

New York Univ.J

Harvard.

1803-1809
1810-1819
1820-1829
1830-1839
1840-1849
1850-1859
1860-1869
1870-1874
1875-1879

5.6 (64)

4.8 (161)
4.1 (163)

3.9 (189)
3.4 (83)
2.9 (90)
2.8 (114)
2.3 (50)
1.8§ (32)

4.5 (110)
3.3 (220)
3.2 (227)

2.6 (250)

(35-44) 4.0 (110)

(45-54) 3.2 (83)

2.9 (90)

2.5 (66)

1.99 (1872 inclusive) (634)

Total

946

807

349

634. In all 2,736

* These figures come in the case of Middlebury and New York University
from the alumni catalogues, which give the number of children living and dead,
from the answers to questions collected by Professor Nicholson in the case of
Wesleyan University (both living and dead children ate included), and from
President Eliot's report, in which case only living children were counted. There
are doubtless inaccuracies in the records, but the tendency of these would be
to make our figures relatively too small for the earlier decades, and conse-
quently truer records would only emphasize the decrease in productivity upon
which all the arguments of this discussion will be based.

In the case of the Middlebury and New York University records, I have
used only those families where the husband had been married at least ten years
before he died. In the case of the Wesleyan records all married graduates have
been included as the data required to make a selection on the basis of length
of married life were lacking. I have to thank Professor F. W. Nicholson, Sec-
retary of Wesleyan University, for the use of his records and Mrs. E. B. Brovra
for the report of the New York University graduates.

t The Wesleyan averages include cases from 41 through 50, etc.

t The New York University averages include cases from 35-44, 45-54, etc.

§ This average would be slightly raised by children to be born after th
time of record.

THE SIZE OF AMERICAN FAMILIES. 65

These figures are from a sufficient number of cases to be substan-
tiall}^ reliable. For instance, there is not one chance in a thousand
that the Harvard average is 10 per cent, too low. The existence and
approximate amount of the decrease in the size of family is thus cer-
tain. Its substantial identity in Middlebury, a country college in
Vermont with a local attendance, in New York University, a city col-
lege, and in Wesleyan University, a strongly sectarian college with an
attendance drawn from the northeastern states, makes it probable that
it has prevailed throughout the college population of the north Atlan-
tic states. It must depend upon some fundamental cause.

City life and advanced age at marriage are out of question. The
former cause would work to a far greater extent upon New York Uni-
versity or Harvard gTaduates than upon Middlebury graduates, all of
whom come from and most of whom go back to life in small towns.
Yet in the statistics there is little difference. An increase in the age
at marriage can not have been the cause for the simple reason that
such increase, as I have elsewhere shown, amounts onlv to a verv few
months. An increase in the age at marriage of the wives of our group
of men would be a more efficient cause. I know of no available statis-
tics to decide the question, but it would seem extremely unlikely that
the age of wives should have increased much when the age of husbands
has increased so little.

The most plausible explanation attributes the change to the custom
of conscious restriction of offspring. Greater prudence, higher ideals
of education for children, more interest in the health of women, inter-
ests of women in affairs outside the home, the increased knowledge of
certain fields of physiology and medicine, a decline in the religious
sense of the impiety of interference with things in general, the long-
ing for freedom from household cares — any or all of these may be
assigned as the motive for the restriction. The only other explana-
tion which to the present writer seems adequate assigns the decreased
productivity of college men to real physiological infertility of the social
and perhaps of the racial group to which college men and their wives
belong.

It is possible to do more than speculate about the relative shares
of unwillingness and incapacity. The figures themselves tell a plain
story to the student who examines them in the light of recent knowl-
edge of the variability of physical traits.

If we tabulate the records by decades so as to show the percentages
that families of 2, 3, 4, etc., children were of the total number of
families, we can see just how the decrease in the averages has been
brought about. Suppose for instance that we had in 1803-1814 and
in 1865-1874 the following percentages :

VOL. LXIII. — 5.

66 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Children

0

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

1803-

-1814

0

0

2

4

8

10

16

20

16

10

8

4

2

1865-

-1874

10

15

19

8

4

5

8

10

8

5

4

2

I

It would be clear that the change was due to the substitution of
families of 0, 1, 2 and to a slight extent of ?>, for fifty per cent, of
the families over 3, that all these groups of larger families had given
up the same proportion to swell the groups of small families. This
would point clearly toward restriction as a cause.

Suppose that the following were the facts:

Children 0123456789 10 11 12

1803-1814 0 0 2 4 8 10 16 20 16 10 8 4 2
1865-1874 6 8 10 16 20 16 10 8 4 2 0 0 0

In this case it is clear that the change was due to^the substitution
throughout of families less in each case by three children. There is
no cutting off equally from all the higher groups. Families of 4 and
5 for instance increase in number. There is no special increase of
the 0, 1, 2 families. The movement has been simply a general de-
crease in size, a moving backward of the general tendency to produce.
Such an appearance in the statistics would point toward decreased
reproductive capacity.

In our second illustration there would probably be in connection
with the lowered average tendency a reduction of the variability. That
is the range or spread from the common occurrence (a four-children
family) would be less, and our figures would be something like the

following :

Children

0

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

1865-1874

4

6

11

17

24

17

11

6

Generalizing the argument we may say :

In so far as conscious restriction is the cause of the lesser fertility
of the late decades it will show itself by a disturbance of the form of
distribution of the different-sized families.

1. Kestriction as commonly considered would increase the 0, 1
and 2 and to some extent 3 children families at the expense of all
larger families. For according to the comuion view there would be
no influence of restriction in a family which had already five or six
children.

2. Fach group of large-sized families would then lose in proportion
to the number of families in it, the psychological and social sources of
the custom being in no way correlated with fertility.

3. The result will be the appearance in the statistics of late decades
of two species of families, one showing the natural tendency and in
every way comparable to the species shown in the first decades, the

THE SIZE OF AMERICAN FAMILIES. 67

other a species of restricted families with a range from 0 to 3 or 4
and a preponderance of 2's and O's.

In so far as growing incapacity is the cause, it will show itself
not by a disturbance of the form of the distribution of the different-
sized families, but by a shifting of the whole distribution back toward
a lower point, with probably a reduction of its variability or spread.

If now we turn to the actual facts we shall see that restriction of
this type is utterly inadequate to explain them^ while a growing inca-
pacity would explain them very well.

The comparison of what has actually occurred with what would
have occurred as a result first of growing restriction and second of
decreased fertility may be more conveniently made by the use of graphic
representations than by the numbers.' There are thus presented: (A)
the changes that would have occurred if the real fertility of this spe-
cies of individuals had decreased to a bit less than one half what it
was in 1803-1835, the variability being reduced in proportion to the
square root of their average; (B) the actual changes in the size of
families of college graduates from 1803-1874, and (C) the changes
that would have occurred if the reduction in the average size of fam-
ilies had been due to an increase in the number of families in which
the natural fertility had been restricted to from 0 to 4 children. In
the last case I have calculated the result upon the hypotheses that 2
would be favored by forty per cent., 0 and 3 by twenty per cent, each,
and 1 and 4 by ten per cent. each. But any other distribution of the
restrictions would lead just as emphatically to the same general con-
clusions. Still more so would a restriction to families of from 0 to 3
children.

This conclusion is that the changes in distribution actually found
decade by decade have far more likeness to those that would result
from a decrease in fertility, than to those that would result from re-
striction. Indeed, the likenesses in the first instance are so close as to
force upon us the conviction that the causes are identical. If one for-
got the common opinions about the prevalence of restriction and looked
directly at the facts he would say: The general fertility sinks from
5 to 2-3; the very large families become impossibilities, the range of
possibility which was from 12 to — 2 has changed to from 8 to • — 3 or
— 4 ; this species, whatever it is, is dying out. The facts are surely suffi-
cient to rule out restriction of the type described, but before jumping
to the conclusion that the obvious explanation of the statistics by a
steady decrease in fertility is the true one we must seek other possible
explanations of them.

Among such explanations that have been suggested to the writer
none seems satisfactory. It might be thought that restriction was to
3, 4 and 5 in the early decades, to 2, 3 and 4 in 1835-55, and finally

68

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Co

o

00

a-

u-i

THE SIZE OF AMERICAN FAMILIES. 69

to 1, 2 and 3. But we can not then account for the great number of
zeros in the early decades, nor for the way in which the reduction of
the variability occurs. Again it might be thought that there has been
a growing reluctance to have families over a certain size, a reluctance
that becomes more and more intense in the case of large sizes. But it
is impossible to find any scale for the increase of this reluctance such
that by assigning more and more individuals to the reluctant class we
can derive a series of distributions by decades at all like those actually
found.

Of course if we postulate both a lowering with time of the size to
which families are restricted and a sliding scale of reluctance that also
varies with time we can account for the observed facts. Such a h}'-
pothesis is, however, suspicious because of its complexity and apparent
artificiality. I do not deny that it may be true, but until we find some
further support for it, we are bound so far as the observed facts go to
prefer the vera causa which explains the observations with perfect sim-
plicity, and to attribute the numerical degeneration of our group to a
real decrease in fertility.

So far as our general mental prepossessions go, however, a real
decrease in fertility seems at first sight a preposterous doctrine. One
can well imagine the sneer of the physician whose experience empha-
sizes the frequency of restriction and the pitying smile of the biologist
who discerns that a progressive decrease in fertility of a species is a
flat contradiction of the doctrine of natural selection. 'Play on with
your statistical hair-splitting,' they would say, 'Nothing that you find
will disturb our beliefs. We know better.'

But I venture to assert that the experiences of metropolitan physi-
cians will not serve to prophecy the social psychology of the species we
have studied, that their opinions may here be as wide of the mark as
the common belief that unwillingness is the main cause of the failure
of the women of the better classes to nurse their children. As to the
contradiction of natural selection, I may suggest that the existence,
amount and results of the elimination of types by their failure to pro-
duce their kind is after all a problem which only statistical inquiries
can settle and that if the doctrine is to be used as an excuse for evad-
ing certain obvious facts in human history it is perhaps time that it
should be questioned.

The issue is clear. The more fertile members of a race produce
of course a larger measure of the next generation than do the less fer-
tile. So also do their children, if fertility is inherited. There should
then, according to present-day biology, be a quantitative evolution of
fertility. Absolute sterility would needs be the first trait to be elim-
inated from a species. It should have disappeared from the human
stock seons asro. And so long as there are variations in fertility and

70 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

a transmission of these variations the fertility of a race must keep up
to the racial type and ought to increase. It makes no difference
whether the type can change only by sudden extreme variations or by
a gradual change of its center of gravity. Of whatever sort the effec-
tive variations are, the ones that must needs win in the case of fertility
are variations on the plus side. But what we actually find is good evi-
dence of a decrease.

Although such emphatic facts as those reported here have never
previously been at hand, the question has been clearly seen. In ' A Sta-
tistical Study of Eminent Men' in the February number of this
Monthly, Professor Cattell called attention to the apparent inade-
quacy of natural selection to account for the rise and fall of nations.
A note in the April number referring to the Harvard statistics also sug-
gests the dilemma of the doctrine. The qiiestion is there raised
whether even if the failure to produce were due to a psychic epidemic
of restriction, there should not be on current biological theory a natural
selection for certain inheritable mental traits of those individuals who
resisted the epidemic and consequently a maintenance of race produc-
tivity. Our returns give support to this claim since the three genera-
tions involved should give nature a fair amount of time. I shall not,
however, make any use at this time of this argument.

The decision of the question is equally clear. In so far as the
decrease in the size of families is due to a real decrease in fertility, we
have an absolute disproof of racial progress by the perpetuation of the
characteristics of those who survive and reproduce. It is a simple
question of fact. A comparison of families of different epochs, all of
which are known to be unrestricted, would give an indubitable answer,
and the argument here must not be a flourish of vague generalities.

So far as present facts go the probability is against natural selec-
tion in the case of fertility in man. The contrary hypothesis, that a
stock like an individual has a birth, growth, senescence and death ; that,
apart from the onslaughts of rivals or the privations of a hard environ-
ment or the suicide of universal debauchery, races die a natural death
of old age, lends itself very well to the interpretation of human history
and perhaps to the history of animal forms as well. It leaves the
causation of this race life and death as a mystery. But a mystery is
less objectionable than a contradiction. .

/

HELEN KELLER. 71

HELEN KELLER: A PSYCHOLOGICAL AUTOBIOGRAPHY.*

By Professor JOSEPH JASTROW,

UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN.

rpHE interest in the story of Helen Keller is many sided. To the
-'- public at large the personal interest naturally dominates; for
the story of the development, in spite of seemingly impassable curtail-
ments of experience, of a bright child into an intellectual young
woman forms an intensely interesting and deeply human document.
As an experiment in education the account is most valuable; at one
point it reinforces principles already advocated upon other varieties
of evidence; at another it opposes a narrow overvaluation of method
or theory; at many others it illuminates the profound significance of
the essentials, and throws into relief the secondary values of the ways
and means of a real education. For the psychologist the narrative is
no less important. It contributes notably to the interpretation of the
role of sensation in the building up of intellectual acquisitions; it
furnishes pertinent illustrations of the delicate interlacing of the
strands of experience — throughout conditioned by natural endowment
— in the composite pattern of the mental texture.

Born June 27, 1880, at Tuscumbia, Alabama, of good ancestry,
the child was deprived by a serious illness that befell her at the age
of eighteen months, of both sight and hearing. Taste and smell re-
mained normal, and her physical health continued to be excellent. At
the time of her illness, the child had already sjjoken a few words,
one of which — 'wah-wah' for 'water' — may have been retained through
the illness and the sightless and silent years that followed. Miss Kel-
ler believes that something remains to her of the glimpses of the
world during her first months of life. 'If we have once seen,' she
cites, 'the day is ours, and what the day has shown.' One must not
underestimate the value of such continuity of experience as is possible
even at so tender an age; yet it may be said that practically her men-
tal life began anew amid her altered and restricted environment.

The five years before the 'light of the world' was brought to her
are suggestive of the spontaneous ingenuit}^ of the child under such

*'The story of My Life,' by Helen Keller Avith her letters (1887-1901),
and letters of her teacher Anne Mansfield Sullivan, supplemented by John
Albert Macy. New York, Doubleday, Page & Co., 1903, pp. 441, 8vo. The illus-
trations we owe to the courtesy of the Volta Bureau, Washington, D. C, and
of Messrs. Doubleday Page & Co.

72 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

unusual conditions. Signs were developed by mutual suggestion be-
tween her and her family. "A shake of the head meant 'No' and a
nod, 'Yes,' a pull meant 'Come' and a push, 'Go.' Was it bread that
I wanted? Then I would imitate the acts of cutting the slices and
buttering them. If I wanted my mother to make ice-cream for din-
ner I made the sign for working the freezer and shivered, indicating
cold." "I understood a good deal of what was going on about me.
At five I learned to fold and put away the clean clothes when thej
were brought in from the laundry, and I distinguished my own from
the rest. I knew by the way my mother and aunt dressed when they
were going out, and I invariably begged to go with them. ' ' She played
with the children about her and thus records how she did it. "I
could not tell Martha Washington when I wanted to go egg-hunting,
but I would double my hands and put them on the ground, which meant
something round in the grass, and Martha always understood. When
we were fortunate enough to find a nest I never allowed her to carry
the eggs home, making her understand by emphatic signs that she
might fall and break them." Writing at the age of ten, she says:
"When I was a very little child I used to sit on my mother's lap all
the time, because I was very timid, and did not like to be left by
myself. And I would keep my little hand on her face all the while,
because it amused me to feel her face and lijjs move when she talked
with people. I did not know then what she was doing, for I was quite
ignorant of all things. Then when I was older I learned to play with
my nurse and the little negro children, and I noticed that they kept
moving their lips, just like my mother, so I moved mine too." Here
is another recollection of her childish play : ' ' My aunt made me a
big doll out of towels. It was the most comical, shapeless thing, this
improvised doll, with no nose, mouth, ears or eyes — nothing that even
the imagination of a child could convert into a face. Curiously
enough, the absence of eyes struck me more than all the other defects
put together. I pointed this out to everybody with provoking per-
sistency, but no one seemed equal to the task of providing the doll
with eyes. A bright idea, however, shot into my mind, and the prob-
lem was solved. ... I found my aunt's cape which was trimmed with
large beads. I pulled two beads off and indicated to her that I wanted
her to sew them on my doll. She raised my hand to her eyes in a
questioning way, and I nodded energetically." Obviously the little
girl's mind was developing, though doubtless with far greater slow-
ness and difficulty than would have been the case under more normal
circumstances. Her moral training under the natural indulgence to
one so afflicted suffered; and fits of passion and a lawless disregard of
social amenities were a frequent occurrence.

It was through Charles Dickens's account of Laura Bridgman,

HELEN KELLER. 73

publislicd in his 'Aineriean Xotes, ' that Mrs. Keller hecaiue acquainted
with the possibilities of education for one in Helen's position; and on
March 3, 1887, Miss Sullivan came to Tuscumbia from the Perkins
Institution in Boston — where Laura Bridgman lived — to take charge
of Helen Keller. The first approaches to a mutual understanding
between pupil and teacher were naturally dependent upon the utiliza-
tion of the primitive sign language to which we all resort, with a suc-
cess proportionate to our ingenuity, when thrown among those whose
language we do not understand. Of this meeting Miss Sullivan wrote
at the time : ' ' She felt my face and dress and my bag, which she took
out of my hand and tried to open. It did not open easily, and she
felt carefully to see if there was a key-hole. Finding that there was,
she turned to me, making the sign of turning a key and pointing to
the bag." Later they went upstairs together and there, says Miss
Sullivan : "I opened the bag, and she went through it eagerly, prob-
ably to find something to eat. Friends had probably brought her
candy in their bags, and she expected to find some in mine. I made
her understand by pointing to a trunk in the hall and to myself and
nodding my head that I had a trunk, and then made the sign which
she had used for eating and nodded again. She understood in a flash
and ran downstairs to tell her mother by means of emphatic signs that
there was some candy in the trunlc for her." Miss Sullivan records a
further instance of the child's spontaneous signs. "She had signs
for small and large long before I came to her. If she wanted a small
object and was given a large one she would shake her head and take
up a tiny bit of the skin of one hand between the thumb and finger
of the other. If she wanted to indicate something large, she spread
the fingers of both hands as wide as she could, and brought them
together, as if to clasp a big ball."

These instances are suggestive of the considerable range of per-
ceptions and activities that even a deaf-blind child can acquire with-
out the use of words. The concentration point of Miss Sullivan's
efforts was the revelation to the 'infant' mind of the existence and
the potency of a word. The humble instruments thereof were a doll
and a piece of cake. The doll was given to the child and the deaf-
mute signs for 'd-o-1-1' made by Miss Sullivan in the child's hand.
"She looked puzzled and felt my hand, and I repeated the letters.
She imitated them very well and pointed to the doll. Then I took
the doll from her, meaning to give it back to her when she had made
the letters; but she thought I meant to take it from her, and in an
instant she was in a temper and tried to seize the doll. I shook my
head and tried to form the letters with her fingers; but she got more
and more angry. ... I let her go but refused to give up the doll. I
went downstairs and got some cake (she is very fond of sweets). I

74

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

showed Helen the cake and spelled 'c-a-k-e' in her hand, holding the
cake toward her. Of course she wanted it and tried to take it; but I
spelled the word again and patted her hand. She made the letters
rapidly, and I gave her the cake." Meaningless as this finger-play
niust have been to the seven-year-old child, it was hardly more so than

t

K.

Miss Helen Keller (1893).

other of the arbitrary relations between causes and effects that a child
readily accepts as part of tlie logic of reality. But the magic touch
that was to supiily 'tlio light that failed' was not far off. The really
serious obstacle was the difficulty of sustaining human relations with
this willful bit of Innuaniiy, and of enforcing discipline. After a few

HELEN KELLER. ' 75

trying struggles, victory rested with the teacher; and the taught, once
initiated into the charm of the new occupation, was fascinated thereby.
After about a fortnight of this constant forming of letters in the
child's hand and pointing to objects thus designated — such as 'mug,'
'milk,' 'father,' 'mother,' 'walk,' 'sit,' 'water' — the notion that ob-
jects were designated by the signs was grasped; and a ceaseless quest
for names of all the things with which she was familiar was begun.
Miss Sullivan thus describes the moment of inspiration. "We went
out to the pump-house, and I made Helen hold her mug under the
spout while I pumped. As the cold w^ater gushed forth filling the
mug, I spelled 'w-a-t-e-r' in Helen's free hand. The word coming so
close upon the sensation of cold water rushing over her hand seemed
to startle her. She dropped the mug and stood as one transfixed. A
new light came into her face. She spelled 'water' several times.
Then she dropped on the ground and asked for its name, and pointed
to the pump and the trellis, and suddenly turning around, she asked
for my name. I spelled 'teacher.' . . . All the way back to the house
she was highly excited, and learned the name of every object she
touched, so that in few hours she had added thirty new w^ords to her
vocabulary. ' '

An illustrative instance of these early lessons in which moral teach-
ings and material rewards are mingled with letters and simple occupa-
tions is the following : Helen had been rebellious in regard to the use
of her napkin. Miss Sullivan arranged the table fittings but omitted
the cake which was the reward for spelling a word correctly. "She
noticed this at once and made the sign for it. I showed her the nap-
kin and pinned it round her neck, then tore it off and threw it on the
floor and shook my head. [This had been Helen's behavior.] I re-
peated this performance several times. I think she understood per-
fectly well ; for she slapped her hand two or three times and shook her
head. We began the lesson as usual. I gave her an object, and she
spelled the name. (She knows twelve now). After spelling half
the word she stopped suddenly, as if a thought had flashed into her
mind, and felt for the napkin. She pinned it round her neck and
made the sign for cake (it didn't occur to spell the word, you see)."
With this as the ' premier pas qui coiite, ' the further progress, though
at first slow, was direct and cumulative. On March 31 Helen knew
eighteen nouns and three verbs; the next day she added eight more.
On May 22 her vocabulary was estimated at three hundred words; on
June 19 at 400 words; at the end of August at 625 words; at the close
of her first year of instruction at 900 words. 'Open' and 'shut' were
learned by the manipulation of a door ; as early as June 12, while hold-
ing some worsted for her teacher, she spelled to herself repeatedly
'wind fast, wind slow'; 'in' and 'on' were illustrated by putting Helen

76 • POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

in the wardrobe, or the doll on the table. Confusions occurred; 'mug'
and 'milk' were associated in a common action, and only gradually
was each given its own name. Sentences followed naturally and
quickly. Then she was introduced to raised letters and learned the
mystery of reading. Later the art of Cadmus was presented, and
within less than four months from her first word-lesson she wrote a
letter of thirty words, recording childishly but clearly a few simple
facts.

Her desire for exjDression was marked from the outset. "I used
to make noises," she recalls, "keeping one hand on my throat while
the other felt the movements of my lips. I was pleased with anything
that made a noise and liked to feel the cat purr and the dog bark. I
also liked to keep my hand on a singer's throat, or on a piano when
it was being played." In 1890 the girl of ten years, though convers-
ing fluently by the manual alphabet with those who could read these
flying symbols of speech, felt that she was cut off from direct inter-
course with her fellow creatures. 'How do blind girls know what to
say with their mouths?' she asked her teacher. By allowing Helen
to place her hands upon the throat and lips of the speaker and then
inducing her to place her own vocal organs as nearly as possible in the
same position she learned to make the sounds. These, with infinite
patience and years of close training, were made to be readily intel-
ligible, though naturally far from the perfect articulation that the ear
produces. Deaf children are constantly taught to speak in this way;
the added difficulty in this case is that the eyes can not read the lips
and visually imitate the positions in articulation. For the deaf-blind
this task must be delegated to the less ready guidance of the tactile
sensibilities. Such an individual learns to speak orally as do the deaf,
to read by touch as do the blind. The permanent peculiarity of the
double deprivation is for Helen Keller her best and normal mode of
receiving words — by interpreting the finger-letters of the deaf as they
are made in the palm of her hand. In this way she 'listens with her
hands. '

The details of her education are now rendered accessible to all.
The several stages from kindergarten occupations and spelling-games
to courses in philosophy at Eadclifi'e College are graphically set forth.
The range of her present capabilities is indeed remarkable; and the
writing of the autobiography not the least of them. For the slow
process of writing with a pencil — which is reduced to tactual guidance
by writing on paper placed against a grooved cardboard back — she has
substituted the typewriter, the space relations of the keys being as accu-
rately fixed in her motor memory as they arc in the visual memories
of those that see. Neither of these forms of record can the blind
themselves read. For their own use a system of pricked points — sim-

HELEN KELLER.

77

pic combinations of which form the letters — is adopted; such 'Braille'
writing is done on a simple machine operated by a key-board. It is
in this form that Miss Keller read and revised the chapters of her
autobiography. When a stranger meets Miss Keller and wishes to
communicate directly with her, she places her fingers against his lips

wjmfm^-'^-'is^-^-

■*f»o-j^7-i-i'

Miss Helen Keller and Miss Sullivan (1898).

and throat, and thus reads the sounds as they emerge. This requires
slow and distinct articulation on the part of the speaker, and consider-
able filling in by guess-work on Miss Keller 's part. The letters formed
in her hand is distinctly the superior method; yet pronunciation can
be taught by the lip-reading method only. In this way she has learned

78 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

to speak French, German, Italian, to say nothing of her school experi-
ence of Latin and Greek. Her range of language, expression and com-
prehension is thus no mean one, confined though it be to the avenues
of touch and motion.

It is interesting to trace the evidence of this ' touch-mindedness '
in the imagery of her well-formed and expressive style. Her recollec-
tions of the days of her childhood, as well as her more mature experi-
ences contain many of them. In reading them it should be recalled
that they include sensations of temperature and — very important to
the deaf — the impressions of jar or vibration, which present a rich
variety of distinctive qualities.

"Oh, the delight with which I gathered up the fruit in my pina-
fore, pressed my face against the smooth cheeks of the apples, still
warm from the sun, and skipped back to the house!" Of the Ply-
mouth rock: "I could touch it, and perhaps that made the coming
of the Pilgrims and their toil and great deeds seem more real to me.
I have often held in my hand a little model of the Plymouth rock
which a kind gentleman gave me at Pilgrim Hall, and I have fingered
its curves, the split in the center and the embossed figures '1620,' and
turned over in my mind all that I knew about the wonderful story of
the Pilgrims." "The rumble and roar of the city smite the nerves
of my face, and I feel the ceaseless tramp of an unseen multitude, and
the dissonant tumult frets my spirit. The grinding of heavy wagons
on hard pavements and the monotonous clangour of machinery are
all the more torturing to the nerves if one's attention is not diverted
by the panorama that is always present in the noisy streets to people
who can see." With Mr. Jefferson as he personated for her Bob
Acres writing the challenge : "I followed all his movements with my
hands, and caught the drollery of his blunders and gestures in a way
that would have been impossible had it all been spelled to me. Then
they rose to fight the duel, and I followed the swift thrusts and parries
of the swords and the waverings of poor Bob as his courage oozed out
at his finger ends. Then the great actor gave his coat a hitch and his
mouth a twitch, and in an instant I was in the village of Falling
Water and felt Schneider's shaggy head against my knee." "The
hands of those I meet are dumbly eloquent to me. The touch of some
hands is an impertinence. I have met people so empty of joy that
when I clasp their frosty finger tips it seemed as if I were shaking
hands with a northeast storm. Others there are whose hands have
sunbeams in them, so that their grasp warms my heart. ... A hearty
handshake or a friendly letter gives me genuine pleasure." When an
organ was played for her : "I stood in the middle of the church, where
the vibrations from the great organ were strongest, and I felt the
mighty waves of sound beat against me, as the great billows beat against

ilELES KELLEil. ^9

a little ship at sea." Of a test of Helen's hearing when she was eight
years old, Miss Sullivan writes: "All present were astonished when
she appeared to hear not only a whistle, but also an ordinary tone of
voice. She would turn her head, smile and act as though she had
lieard what was said. I was then standing beside her, holding her
hand. Thinking that she was receiving impressions from mo, I put
her hands upon the table and withdrew to the opposite side of the
room. The aurists then tried their experiments with quite different
results. Helen remained motionless through them all, not once show-
ing the least sign that she realized what was going on." "A medal-
lion of Homer hangs on the wall of my study, conveniently low, so that
1 can easily reach it and touch the beautiful, sad face with loving rev-
erence. How well I know each line in that majestic brow — tracks of
life and bitter evidences of struggle and sorrow; those sightless eyes
seeking, even in the cold plaster, for the light and the blue skies of his
beloved Hellas, but seeking in vain; the beaiitiful mouth, firm and
true and tender. It is the face of a poet and of a man acquainted with
sorrow. ' ' Her occupation during a lecture at college is thus described :
''The lectures are spelled into my hand as rapidly as possible, and
much of the individuality of the lecturer is lost to me in the effort to
keep in the race. The words rush through my hand like hounds in
pursuit of a hare which they often miss. But in this respect, I do
not think I am much worse off than the girls who take notes. If the
mind is occupied with the mechanical process of hearing and putting
words on paper at pell-mell speed, I should not think one could pay
much attention to the subject under consideration or the manner in
which it is presented. I can not make notes during the lecture be-
cause my hands are busy listening."

The position of the sense of smell in the commonwealth of sensa-
tion is for Homo sapiens not a very lofty one. Its exercise is limited,
and even when efficient, it is tabooed by the dictates of good manners.
Yet it combines, even in those with a full quota of senses, with other
forms of knowledge-getting, and frequently has a leading associative
force. For the deaf -blind any 'window of the soul,' however narrow
its aperture, is a welcome source of illumination; and it is easy to
discover in the narrative of Helen Keller's experiences, references and
allusions that clearly indicate the direct and associative value of olfac-
tory impressions.

"We walked down to the well-house, attracted by the fragrance
of the honeysuckle with which it was covered." "Suddenly a change
passed over the tree [in which she was seated]. All the sun's warmth
left the air. I knew the sky was black, because all the heat, M^hich
meant light to me, had died out of the atmosphere. A strange odor
came up from the earth. I knew it was the odor that always precedes

8o

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

a thunderstorm, and a nameless fear clutched my heart. " " One beau-
tiful spring morning when I was alone in the summer-house, reading,
I became aware of a wonderful subtle fragrance in the air. . . . 'What
is it?' I asked, and the next minute I recognized the odor of the
mimosa blossoms." "We read and studied out of doors, preferring

Miss Helen Kei.leii and Dr. A. Graham Bell (1'jui2).

the sunlit woods to the house. All my early lessons have in them
the breath of the woods — the fine resinous odor of pine needles, blended
with the perfume of wild grapes." "It was delightful to lose our-
selves in ibc uHM'u liollows of the tangled wood in the late afternoon,
and to siiioll the cool delicious odors that came up from the earth at

HELEN KELLER. 8i

the close of day/' In a eaiupinu- party: "At dawn I was awakened
by the smell of coffee, the rattling of guns, and the heavy footsteps of
the men as they strode about, promising themselves the greatest luck
of the season." '"^Fhe aii- was balmy witli a tang of the sea in it."
"1 felt th(> low soughing of tlie wind through the cornstalks, the silky
rustling of the long leaves, and the indignant snort of my pony as we
caught him in llio pasture and put the bit in his mouth^ah me! how
well I remember the spicy, clovery smell of his breath ! " In describ-
ing her visit to Dr. Holmes, she writes: "There was an odor of print
and leather in the room which told me that it was full of books. " Miss
Sullivan relates that when she took Helen, as a child, to church, she
smelled the wine, when the communion service began 'and sniffed so
loud that every one in the church could hear. ' When rowing on the
lake at Wrentham in the summer time, she recognizes the direction in
which the nearest shore lies by the odors from the shrubbery on the
shore. She may even recognize the part of the lake by the specific
recognition of some blossoms that grow at some known spot.

While it thus becomes sufficiently evident that the deprivation of
the two most intellectual of the senses leaves an indelible impress upon
the habits and manners of the mind, yet the community of the mental
economy as well as of the materials which it employs and of the lan-
guage in which it finds expression, is by far the more notable factor in
the comparison. Wliether we travel by train or by diligence or on
foot, the destination is the same w^hen reached. The one mode of con-
veyance is swift, the other cumbersome, and the third arduous; each
requires an equipment with which the others may dispense. For all
the view from the mountain top is much the same, however wearisome
the climb. What Miss Keller records of her resolution to go to col-
lege is true in large measure of her whole career. ' ' I knew that there
were obstacles in the way; but I was eager to overcome them. I had
taken to heart the w^ords of the wise Eoman who said, 'To be banished
from Eome is but to live outside of Rome.' Debarred from the great
highways of knowledge, I was compelled to make the journey across
country by unfrequented roads — that was all; and I knew that in col-
lege there were many bypaths where I could touch hands with girls
who were thinking, loving and struggling like me. ' '

And yet the 'journey across country by unfrequented roads' is not
quite the same as the bustling traffic along the highway. It is be-
cause of this difference that we admire the perseverance and testify
to the inherent endowment of one who has reached the goal in spite
of disabilities profound. It is difficult, in limited compass, to set forth
the dominant traits of Miss Keller's personality; it is the less necessary
as the reading of the autobiography will convey a far more convincing

VOL. LXIII. — 6.

82 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

realization of what she is and thinks and does than any sketch could
suggest. During the first three years of her instruction she more
than made up for the deficiencies to which her deprivations had sen-
tenced her; and one can not but be impressed, upon reading the letters
written before her tenth year, with the linguistic facility and the
breadth of imagination of the child. Then, under more systematic
guidance, she learned to speak and laid the elementary foundation for
the arts and crafts of life. The desire to prepare for college was one
of her early ambitions and became formulated into a definite plan of
campaign at about her sixteenth year. The range of studies required
for entrance she duly mastered, showing very unequal gifts for the
various branches, and especial strength in her knowledge of languages,
literature and history. It is no small tribute to her talents that in
spite of no natural bent for mathematics and with the special diSiculty
that geometrical relations must present to a 'tactual' mind, she ac-
quitted herself creditably in this study. At the moment of the publi-
cation of her book she is closing her junior year at Radcliffe College.
She has evidently gained much from her academic associations; and
not the least of the confidence that her friends express in her future is
based upon the mental growth that has been characteristic of these
collegiate days. A reading of the selections from her themes in the
course in English and from her more recent letters, indicate a certainty
of touch in the handling of language as well as a noteworthy power to
sustain an argument, that certainly meets the customary standard that
one would be willing to apply to student writings. Such unusual
achievements would have been impossible without an unusual endow-
ment ; alertness and vigor of mind, a remarkable memory, a keen obser-
vation and fertility of imagination, a pronounced taste for the literary
side of life, good spirits and a ready sense of humor, comprehensive-
ness and saneness of interests, a sympathetic and enthusiastic tempera-
ment, a love of nature as well as of books — these are the traits that
impress one as most potent in shaping her life and her aspirations.

It is quite true that the same could be said for many another indi-
vidual whose biography remains unwritten, and whose achievements
are not entered upon the tablets of a hall of fame. The absurd exag-
gerations and distorted accounts of Miss Keller's career, that have
gained currency, are much to be deplored. We feel so overwhelmingly
our own dependence upon what we see and upon what we hear, that we
naturally drop into hyperbole and exhaust our adjectives in expressing
our appreciation of one who has done so much without these invalu-
able handmaids of the mind. Yet the truer interest lies in the train-
ing that has been imparted to the normally less skilful servants, and
in the mastery that has thus been gained. It is this aspect of Helen

HELEN KELLER. 83

Keller's story that gives it the significance of a psychological biog-
raphy.*

* The presentation of Miss Keller's story as a biography has left no place
for the tribute that every account thereof should pay, and pay liberally, to the
skill and devotion of Miss Sullivan. It is difficult to say what would have be-
come of Helen Keller under less wise and less able guidance. The deep appre-
ciation of the problem to which she has devoted her life is shown in Miss Sulli-
van's contemporaneous letters. These letters form a most valuable portion of
the A'olume. Free from theory or narrow devotion to any system. Miss Sulli-
van's pedagogic tact detected the essence of the situation, and her insight
quickly discovered the ways and means for further progress. The educational
success, as well as our knowledge of how it was obtained, is immeasurably
indebted to the discerning insight of Miss Sullivan.

84

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

DISCUSSION AND COEEESPONDENCE.

PROFESSOR PEARSON ON THE
DISTRIBUTION OF FERTILITY.
In a note concerning the question
of the birth rate in the April number
of the Monthly, you quote Professor
Karl Pearson's distributions of fertil-
ity and also refer to his measurements
of the resemblance between mother and
daughter in fertility. The skewness of
the distribution of fertility in the case
of the Quaker families probably repre-
sents no real condition, but is due to
a statistical procedure, namely, to the
combination in one distribution of
groups of individuals of a number of
different generations. As I show in an
article in this number of the Monthly,
the distribution of natural fertility in

0 I 1 3 H S' 6 7 M 10 /I n /3

any one decade is approximately nor-
mal, there being no pronounced skew-
ness save that due in late decades to
the undistributed zeros. But if I com-
l)ino all my results from Middlebury
College, using thus families of men
born from 1780 to 1850, I get a curve,
as shown in tlio diagram, like Professor
Pearson's in its pronounced positive
skewness. If wo suppose, as I am sure
we must, that in Professor Pearson's

Quaker families, the families are of
larger and larger size as we go back
in time and that also the number of
families examined is fewer and fewer
as we go back in time, we must con-
clude that even if the distribution were
perfectly normal at any one period the
total score would give just such skew-
ness as he found. The abnormality of
his distribution is thus a sign of the
statistical mixture of species, not of
any essential physiological character-
istic. Of the Copenhagen records I
can not speak assuredly as I do not
know how the individuals were dis-
tributed in time. The occurrence in
Professor Pearson's records of families
of 13-22, higher that is than any that
I have found in over 2,000 families of
the last century, would seem to show
that the beginning of the decadence of
the American stock dates back beyond
the nineteenth century.

It is possible too that the resem-
blance in fertility between mother and
daughter which Professor Pearson has
measured, and naturally enough at-
tributed to heredity, may be really due
to the necessary nearness in time of
a mother and her daughter. If, for
instance, in five generations fertility
dropped steadily from 10 to 2, and we
calculated a coefficient of filial correla-
tion for a group of mother-daughter
pairs distributed throughout the five
generations, we shouhl have a result
showing marked mother-daughter re-
semblance, althougli licredity, as meas-
ured by tlip com])arisou of measures
taken relatively to the average fertil-
ity at the time the individiuil lived,
might amount to »//.

Kdwari) L. Thorndike.

Teachkks College,
New York.

SCIENTIFIC LITER A TUBE.

85

SCIENTIFIC LITEEATUEE.

I'U YtSWLOUlVAL VHEMH^TRY.
Since the publication of the brief
review in the August number of the
Monthly, the literature of this sub-
ject lias continued to receive iiuportant
additions, wliich indicate the increasinsr
influence of the chemical aspects of
biological study. The appreciation of
this fact has given rise to the appear-
ance of the Biochemisches Central-
blatt* under tlie editorial supervision
of P. Ehrlich, E. Fischer, A. Kossel, 0.
Liebreich, F. Miiller, B. Proskauer, E.
Salkowski and N. Zuntz. These well-
known names alone suffice to assure a
future for the new journal, which is
to report at brief intervals abstracts
of chemical or biochemical investisa-
tions having a bearing on the biolog-
ical sciences and medicine in particu-
lar. It is hoped in this way to enable
the chemist, the physician and the gen-
eral biologist to obtain a brief survey
of the entire domain of activity along
related chemical lines of work. The
few numbers of the Centralhlatt al-
ready at hand contain, in addition,
cursory reviews of the literature upon
restricted topics, e. g., the proteids,
alimentary processes, etc., written by
competent scientists.

A more critical resume is aimed at
in the ' Ergebnisse der Physiologic,' f
the first volume of which has recently
appeared under the joint editorship of
Professor Leon Asher, of Berne, and
Dr. Karl Spiro, of Strasburg. With
the collaboration of a large number of
many well-known physiologists, it is
* Gebriider Borntrager, Berlin, 1903.
t J. F. Bergmann, Wiesbaden, 1902.

proposed to publish yearly two vol-
umes, one of which is to be devoted to
biochemistry, the other to biophysics
and psychophysics. The entire field of
physiology will thus be reviewed from
time to time in the form of essays,
more exhaustive, critical and suggest-
ive than any mere compilation of ab-
stracts could be. If one may judge by
the character of the contributions to
the first volume, it seems inevitable
that the ' Ergebnisse ' will become an
important work of reference; and it
will serve, even better than most text-
books, to keep the physiologist in touch
with current progress in the study of
the problems of biology.

Maly's ' Jahresbericlit iiber die Fort-
schritte der Thierchemie ' completes its
thirty-first year under the editorship
of Professor Andreasch and Dr. Spiro,
the latter taking the place of the late
Professor v. Nencki. Dr. H. C. Jack-
son, of New York, has been added to
the list of contributors.

Dr. O. V. Furth's ' Vergleichende
chemische Physiologie der niederen
Thiere * is one of the most valuable of
the new books. The interest which the
study of the lower forms has aroused
lately has for the most part been con-
fined to the more purely physical and
morphological features of animal life.
The chemical data accumulated during
many years and scattered through
various journals and monographs have
now been collected by v. Fiirth into a
series of chapters useful for reference
and helpful in suggesting opportuni-
ties for research.

* Gustav Fischer, Jena, 1903.

86

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

THE PKOGEESS OF SCIENCE.

WILLIAM BARENESS.

In the death of Professor William

Harkness, U. S. N., America loses one

of the grouj) of scientific men who have

given this country high rank in its con-

of the U. S. Naval Observatory and in
arranging its equipment. He was born
in Scotland in 1838, his father being a
clergyman. He was educated at La-
fayette College and Rochester Univer-

WiLLiAM Harkness.

tributions to astronomy. While Hark-
ness may not have made brilliant
discoveries, he accomplished a large
amount of painstaking work, and had
an important share in the expeditions

sity and studied medicine in New York
City, being for a time surgeon during
the civil war. He was appointed aid
in the U. S. Naval Observatory in 1 802,
and his connection with tliis institution

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

87

continued for thirty-seven years until
liis retirement with the rank of rear-
admiral in IS'Jt). ilarkness served on
the monitor Monadnock in its cruise
through the Straits of Magellan, ma-
king exhaustive observations on the
behavior of compasses under the in-
fluence of iron armor and also ter-
restrial magnetic observations. This
work was published by the Smithsonian
Institution in 1871. He observed the
total solar eclipse of 1869 at Des
Moines and of 1870 in Sicily. Soon
thereafter he devoted himself to the
arrangements for the transits of Venus
in 1874 and in 1882. The former transit
he observed in Tasmania, later spend-
ing some years in reducing the observa-
tions, in the course of which he in-
vented the spherometer caliper. He
observed the transit of Mercury in
Texas in 1878 and the total solar
eclipse in Wyoming in the same year,
and devoted much time to editing and
preparing the reports. Professor Hark-
ness then carried out an important
work in reducing the observations of
the zones of stars observed by Gilliss
in Chili, and later prepared his work
on the solar parallax and its related
constants. From the publication of
that work in 1891 to his retirement he
was principally occupied with the new
building of the observatory, in devising
and mounting its instruments and in es-
tablishing a system of routine observa-
tions. Professor Harkness on his re-
tirement expected to take only a few
months' rest, and then to continue his
scientific work at Washington, but he
suffered from nervous prostration, and
for the four years until his death he
"was scarcely able to leave his house.

THE AMERICAN SOCIETY OF NAT-
URALISTS.
Brief reference has already been
made here to the meeting of the Amer-
ican Society of Naturalists held at
Washington in convocation week in
conjunction with the meeting of the

American Association for the Advance-
ment of Science and other scientific
societies. The annual discussion be-
tore the society, th'i subject of which
was ' How can endowments be used
most effectively for scientific research,'
has now been published. Professor
Chamberlin, of the University of
Chicago, who opened the discussion,
spoke of the importance of endowing
in connection with universities not
only chairs and departments but also
special schools and colleges of research.
He said that instead of the colleges of
the English universities, devoted mainly
to personal education, the ideal uni-
versity should be an association of col-
' leges of research for the benefit of
mankind as a whole. He also held that
we need independent institutions of
research and endowments for the co-
ordination of research. Professor
Welch, of the Johns Hopkins Univer-
sity, spoke with special reference to
the Rockefeller Institute for Medical
Research, describing what had been
accomplished since its foundation two
years ago, and foreshadowing the per-
manent institution, the establishment
of which has since been announced.
Professor Boas, of Columbia Univer-
sity, spoke with special reference to
publications, arguing that academies
and other institutions should unite
their publications, so that series for
each of the sciences might be estab-
lished; the wasteful effects of competi-
tion and the exchange system of pub-
lication would then be supplanted by
series that would became self-support-
ing. Professor Wheeler, of the Uni-
versity of Texas, criticized the present
system of fellowships, and argued that
fellows should be selected competent to
carry on research, that they should not
be regarded as recipients of alms, or
required to waste their time on routine
Avork, or do work beyond their power
or in a place unsuitod to it. Professor
MacMillan, of the University of Min-
nesota, favored the multiplication of
institutions and agencies for research.

88

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

and said that thei'e is some danger lest
too great cooperation might lead to
subordination. Professor Miinsterberg,
of Harvard University, argued that the
equipment for research in America is
ample, the difficulty is in the lack of
the right men. Americans are par-
ticularly well suited to research work,
but the ablest students tend to follow
law or business, where the rewards
are greater. Endowments can accom-
plish the most by creating great pre-
miums, as by establishing an ' over-
university,' where the masters of re-
search chosen by their peers would be
brought together for work transcend-
ing the possibilities under existing con-
ditions. The giving of subsidies to in-
dividual men of science and to existing
institutions is a system of charity that
will in the end weaken research.

The address of the president. Pro-
fessor Cattell, of Columbia University,
was on the natural history of men of
science. He gave the following table,
showing the number of American men
of science and their distribution among
the sciences by different agencies :

CO

JO
'■*^

p

2

Oh

a .

£;2

d

o

^2
or,

.t; o

at
° «

^

t.^

[3
"3

— o

1^

'a

to

'o

bJDOJ

375

O

81

1

136

61

0=5
35

46

pq

JSlathemat.

380

Physics

149

167

23

105

69

155

73

556

Chemistry

1933

174

12

143

137

73

166

656

Astronomy

125

40

12

41

16

48

51

212

Geology

256

121

13

55

32

161

174

43(i

Botany

169

120

7

57

53

94

70

416

Zoology

237

146

17

83

72

243

131

(!20

I'livsiology

96

10

2

53

18

22

25

l.lli

Anatotnv

136

10

0

56

1

13

18

116

Pathology

138

14

5

68

4

44

56

224

Anthropol.

60

60

3

4

5

56

37

92

Psychology

127

40

1

37

63

58

21

136

3801

983

96

838

531

1002

868

4000

RACE SENESCENCE.
The article on * The Decrease in the
Size of American Families,' contributed
by Professor Thorndike to the ])r('seiit
number of the ^Monthly, is one of the
first attempts to solve by scientific
methods a scientific problem of tiie

! first magnitude. Incidental remarks by
persons high in authority have led to
numerous newspaper comments, serious
and otherwise, on the failure of col-
lege graduates to reproduce themselves,
and ' race suicide ' has become a cur-
] rent term. The question of the de-
I creasing birth rate has, however, for
some years been a subject of discussion
by French economists, and it has been
recognized that the conditions in New
England are similar. Indeed, nearly
every countrv shows a decreasing birth
rate, though only France and New
England have a native population that
is actually decreasing, destined, if
present conditions continue, to be ex-
terminated.

Attention has been attracted to the
subject in France by economic condi-
tions— the failure to maintain a popu-
lation equal to that of Germany and
Great Britain, the lack of young men
for the army and the like — and eco-
nomic and social causes have been as-
signed for the small families. The chief
cause is said to be the method of divi-
ding property among the children. The
French peasant is a landowner, and if
his property is to be maintained in-
tact, he must have but one son, and
can not aflFord to give the necessary

Other
the increase of
luxury, high taxation, the crowding
into cities, immorality, alcoholism, etc.
It is nearly always assumed that the
families are small because the parents
wish to have tliem small, and tlie
remedies proposed, such as exemption
from taxation or the payment of boun-
ties in the case of larger families, are
based on this supposition. But facts
are lacking. For example, if volun-
tary restraint due to the economic con-
ditions usually alleged is the cause, and
the French family wishes to have one
son and not more, then Avhen there is
but i\ single child (as is the case in
one fourth of all families), it would be
more often a boy than a girl; the most
(•oiiiiiKiii familv of two would be a

dot to more than one daughter
causes are also alleged

THE i'j:()(ij:J'Jss of sciem'e.

89

diiugliter ami a youngor son and I lie
most common family of Ihifc would
be two (laiigliters and a younger son.
Apparently no sucli statistics have been
collected or even proposed.

The alleged causes of the small fami-
lies in France do not seem to obtain in
New England. It is extremely improb-
able that all parents should volun-
tarily limit the size of families; the
decreasing family nuist be in part due
to physiidogical causes, which may be
individual or racial. Individual causes
may be late marriage, especially of
women, school life and other unhy-
gienic conditions, or an inhibition ex-
erted by intellectual and other interests
outside the family.

Racial sterility is certainly possible.
It seems to conflict with the prin-
ciple of natural selection, as fertility
might be supposed to have a high se-
lective value. Natural selection, how-
ever, can only select, it can not pro-
duce variations. If size of head is
more variable than size of pelvis and is
equally important for survival, the in-
creasing difficulties of childbearing are
not inexplicable on the theory of nat-
ural selection. If sterility increases,
we must assume that the conditions
of the environment have altered too
rapidly for variation and natural selec-
tion to keep pace with them. Indeed
the existing conditions may be due in
part to our interference with natural
selection. The decreasing death rate
on which we pride ourselves may in
part be responsible for the decreasing
birth rate. When children who can
not be born naturally or can not be
nursed survive, we may be producing
a sterile race. No statistics in regard
to miscarriages are at hand, but there
is good reason to believe that they in-
crease as the number of children de-
creases. There is no positive proof of
race senescence in man. On the con-
trary we know that the Italians and
the French Canadians have large fami-
lies, though there is as much reason
for them to auffer from racial exhaus-

linii as llic inlial)i1aiils of l'"i-aiicc, and
(lie ( liinese seem to lie in no danger of
extermination. iJut we know tiiat ani-
mals bred for special traits tend to i)e-
come infertile, and f-election foi- our
civilization may have the same re-
sult. J'hysicists tell us that the earth
may be uninhabitable in twenty mil-
lion years; it may be uninhabited by
1 man in twenty centuries.

77/ /v FIELD COLUMBIAN MUSEUM.
TiiK Field Columbian' Museum, of
Chicago, lias now been in existence for
ten years and has during this period
made important progress. It was or-
ganized in 1893 at the close of the ex-
position, from which it received its
building and some of its collections.
The following year the name ' Field
(. olumbian Museum ' was adopted,
owing to the generous gifts made by
Mr. Marshall Field. The building
erected for temporary purposes is grad-
ually falling to pieces, and it is said
that Mr. Field will provide a new build-
ing, which will surpass that of the
American Museum of Natural History
in New York City and the new building
for the U. S. National Museum, for
which congress has recently appro-
priated three and a half million dol-
lars. The report of the director of tlie
Field Columbian ;Museum for last year
describes important increases in the
collections and improvements in their
arrangement. The collections have been
largely secured through sixteen ex-
peditions sent to dift'erent parts of
North America. Ethnology seems to
have been specially favored, nine ex-
peditions under the charge of Dr.
George A. Dorsey and other members
of the staflF having made extensive col-
lections in Oklahoma, New Mexico,
Montana, California and Alaska. Two
collections were also purchased, one
of which contains fourteen hundred
specimens from the Tlingits of Alaska.
In the department of botany the her-
barium has been augmented by over
twenty thousand sheets, and the de-

90

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

partment of ornithology has been in- Much attention has been paid to the
creased by fifteen hundred bird skins, cataloguing and exhibition of speci-
obtained by Mr. Brenninger, largely in mens, some thirty thousand entries
New IVIexico, while numerous zoological : having been made during the year, and

Virginia or Red Deer in Winter.

The Transvaai, Zep.ra.

specimens were obtained by Mr. Heller some hundred thousand cards written,

on the Pacific coast. Additions have The sum of $26,000 has been spent on

also been made to the department of new cases, and many of the collection*

geology and in other directions. have been rearranged and new groups-

TEE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

91

lia\i' lici'ii luouiited by the taxidermists.
We reproduce illustrations of two of
these groups prepared by Mr. Akeley.
The museum has been fortunate in
adding to its scientific staff Dr. S. W.
Williston, the ■\\ell -known paleontolo-
gist, who shares his time between the
museum and the University of Chicago.
The attendance during the year was
262,570, a daily average of 719. This
is an increase in attendance over the
preceding year of 14,000, including
2.000, in paid admissions. The museum
also conducted series of well attended
lecture courses and published seven
additions to its scientific series.

THE TREATMENT OF TYPHOID
FEVER.

The London Times gives an account
of a paper by Dr. Macfadyen, of the
Jenner Institute, communicated on
March 12 by Lord Lister to the Royal
Society, which as the writer says is of
peculiar interest to the public because
it promises an efficient prophylactic
and curative treatment for typhoid
fever. That dreaded disease is known
to depend upon the growth and prop-
agation within the human body of the
typhoid bacillus. Dr. Macfadyen has
found that by crushing the microscopic
cells of that bacillus, in a manner to be
presently explained, the intracellular
juices can be obtained apart from the
living organism, and that these juices
are highly toxic. By injecting them in
small and repeated doses into a living
animal its blood serum is rendered
powerfully antitoxic and bactericidal.
That is to say, it becomes an antidote
alike to the living typhoid bacteria and
to the poison Avhich may be extracted
from them. Animals dosed with the pro-
tective serum and subsequently treated
with lethal doses of typhoid bacteria
were found to enjoy immunity from
typhoid fever, while others exposed to
the same infection without the previous
protective treatment died of the dis-
ease. In the same way animals re-
ceiving injections of the intracellular

poison without any living bacteria
escaped death only when previously
treated with the protective blood serum
of an animal which had gone through
the immunizing process. Therefore the
blood serum in question is a prophylac-
tic for typhoid fever (at least, among
the inferior animals). But further ex-
periments were made by injecting lethal
doses of the poison or of the living
bacteria, and subsequently injecting the
protective serum after half the time
required for the toxic dose to kill the
animal had been allowed to elapse. In
these cases the antidote overtook the
poison and the animals recovered.
Therefore the serum is curative of ty-
phoid fever when already established,
as well as protective against typhoid
infection. It is thus demonstrated
that by the careful inoculation of an
animal with the juices of the dead bac-
teria, its blood serum can, in the case
of typhoid fever, be endowed with the
antidotal properties hitherto developed,
as in the case of diphtheria, only by
inoculation with the living bacteria. It
is reasonable to suppose that what
holds good in the case of one patho-
genic bacterium will also hold good
in the case of others. But hypothesis,
however reasonable, must be verified
by experiment, and the work of ex-
tracting and investigating the juices of
other bacteria is now being carried on
at the Jenner Institute. Should it turn
out, as may be expected, that bacterial
juices in general react upon the ani-
mal organism in the same way as the
living bacteria which produce them, the
fact can not but have a profound in-
fluence upon medical speculation and
practise.

The practical advantages of the dis-
covery are great. When, in order to
obtain a protective serum, an animal
is inoculated with living pathogenic
bacteria, the result is always quanti-
tatively uncertain. The seed may fall
iipon a highly receptive and fertile
soil, and may develop effects of unex-
pected violence, or it may fall upon

92

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

an unusually sterile soil and fail to pro-
duce the expected results. In other
words, we can not tell what will be the
output of bacterial poison from a given
dose of living bacteria. But the bac-
terial poison itself, when isolated from
the living bacteria, is a definite patho-
genic agent, which we can measure,
dilute, and test like any other potent
drug. Those who know that bacteria
are so minute as to be invisible except
under high microscopic powers will
naturally ask by what unimaginable
accuracy of grinding they can be broken
up so as to release their intracellular
toxins. The answer shows once more
how close is the dependence of ad-
vance in one department of research
upon discovery in another department
apparently quite unrelated, and how
impossible it is to foretell in what
ways abstract inquiry may bear upon
the most important practical problems.
These infinitesimal organisms are
crushed in liquid air, which is at once
an absolutely neutral Huid and one
giAang the exceedingly low temperature
essential for success. Thus an impor-
tant step in the treatment of disease
becomes possible through the previous
success of efforts to reduce the most
refractory gases to the liquid condition.
The intense cold of liquid air has no ef-
fect upon the vitality of bacteria. After
the most prolonged immersion they
propagate themselves with unabated
vigor as soon as they are again placed
in normal conditions. But when frozen
hard in liquid air these almost incon-
ceivably minute cells are completely
broken up by trituration. The com-
pletely triturated mass may be placed
in the proper medium and raised to the
proper temperature, but there is no
sign of bacterial growth. The poison-
ous juices, however, remain and pos-
sess, as has just been demonstrated,
the same toxic properties as when they
are directly elaborated inside the hu-
man body by the living bacteria. We
have, in fact, the best guarantee that
nothing has ha]i])ened beyond their

mechanical release in the fact that at
j the temperature of liquid air all chem-
ical activities are in abeyance. The
mechanical disintegration of these
microscopical cells at the temperature
of liquid air is not so simple a matter
as it may seem. For its explanation
the biologist must again apply to the
physicist who has furnished him with
this new and potent implement.

THE BRITISH A-^TARCTIC EXPE-
DITION.

Reuter's Agency has cabled informa-
tion from New Zealand reporting that
the Morning, relief vessel to the British
i Antarctic exploration ship Discovery,
ariived at Lyttelton on March 25. She
reports finding the Discovery on Janu-
ary 23 in MacMurdo Bay (Victoria
Land ) .

Commander Scott, of the Discovery,
supplies the following report of the
voyage up to the meeting with the
Morning. The Discovery entered the
ice pack on January 2 or 3 in latitude
67° south. Cape Adare was reached
on January 9, but from there a heavy
gale and ice delayed the expedition,
which did not reach Wood Bay till
January 18. A landing was effected
on the 20th in an excellent harbor
situated in latitude 76° 30' south. A
record of the voyage was deposited at
Cape Crozier on the twenty-second.
The Discovery then proceeded along the
Barrier, witliin a few cables' length,
examining the edge and making re-
peated soundings. In longitude 105°
the Barrier altercil its chaiacter and
trended northwards. Sounding here
showed that the Discovery was in shal-
low water. Frcnn the edge of the Bar-
rier high snow slopes rose to an exten-
sive, heavily glaciated land, witli
occasional bare precipitous peaks. The
expedition followed the coast line as
far as latitude 70°, longitude 152° 30'.
Tlie licavy pack foiination of the young
ice caused the expedition to seek winter
(]uarters in Victoria Land.

THE rnuGUE^s of science.

93

On Februarys, llie Discorcri/ entorod
an inlet in tlie Barrier in lonijitudo
174°. A balloon was sent up. and a
sledfje party examined the land as far
as latitude 78° 50'. Near Mounts
Erebus and Terror, at the southern ex-
tremity of an island, excellent winter
quarters were found. The expedition
next observed the coast of ^'ictoria
Land, extending as far as a conspicu-
ous cape in latitude 78° 50'. It was
found that mountains do not exist
here, and the statement that they
were to be foimd is clearly a matter
for explanation. Huts for living and
for making magnetic observations were
erected, and the expedition prepared
for wintering. The weather was bois-
terous, but a reconnaissance of sledge
parties was sent out, during which the
seaman Vince lost his life, the remain-
der of the party narrowly escaping a
similar fate. The ship was frozen in
on March 24. The expedition passed
a comfortable winter in well sheltered
quarters. The lowest recorded tem-
perature was 62° below zero. The
sledging commenced on September 2,
parties being sent out in all directions.
Lieutenant Royds, Mr. Skelton, and
party successfully established a record
in an expedition to Mount Terror,
traveling over the Barrier under severe
sleighing conditions, with a tempera-
ture of 58° below zero.

Commander Scott, Dr. Wilson and
Lieutenant Shackleton traveled 94
miles to the south, reaching land in
latitude 80° 17' south, longitude 163°
west, and establishing a world's record
for the furthest point south. The
journey was accomplished in most try-
ing conditions. Tlie dogs all died, and
the three men had to drag the sledges
back to the ship. Lieutenant Shackle-
ton almost died from exposure, but is
now quite recovered. The party found
that ranges of high mountains continue
throiigh Victoria Land. At the merid-
ian of 100° foothills much resembling
the Admiralty Range were discovered.

The ice barrier is jn-csuiiialily alio it.
It continues horizontal, and is slowly
fed from the land ice. ^lountains ten
or twelve thousand feet high were seen
in latitude 82° south, the coast line
continuing at least as far as 8.3° 20'
nearly due south. A party ascending
a glacier on the mainland found a new
range of mountains. At a height of
0,000 feet a level plain was reached
unbroken to the west as far as the
horizon. The scientific work of the
expedition includes a rich collection of
marine fauna, of which a large propor-
tion are new species. Sea and mag-
netic observations were taken, as well
as seismographic records and pendu-
hnn observations. A large collection
of skins and skeletons of southern
seals and seabirds has been made. A
number of excellent photographs have
been taken, and careful meteorological
observations were secured. Extensive
quartz and grit accumulations were
tound horizontally bedded in volcanic
rocks. Lava flows were found in
the frequently recurring plutonic rock
which forms the basement of the moun-
tains. Before the arrival of the Morn-
ing the Discover}/ had experienced some
privation, as part of the supplies had
gone bad. This accounted for the
death of all the dogs. She has, how-
ever, revictualled from the Morning,
and the explorers are now in a position
to spend a comfortable winter.

THE NEW YORK FOREST AND
GAME COMMISSION.
The eighth annual report of the
Forest, Fish and Game Commission
of Xew York state, recently submitted
to the legislature, shows that com-
mendable woi'k has been accomplished
during the past year. At the begin-
ning of the year the Adirondack re-
serve contained 1,325,851 acres and the
Catskill reserve 82,330 acres, and to
these were added 28,505 acres last year.
In the Adirondack Park there are also
about 700,000 acres of urtfat^VeS&rves

94

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

and over 1,300,000 acres owned by in- obtained from the nurseries of the
dividnals or companies. Of these lands State College of Forestry. Illustra-
about 1,000,000 acres are forest, about ; tions are given showing the state of

700,000 acres lumbered, 48,000 waste,
43,000 burned, 48.000 denuded, 22,000

the land before reforestation. The
total expenses were $2,500 or less than

Planting on Burned Land, once covered with White Pine.

Planting on Old Beaver Meadow near Lake Clear Junction.

wild meadows, 100,000 improved and one half a cent a plant. Owing to the

125,000 water. During the last year organization of fire wardens, the loss

reforestation was undertaken on a from forest fires is greatly decreasing,

tract of 700 acres, the seedlings being It amounted last year only to $9,000,

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

95

whereas in the neighboring state of
New Jersey it was $108,000 and for
the United States some twenty-live
million dollars. It is estimated that
nearly 200,000 people visited the Adi-
rondack region last year for recreation
and health.

A report is made on chestnut groves
and orchards, which is not, however,
very favorable to this industry. It ap-
pears that orchards in Pennsylvania
have not been very successful, though
groves of ciiestnvit trees on waste
mountain land may yield profitable
results. A few elk and moose have
been placed in the reserves, and it is
believed that these animals will thrive.
Pheasants have been distributed as
usual and a large number of fish fry
with some adults. An account is given
of the shell fish industry. A hygienic
examination has been made showang
that the beds in Long Island Sound
are removed from any possible con-
tamination by sewage or otherwise.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS.

Professor Henry Barker Hill, di-
rector of the Chemical Laboratory of
Harvard College, died on April 6, in
his fifty-fourth year. We regret also
to record the death of Rear-Admiral
George E. Belknap, retired, who, in ad-
dition to eminent services in the navy,
was in charge of important hydro-
graphic work and was at one time
superintendent of the Naval Observa-
tory; of Dr. Julius Victor Carus, asso-
ciate professor of comparative zoology
at Leipzig; of Dr. Franz Studnicka,
professor of mathematics at Prague;
of Dr. Laborde, an eminent French
physician; and of Professor J. G. Wi-
borgh, of the Stockholm School of
Mines, an authority on the metallurgy
of iron.

Dr. Robert Koch has been elected
foreign associate of the Paris Academy j
of Sciences, in succession to Rudolf
Virchow. Dr. Koch received twenty-
six votes, Dr. Alexander Agassiz eight-
een votes, Dr. S. P. Langley six votes

and Professor van der Waals, of Am-
sterdam, one vote. — The Institute of
France has awarded to Dr. Emile Roux,
the subdirector of the Pasteur Insti-
tute, the prize of $20,000, founded by
M. Daniel Osiris, for the person that
the institute considered the most
worthy to be thus rewarded. Dr. Roux
will give the money to the Pasteur
Institute. — A committee has been
formed in Paris with M. H. Moissan
as chairman to strike a medal in honor
of the late M. P. P. Deh^rain, formerly
professor of plant physiology in the
University of Paris. — Mr. Joseph Lar-
mor, fellow of St. John's College, Cam-
bridge University, has been elected Lu-
casian protessor of mathematics in
succession to the late Sir George Ga-
briel Stokes. — Tlie subject of the Silli-
man lectures to be given at Yale Uni-
versity by Professor J. J. Thomson, of
Cambridge University, will be ' Present
Developmeht of Our Ideas of Elec-
tricity.' The lectures, eight in number,
will begin May 14.

President Roosevelt has appointed
the following as a commission to re-
port to him on the organization, needs,
and present condition of government
work, with a view to including under
the Department of Commerce . bureaus
not assigned to that department by
congress: Charles D. Walcott, Depart-
ment of the Interior; Brigadier-Gen-
eral William Crozier, War Department;
Rear-Admiral Francis T. Bowles, Navy
Department; GifTord Pinchot, Depart-
ment of Agriculture; James R. Gar-
field, Dejjartment of Commerce and
Labor. — Recently the President asked
the Commissioner of Fish and Fisheries
to have made a comprehensive and
thorough investigation of the salmon
fisheries of Alaska, and for this pur-
pose Commissioner Bowers has ap-
pointed a special Alaska Salmon Com-
mission consisting of the following:
President David Starr Jordan, of Stan-
ford University, executive head; Dr.
Barton Warren Evermann, ichthyolo-
gist of the U. S. Fish Commission;

96

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

Lieutenant Franklin Swift, U. S. N.,
commanding officer of the Albatross:
Cloiulsley Riitter, naturalist of the
Albat7-oss: A. B. Alexander, fishery-
expert of the Albatross : and J. Nelson
Wisner, superintendent of fish cultural
stations of the U. S. Fish Commission.
The council of the British Associa-
tion for the Advancement of Science
has nominated the Right Hon. Arthur
James Balfour to the office of president
for the Cambridge meeting in 1904.
Tney further agreed to recommend to
the association the acceptance of the
invitation to South Africa for the year
1905.

The American Philosophical Society
held at Philadelphia a general meeting
on April 2, 3 and 4. Numerous papers
were presented, including an address
on the early work of the society by
Dr. Edgar F. Smith, the president, and
one on ' The Carnegie Institution dur-
ing the first year of its development,'
by President Daniel C. Oilman. The
sessions were held in the hall of the
society. Luncheon was served to mem-
bers on each day; there was a reception
to members and ladies accompanying
them on Thursday evening, and visit-
ing members were the guests of resi-
dent members at dinner on Friday
evening. — The annual stated session of
the National Academy of Sciences be-
gan at Washington on April 21. — The
spring meeting of the council of tlic
American Association for the Advance-
ment of Science was held at Washing-
ton on April 23.

The administrative board appointed

to organize and conduct the interna-
tional congresses to be held in connec-
tion with the World's Fair in St. Louis
in 1904, met on March 11 at the New
York offices of the exhibition. There
were present President Butler, of
Columbia University, chairman; Presi-
dent Harper, University of Chicago;
Presideut Jesse, University of Mis-
souri; Dr. Herbert Putnam, Librarian
of Congress, and Frederick W. Holls,
member of The Hague Tribunal. The
board met to consider the report of
the committee on the Congress of Arts
and Science, which had been in session
the two preceding davs. The members
of the committee met with the board.
They are: Professor Simon Newcomb,
Washington, chairman; Professor Hugo
Miinsterberg, Harvard University, and
Professor Albion W. Small, University
of Chicago. Mr. Howard J. Rogers,
director of congresses, was also pres-
ent. There is to be a ' Congress of
Arts and Science,' with 128 sections.
The board adjourned to meet in St.
Louis on April 29. — The Swedish gov-
ernment has appropriated $20,000 for
the publication of the scientific results
of Dr. Sven Hedin s journey through
central Asia. The work will comprise
an atlas of two large volumes, while a
third volume will contain Dr. Hedin's
report on the geography of the country.
Further volumes will be devoted to the
meteorological observations, the astro-
nomical observations, the geological,
botanical and zoological collections,
and the Chinese manuscripts and in-
scriptions. The work will be published
in the i<.nglish language.

(^

'■-..> n

THE ^■

POPULAR SCIBNOE
MONTHLY.

JUNE, 1903.

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. I.*

By Dr. J. A. FLEMING, F.R.S.,

PEOFESSOK OF ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING, UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON.

n^HE immense public interest which has been aroused of late years
-*- in the subject of telegraphy without connecting wires has un-
doubtedly been stimulated by the achievements of Mr. Marconi in
effecting communication over great distances by means of Hertzian
waves. The periodicals and daily journals, which are the chief aven-
ues through which information reaches the public, whilst eager to
describe in a» sensational manner these wonderful applications of elec-
trical principles, have done little to convey an intelligible explanation
of them. Hence it appeared probable that a service would be rendered
by an endeavor to present an account of the present condition of elec-
tric wave telegraphy in a manner acceptable to those unversed in the
advanced technicalities of the subject, but acquainted at least with the
elements of electrical science. It is the purpose of these articles to
attempt this task. We shall, however, limit the discussion to an
account of the scientific principles underlying the operation of this
particular form of wireless telegraphy, omitting, as far as possible,
references to mere questions of priority and development.

The practical problem of electric wave wireless telegraphy, which
has been variously called Hertzian wave telegraphy, Marconi teleg-

* This series of articles is based on the Cantor lectures delivered before
the Society of Arts, London, in March, 1903. The lectures were attended by
many of the leading British scientific men and electrical engineers, and at-
tracted wide attention as the most complete and authoritative statement hither-
to made of wireless telegraphy. In writing the articles for The Populab
Science Monthly, the author has omitted advanced technicalities in order that
the substance may be suitable for the general reader. — Editor.

VOL. LXIII. — 7.

98 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

raphy, or spark telegraphy (FunTcentelegraphie) , is that of the pro-
duction of an effect called an electric wave or train of electric waves,
which can be sent out from one place, controlled, detected at another
place, and interpreted into an alphabetic code. Up to the present time,
the chief part of that intercommunication has been effected by means
of the Morse code, in which a group of long and short signs form the
letter or symbol. Some attempts have been made with more or less
success to work printing telegraphs and even writing or drawing tele-
graphs by Hertzian waves, but have not passed beyond the experimental
stage, whilst wireless telephony by this means is still a dream of the
future.

We shall, in the first place, consider the transmitting arrangements
and, incidentally, the nature of the effect or wave transmitted; in the
second place, the receiving appliances; and finally, discuss the problem
of the isolation or secrecy of the intelligence conveyed between any two
places.

The transmitter used in Hertzian wave telegraphy consists essen-
tially of a device for producing electric waves of a type which will
travel over the surface of the land or sea without speedy dissipation,
and the important element in this arrangement is the radiator, by
which these waves are sent out. It will be an advantage to begin by
explaining the electrical action of the radiator, and then proceed to
discuss the details of the transmitting appliances.

It will probably assist the reader to arrive most easily at a general
idea of the functions of the various portions of the transmitting
arrangements, and in particular of the radiator, if we take as our start-
ing point an analogy which exists between electric wave generation for
telegraphic purposes and air wave generation for sound signal pur-
poses. Most persons have visited some of the large lighthouses which
exist around our coasts and have there seen a steam or air siren, as used
for the production of sound signals during fogs. If they have exam-
ined this appliance, they will know that it consists, in the first place,
of a long metal tube, generally with a trumpet-shaped mouthpiece. At
the bottom of this tube there is a fixed plate with holes in it, against
which revolves another similarly perforated plate. These two plates
separate a back chamber or wind chest from the tube, and the wind
chest communicates with a reservoir of compressed air or a high-
pressure steam boiler. In the communication pipe there is a valve
which can be suddenly opened for a longer or shorter time. When
the movable plate revolves, the coincidence or non-coincidence of the
holes in the two plates opens or shuts the air passage way very rapidly.
Hence when the blast of air or steam is turned on, the flow is cut up
by the revolving plates into a series of puffs which inflict blows upon
the stationary air in the siren tube. If these blows come at the rate.

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 99

say of a hundred a second, they give rise to aerial oscillations in the
tube, which impress the ear as a deep, musical note or roar; and this
continuous sound can be cut up by closing the valve intermittently into
long and short periods, and so caused to signal a letter according to
the Morse code, denoting the name of the lighthouse. In this case
the object is to produce : first, aerial vibrations in the tube, giving rise
to a train of powerful air waves; secondly, to intermit this wave-train
so as to produce an intelligible signal; and thirdly, to transmit this
wave as far as possible through space.

The production of a sound or air wave can only be achieved by
administering a very sudden blow to the general mass of the air in the
tube. This impulse must be sufficient to call into operation the inertia
and elastic qualities of the air. It is found, moreover, that the ampli-
tude of the resulting wave, or the loudness of the sound, is increased
by suitably proportioning the length of the siren pipe and the fre-
quency of the air puffs ; whilst the distance at which it is heard depends
also in some degree upon the form of the mouthpiece.

Inside the siren tube, when it is in operation, the air molecules are
in rapid vibratory motion in the direction of the length of the tube.
If we could at any one instant examine the distribution and changes
of air pressure in the tube, we should find that at some places there
are large, and at others small, variations in air pressure. These latter
places are called the nodes of pressure. At the pressure nodes, how-
ever, we should find large variations in the velocity of the air particles,
and these points are called the antinodes of velocity. In those places
at which the pressure variation is greatest, the velocity changes are
least, and vice versa. Outside the tube, as a result of these air motions
in it, we have a hemispherical air wave produced, which travels out
from the mouthpiece as a center; and if we could examine the distri-
bution of air pressure and velocity through all external space, we should
find a distribution which is periodic in space as well as time, consti-
tuting the familiar phenomenon of an air wave.

Turning then to consider the production of an electric, instead of
an air wave, we notice in the first place that the medium with which
we are concerned is the ether filling all space. This ether permits the
production of physical changes in it which are analogous to, but not
identical in nature with, the pressures and movements which constitute
a sound wave. The Hertzian radiator is an appliance for acting on
the ether as the siren acts on the air. It produces a wave in it, and it
can be shown that all the parts of the above described siren apparatus
have their electrical equivalents in the transmitter employed in Hertz-
ian wave wireless telegraphy.

To understand the nature of an electric wave we must consider, in
the first place, some properties of the ether. In this medium we can

loo POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

at any place produce a state called electric displacement or ether strain,
as we can produce compression or rarefaction in air; and, just as the
latter changes are said to be created by mechanical force, so the former
is said to be due to electric force. We can not define more clearly the
nature of this ether strain or displacement until we know much more
about the structure of the ether than we do at present. We can picture
to ourselves the operation of compressing air as an approximation of
the air molecules, but the difficulty of comprehending the nature of
an electric wave arises from the fact that we can not yet definitely
resolve the notion of electric strain into any simpler or more familiar
ideas.

We have to be content, therefore, to disguise our present ignorance
by the use of some descriptive term, such as electric strain, electro-
static strain or ether strain, to describe the directed condition of the
space around a body in a state of electrification which is produced by
electric force. This electric strain is certainly not of the nature of a
compression in the ether, but much more akin to a twist or rotational
strain in a solid body.

For our present purpose it is not so necessary to postulate any
particular theory of the ether as it is to possess some consistent hy-
pothesis, in terms of which we can describe the phenomena which will
concern us. These effects are, as we shall see, partly states of electri-
fication on the surface or distributions of electric current in wires or
rods, and partly conditions in the space outside them, which we are
led to recognize as distributions of electric strain and of an associated
effect called magnetic flux.

We find such a theory at hand at the present time in the electronic
theory of electricity, which has now been sufficiently developed and
popularized to make it useful as a descriptive hypothesis.* This theory
has the great recommendation that it offers a means of abolishing the
perplexing dualism of ether and ponderable matter, and gives a definite
and, in a sense, objective meaning to the word electricity. In this
physical speculation, the chief subject of contemplation is the electron,
or ultimate particle of negative electricity, which, when associated in
greater or less number with a matrix of some description, forms the
atom of ponderable matter. To avoid further hypotliesis, this matrix
may be called the co-electron ; and we shall adopt the view that a single
chemical atom is a union of a co-electron with a surrounding envelope
or group of electrons, one or more of the latter being detachable.
We need not stop to speculate on the structure of the atomic core or co-
electron, whether it is composed of positive and negative electrons or

* For a more detailed account of this hypothesis, the reader is referred to
an article hy the present writer entitled: 'The Electronic Theory of Electricity,'
published in the Popular Science Monthly for May, 1902.

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. loi

of something entirely different. The single electron is the indivisible
unit or atomic element of so-called negative electricity, and the neutral
chemical atom deprived of one electron is the unit of positive elec-
tricity. On this hypothesis, the chemical atom is to be regarded as
a microcosm, a sort of a solar system in miniature, the component
electrons being capable of vibration relatively to the atomic center of
mass. Furthermore, from this point of view it is the electron which
is the effective cause of radiation. It alone has a grip on the ether
whereby it is able to establish wave motion in the latter.

Dr. Larmor has developed in considerable detail an hypothesis of
the nature of an electron which makes it the center or convergence-
point of lines of a self-locked ether strain of a torsional type. The
notion of an atom merely as a * center of force' was one familiar to
Faraday and much supported by Boscovich and others. The fatal
objection to the validity of this notion as originally stated was that it
offers no possibility of explaining the inertia of matter. On the elec-
tronic hypothesis, the source of all inertia is the inertia of the ether,
and until we are able to dissect this last quality into anything simpler
than the time-element involved in the production of an ether strain
or displacement, we must accept it as an ultimate fact, not more
elucidated because we speak of it as the inductance of the electron.

We postulate, therefore, the following ideas: We have to think of
the ether as a homogeneous medium in which a strain of some kind,
most probably of a rotational type, is possible. This strain appears
only under the influence of an appropriate stress called the electric
force, and disappears when the force is removed. Hence to create
this strain necessitates the expenditure of energy. An electron is a
center or convergence-point of lines of permanent ether strain of such
nature that it can not release itself. To obtain some idea of the nature
of such a structure, let us imagine a flat steel band formed into a ring
by welding the ends together. There is then no torsional strain. If,
however, we suppose the band cut in one place, ouq end then given half
a turn and the cut ends again welded, we shall have on the band a
self-locked twist, which can be displaced on the band, but which can
not release itself or be released except by cutting the ring. Hence we
see that to make an electron in an ether possessing torsional elasticity
would require creative energy, and when made, the electron can not
destroy itself except by occupying simultaneously the same place as an
electron of opposite type. Every electron extends, therefore, as Faraday
said of the atom, throughout the universe, and the properties that
we find in the electron are only there because they are first in the
universal medium, the ether. Every line of ether or electric strain

102 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

must, therefore, be a self-closed line, or else it must terminate on an
electron and a co-electron.

So far we have only considered the electron at rest. If, however,
it moves, it can be mathematically demonstrated that it must give
rise to a second form of ether strain which is related to the electric
strain as a twist is related to a thrust or a vortex ring to a squirt in
liquid or a rotation to a linear progression. The ether strain which
results from the lateral movement of lines of electric strain is called
the magnetic -flux, and it can be mathematically shown that the move-
ment of an electron, consisting when at rest of a radial convergence of
lines of electric strain, must be accompanied by the production of self-
closed lines of magnetic flux, distributed in concentric circles or rings
round it, the planes of these circles being perpendicular to the direction
of motion of the electron.

This electronic hypothesis, therefore, affords a basis on which we
can build up a theory affording an explanation of the nature of the
intimate connection known to exist between ether, matter and elec-
tricity. The electron ^is the connecting link between them all, for it
is in itself a center of convergent ether strain; isolated, it presents
itself as electricity of the negative or resinous kind; and, in combina-
tion with co-electrons and other electrons, it forms the atoms of ponder-
able matter. At rest the electron or the co-electron constitutes an
electric charge, and when in motion it is an electric current. A steady
flux or drift of electrons in one direction and co-electrons in the oppo-
site direction is a continuous electric current, whilst their mere oscilla-
tion about a mean position is an alternating current. Furthermore,
the vibration of an electron, if sufficiently rapid, enables it to estab-
lish what are called electric waves in the ether, but which are really
detached and self-closed lines of ether strain distributed in a periodic
manner through space.

We have, therefore, to start with, three conceptions concerning the
electron, viz : Its condition when at rest ; its state when in uniform
motion; and its operations when in vibration or rapid oscillation. In
the first case, by our fundamental supposition, it consists of lines of
ether strain of a type called the electric strain, radiating uniformly in
all directions. When in uniform motion, it can be shown that these
lines of electric strain tend to group themselves in a plane perpendicu-
lar to the line of motion drawn through the electron, and their lateral
motion generates another class of strain called the magnetic strain,
disposed in concentric circles described round the electron and lying
in this equatorial plane.

The proof of the above propositions can not be given verbally, but
requires the aid of mathematical analysis of an advanced kind. The

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 103

reader must be referred for the complete demonstration to the writings
of Professor J. J, Thomson* and Mr. Oliver Heaviside.f

In the third case, when the electron vibrates, we have a state in
which self-closed lines of electric strain and magnetic flux are thrown
off and move away through the ether, constituting electric radiation.
The manner in which this happens was first described by Hertz in a
paper on 'Electric Oscillations treated according to the Method of
Maxwell. 'I As this phenomenon lies at the very root of Hertzian
wave wireless telegraphy, we must spend a moment or two in its care-
ful examination.

Let us imagine two metal rods placed in line and constituting what
is called a linear oscillator. Let these rods have adjacent ends sepa-
rated by a very small air space, and let one rod be charged with posi-
tive and the other with negative electricity. On the electronic theory
this is explained by stating that there is an accumulation of electrons
in one and of co-electrons in the other. These charges create a distri-
bution of electric strain throughout their neighborhood, which follows
approximately the same law of distribution as the lines of magnetic
force of a bar magnet, and may be roughly represented as in Fig. 1.
Suppose then that the air gap is de-
stroyed, these charges move towards
each other and disappear by uniting,
the lines of electric strain then collapse,
and as they shrink in give rise to cir-
cular lines of magnetic flux embracing
the rods. This external distribution
of magnetism constitutes an electric
current in the rods produced by the fig.i. lines ^Telectric strain
movement of the two opposite electric between a positive and negative

1 * J , 1 . , . , , Electron at Best.

Charges. At this stage it may be ex-
plained that the electrons or atoms of electricity can in some cases
make their way freely between the atoms of ponderable matter. The
former are incomparably smaller than the latter, and in those cases in
which this electronic movement can take place easily, we call the mate-
rial a good conductor.

Suppose then the electric charges reappear in reversed positions
and go through an oscillatory motion. The result in the external space
would be the alternate production of lines of electric strain and mag-
netic flux, the direction of these lines being reversed each half cycle.

* See J. J. Thomson, ' Recent Researches in Electricity and Magnetism,'
Chapter I., 16.

t See O. Heaviside, ' Electromagnetic Theory,' Vol. I., p. 54.

X Wiedemann's Annalen, 36, p. 1, 1889. Or in his republished papers,
* Electric Waves,' p. 137. English translation by D. E. Jones.

I04

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Inside the rods we have a movement of electrons and co-electrons to
and fro, electric charges at the ends of the rods alternating with elec-
tric currents in the rods, the charges being at a maximum when the
current is zero, and the current at a maximum when the charges have
for the moment disappeared. Outside the rods we have a correspond-
ing set of charges, lines of electric strain stretching from end to end
of the rod, alternating with rings of magnetic flux embracing the rod.
So far we have supposed the oscillation to be relatively a slow one.

Imagine next that the to and fro movement of the electrons or
charges is sufficiently rapid to bring into play the inertia quality of the
medium. We then have a different state of affairs. The lines of
strain in the external medium can not contract or collapse quickly

Fig. 2. Successive Stages in the Defoemation of a Line of Strain between Posi-
tive AND Negative Electbons in Rapid Oscillation, showing Closed Loop of Electbic
Stbain thbown off.

enough to keep up with the course of events, or movements of the elec-
trons in the rods, and hence their regular contraction and absorption is
changed into a process of a different kind. As the electrons and co-
electrons, i. e., the electric charges, vibrate to and fro, the lines of
electric strain connecting them are nipped in and thrown off as com-
pletely independent and closed lines of electric strain, and at each
successive alternation, groups or batches of these loops of strain are
detached from the rod, and, so to speak, take on an independent exist-
ence. The whole process of the formation of these self-closed lines of
electric strain is best understood by examining a series of diagrams
which roughly represent the various stages of the process. In Fig. 2
we have a diagram (a) the curved line in which delineates approxi-

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 105

mately the form of one line of electric strain round a linear oscillator,
with spark gap in the center, one half being charged positively and the
other negatively. Let us then suppose that the insulation of the spark
gap is destroyed, so that the opposite electric charges rush together and
oscillate to and fro. The strain lines at each oscillation are then
crossed or decussate, and the result, as shown in Fig. 2, d, is that a
portion of the energy of the field is thrown off in the form of self-
closed lines of strain (see Fig. 2, e). At each oscillation of the
charges the direction of the lines of strain springing from end to end
of the radiator is reversed. It is a general property of lines of strain,
whether electric or magnetic, that there is a tension along the line and
a pressure at right angles. In other words, these lines of electric
strain are like elastic threads, they tend to contract in the direction of
their length and press sideways on each other when in the same direc-
tion. Hence it is not difficult to see that as each batch of self-closed
lines of strain is thrown off, the direction of the strain round each
loop is alternately in one direction and in the other. Hence these
loops of electric strain press each other out, and each one that is formed
squeezes the already formed loops further and further from the radia-
tor. The loops, therefore, march away into space (see Fig. 2, /). If
we imagine ourselves standing at a little distance at a point on the
equatorial line and able to see these loops of strain as they pass, we
should recognize a procession of loops, consisting of alternately directed
strain lines marching past. This movement through the ether of self-
closed lines of electric strain constitutes what is called electric radia-
tion.

Hence along a line drawn perpendicular to the radiator through
its center, there is a distribution of electric strain normal to that line,
which is periodic in space and in time. Moreover, in addition to these
lines of electric strain, there are at right angles to them another set of
self-closed lines of magnetic flux. Alternated between the instants
when the electric charges at the ends of the radiator are at their maxi-
mum, we have instants when the radiator rod is the seat of an electric
current, and hence the field round it is filled with circular lines of
magnetic flux coaxial with the radiator. As the current alter-
nates in direction each half period, these rings of magnetic
flux alternate in direction as regards the flux, and hence we
must complete our mental picture of the space round the radiator
rods when the charges are oscillating by supposing it filled with con-
centric rings of magnetic flux which are periodically reversed in direc-
tion, and have their maximum values at those instants and places where
the lines of electric strain have their zero values. Accordingly, along
the equatorial line we have two sets of strains in the ether, distributed
periodically in space and in time. First, the lines of electric strain

io6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

in the plane of the radiator, and secondly, the lines of magnetic flux
at right angles to these. At any one point in space these two changes,
the strain and the flux, succeed each other periodically, being, however,
at right angles in direction. At any one moment these two effects are
distributed periodically or cyclically through space, and these changes
in time and space constitute an electric wave or electromagnetic wave.

We may then summarize the above statements by saying that the
most recent hypothesis as to the nature of electrical action and of
electricity itself is briefly comprised in the following statements: The
universally diffused medium called the ether has had created in it
certain centers of strain or radiating points from which proceed lines
of strain, and these centers of force are called electrons. Electrons
must, therefore, be of two kinds, positive and negative, according to
the direction of the strain radiating from the center. These electrons
in their free condition constitute what we call electricity, and the elec-
trons themselves are the atoms of electricity which, in one sense, is,
therefore, as much material as that which we call ordinary gross or
ponderable matter.

Collocations of these electrons constitute the atoms of gross mat-
ter, and we must consider that the individuality of any atom is not
determined merely by the identity of the electrons composing it, but
by the permanence of their arrangement or form. In any mass of
material substance there is probably a continual exchange of electrons
from one atom to another, and hence at any one given moment, whilst
a number of the electrons are an association forming material atoms,
there will be a further number of isolated but intermingled electrons,
which are called the free electrons. In substances which we call good
conductors, we must imagine that the free electrons have the power of
moving freely through or between the material atoms, and this move-
ment of the electrons constitutes a current of electricity; whilst a
superfluity of electrons of either type in any one mass of matter con-
stitutes what we call a charge of electricity. Hence an electrical oscil-
lation, which is merely a very rapid alternating current taking place in
a conductor, is on this hypothesis assumed to consist in a rapid move-
ment to and fro of the free electrons. We may picture to ourselves,
therefore, a rod of metal in which electrical oscillations are taking
place, as similar to an organ pipe or siren tube in which movements
of the air particles are taking place to and fro, the free electrons cor-
responding with the air particles.

Owing to the nature of the structure of an electron, it follows,
however, that every movement of an electron is accompanied by changes
in the distribution of the electric strain or ether strain taking place
throughout all surrounding space, and, as already explained, certain
very rapid movements of the electrons have the effect of detaching

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY.

107

B—

Fig. 3. Simple Marconi
Radiator. B, battery ; /,
induction coil ; A", signal-
ling key; 6', spark gap ; A,
aerial wire; .B, earth plate.

closed lines of strain in the ether which move off through space, form-
ing, when cyclically distributed, an electric wave.

We may next proceed to apply these principles to the explanation
of the action of the simplest form of Hertzian wave telegraphic radia-
tor, viz., the Marconi aerial wire. In its original form this consists of
a long vertical insulated wire A, the lower end
of which is attached to one of the spark balls
S of an induction coil I, the other spark' ball
being connected to earth E, and the two spark
balls being placed a few millimeters apart (see
Fig. 3). When the coil is set in action, oscil-
latory or Hertzian sparks pass between the balls,
electric oscillations are set up in the wire and
electric waves are radiated from it. Deferring
for the moment a more detailed examination of
the operations of the coil and at the spark gap,
we may here say that the action which takes
place in the aerial wire is as follows: The wire
is first charged to a high potential, let us sup-
pose, with negative electricity. We may imagine this process to con-
sist in forcing additional electrons into it, the induction coil acting as
an electron pump. Up to a certain pressure the spark gap is a perfect
insulator, but at a critical pressure, which for spark gap lengths of four
or five millimeters and balls about one centimeter in diameter approxi-
mates to three thousand volts per millimeter, the insulation of the air
gives way, and the charge in the wire rushes into the earth. In con-
sequence, however, of the inertia of the medium or of the electrons, the

charge, so to speak, overshoots the mark, and
the wire is then left with a charge of oppo-
site sign. This again in turn rebounds, and
so the wire is discharged by a series of elec-
trical oscillations, consisting of alternations
of* static charge and electric discharge. We
may fasten our attention either on the events
taking place in the vertical wire or in the
medium outside, but the two sets of phe-
nomena are inseparably connected and go on
together. When the aerial wire is statically
charged, we may describe it by saying that
there is an accumulation of electrons or co-
electrons in it. Outside the wire there is,
however, a distribution of electric strain, the strain lines proceeding
from the wire to the earth (see Fig. 4),

. ' . 9 ' ' I

I <

I

j__L

[E

Fig. 4. Lines of Electric
Strain (Dotted Links) ex-
tending BETWEEN A MaRCONI
Aerial A and the earth ee

BEFORE DISCHARGE.

io8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

The wire has capacity with respect to the earth, and it acts like
the inner coating of a Ley den jar, of which the dielectric is the air
and ether around it, and the outer coating is the earth's surface.
Wlien the discharge takes place, we may consider that electrons rush
out of the wire and then rush back again into it. At the moment
when the electrons rush out of or into the aerial wire, we say there
ie an electric current flowing into or out of the wire, and this electron
movement, therefore, creates the magnetic flux which is distributed in
concentric circles round the wire. This current, and, therefore, motion
of electrons, can be proved to exist by its heating eSect upon a fine
wire inserted in series with the aerial, and in the case of large aerials
it may have a mean value of many amperes and a maximum value
of hundreds of amperes. Inside the aerial wire we have, therefore,
alternations of electric potential or charge and electric current, or
we may call it electron-pressure and electron-movement.

There is, therefore, an oscillation of electrons in the aerial wire,
just as in the case of an organ pipe there is an oscillation of air
molecules in the pipe. Outside the aerial we have variations and dis-
tributions of electric strain and magnetic flux. The
"" i" resemblance between the closed organ-pipe and the

../ simple Marconi aerial is, in fact, very complete. In

■;' the case of the closed organ-pipe, we have a longitudinal

•/ oscillation of air molecules in the pipe. At the open

end or mouthpiece, where we have air moving in and

out, the air movement is alternating and considerable,

but there is little or no variation of air pressure. At

7jj the upper or closed end of the pipe we have great vari-

"^[p ation of air pressure, but little or no air movement

FIG. 5. AMPLi- (see Fig. 5).

TUDE OF pres- Compare this now with the electrical phenomena of

IN A Closed Or- the aerial. At the spark ball or lower end we have

GAN Pipe, indi- little or no variation of potential or electron pressure,

CATED BY THE , . . , „ ,

ordinates op but we nave electrons rushing into and out of the aerial
THE Dotted Line ^^t each half oscillation, forming the electric discharge
or current. At the upper or insulated end we have
little or no current, but great variations of potential or electron pres-
sure. Supposing we could examine the wire inch by inch, all the way
up from the spark balls at the bottom to the top, we should find at each
stage of our journey that the range of variation and maximum value
of the current in the wire became less and those of the potential became
greater. At the bottom we have nearly zero potential or no electric
pressure, but large current, and at the top end, no current, but great
variation of potential.

We can represent the amplitude of the current and potential values

HERTZIAN WAYE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY.

109

ft -;

X

\

,

\

1

1

A

;

•

/

•»

..J

1

J

1

h

X

Fig. 6. (a) Distribution
OF Electric Pressure in a
Marconi Aerial A, (b) Dis-
tribution OF Electric
Current in a Marconi
Aerial, as shown by the

along the aerial by the ordinates of a dotted line so drawn that its dis-
tance from the aerial represents the potential oscillation or current
oscillation at that point (see Fig. 6).

This distribution of potential and current along the wire does not
necessarily imply that any one electron moves far from its normal posi-
tion. The actual movement of any particular
air molecule in the case of a sound wave is prob-
ably very small, and reckoned in millionths of
an inch. So also we must suppose that any one
electron may have a small individual amplitude
of movement, but the displacement is transferred
from one to another. Conduction in a solid may
be effected by the movement of free electrons
intermingled with the chemical atoms, but any
one electron may be continually passing from a
condition of freedom to one of combination.

So much for the events inside the wire, but
now outside the wire its electric charge is repre-
sented by lines of electric strain springing from
the aerial to the earth. It must be remem-
bered that every line of strain terminates on ordinates of the dotted

TT 1 1 Link xy.

an electron or a co-electron. Hence when the

discharge or spark takes place between the spark balls, the rapid move-
ment of the electrons in the wire is accompanied by a redistribution and
movement of the lines of strain outside. As the negative charge flows
out of the aerial the ends of the strain lines abutting on to it run down
the wire and are transferred to the earth, and at the next instant this
semi-loop of electric or ether strain, with its ends on the earth, is
pushed out sideways from the wire by the growth of a new set of lines
of ether strain in an opposite direction. The process is best under-
stood by consulting a series of diagTams which represent the distribu-
tion and approximate form of a few of the strain lines at successive
instants (see Fig. 7). In between the lines of formation of the suc-
cessive strain lines between the aerial and the earth, corresponding to
the successive alternate electric charges of the aerial with opposite
sign, there are a set of concentric rings of magnetic flux formed round
it which are alternately in opposite directions, and these expand out,
keeping step with the progress of the detached strain loops and having
their planes at right angles to the latter. As the semi-loops of electric
strain march outwards with their feet on the ground, these strain lines
must always be supposed to terminate on electrons, but not continually
on the same electrons. Since the earth is a conductor, we must sup-
pose that there is a continual migration of the electrons forming the

no

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

atoms of the earth, and that when one electron enters an atom, another
leaves it. Hence corresponding to the electric wave in the space above,
there are electrical changes in the ground beneath. This view is con-
firmed by the well-known fact that the achievement of Hertzian wave
telegraphy is much dependent on the nature of the surface over which
it is conducted, and can be carried on more easily over good conducting
material, like sea water, than over badly conducting dry land.

-"

X

■*^ X,

\ \ 1

A

N ^ ^ 1

■"

\ 1 * ' »

5

' ' • 1 ' 1

e

+ +■+++

e

+ + + +• e

-' * "" ^

\

A

/ / \ \

+

'--^ ,' ' « »

^1 '

N , I 1 1

N 1 • 1 '

N ' 1

l\ 1 ,1

-t-

-->. 1 V ' t »

^ 1 M 1 1

^ 1 \i II

N '. .

S

e

- - e 4- H-

m

Fig. 7. Successive stages in the production of a Semi-loop of Electric Strain by a
Marconi Aerial Radiator.

The matter may be viewed, however, from another standpoint.
Good conductors are opaque to Hertzian waves; in other words, are
non-absorptive. The energy of the electric wave is not so rapidly
absorbed when it glides over a sea surface as when it is passing over a
surface which is an indifferent conductor, like dry land. In fact, it is
possible by the improvement of the signals to detect a heavy fall of
rain in the space between two stations separated only by dry land. It
is, however, clear that on the electronic theory the progression of the
lines of electric strain can only take place if the surface over which
they move is a fairly good conductor, unless these lines of strain form
completely closed loops. Hence we may sum up by saying that there
are three sets of phenomena to which we must pay attention in formu-

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. m

lating any complete theory of the aerial. The first is the operation
taking place in the vertical wire, which is described by saying that
electrical oscillations or vibratory movements of electrons are taking
place in it, and, on our adopted theory, it may be said to consist in a
longitudinal vibration of electrons of such a nature that we may
appropriately call the aerial an ether organ pipe. Then in the next
place, we have the distribution and movement of the lines of electric
strain and magnetic flux in the space outside the wire, constituting the
electric wave; and lastly, there are the electrical changes in the con-
ductor over which the wave travels, which is the earth or water sur-
rounding the aerial. In subsequently dealing with the details of trans-
mitting arrangements, attention will be directed to the necessity for
what telegraphists call 'a good earth' in connection with Hertzian
wave telegraphy. This only means that there must be a perfectly free
egress and ingress for the electrons leaving or entering the aerial, so
that nothing hinders their access to the conducting surface over which
the wave travels. There must be nothing to stop or throttle the rush of
electrons into or out of the aerial wire, or else the lines of strain can
not be detached and travel away.

We may next consider more particularly the energy which is avail-
able for radiation and which is radiated. In the original form of
simple Marconi aerial, the aerial itself when insulated forms one coat-
ing or surface of a condenser, the dielectric being the air and ether
around it, and the other conductor being the earth. The electric energy
stored up in it just before discharge takes place is numerically equal
to the product of the capacity of the aerial and half the square of the
potential to which it is charged.

If we call C the capacity of the aerial in microfarads, and V the
potential in volts to which it is raised before discharge, then the energy
storage in joules E is given by the equation.

2.106

Since one joule is nearly equal to three quarters of a foot-pound, the
energy storage in foot-pounds F is roughly given by the rule
2^ = 1 CV^/10^. For spark lengths of the order of five to fifteen
millimeters, the disruptive voltage in air of ordinary pressure is at the
rate of 3,000 volts per millimeter. Hence if S stands for the spark
length in millimeters, and C for the aerial capacity in microfarads, it
is easy to see that the energy storage in foot-pound is

F^= — 7^ —

112 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

If the aerial consists of a stranded wire formed of 7/22 and has a
length of 150 feet, and is insulated and held vertically with its lower
end near the earth, it would have a capacity of about one three ten-
thousandths of a microfarad or 0.0003 mfd.* Hence if it is used as
a Marconi aerial and operated with a spark gap of one centimeter in
length, the energy stored up in the wire before each discharge would
be only one tenth (0,1) of a foot-pound.

By no means can all of this energy be radiated as Hertzian waves;
part of it is dissipated as heat and light in the spark, and yet such an
aerial can, with a sensitive receiver such as that devised by Mr. Mar-
coni, make itself felt for a hundred miles over sea in every direction.
This fact gives us an idea of the extremely small energy which, when
properly imparted to the ether, can effect wireless telegraphy over
immense distances. Of course, the minimum telegraphic signal, say
the Morse dot, may involve a good many, perhaps half a dozen, dis-
charges of the wire, but even then the amount of energy concerned in
affecting the receiver at the distant place is exceedingly small.

The problem, therefore, of long distance telegraphy by Hertzian
waves is largely, though not entirely, a matter of associating sufficient
energy with the aerial wire or radiator. There are obviously two
things which may be done; first, we may increase the capacity of the
aerial, and secondly, we may increase the charging voltage or, in
other words, lengthen the spark gap. There is, however, a well-
defined limit to this last achievement. If we lengthen the spark gap
too much, its resistance becomes too great and the spark ceases to be
oscillatory. We can make a discharge, but we obtain no radiation.
When using an induction coil, about a centimeter or at most a centi-
meter and a half is the limiting length of oscillatory sparks; in other
words, our available potential difference is restricted to 30,000 or
40,000 volts. By other appliances we can, however, obtain oscillatory
sparks having a voltage of 100,000 or 200,000 volts, and so obtain
what Hertz called 'active sparks' five or six centimeters in length.

Turning then to the question of capacity, we may enquire in the
next place how the capacity of an aerial wire can be increased. This
has generally been done by putting up two or more aerial wires in
contiguity and joining them together, and so making arrangements
called in the admitted slang of the subject 'multiple aerials.' The
measurement of the capacity of insulated wires can be easily carried
out by means of an appliance devised by the author and Mr. W. C.
Clinton, consisting of a rotating commutator which alternately charges
the insulated wire at a source of known electromotive force and then

* The fraction 7/22 here denotes a stranded wire formed of seven strands,
each single wire having a diameter expressed by the number 22 on the British
standard wire gauge.

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY.

113

discharges it through a galvanometer. If this galvanometer is sub-
sequently standardized, so that the ampere value of its deflection is
known, we can determine easily the capacity C of the aerial or insu-
lated conductor, reckoned in microfarads, when it is charged to a
potential of V volts, and discharged n times a second through a
galvanometer. The series of discharges are equivalent to a current, of
which the value in amperes A is given by the equation.

A

nVC
10"

and hence if the value of the current resulting is known, we have the
capacity of the aerial or conductor expressed in microfarads, given by
the formula,

AlO^

C=

nV

A series of experiments made on this plan have revealed the fact
that if a number of vertical insulated wires are hung up in the air
and rather near together, the electrical capacity of the whole of the
wires in parallel is not nearly equal to the sum of their individual
capacities. If a number of parallel insulated wires are separated by
a distance equal to about 3 per cent, of their length, the capacity of
the whole lot together varies roughly as the square root of their num-
ber. Thus, if we call the capacity of one vertical wire in free space,
unity, then the capacity of four wires placed rather near together will
only be about twice that of one wire, and that of twenty-five wires will-Y'?.-
onlv be about five times one wire.

M

1 W

V

Fig. 8. Various forms of Aerial Radiator.
Shape ; d Cylindrical ; g, Conical.

a, Single Wire ; b, Multiple Wire ; c, Fan

This approximate rule has been confirmed by experiments made
with long wires one hundred or two hundred feet in length in the
open air. Hence it points to the fact that the ordinary plan of
endeavoring to obtain a large capacity by putting several wires in
parallel and not very far apart is very uneconomical in material. The
diagrams in Fig. 8 show the various methods which have been employed

VOL. LXIII. 8.

114 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

by Mr. Marconi and others in the construction of such multiple wire
aerials. If, for instance, we put four insulated stranded 7/32 wires,
each 100 feet long, about six feet apart, all being held in a vertical
position, the capacity of the four together is not much more than twice
that of a single wire. In the same manner, if we arrange 150 similar
wires, each 100 feet long, in the form of a conical aerial, the wires
being distributed at the top round a circle 100 feet in diameter, the
whole group will not have much more than twelve times the capacity
of one single wire, although it weighs 150 times as much.

The author has designed an aerial in which the wires, all of equal
length, are arranged sufficiently far apart not to reduce each other's
capacity.

As a rough guide in practice, it may be borne in mind that a wire
about one 'tenth of an inch in diameter and one hundred feet long,
held vertical and insulated, with its bottom end about six feet from
the ground, has a capacity of 0.0003 of a microfarad, if no other
earthed vertical conductors are very near it. The moral of all this is
that the amount of electric energy which can be stored up in a simple
Marconi aerial is very limited, and is not much more than one tenth
of a joule or one fourteenth of a foot-pound, per hundred feet of
7/23 wire. The astonishing thing is that with so little storage of
energy it should be possible to transmit intelligence to a distance of
a hundred miles without connecting wires.

One consequence, however, of the small amount of energy which
can be accumulated in a simple Marconi aerial is that this energy is
almost entirely radiated in one oscillation or wave. Hence, strictly
speaking, a simple aerial of this type does not create a train of waves-
in the ether, but probably at most a single impulse or two.

We shall later on consider some consequences which follow from
this fact. Meanwhile, it may be explained that there are methods by
which not only a much larger amount of energy can be accumulated in
connection with an aerial, but more sustained oscillations created than
by the original Marconi method. One of these methods originated
with Professor Braun, of Strasburg, and a modification was first de-
scribed by Mr. Marconi in a lecture before the Society of Arts of
London.* In this method the charge in the aerial is not created by
the direct application to it of the secondary electromotive force of an
induction coil, but by means of an induced electromotive force created
in the aerial by an oscillation transformer. The method due to Pro-
fessor Braun is as follows: A condenser or Leyden jar has one ter-
minal, say its inside, connected to one spark ball of an induction coil.
The other spark ball is connected to the outside of the Leyden jar or

* G. Marconi, * Syntonic Wireless Telegraphy,' Journal of the Society of
Arts, Vol. XLIX., p. 501, 1901.

HERTZIAN WAVE ^YIRELESS TELEGRAPHY.

115

Fig. 9. Marconi-Beaun
System of inducing Eleo
TROMOTivE Force in an

condenser through the primary coil of a transformer of a particular
kind, called an oscillation transformer (see Fig. 9). The spark balls
are brought within a few millimeters of each other. When the coil
is set in operation, the jar is charged and discharged through the spark
gap, and electrical oscillations are set up in the circuit consisting of
the dielectric of the jar, the primary coil of the oscillation trans-
former and the spark gap. The secondary cir-
cuit of this oscillation transformer is connected
in between the earth and the insulated aerial
wire; hence when the oscillations take place in
the primary circuit, they induce other oscillations
in the aerial circuit. But the arrangement is not
very effective unless, as is shown by Mr. Marconi,
the two circuits of the oscillation transformer are
tuned together.

We shall return presently to the consideration
of this form of transmitter; meanwhile, we may
notice that by means of such an arrangement it
is possible to create in the aerial a far greater
charging electromotive force than would be the -A-erial a. b, battery ; k

.J. ,1 -1 i. J T ;i . key, J, induction coil; S

case II the aerial were connected directly to one spark gap ; c, Leyden jar ;
terminal of the secondary circuit of the induction ^' ^^^^^ p^*^^ = p*- osciua-

. . , 1 . ^ , tion translormer.

coil, the other terminal being to earth, and the

two terminals connected as usual by spark balls. By the inductive
arrangement it is possible to create in an aerial electromotive forces
which are equivalent to a spark of a foot in length, and when the
length of the aerial is also properly proportioned, the potential along
it will increase all the way up, until at the top or insulated end of
the aerial it may reach an amount capable of giving sparks several
feet in length. From the remarks already made on the analogy be-
tween the closed organ-pipe and the Marconi aerial wire, it will be
seen that the wave which is radiated from the aerial must have a
wave length four times that of the aerial, if the aerial is vibrating in
its fundamental manner. It is also possible to create electrical oscil-
lations in a vertical wire which are the harmonics of the fundamental.
All musicians are aware that in the case of an organ-pipe, if the
pipe is blown gently it sounds a note which is called the fundamental
of the pipe. The celebrated mathematician, Daniel Bernouilli, dis-
covered that an organ-pipe can be made to yield a succession of
musical notes by properly varying the pressure of the current of air
blown into it. If the pipe is an open pipe, and if we call the frequency
of the primary note obtained when the pipe is gently blown, unity,
then when we blow more strongly, the pipe yields notes which are the

ii6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

harmonics of the fundamental one; that is to say, notes which have
frequencies represented by the numbers 2, 3, 4, 5, etc. If, however,
the pipe is closed at the top, then over-blowing the pipe makes it yield
the odd harmonics or the tones which are related to the primary tone
in the ratio of 3, 5, 7, etc., to unity. Accordingly, if a stopped pipe
gives as its fundamental the note C, its first overtone will be the fifth
above the octave or Gr'.

As already remarked, the aerial wire or radiator as used in Mar-
coni telegraphy may be looked upon as a kind of ether organ-pipe or
siren tube, and its electrical phenomena are in every respect similar
to the acoustic phenomena of the ordinary closed organ-pipe. When
the aerial is sounding its fundamental ether note, the conditions which
pertain are that there is a current flowing into the aerial at the lower
end, but at that point the variation in potential is very small, whereas
at the upper end there is no current but the variations of potential are
very large. Accordingly, we say that at the upper end of the aerial
there is an antinode of potential and a node of current, and at the
bottom, an antinode of current and a node of potential. By altering
the frequency of the electrical impulses we can create in the aerial
an arrangement of nodes of current or potential corresponding to the
overtones of a closed organ-pipe. But whatever may be the arrange-
ment, the conditions must always hold, that there is a node of current
at the upper end and an antinode of current at the lower end. In
other words, there are large variations of current at the place where
the aerial terminates on the spark gap and no current at the upper
end. The first harmonic is formed where there is a node of potential
at one third of the length of the aerial from the top. In this case,
we have a node of potential not only at the lower end of the wire, but
at two thirds of the way up. In the same way we can create in the
closed organ-pipe by properly overblowing the pipe, a region about two
thirds of the way up the pipe, where the pressure changes in the air
are practically no greater than they are at the mouthpiece. We can
make evident visually in a beautiful manner the existence of similar
stationary electrical waves in an aerial by means of an ingenious
arrangement devised by Dr. Georg Seibt, of Berlin. It consists of
a very long, silk covered copper wire A (see Fig. 10) wound in a close
spiral of single layer round a wooden rod six feet long and about two
inches in diameter. This rod is insulated, and at the lower end the
wire is connected to a Leyden jar circuit, consisting of a Leyden jar
or jars and an inductance coil L, the inductance of which can be
varied. Oscillations are set up in this jar circuit by means of an
induction coil discharge, and the lower end of the long spiral wire is
attached to one point on the jar circuit. In this manner we can com-
municate to the bottom end of the long spiral wire a scries of electric

HERTZIAN ^yAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAFUY.

117

impulses, the time period of which depends iipon the capacity of the
jar and the inductance of the discharge circuit. We can, moreover,
vary this frequency over wide limits. Parallel to the long spiral wire
is suspended another copper wire E (see Fig. 10), and between this
wire and the silk-covered copper wire dis-
charges take place due to the potential differ-
ence between each part of the wire and this
long aerial wire. If we arrange matters so
that the impulses communicated to the bottom
end of the long spiral wire correspond to its
fundamental note or periodic time, then in
a darkened room we shall see a luminous glow
or discharge between the vertical wire and the
spiral wire, which increases in intensity all
the way up to the top of the spiral wire. The
luminosity of this brush discharge at any f^g. 10. seibt-s apparatus

° FOR SHOWING STATIONARY

point is evidence of the potential of the spiral waves in long solenoid a.
wire at that point, and its distribution clearly ^. Eduction coii ;^. spark gap

^ ' •' i, inductance coil; C1C2, Ley-

demonstrates that the difference of potential den jars ; ^, earth wire,
between the spiral wire and the aerial increases

all the way up from the bottom to the top of the spiral wire. In the
next place, by making a little adjustment and by varying the induct-
ance of the jar circuit, we can increase the frequency of the impulses
which are falling upon the spiral wire; and then it will be noticed
that the distribution of the brush discharge or luminosity is altered,

and that there is a maximum now at about
one third of the height of the spiral wire,
and a dark place at about two thirds of the
height, and another bright place at the top,
thus showing that we have a node of poten-
tial at about two thirds the way up the wire
(see Fig. 11), and we have therefore set
up in the spiral wire electrical oscillations
corresponding to the first overtone. It is
possible to show in the same way the exist-
ence of the second harmonic in the coil, but
the luminosity then becomes too faint to
be seen at a distance.

An interesting form of aerial devised by
Professor Slaby, of Berlin, depends for its action entirely on the fact

that the electrical oscillations set up in it which radiate are harmonics
of the fundamental tone.

Fig. 11. Harmonic Oscilla
TioNS IN Long Solenoid shown
with Seibt's Apparatus.

ii8

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

^'',

^

HI-

[, I ']

F I G. 12 N O N-

EADiATivE Closed
Loop Aerial.

A closed vertical loop A^Ao (see Fig. 12) is formed by erecting
two parallel insulated wires vertically a few feet apart and joining
them together at the top. At the bottom these wires are connected,
with the secondary terminals of an induction coil, a
condenser C or Ley den jar being bridged across the
terminals and a pair of spark balls 8 inserted in one
side of the loop. It will readily be seen that on
setting the coil in action, oscillations will take place
in these vertical wires, but that if the oscillations are
simply the fundamental note of the system, then at
any moment corresponding to a current going up one
side of the loop of wire, there must be a current
coming down the other. Accordingly, an arrangement
of this kind, forming what is called a closed circuit,
will not radiate or radiates but very feebly. Pro-
fessor Slaby found, however, that it might be con-
verted into a powerful radiator if we give the two sides of the loop un-
equal capacity or inductance, and at the same time earth one of the
lower ends of the loop, as shown in Fig. 13. By this means it is pos-
sible to set up in the loop electrical overtones or harmonics of the fun-
damental oscillation, and if we cause the system to vibrate so as to
produce its first odd harmonic, there is a potential node at the lower
end of both vertical sides of the loop, a potential node on both vertical
sides at two thirds of the way up, and a potential antinode at the
summit of the loop; then, under these circumstances, the closed loop
of wire is in the same electrical condition as if two simple Marconi
aerials, both emitting their first odd harmonic oscilla-
tion, were placed side by side and joined together at
the top.

It is a little difficult without the employment of
mathematical analysis to explain precisely the manner
in which earthing one side of the loop or making the
loop unsymmetrical as regards inductance has the
effect of creating overtones in it. The following
rough illustration ma}^, however, be of some assist-
ance. Imagine a long spiral metallic spring sup-
ported horizontally by threads. Let this represent a
conductor, and let any movement to or fro of a part of
the spring represent a current in that conductor. Suppose we take hold
of the spring at one end, we can move it bodily to and fro as a whole.
In this case, every part of the spring is moving one way or the other in
the same manner at the same time. This corresponds with the case in
which the discharge of the condenser through the uniform loop con-

FlG. 13. Slaby's
Loop Radiator.

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 119

ductor is a flow of electricity, all in one direction one way or the other.
The current is in the same direction in all parts of the loop at the same
time, and, therefore, if the current is going up one side of the loop it is
at the same time coming down the other side. Hence the two sides of
the loop are always in exact opposition as regards the effect of the
current in them on the external space, and the loop does not radiate.
Eeturning again to the case of the spring. Supposing that we add a
weight to one end of the spring by attaching to it a metal ball, and
then move the other end to and fro with certain periodic motion, it
will be found quite easy to set up in the spring a pulsatory motion
resembling the movement of the air in an open organ-pipe. Under
these circumstances both ends of the spring will be moving inwards
or outwards at the same time, and the central portions of the spring,
although being pressed and expanded slightly, are moving to and fro
very little. This corresponds in the case of the looped aerial with a
current flowing up or down both sides at the same time ; in other words,
when this mode of electrical oscillation is established in the loop, its
electrical condition is just that of two simple Marconi aerials joined
together at the top and vibrating in their fundamental manner. Ac-
cordingly, if one side of the double loop is earthed, we then have an
arrangement which radiates waves. Professor Slaby found that by
giving one side of the loop less inductance than the other, and at the
same time earthing the side having greater inductance at the bottom,
he was able to make an arrangement which radiated, not in virtue of
the normal oscillations of the condenser, but in virtue of the harmonic
oscillations set up in the conductor itself. The mathematical theory
of this radiator has been very fully developed by Dr. Georg Seibt.

It will be seen, therefore, that there are several ways in which we
may start into existence oscillations in an aerial. First, the aerial may
be insulated, and we may charge it to a high potential and allow this
charge suddenly to rush out. Although this process gives rise to a
disturbance in the ether, as already explained, it is analogous to a pop
or explosion in the air, rather than to a sustained musical note. The
exact acoustic analogue would be obtained if we imagine a long pipe
pumped full of air and then suddenly opened at one end. The air
would rush out, and, communicating a blow to the outer air, would
create an atmospheric disturbance appreciated as a noise or small ex-
plosion. This is what happens when we cut the string and let the cork
fly out from a bottle of champagne. At the same time, the inertia
of the air rushing out of the tube would cause it to overshoot the mark,
and a short time after opening the valve the tube, so far from contain-
ing compressed air, would contain air slightly rarefied near its mouth,
and this rarefication would travel back up the tube in the form of

120 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

wave motion, and, being reflected as condensation at the closed end,
travel down again; and so after being reflected once or twice at the
open or closed end, become damped ont very rapidly in virtue of both
air friction and the radiation of the energy. In the case, however, of
the ordinary organ-pipe, we do not depend merely upon a store of com-
pressed air put into the pipe, but we have a store of energy to draw
upon in the form of the large amount of compressed air contained in
a wind chest, which is being continually supplied by the bellows. This
store of compressed air is fed into the organ-pipe with the result that
we obtain a continuous radiation of sound waves. The first case, in
which the only store of energy is the compressed air originally con-
tained in the pipe, illustrates the operation of the simple Marconi
aerial. The second case, in which there is a larger store of energy to
draw upon, the organ-pipe being connected to a wind chest, illustrates
the Marconi-Braun method in which an aerial is employed to radiate
a store of electric energy contained in a condenser, gradually liberated
by the aerial in the form of a series of electrical oscillations and waves.
In this arrangement the condenser corresponds to the wind chest, and
it is continually kept full of electrical energy by means of the induction
coil or transformer, which answers to the bellows of the organ. From
the condenser, electrical energy is discharged each time the spark dis-
charge passes at a spark gap in the form of electrical oscillations set
up in the primary circuit of an oscillation transformer. The secondary
circuit of this transformer is connected in between the earth and the
aerial, and therefore may be considered as part of it, and, accordingly,
the energy which is radiated from the aerial is not simply that which
is stored up in it in virtue of its own small capacity, but that which is
stored up in the much larger capacity represented by the primary con-
denser or, as it may be called, the electrical wind chest. By the second
arrangement we have therefore the means of radiating more or less con-
tinuous trains of electric waves, corresponding with each spark dis-
charge. To create powerful oscillations in the aerial, one condition
of success is that there shall be an identity in time-period between the
circuit of the aerial and that of the primary condenser. The aerial is
an open circuit which has capacity with respect to the earth, and it has
also inductance, partly due to the wire of the aerial and partly due
to the secondary circuit of the oscillation transformer in series with it.
The primary circuit or spark circuit has capacity, viz., the capacity
of the energy-storing condenser, and it has also inductance, viz., the
inductance of the primary circuit of the oscillation transformer. We
shall consider at a later stage more joarticularly the details of syntonis-
ing arrangements, but meanwhile it may be said that one condition
for setting up powerful waves by means of the above arrangement is

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY, 121

that the electrical time-period of both the two circuits mentioned shall
be the same. This involves adjusting the inductance and capacity so
that the product of conductance and capacity for each of these two
circuits is numerically the same. Instead of employing an oscillation
transformer between the condenser circuit and the aerial, the aerial
may be connected directly to some point on the condenser circuit at
which the potential oscillations are large, and we have then another
arrangement devised by Professor Braun (see Fig. 14). In this case,
in order to accumulate large potential oscil-
lations at the top of the aerial, it is, as we |
have seen, necessary that the length of the
aerial shall be one quarter the length of the
wave. If therefore the electrical oscillations g
in the condenser circuit are at the rate of iV _
per second, in other words, have a frequency ^ ^ jT
N, the wave-length corresponding to this fre- ^
quency is given by the expression, "j~ A, 7

f

3 X lO^yN cms. ^

Fig. 14. Beaun's Radiator.
mi. o rvin • 1 i -B, battery ; J, induction coll ;

ihe number 3 X 10 is the value in centi- a', key; s, spark gap; l, in-
meters per second of the velocity of the elec- '^"°''^°<=e ^oii; c, condenser
tromagnetic wave, and is identical with that of

light. The corresponding resonant length of the aerial is therefore
one fourth of this wave-length, or 3 X 10"/4i\^. Generally speaking,
however, it will be found that with any length of aerial which is prac-
ticable, say 200 feet or 6,000 cms., this proportion necessitates rather
a high frequency in the primary oscillation circuit. In the case con-
sidered, viz., for an aerial 200 feet in height, the oscillations in the
primary circuit must have a frequency of one and a quarter million.
This high frequency can only be obtained either by greatly reducing
the inductance of the primary discharge circuit, or reducing the capa-
city. If we reduce the capacity, we thereby greatly reduce the storage
of energy, and it is not practicable to reduce the inductance below a
certain amount.

Summing up, it may be said that there are three, and as far as the
writer is aware, at present only three, modes of exciting the electrical
oscillations in an aerial wire. First, the aerial may itself be used as
an electrical reservoir and charged to a high potential and suddenly
discharged to the earth. This is the original Marconi method. The
second method, due to Braun, consists of attaching the aerial to some
point on an oscillation circuit consisting of a condenser, an inductance
coil and a spark gap, in series with one another, and charging and

122 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

discharging the condenser across the spark gap so as to create altera-
tions of potential at some point on the oscillation circuit. The length
of the aerial must then be so proportioned as above described that it is
resonant to this frequency. Thirdly, we may employ the arrangement
involving an oscillation transformer, in which the oscillations in the
primary condenser circuit are made to induce others in the aerial circuit,
the time-period of the two circuits being the same. This method may
be called the Braun-Marconi method. Professor Slaby has combined
together in a certain way the original Marconi simple aerial with the
resonant quarter-wave-length wire of Braun. He constructs what he
calls a multiplicator, which is really a wire wound into a loose spiral
connected at one point to an oscillation circuit consisting of a con-
denser inductance, the length of this wire being proportioned so that
there is a great resonance or multiplication of tension or potential at
its free end. This free end is then attached to the lower end of an
ordinary Marconi aerial, and serves to charge it with a higher potential
than could be obtained by the use of the induction coil directly attached
to it.

(To he continued.)

PHYSIOLOGICAL ECONOMY IN NUTRITION. 123

PHYSIOLOGICAL ECOIs^OMY IN NUTRITIO^v'.

By RUSSELL H. CHITTENDEN,

DIRECTOK OF THE SHEFFIELD SCIENTIFIC SCHOOL OF YALE UNIVERSITY.

AMONG the many problems awaiting solution, none is of greater
importance for the welfare of the individual and of the race
than that which relates to the proper nutrition of the body. Man
eats to live and to gain strength for his daily work, and without suffi-
cient nutriment the machinery of the body can not be run smoothly
or with proper efficiency. The taking of an excess of food, on the
other hand, is just as harmful as insufficient nourishment, involving as
it does not only wasteful expenditure, but what is of even greater
moment, an expenditure of energy on the part of the body, which may
in the long run prove disastrous. While it is the function of food to
supply the material from which the body can derive the necessary
energy for its varied activities, any excess of food over and above what
is needed to make good the loss incidental to life and daily activity
is just so much of an incubus, which is bound to detract from the
smooth running of the machinery and to diminish the fitness of the
body for performing its normal functions.

A proper physiological condition begets a moral, mental and phys-
ical fitness which can not be attained in any other way. Further, it
must be remembered that lack of a proper physiological condition of
the body is more broadly responsible for moral, social, mental and
physical ills than any other factor that can be named. Poverty and
vice on ultimate analysis may often be traced to a perversion of nutri-
tion. A healthy state of the body is a necessary concomitant of mental
and moral vigor, as well as of physical strength. Abnormal methods
of living are often the accompaniment or forerunner of vicious tastes
that might never have been developed under more strictly physiological
conditions. Health, strength (mental and physical) and moral tone
alike depend upon the proper fulfilment of the laws of nature, and it
is the manifest duty of a people hoping for the fullest development
of physical, mental and moral strength to ascertain the character of
these laws with a view to their proper observance. Poverty, crime,
physical ills and a blunted or perverted moral sense are the penalties
we may be called upon to pay for the disobedience of nature's laws;
penalties which not only we may have to pay, but which may be passed
down to succeeding generations, thereby influencing the lives of those
yet unborn.

There is to-day great need for a thorough physiological study of

124 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

those laws of nutrition which constitute the foundation of good living.
It is a subject full of interest and promise for the sociologist and
economist, as well as for the physiologist. We need a far more com-
plete knowledge than we possess at present of the laws governing
nutrition; we need fuller knowledge of the methods by which the
most complete, satisfactory and economical utilization of the diet can
be obtained; we need to know more concerning the minimum diet and
the minimum amount of proteid or albuminous foods on which health,
mental and physical vigor can be permanently maintained; we need
to know more fully concerning the influence of various forms of food
on growth and recuperative power; we need more complete knowledge
regarding the role of various dietetic and digestive habits, fixed or
acquired; the effects of thorough mastication, insalivation and the in-
fluence of two versus three meals a day upon the utilization of food
and hence upon the bodily health. Further, we need more concise
information as to the effect of the mental state upon digestion and
nutrition. These and many other problems of a like nature confront
us when we attempt to trace the influence of a proper nutrition upon
the condition of the body. These problems, however, all admit of
solution, and in their solution undoubtedly lies the remedy for many
of the personal ills of mankind.

The foregoing thoughts have been suggested by observations re-
cently made in the writer's laboratory on the amount and character
of the food actually required by a healthy man in the maintenance
of bodily equilibrium in periods of rest and physical work. Our ideas
at present are based primarily upon observations as to what civilized
peoples are accustomed to do, and not upon what they need to do in
order to meet the demands made upon the body. Sir William Robert&
has well said that the palate is the dietetic conscience, but he adds
that there are many misfit palates, and we may well query whether
our dietetic consciences have not become generally perverted through
a false mode of living. The well-nigh universal habit of catering to
our appetite on all occasions, of bowing to the fancied dictates of our
palates even to the extent of satiety, and without regard to the physio-
logical needs of the body, may quite naturally have resulted in a false
standard of living in which we have departed widely from the proper
laws of nutrition. Statistical studies carried out on large groups of
individuals by various physiologists have led to the general acceptance
of dietary standards, such as those proposed by Voit of Munich, and
Atwater in this country. Thus the Voit diet for a man doing mod-
erate work is 118 grams of proteid or albuminous food, 56 grams of
fat and 500 grams of carbohydrates, such as sugar and starch, with
a total fuel value of 3,055 large calories or heat units per day. With
hard work, Voit increases the daily requirement to 145 grams of pro-
teid, 160 grams of fat and 450 grams of carbohydrates, with a total

PHYSIOLOGICAL ECONOMY IN NUTRITION. 125

fuel value of 3,370 large calories. Atwater, on the other hand, from
his large number of observations, is inclined to place the daily proteid
requirement at 125 grams, with sufficient fat and carbohydrate to
equal a total fuel value of 3,500 large calories for a man doing a
moderate amount of work; while for a man at hard work the daily
diet is increased to 150 grams of proteid, and with fats and carbo-
hydrates to yield a total fuel value of 4,500 large calories. These
standards are very generally accepted as being the requirement for
the average individual under the given conditions of work, and it
may be that these figures actually represent the daily needs of the
body. Suppose, on the other hand, that we have in these figures false
standards, or, in other words that the quantities of foodstuffs called
for are altogether larger than the actual demands of the body require.
In this case there is a positive waste of valuable food material which
we may calculate in dollars and cents ; a loss of income incurred daily
which might be expended more profitably in other directions. To the
wage-earner with a large family, who must of necessity husband his
resources, there is in our hypothesis a suggestion of material gain not
to be disregarded. The money thus saved might be expended for the
education of the children, for the purchase of household treasures
tending to elevate the moral and mental state of the occupants, or in
many other ways that the imagination can easily supply. This kind
of saving, however, is purely a question of economy, and in some strata
of society would be objected to as indicative of a condition of sordid-
ness. It has come to be a part of our personal pride to have a well-
supplied table, and to eat largely and freely of the good things pro-
vided. The poorer man takes pride in furnishing his family with a
diet rich in expensive articles of food, and imagines that by so doing
he is inciting them to heartier consumption and to increased health
and strength. He would be ashamed to save in this way, under the
honest belief that by so doing he might endanger the health of his
dear ones. But let us suppose that this hypothetical waste of food
is not merely uneconomical, that it is undesirable for other and
weightier reasons. Indeed, let us suppose that this unnecessary con-
sumption of food is distinctly harmful to the body, that it is physio-
logically uneconomical, and that in our efforts to maintain a high de-
gree of efficiency we are in reality putting upon the machinery of the
body a heavy and entirely uncalled for strain which is bound to prove
more or less detrimental. If there is truth in this assumption, our
hypothesis takes on a deeper significance, and we may well inquire
whether there are any reasonable grounds for doubting the accuracy
of our present dietary standards.

In this connection it is to be remembered that the food of man-
kind may be classified under three heads, viz., proteid or albuminous,
such as meat, eggs, casein of milk, gluten of bread and various vege-

126 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

table proteids; carbohydrates, as sugar and the starches of our cereals,
and fats, including those of both animal and vegetable origin. The
proteids are characterized by containing nitrogen (about 16 per cent),
while the fats and carbohydrates contain only carbon, hydrogen and
oxygen. The two latter classes of foodstuffs are burned up in the
body, when completely utilized, to carbonic acid (a gas) and water,
while the proteid foods beside yielding carbonic acid and water give
off practically all of their nitrogen in the form of crystalline nitrog-
enous products in the excreta of the body. Proteid foods have a par-
ticular function to perform, viz., to supply the waste of proteid matter
from the active tissues of the body, and this function can be performed
only by the proteid foods, hence the latter are essential foodstuffs
without which the body can not long survive. Fats and carbohydrates,
on the other hand, are mainly of value for the energy they yield on
oxidation, and in this connection it is to be remembered that the fuel
value of fats per gram is much larger than that of carbohydrates,
viz., 9.3:4.1, or more than twice as great. Further, it is to be noted
that the various foodstuffs can not be utilized directly by the body,
but they must first be digested, then absorbed and assimilated, after
which they gradually, in their changed form, undergo decomposition
with liberation of their contained energy which may manifest itself
in the form of heat or of mechanical work. The thoroughness with
which foods are digested and utilized in the body must therefore count
for a great deal in determining their dietetic or nutritive value.
Moreover, it is easy to see how an excess of proteid food will give rise
to a large proportion of nitrogenous waste matter, which floating
through the system prior to excretion may by acting on the nervous
system and other parts of the body produce disagreeable results. A
mere excess of food, even of the non-nitrogenous variety, must entail
a large amount of unnecessary work, thereby using up a proportional
amount of energy for its own disposal, since once introduced into the
body it must be digested and absorbed, otherwise it undergoes fer-
mentation and putrefaction in the stomach and intestines, causing
countless troubles. When absorbed in quantities beyond the real needs
of the body, it may be temporarily deposited as fat, but why load up
the system with unnecessary material, thereby interfering with the
free running of the machinery? In other words, it is very evident
that the taking in of food in quantities beyond the physiological re-
quirements is undesirable and may prove exceedingly injurious. It is
truly uneconomical and defeats the very ends we aim to attain. In-
stead of adding to the bodily vigor and increasing the fitness of the
organism to do its daily work, we are really hampering the delicate
mechanism upon the smooth running of which so much depends.

Why now should we assume that a daily diet of over 100 grams
of proteid, with fats and carbohydrates sufficient to make up a fuel

PHYSIOLOGICAL ECONOMY IN NUTRITION. 127

value of over 3,000 large calories, is a necessary requisite for bodily
vigor and physical and mental fitness? Mainly because of the sup-
position that true dietary standards may be learned by observing the
relative amounts of nutrients actually consumed by a large number
of individuals so situated that the choice of food is unrestricted. But
this does not constitute very sound evidence. It certainly is not above
criticism. We may well ask ourselves whether man has yet learned
wisdom with regard to himself, and whether his instincts or appe-
tites are to be entirely trusted as safe guides to follow in the matter
of his own nutrition. The experiments of Kumagawa, Siven and
other physiologists, have certainly shown that men may live and
thrive, for a time at least, on amounts of proteid per day equal to
only one half and one quarter the amount called for in the Voit
standard. Siven 's experiments, in particular, certainly indicate that
the human organism can maintain itself in nitrogenous equilibrium
with far smaller amounts of proteid in the diet than is ordinarily
taught, and further, that this condition can be attained without
unduly increasing the total calories of the food intake. Such investi-
gations, however, have always called forth critical comment from
writers on nutrition, indicating a reluctance to depart from the cur-
rent doctrines of the Voit or Munich school, and, indeed, it may
justly be claimed that the ordinary nutrition experiments, extending
over short periods of time, are not entirely adequate to prove the
effect of a given set of conditions when the latter are continued for
months or years. Thus, Schaf er writes : " It may be doubted whether
a diet which includes considerably less proteid than 100 grams for
the twenty-four hours could maintain a man of average size and
weight for an indefinite time. It has frequently been asserted that
many Asiatics consume a very much smaller proportion of proteid
than is the case with Europeans. The inhabitants of India, Japan
and China chiefly consume rice as the normal constituent of their
diet, which contains relatively little proteid; and this has been ad-
vanced as an argument in favor of the view that the minimal amount
of proteid is much less than that ordinarily given as essential to the
maintenance of nutritive equilibrium. It must, however, be stated
that we have no definite statistics to show that, in proportion to their
body-weight, Asiatics doing the same amount of work as Europeans
require a less amount of proteids; indeed such evidence as is forth-
coming is rather in favor of the opposite view." This statement is
typical of the attitude of physiologists in general on this important
subject. Why not candidly admit that the matter is in doubt, and
with a due recognition of the importance of the subject attempt to
ascertain the real truth of the matter?

The writer has had in his laboratory for several months past a
gentleman (H. F.) who has for some five years, in pursuit of a study

128 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

of the subject of human nutrition, practised a certain degree of ab-
stinence in the taking of food and attained important economy with,
as he believes, great gain in bodily and mental vigor and with marked
improvement in his general health. Under his new method of living
he finds himself possessed of a peculiar fitness for work of all kinds
and with freedom from the ordinary fatigue incidental to extra
physical exertion. In using the word abstinence possibly a wrong
impression is given, for the habits of life now followed have resulted
in the disappearance of the ordinary craving for food. In other
words, the gentleman in question fully satisfies his appetite, but no
longer desires the amount of food consumed by most individuals.

For a period of thirteen days, in January, he was under ob-
servation in the writer's laboratory, his excretions being analyzed
daily with a view to ascertaining the exact amount of proteid con-
sumed. The results showed that the average daily amount of pro-
teid metabolized was 41.25 grams, the body- weight (165 pounds)
remaining practically constant. Especially noteworthy also was the
very complete utilization of the proteid food during this period of
observation. It will be observed here that the daily amount of pro-
teid food taken was less than one half that of the minimum Voit
standard, and it should also be mentioned that this apparent deficiency
in proteid food was not made good by any large consumption of fats
or carbohydrates. Further, there was no restriction in diet. On the
contrary, there was perfect freedom of choice, and the instructions
given were to follow his usual dietetic habits. Analysis of the excre-
tions showed an output of nitrogen equal to the breaking down of
41.25 grams of proteid per day, as an average, the extremes being
33.06 grams and 47.05 grams of proteid.

In February, a more thorough series of observations was made,
involving a careful analysis of the daily diet, together with analysis
of the excreta, so that not alone the proteid consumption might be
ascertained, but likevsdse the total intake of fats and carbohydrates.
The diet consumed was quite simple, and consisted merely of a pre-
pared cereal food, milk and maple sugar. This diet was taken twice
a day for seven days, and was selected by the subject as giving sufii-
cient variety for his needs and quite in accord with his taste. No
attempt was made to conform to any given standard of quantity, but
the subject took each day such amounts of the above foods as his
appetite craved. Each portion taken, however, was carefully weighed
in the laboratory, the chemical composition of the food determined,
and the fuel value calculated by the usual methods.

The following table gives the daily intake of proteids, fats and
carbohydrates for six days, together with the calculated fuel value, and
also the nitrogen intake, together with the nitrogen output through
the excreta. Many other data were obtained showing diminished

PHYSIOLOGICAL ECONOMY IN NUTRITION.

129

excretion of uric acid, ethereal sulphates, phosphoric acid, etc., but
they need not be discussed here.

Intake.

Output of Nitrogen.

Proteids.

Fats.

Carbohy.

Calories.

Nitrogen.

Urine.

Faeces.

Total.

Grams.

Grams.

Grams.

Grams.

Grams.

Grams.

Grams.

Feb. 3

31.3

25.3

125.4

900

5.02

5.27

0.18

5.45

3

46.8

40.4

266.2

1690

7.50

6.24

0.81*

7.05

4

48.0

38.1

283.0

1747

7.70

5.53

0.81*

6.34

5

50.0

40.6

269.0

1711

8.00

6.44

0.81*

7.25-

6

47.0

41.5

267.0

1737

7.49

6.83

0.81*

7.64

7

46 5

39.8

307.3

1852

7.44

7.50

0.17

7.67

Daily Av.

44.9

38.0

253.0

1606

7.19

6.30

0.60

6.90

The main things to be noted in these results are, first, that the
total daily consumption of proteid amounted on an average to only
45 grams, and that the fat and carbohydrate were taken in quantities
only sufficient to bring the total fuel value of the daily food up to a
little more than 1,600 large calories. If, however, we eliminate the
first day, when for some reason the subject took an unusually small
amount of food, these figures are increased somewhat, but they are
ridiculously low compared with the ordinarily accepted dietary stand-
ards. When we recall that the Voit standard demands at least 118
grams of proteid and a total fuel value of 3,000 large calories daily,
we appreciate at once the full significance of the above figures. But
it may be asked, was this diet at all adequate for the needs of the
body — sufficient for a man weighing 165 pounds? In reply, it may
be said that the appetite was satisfied and that the subject had full
freedom to take more food if he so desired. To give a physiological
answer, it may be said that the body-weight remained practically
constant throughout the seven days' period, and further, it will be
observed by comparing the figures of the table that the nitrogen of
the intake and the total nitrogen of the output were not far apart.
In other words, there was a close approach to what the physiologist
calls nitrogenous equilibrium. In fact, it will be noted that on several
days the nitrogen output was slightly less than the nitrogen taken in.
We are, therefore, apparently justified in saying that the above diet,
simple though it was in variety, and in quantity far below the usually
accepted requirement, was quite adequate for the needs of the body.
In this connection it may be asked, what were the needs of the body
during this seven days' period? This is obviously a very important
point. Can a man on such a diet, even though it suffices to keep up
body-weight and apparently also physiological equilibrium, do work
to any extent? Will there be under such condition a proper degree
of fitness for physical work of any kind? In order to ascertain this

* Average of the four days.

VOL. XLIII.^9.

130 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

point, the subject was invited to do physical work at the Yale Uni-
versity Gymnasium and placed under the guidance of the director of
the gymnasium, Dr. "William G. Anderson. The results of the obser-
vations there made are here given, taken verbatim from Dr. Ander-
son's report to the writer.

On the 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th of February, 1903, I gave to Mr. Horace
Fletcher the same kind of exercises we give to the Varsity Crew. They are
drastic and fatiguing and can not be done by beginners without soreness and
pain resulting. The exercises he was asked to take were of a character to tax
the heart and lungs as well as to try the muscles of the limbs and trunk. I
should not give these exercises to Freshmen on account of their severity.

Mr. Fletcher has taken these movements with an ease that is unlooked
"^or. He gives evidence of no soreness or lameness and the large groups of
muscles respond the second day without evidence of being poisoned by Carbon
■dioxide. There is no evidence of distress after or during the endurance test,
■4. e., the long run. The heart is fast but regular. It comes back to its normal
Aeat quicker than does the heart of other men of his weight and age.

The case is unusual and I am surprised that Mr. Fletcher can do the work
T)f trained athletes and not give marked evidences of over exertion. As I
am in almost constant training I have gone over the same exercises and in about
the same way and have given the results for a standard of comparison. [The
figures are not given here.]

My conclusion given in condensed form is this. Mr. Fletcher performs this
work with greater ease and with fewer noticeable bad results than any man of
his age and condition I have ever worked with.

To appreciate the full significance of this report, it must be re-
membered that Mr. Fletcher had for several months past taken prac-
tically no exercise other than that involved in daily walks about town.

In view of the strenuous work imposed during the above four days, it
is quite evident that the body had need of a certain amount of nutri-
tive material. Yet the work was done without apparently drawing upon
any reserve the body may have possessed. The diet, small though it
was, and with only half the accepted requirement in fuel value, still
sufficed to furnish the requisite energy. The work was accomplished
with perfect ease, without strain, without the usual resultant lameness,
without taxing the heart or lungs, and without loss of body-weight.
In other words, in Mr. Fletcher's case at least, the body machinery
was kept in perfect fitness without the consumption of any such quan-
tities of fuel as has generally been considered necessary.

Just here it may be instructive to observe that the food consumed
by Mr. Fletcher during this seven days' period — and which has been
shown to be entirely adequate for his bodily needs during strenuous
activity — cost eleven cents daily, thus making the total cost for the
seven days seventy-seven cents ! If we contrast this figure with the
amounts generally paid for average nourishment for a like period of
time, there is certainly food for serious thouglit. Mr. Fletcher avers
that he has followed his present plan of living for nearly five years;
he usually takes two meals a day; has been led to a strong liking for

PHYSIOLOGICAL ECONOMY IN NUTRITION. 131

sugar and carbohydrates in general and away from a meat diet; is
always in perfect health, and is constantly in a condition of fitness
for work. He practises thorough mastication, with more complete
insalivation of the food (liquid as well as solid) than is usual, thereby
insuring more complete and ready digestion and a more thorough
utilization of the nutritive portions of the food.

In view of these results, are we not justified in asking ourselves
whether we have yet attained a clear comprehension of the real require-
ments of the body in the matter of daily nutriment? Whether we
fully comprehend the best and most economical method of maintain-
ing the body in a state of physiological fitness? The case of Mr.
Fletcher just described; the results noted in connection with certain
Asiatic peoples; the fruitarians and nutarinns, in our own country
recently studied by Professor Jaffa, of the University of California;
all suggest the possibility of much greater physiological economy than
we as a race are wont to practise. If these are merely exceptional
cases, we need to know it, but if, on the other hand, it is possible for
mankind in general to maintain proper nutritive conditions on dietarjf
standards far below those now accepted as necessary, it is time for us
to ascertain that fact. For, if our standards are now unnecessarily
high, then surely we are not only practising an uneconomical method
of sustaining life, but we are subjecting ourselves to conditions the
reverse of physiological, and wliich must of necessity be inimical to
our well being. The possibility of more scientific knowledge of the
natural requirements of a healthy nutrition is made brighter by the
fact that the economic results noted in connection with our metabolism
examination of Mr. Fletcher is confirmatory of similar results obtained
under the direction and scrutiny of Sir Michael Foster at the Univer-
sity of Cambridge, England, during the autumn and winter of last
year; and by Dr. Ernest Van Someren, Mr. Fletcher's collaborateur,
in Venice, on subjects of various ages and of both sexes, some account
of which has already been presented to the British Medical Associa-
tion and to the International Congress of Physiologists at its last
meeting at Turin, Italy. At the same time emphasis must be laid
upon the fact that no definite and positive conclusions can be arrived
at except as the result of careful experiments and observations on
many individuals covering long periods of time. This, however, the
writer hopes to do in the very near future, with the cooperation of a
corps of interested observers.

The problem is far-reaching. It involves not alone the individual,
but society as a whole, for beyond the individual lies the broader field
of the community, and what j)roves helpful for the one will eventually
react for the betterment of society and for the improvement of man-
kind in general.

13^ POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

THE FIELD OF MUNICIPAL HYGIENE.

By Professor EDWIN O. JORDAN,

UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO.

npHE modern disposition to revel in the general situation is met by
-■- those persons who are disinclined to take a consistently optimis-
tic view of life with several sobering reflections. In regard to that
conspicuous phenomenon of modern life, for example, the growth of
large cities, attention has frequently been directed to the evil possibili-
ties for the future of the race that are enwombed in city growth.
Steady deterioration of mind and body, a tendency to movements of
social unrest and disorder, increasingly unsanitary conditions of life
are some of the elements in a widely-held belief that the massing or
'herding' of human beings in centers of population is a deplorable and
distressing accompaniment of civilization.

It is often forgotten, however, both by those who lament the exist-
ence of great cities and by those who count with pride their tale of
corn and oil and wine that in the last analysis not only the hope and
salvation of the large city, but its growth and very existence depend
upon the proper application of methods of municipal hygiene. We
need hardly be reminded that many of the factors that make for a con-
centration of population have been operative in the past with quite as
much force as they are to-day. The steady drift from the farm to the
town is by no means a modern movement. In the course of the last
three hundred years social philosophers have often had occasion to
deplore the existence of a migration cityward and the so-called depopu-
lation of the rural districts. In some countries, as in France in the
eighteenth century, the chief danger in tliis movement was thought to
lie in its evil effect upon the rural districts, and restrictive measures
were advocated for the purpose of keeping a sufficient supply of labor
upon the farms. In England the same current toward the cities was
noticed, but different forebodings were aroused; the apprehension was
expressed that the cities themselves might become unwieldy. Both
Elizabeth and James I. issued proclamations forbidding migration into
London because of the portentous dimensions that metropolis was
thought to be assuming. In spite of the influx of immigrants, how-
ever, the actual growth of the large cities was slow if judged by modern
standards. In the case of London there is reason to believe that the
natural migration into the city was relatively greater two hundred and
fifty years ago than it is to-day, and yet at that time its rate of increase
was sluggish compared with the swift expansion of its population in
the nineteenth century.

MUNICIPAL HYGIENE. 133

There can be no doubt that one reason why cities did not grow so
rapidly in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries as in the nine-
teenth is the excessively high death rate that prevailed during the
earlier period. The flood of immigration, mighty as it was, did little
more than make good the places of those citizens who fell victims to
grievous sanitary conditions. From the facts that can be obtained it
seems to have been universally true that almost up to the beginning of
the nineteenth century the death rate of large cities exceeded the birth
rate. This was not because the birth rate was abnormally low, but
because the death rate was abnormally high. In the medieval city
both birth rate and death rate were far higher than at present. Infant
mortality must have mounted to a gruesome height. The un-
cleanliness and overcrowding of city dwellers, now largely relegated
to the slums of our great cities, was the normal state of nearly all
classes of society in the London and Paris of Louis and Elizabeth.
Mr. Frederick Harrison has condensed into his own vigorous language
the annals of many of the historians of the middle ages.

Tlie old Greek and Roman religion of external cleanness was turned into a
sin. The outward and visible sign of sanctity now was to be unclean. No one
was clean, but the devout Christian was imutterably foul. The tone of the
Middle Ages in the matter of dirt was a form of mental disease. Cooped up in
castles and walled cities, with narrow courts and sunless alleys, they would
pass day and night in the same clothes, within the same airless, gloomy, window-
less, and pestiferous chambers ; they would go to bed without night clothes, and
sleep under uncleansed sheepskins and frieze rugs; they would wear the same
leather, fur and woolen garments for a lifetime, and even for successive genera-
tions; they ate their meals without forks, and covered up the orts with rushes;
they flung their refuse out of the window into the street or piled it up in the
back-yard; the streets were narrow, unpaved, crooked lanes through which, under
the very palace turrets, men and beasts tramped knee-deep in noisome mire.
This was at intervals varied with fetid rivulets and open cesspools; every church
was crammed with rotting corpses and surrounded with graveyards, sodden with
cadaveric liquids, and strewn with disinterred bones. Round these charnel
houses and pestiferous churches were piled old decaying wooden houses, their sole
air being these deadly exlialations, and their sole water supply being these pol-
luted streams or wells dug in this reeking soil. Even in the palaces and castles
of the rich the same bestial habits prevailed. Prisoners rotted in noisome
dungeons under the banqueting hall; corpses were buried under the floor of the
private chapel; scores of soldiers and attendants slept in gangs for months to-
gether in the same hall or guard-room where they ate and drank, played and
fought.

The unsanitary conditions thus relentlessly portrayed must have had
the same effect upon the health of all town inhabitants that similar
conditions now exert upon the denizens of the 'crowded' and 'poor'
wards of our modern cities.

So long as the city death rate exceeded the birth rate, the cities, in
spite of the ceaseless thronging in of immigrants, could not grow as
they have grown since. The economic equilibrium between town and
country probably did not permit of any more considerable transfer of

134 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

population than actually occurred, and this transfer merely sufficed to
keep the city population at a fairly constant level. As soon, however,
as the city death rate began to decline and even to fall below the birth
rate, the city population increased with leaps and bounds. This change
is comparatively modern. London did not show a natural increase,
due to excess of births, until the beginning of the nineteenth century,
and Berlin did not reach this point until 1810.*

Excess

0/ Births.

Net

Total

Number.

Percentage.

Immigration.

Increase

1711-1815

— 31,310

— 0.2

1.4

1.2

1816-1837

23,505

0.5

1.3

1.8

1838-1858

55,513

0.7

1.6

2.3

1858-1875

95,460

0.8

3.2

4.0

1875-1895

189,240

1.1

1.6

2.7

It must not be forgotten, moreover, that simple excess of birth rate is
not a fair measure of the decline that has occurred in the death rate.
The birth rate itself has not remained constant, but in the last thirty
years has materially diminished in nearly all civilized lands, so that in
reality the decline in death rate is far greater than can be indicated
by mere change in the absolute or proportional excess of births.

If the large cities have lost some of their former evil repute in the
matter of healthfulness, the improvement must plainly be attributed to
the development of the art of municipal hygiene. The dangers to
health resulting from the massing of human beings within compara-
tively narrow limits are now fairly well known, but such knowledge
has not always been available and is even now not always acted upon.
The question of water supply affords a pregnant illustration. That
some connection existed between outbreaks of disease and the character
of drinking water was seen darkly all through the middle ages, but the
groping speculations on the subject only led to the hypothesis, fraught
with terrible consequences to an unhappy people, that 'the Jews had
poisoned the wells. ' It was not until about the middle of the last cen-
tury (1854) that an explosion of cholera in London among the users
of water from the 'Broad Street Pump' established definitely in the
minds of physicians the truth that the specific poison of Asiatic cholera
could be conveyed by means of infected drinlving water. Some years
later a similar conviction was reached regarding typhoid fever.

The medieval ignorance concerning the direct infectivity of drink-
ing water and its importance as a factor in the spread of disease told
heavily against the cities. In sparsely populated districts the likeli-
hood tliat any particular well or spring would become infected was
comparatively slight, and even if a single well did become accidentally
polluted neighboring wells or springs used by other families might still

* A table is given by Kuczynski which shows the relative shares of immi-
gration and excess of birth rate in producing the growth of Berlin.

MUNICIPAL HYGIENE. i35

remain entirely wholesome and incapable of spreading disease. The
radius of infection was likely to be very circumscribed. In cities, on
the other hand, where the persons resorting to a particular well might
be very numerous,* the contamination of a single source could lead to
disease and death, not merely in one or two families but in scores of
families. Again, the greater liability to contamination to which a well
in a densely settled region was exposed was an added menace and en-
hanced the peril to the city dweller from this source. The introduction
of general public water supplies lessened to a considerable extent the
latter evil and placed the city resident in a more advantageous position.
The public water supply of large towns became on the whole purer
than the water formerly obtainable by the private citizen, and since the
supply was often brought from some distance, it was not liable to in-
creased pollution as a direct consequence of the increase in the density
of the city population. But on the other hand, the introduction of the
public supply increased the danger from diffusion. Far greater num-
bers of people were affected. If the public supply became infected
with a specific disease germ, the germ was distributed among much
wider circles, and the infection became a momentous matter to the
whole community. This in turn had the natural result that the atten-
tion formerly directed by the more intelligent members of the com-
munity to the care of their own private water supplies was now turned
towards the public supply, and the problems of expert selection, super-
vision and control of the public supply began to receive the attention
they deserved. There remained in many municipalities, however, so
much inertia that this obvious duty was neglected or abandoned to the
tender mercies of greedy politicians.

The conditions in many parts of the United States at the present
day testify eloquently to the existence of this transition stage. In those
sections, however, where it is the rule for proper care to be taken of
the public water supplies the city death rate from typhoid fever is
low, often lower in fact than in the surrounding country districts.
In the year 1900, for instance, the typhoid fever death rate in the
thickly populated 'Maritime District' of New York State, comprising
chiefly the territory of Greater New York, with a population density
of 1,535 per square mile, was only 2.0 per 10,000 inhabitants, while in
the sparsely settled 'Adirondacks and Northern' district, with a popu-
lation per square mile of 26, the reported death rate from typhoid
fever was almost twice as great (3.9).

Theoretically, at least, the city ought to possess a decided advantage
over the country in the matter of water supply. It ought to be pos-
sible for a large city to place its public supply under expert and special-
ized control, thus averting from the ignorant and careless members of

* At least 137 persons were known to have drunk water from tlie Broad
Street pump shortly before the outbreak of cholera in 1854.

136 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

the community the consequences that would otherwise follow their
ignorance and neglect. In other words, the quality of a public water
supply ought easily to be better than the average water supply that
would be obtained by the average citizen for himself under rural con-
ditions. If the real situation is sometimes otherwise it is not because
impure water is one of the necessary and inevitable accompaniments
of city life, but because the city has failed to avail itself of the supe-
rior resources at its disposal.

The matter of water supply is not the only respect in which the
city should possess a practical advantage. The opportunities for
speedy and efficient treatment of many acute diseases are greater in a
large and compact community than in one sparsely settled. Well-
equipped hospitals and dispensaries, the most expert surgeons, the best
trained nurses are all most likely to be found in the centers of popula-
tion. Many city families have experienced the increased anxiety and
danger that accompany a case of serious illness occurring when the
family is away for the summer in a little country town. The careful
nursing and the timely and expert treatment wliich even those in mod-
erate circumstances can command in a large city are quite out of the
reach of the majority of rural dwellers.

In addition to the advantages that accrue to the city dweller from
opportunities for a particularly efficient treatment of disease in gen-
eral, there are certain specific instances where early diagnosis and
prompt treatment of a particular malady may suffice to turn the scale
in favor of the patient. A notable example is presented in the case of
diphtheria. All the larger cities and most of the smaller ones have
in recent years provided themselves with well-equipped municipal lab-
oratories in which microscopical and cultural examinations are freely
made at the request of any physician. By the utilization in this way
of the best modern appliances and methods and of experienced and
specially qualified service, it is possible in the majority of cases for
the physician to discover within twenty-four hours whether his patient
is infected with the virulent diphtheria bacillus or is merely suffering
from an ordinar}^ and only remotely dangerous sore throat. The im-
portance of an early diagnosis in the case of diphtheria is supreme
for the reason that the administration of the diphtheria antitoxin is
most likely to prove successful in the early stages of the disease. The
antitoxin can not repair any damage that may have been done to the
tissues of the body, ]jut can only neutralize and render harmless the
diphtheritic poison that is circulating in the blood. If the presence
of a true diphtheritic infection is not recognized until late in the
course of the disease the injection of the antitoxin may have little influ-
ence upon tlie outcome, since the heart and other organs may have suf-
fered irreparable injury before the nature of the disease becomes under-
stood. It is of the utmost imijortance, therefore, for the physician to

MUNICIPAL HYGIENE. 137

recognize the existence of diphtlieria and to be in a position to employ
without delay the specific remedy. In this respect the city physician
is at a distinct advantage in treating diphtheria as compared with his
brother in the country districts, although the latter may be often his
equal, perhaps his superior in individual ability. Both as regards the
early diagnosis of diphtheria and the speedy procuring of reliable anti-
toxin the city practitioner occupies a position of vantage. Whether
the city physician always avails himself of his superior opportunities
is another matter. The opportunities certainly exist, and with the de-
velopment sure to take place in the efficiency of municipal lal^oratories,
the perfection of telephone and messenger service and the establish-
ment of stations for the delivery of antitoxin, the balance is likely to
turn even more in his favor. Individual ability and special training
in the use of the microscope will sometimes enable a country physician
to obtain the necessary information for himself, but in accordance with
the laws of specialization, such tasks in the larger towns will devolve
more and more upon the expert who devotes his whole time to the work.

The same tendency is at work in other directions. The scope of
municipal laboratory work is evidently broadening with the advance
of scientific medicine, and. new fields of activity are continually opening
before it. In the diagnosis of malarial fever and typhoid fever and
in the early recognition of consumption it is already rendering valu-
able aid to the busy city practitioner. The actual degree of usefulness
of the municipal laboratory to the community is still made the shuttle-
cock of local political conditions, but this stage can last only so long
as the city dweller continues to close his eyes to the part that might ]ye
played by the laboratory in securing and safeguarding the public health.

There are at least two particulars in wliich the city is still at a con-
spicuous disadvantage as compared with the country. These are, first,
the high infant mortality, and second, the greater prevalence of various
infectious diseases.

As regards the first of these, it is well known that there is a clearly
established relation between infant mortality and city milk supply.
The richness of milk in those very substances that render it valuable
as a food is a source of danger. Not only children but microbes find
milk an exceptionally nutritious food. It is not surprising that milk
that is at the start carelessly collected and carelessly handled and then
carried a long distance should often swarm with countless microorgan-
isms by the time it is delivered to the consumer. In hot weather the
growth of bacteria in milk is especially rapid, and much of the milk
that is distributed in cities during the summer season is far advanced
in the process of decomposition. The high death rate among bottle-fed
infants during the summer months, and the traditional popular dread
of the 'second summer' as a critical period in infant development are
directly traceable to the use of stale milk. The evil is by no means

138 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

irremediable. Many enterprising milk dealers have already demon-
strated the enormous improvement that can be brought about in the
quality of milk by attention to simple details of collection and trans-
portation. A high authority says of the present New York City milk
supply : ' ' There is an inexcusable lack of cleanliness in the methods of
procuring milk and of care in sufficiently cooling and keeping it dur-
ing its transportation. Even in the matter of sending milk to the
railroad many farmers take twenty-four hours more than is necessary,
keeping back one half of their milk in order to save the trouble and
expense of making more than one trip each day to the station. ' ' *

In addition to the dangers and disadvantages arising from the en-
trance into milk of the bacteria of decomposition, there is reason to
believe that the germs of disease also sometimes find their way into
milk. Outbreaks of specific diseases like diphtheria and typhoid fever
have been traced to infection of the milk supply, and evidence is accu-
mulating that cases of disease from this source are more numerous than
formerly supposed. There is good ground for believing that the indis-
criminate use of raw milk is one of the most serious sanitary indiscre-
tions committed by the average city dweller. The practical difficulties
in the way of exercising an adequate supervision and control over the
milk supply are often over-estimated by city health authorities. A
large amount of time and energy is now devoted to the detection of
chemical adulteration and of dilution or 'extension' of the milk, but
little or nothing is attempted in regard to the vastly more important
matter of protecting the general character of the supply. Much good
might be accomplished by the systematic official cooperation of the
health authorities with the various associations of milk dealers who are
in a position to apply effective pressure to slovenly or wilfully careless
producers. The milk dealers and producers as a class are rapidly
awakening to the importance of scientific method, and will respqnd
readily to any attempt made to bring the results of scientific investi-
gation to bear upon their work. In individual instances that have
come to the writer's notice, milk dealers, in their eagerness to do the
right thing, are actually committing grave sanitary mistakes, and their
customers receive no benefit from the dealers' endeavors, because the
dealers themselves are not properly guided. Certainly the municipal
authorities in some places are not performing their whole duty in this
regard.

The greater general prevalence of infectious diseases among city
dwellers as compared with the rural population is a second important
respect in which present city conditions are strikingly disadvantageous.
The more abundant opportunities for infection that are afforded, in-
deed made necessary, by the nature of city life and occupation can not
be easily avoided, but at least their exact character can be made known

* W. H. Park, Journal of Hygiene, July, 1901.

MUNICIPAL HYGIENE. 139

and the grosser possibilities in some measure controlled. The enforce-
ment of greater cleanliness in public buildings and conveyances, a bet-
ter system for the notification and control of cases of infectious dis-
ease— a matter in which American municipalities are notoriously lax —
provision of adequate hospital facilities for the reception and care of
patients suffering from infectious disease are among the measures which
would unquestionably reduce the city death rate from the infectious
diseases. Above all, a thoroughgoing system of medical inspection of
schools should be introduced. Nearly all the infectious diseases are
most prevalent and most fatal among children of school age, and it
would seem as if this were a highly important field in which the ener-
gies of municipal health authorities should be exercised. In some
cities, as in Boston and Chicago, school inspection has been introduced
with successful results, but lack of funds for the purpose has prevented
a general and thorough adoption of the system. It would seem as if
no reasonable expenditure should be allowed to stand in the way of this
important public health measure. If money is available for safeguard-
ing the public health in any way, it ought to be available for this pur-
pose. If necessar}% the school year should be shortened to secure the
funds needed. The saving to the community of the expense of
earing for cases of even the minor and less dangerous infectious dis-
eases should constitute an effective financial argument for the general
adoption of school inspection. It is perhaps significant that the grow-
ing unwillingness on the part of many of the most intelligent and
public-spirited members of the community to send their children to the
public schools is based on the great liability of the children to contract
infections under existing conditions. The removal of this grave draw-
back to the public school system would in itself seem an object worth
striving after.

If a small fraction of the money now expended under compulsion
for over-elaborate and unnecessarily complex systems of plumbing were
devoted to measures better calculated to prevent the spread of con-
tagion, the city death rate from infectious diseases would be materially
lessened and would not so largely exceed the country death rate from
the same causes, as is at present the case. The campaign against
infectious disease in cities should not be conducted, with antiquated
methods and along lines not countenanced by recent investigation, but
should take advantage of the most recent scientific discoveries and
above all should be carried on with a full understanding of the nature
and degree of success that may reasonably be expected from the meth-
ods it is applying.

Municipal hygiene, then, to be worthy of the name should not con-
fine itself to combating only the most dreaded or most dramatic forms
of disease, but after a scientific study of the whole problem of city life
should enter upon a carefully planned and systematic endeavor to re-

I40 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

move or lessen some of the causes of excessive disease. There does not
seem to be any sign that the desire of modern man to build himself
cities and to live in them is weakening. So far ahead as any one can
see, cities will continue to crowd to the edge of the stream of human life
in 'a blacker, ineessanter line.' Unknown forces vdll doubtless arise
in the future which will ameliorate the conditions of city life in the
way that the trolley has already done, but there will always exist cer-
tain problems peculiarly urban and created by what some curiously term
the artificial conditions of city life. It should be the task of a well-
conceived, far-seeing art of municipal hygiene to deal vrith the sanitary
aspect of these problems. It does not by any means follow because
some of the conditions of city life at present are distinctly inimical to
human welfare that they should always remain so. And it should be
recognized, furthermore, that the city possesses, within and because
of its own structure, certain hygienic advantages, of which to be sure
it does not always avail itself, but which in the long run will count
heavily in its favor. There are already indications that these factors
are becoming operative. The approximation of the urban to the rural
death rate shown by the last census to have occurred in several states
is not in all probability to be accounted for by a sudden shifting of the
age and sex distribution of the population, but marks a real improve-
ment in the sanitary conditions surrounding city life.

Excess of Urban Over Rural Death Rate.

Registration Slate. 1890. 1900.

Connecticut 3.9 .1

Massachusetts 2.7 .8

New Hampshire 1.0 1.3

New Jersey 7.9 3.3

New York 9.3 4.0

Rhode Island 1.1 .4

Vermont 3.0 .7

Since it is not true that urban life necessarily and inherently entails a
higher death rate than rural life, it would seem time to dismiss the
gloomy forebodings sometimes expressed that the cities are destined to
become 'the graveyard of the human race,' that an inevitable physical
degeneration is bound to attend life in the great centers of population,
and that density of population is in itself a deplorable accompaniment
of modem industrial development. Eather do the signs point to an
increasing consciousness on the part of the city dweller of the hygienic
advantages bestowed upon him by his position, to a deliberate and intel-
ligent attempt on his part to master the forces that make for the
excessive prevalence of disease in crowded centers, and especially to a
growing realization of the necessity for a careful study and apprecia-
tion of the hygienic possibilities of his environment.

UNIVERSITY TENDENCIES IN AMERICA. 141

UNIVERSITY TENDENCIES IN AMERICA.*

By President DAVID STARR JORDAN,

LELAND STANFORD JUNIOR UNIVERSITY.

^T^HE business of the university is to train men to know, to think
-*- and to do. To be will take care of itself, if the others are pro-
vided for. Wisdom is knowing what one ought to do next. Skill
is knowing how to do it. Virtue is doing it. Religion is the work-
ing theory of life. It deals with the reasons why one ought to do.
To all these ends the university is devoted. It does not make men.
It remodels them to bring the powers they have to greater effective-
ness. It brings, according to Emerson, 'every ray of varied genius
to its hospitable halls,' that by their united influence 'they may strike
the hearth of the youth in flame.'

Most precious of all possessions of the state is the talent of its
citizens. This exists not in fact, but in possibility. What heredity
carries over is not achievement, but tendency, a mode of direction of
force which makes achievement possible. But to bring about results
training is necessary. There can never be too many educated men,
if by education we mean training along the lines of possible indi-
vidual success. With birth, Emerson tells us, 'the gate of gifts is
closed.' We can no longer secure something for nothing. The child's
character is a mosaic of unrelated fragments, bits of heredity from a
hundred sources. It is the work of education to form these into a
picture. It is the art of living to range these fragments to form a
consistent and effective personality.

It is the duty of the university among other things to take hold
of these fragments of human possibilities and to arrange them so as
to fit them for achievement. It is another duty 'to bring men to
their inheritance.' This inheritance consists of the gathered experi-
ence of the past, that truth which is won through contact with reali-
ties, and with this the knowledge of the methods by which men have
tested truth. Again the university has the public duty of preparing
the instruments of social need.

The kings have recognized the need of universities and university
men. In this need Alfred founded Oxford and Charlemagne the
University of Paris. The Emperor William is quoted as saying that

* Abstract of an address before the North Central Association of Colleges
and High Schools, Chicago, April 3, 1903.

142 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

'Bismarck and von Moltke were but tools in the hands of my august
grandfather.' To furnish more such tools and in all the range of
human activity, the University of Berlin was established.

In like manner the great historical churches and their lesser
branches have founded universities each in its degree, because of the
church's need of men. It has demanded trustworthy agents, expert
dialecticians, great persuaders and spiritual leaders, and these have
arisen in the church universities in obedience to the demand.

A like need of leaders is felt in democracy. It has a work to do
greater than that of king or church and this work must be done by
skilful and loyal hands. Democracy means opportunity. The
greatest discovery of this most democratic twentieth century will be
that 'the straight line is the shortest distance between two points.'
This is a geometric definition of democracy. It trusts not to Lord
this and the Earl of that. Its leaders are not chosen arbitrarily as
the earliest offshoot from each link in the strain of heredity. When
democracy has a man's work to do, it calls on the man who can do it.
Such men it creates, and wherever they spring up they are developed
in the sunshine of popular education. Democracy does not mean
equality, a dead level of possession, happiness or achievement. It
means equality before the law, that is the abolition of artificial dis-
tinctions made in the dark ages. It means equality of start, never
equality of finish, and the most absolute equality of start makes the
final equality the greater. As democracies need universities, so do
universities need democracy as a means of recall to duty. Lincoln
used to say that 'bath of the people' was necessary now and then for
public men. This 'bath of the people' the university needs lest it
substitute pedantry for wisdom, or lest it become a place for basking
instead of an agency for training.

An Oxford man said not long since: 'Our men are not scholars;
our scholars are not men.' Those we call scholars are bloodless
pedants, finical and inefEective. Those we call men, strong, force-
ful, joyous, British boys, have no adequate mental training. Whether
this be true of Oxford, it is often true in all universities. It is the
sign that there is something wrong in practise or ideals. Scholarship
should be life, and life should be guided by wisdom. The university
should be a source of power, not an instrument in social advancement.
Its degree should be not a badge of having done the proper thing, a
device to secure the 'well-dressed feeling,' given also by 'Boston
garters' and by faultless ties. The college degree is an incident in
scholarship, a childish toy, so far as the real function of building up
men is concerned. Prizes, honors, badges and degrees — all these mat-
ters have no necessary place in the machinery of higher education.
If our universities had grown up in response to the needs of the people,

UNIVERSITY TENDENCIES IN AMERICA. 143

not in imitation of the colleges of England, we should never have
been vexed by these things, and never have felt any need of them.

The primitive American college was built strictly on English
models. Its purpose was to breed clergymen and gentlemen, and to
fix on these its badge of personal culture, raising them above the com-
mon mass of men. Till within the last thirty years the traditions of
the English tripos held undisputed sway. We need not go into details
of the long years in which Latin, Greek and mathematics with a dash
of outworn philosophy constituted higher education in America. The
value of the classical course lay largely in its continuity. Whoever
learned Greek, the perfect language and the noble literature, gained
something with which he would never willingly part. Even the
weariness of Latin grammar and the intricacies of half-understood
calculus have their value in the comradery of common suffering and
common hope. The weakness of the classical course lay in its lack
of relation to life. It had more charms for pedants than for men,
and the men of science and the men of action turned away hungry
from it.

The growth of the American university came on by degrees, dif-
ferent steps, some broadening, some weakening, by which the tyranny
of the tripos was broken, and the democracy of studies established
with the democracy of men.

It was something over thirty years ago when Herbert Spencer asked
this great question: 'What knowledge is of most worth?' To the
schoolmen of England this came as a great shock, as it had never oc-
curred to most of them that any knowledge had any value at all. Its
function was to produce culture, which, in turn, gave social position.
That there were positive values and relative values was new in their
philosophy. Spencer went on to show that those subjects had most
value which most strengthened and enriched life, first, those needful
to the person, then those of value in professional training, then in
the rearing of the family, the duty as a citizen, and finally those fitting
for esthetic enjoyment. For all these, except the last, the English
universities made no preparation, and for all these purposes Spencer
found the highest values in science, the accumulated, tested, arranged
results of human experience. Spencer's essay assumed that there was
some one best course of study — the best for every man. This is one
of the greatest fallacies in education. Moreover, he took little account
of the teacher, perhaps assuming with some other English writers that
all teachers were equally inefficient, and that the difference between
one and another may be regarded as negligible.

It has been left for American experimenters in education to insist
on the democracy of the intellect. The best subjects for any man
to study are those best fitted for his own individual development.

144 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

those which will help make the actual most of him and his life.
Democracy of intellect does not mean equality of brains, still less indif-
ference in regard to their quality. It means simply fair play in the
schedule of studies. It means the development of fit courses of study,
not traditional ones, of a 'tailor-made' curriculum for each man in-
stead of the 'hand-me-down' article, misfitting all alike.

In the time of James II., Eichard Eumbold 'never could believe
that God had created a few men already booted and spurred, with
millions already saddled and bridled for these few to ride.' In like
fashion, Andrew Dickson White could never believe that God had
created a taste for the niceties of grammar or even the appreciation
of noble literature, these few tastes to be met and trained while the
vast body of other talents were to be left unaided and untouched,
because of their traditional inferiority. In unison with President
White, Ezra Cornell declared that he 'would found an institution
where any person could find instruction in any study.' In like spirit
the Morrill Act was framed, bringing together all rays of various
genius, the engineer, and the psychologist, the student of literature
and the student of exact science, 'Greek-minded' men and tillers of
the soil, each to do his own work in the spirit of equality before the
law. Under the same roof each one gains by mutual association.
The literary student gains in seriousness and power, the engineer in
refinement and appreciation. Like in character is the argument for
co-education, a condition encouraged by this same Morrill Act. The
men become more refined from association with noble women, the
women more earnest from association with serious men. The men
are more manly, the women more womanly in co-education, a condi-
tion opposed alike to rowdyism and frivolity.

In the same line we must count the influence of Mark Tappan,
perhaps the first to conceive of a state university, existing solely for
the good of the state, to do the work the state most needs, regardless
of what other institutions may do in other states. Agassiz in these
same times insisted that advanced work is better than elementary, for
its better disciplinary quality. He insisted that Harvard in his day
was only 'a respectable high school, where they taught the dregs of
education.' Thorough training in some one line he declared was the
backbone of education. It was the base line by which the real student
was enabled to measure scholarship in others.

In most of our colleges the attempt to widen the course of study
by introducing desirable things preceded the discovery that general
courses of study prearranged had no real value. We have learned all
prescribed work is bad work unless it is prescribed by the nature of
the subject. The student in electrical engineering takes to mathe-
matics, because he knows that his future success ,with electricity de-

UNIVERSITV TENDENCIES IN AMERICA. 145

pends oil liis innstci'v of iiiccliaiiics mid tlic calculus. Tu ilie same
fashion, the student in medicine is willing to accept chemistry and
physiology as prescribed studies. But a year in chemistry, or two
years in higher mathematics, put in for the broadening of the mind
or because the faculty decrees it, has no broadening effect. Work
arbitrarily prescribed is always poorly done, sets low standards, and
works demoralization instead of training. There can not be a greater
educational farce than the required year of science in certain literary
courses. The student picks out the easiest science, the easiest teacher
and the easiest way to avoid work, and the whole requirement is a
source of moral evil. Nothing could be farther from the scientific
method than a course in science taken without the element of personal
choice.

The traditional courses of study were first broken up by the addi-
tion of short courses in one thing or another, substitutes for Latin or
Greek, patchwork courses without point or continuity. These substi-
tute courses were naturally regarded as inferior, and for them very
properly a new degree was devised, the degree of B.S. — Bachelor of
Surfaces.

That work which is required in the nature of things is taken seri-
ously. Serious work sets the pace, exalts the teacher, inspires the
man. The individual man is important enough to justify his teachers
in taking the time and the efl:ort to plan a special course for him.

Through the movement towards the democracy of studies and con-
structive individualism, a new ideal is being reached in American
universities, that of personal effectiveness. The ideal in England has-
always been that of personal culture; that of France, the achieving,,
through competitive examinations, of ready-made careers, the satisfac-
tion of what Villari calls ' Impiegomania, ' the craze for appointment;
that of Germany, thoroughness of knowledge; that of America, the
power to deal with men and conditions. Everywhere we find abun-
dant evidence of personal effectiveness of American scholars. Not
abstract thought, not life-long investigation of minute data, not sepa-
ration from men of lower fortune, but the power to bring about results
is the characteristic of the American scholar of to-day.

From this point of view the progress of the American university is
most satisfactory, and most encouraging. The large tendencies are
moving in the right direction. What shall w^e say of the smaller ones ?

Not long ago, the subject of discussion in a thoughtful address
was this: the 'Peril of the Small College.' The small college has
been the guardian of higher education in the past. It is most helpful
in the present and we can not afford to let it die. We understand that
the large college becomes the university. Because it is rich, it at-

VOL. LXIII. — 10.*

146 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

tempts advanced work and work in many lines. It takes its oppor-
tunity, and an opportunity which the small college can not grasp.
Advanced work costs money. A wide range of subjects, taught with
men, libraries and laboratories, is a costly matter, but by a variety of
supply the demand is formed. The large college has many students,
because it offers many opportunities. Because large opportunities
bring influence and students and gifts, there is a tendency to exagger-
ate them. We are all prone to pretend that the facilities we offer are
greater than is really the case. We are led to shout, because people
are indifferent to us.

The peril of the small college is the peril of all colleges, the temp-
tation of advertising. All boasting is self-cheapening. The peril of
the small college is that in its effort to become large it shall cease to
be sound. The small college can do good elementary work in several
lines. It can do good advanced work in a very few. If it keeps its
perspective, if it does only what it can do well, and does not pretend
that bad work is good work, or that the work beyond its reach is not
worth doing, it is in no danger. The small college may become either
a junior college or high-grade preparatory school, sending its men else-
where for the flower of their college education, or else it must become
a small university running narrowly on a few lines, but attending to
these with devotion and persistence. Either of these are honorable
conditions. For the first of these the small college has a great ad-
vantage. It can come close to its students; it can 'know its men by
name.' The value of a teacher decreases with the square of his dis-
tance from the pupil. The work of the freshman and sophomore years
in many of our great colleges is sadly inadequate, because its means
are not fitted to its ends. In very few of our large colleges does the
elementary work receive the care its importance deserves.

The great college can draw the best teachers away from the small
colleges. In this regard the great college has an immense advantage.
It has the best teachers, the best trained, the best fitted for the work
of training. But in most cases the freshman never discovers this.
There is no worse teaching done under the sun than in the lower
classes of some of our most famous colleges. Cheap tutors, unprac-
tised and unpaid boys are set to lecture to classes far beyond their
power to interest. We are saving our money for original research,
careless of the fact that we fail to give the elementary training which
makes research possible. Too often, indeed, research itself, the noblest
of all university functions, is made an advertising fad. The demands
of the university press have swollen the literature of science, but they
have proved a doubtful aid to its quality. Get something ready. Send
it out. Show that we are doing something. All this never advanced

UNIVERSITY TENDENCIES IN AMERICA. 147

science. It is through men born to research, trained to research,
choicest product of nature and art, that science advances.

Another effect of the advertising spirit is the cheapening of salaries.
The smaller the salaries, the more departments we can support. It
is the spirit of advertising that leads some institutions to tolerate a
type of athlete who comes as a student with none of the student's pur-
pose. I am a firm believer in college athletics. I have done my part
in them in college and out. I know that 'the color of life is red,'
but the value of athletic games is lost when outside gladiators are
hired to play them. No matter what the inducement, the athletic con-
test has no value except as the spontaneous effort of the college man.
To coddle the athlete is to render him a professional. If an institu-
tion makes one rule for the ordinary student and another for the
athlete it is party to a fraud. Without some such concession, half
the great football teams of to-day could not exist. I would rather see
football disappear and the athletic fields closed for ten years for fumi-
gation than to see our colleges helpless in the hands of athletic profes-
sionalism, as many of them are to-day.

This is a minor matter in one sense, but it is pregnant with large
dangers. Whatever the scholar does should be clean. What has the
support of boards of scholars should be noble, helpful and inspiring.
For the evils of college athletics, the apathy of college faculties is
solely responsible. The blame falls on us : let us rise to our duty.

There is something wrong in our educational practise when a
wealthy idler is allowed to take the name of student, on the sole con-
dition that he and his grooms shall pass occasional examinations.
There is no justification for the granting of degrees on cheap terms,
to be used in social decoration. It is said that the chief of the great
coaching trust in one of our universities earns a salary greater than
was ever paid to any honest teacher. His function is to take the man
who has spent the term in idleness or dissipation, and by a few hours'
ingenious coaching to enable him to write a paper as good as that of
a real student. The examinations thus passed are mere shams, and
by the tolerance of the system the teaching force becomes responsible
for it. ISTo educational reform of the day is more important than the
revival of honesty in regard to credits and examinations, such a revival
of honest methods as shall make coaching trusts impossible.

The same methods which cure the aristocratic ills of idleness and
C}Tiicism are equally effective in the democratic vice of rowdyism.
With high standards of work, set not at long intervals, by formal ex-
aminations, but by the daily vigilance and devotion of real teachers,
all these classes of mock students disappear.

The football tramp vanishes before the work-test. The wealthy

148 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

boy takes his proper place when honest, democratic brain effort is
required of him. If he is not a student, he will no longer pretend to
be one and ought not to be in college. The rowdy, the mucker, the
hair-cutting, gate-lifting, cane-riishing imbecile is never a real student.
He is a gamin masquerading in cap and gown. The requirement of
scholarship brings him to terms. If we insist that our colleges shall
not pretend to educate those who can not or will not be educated, we
shall have no trouble with the moral training of the students.

Above all, in the West, where education is free, we should insist
that free tuition means serious work, that education means oppor-
tunity, that the student should do his part, and that the degree of the
university should not be the seal of academic approbation of four years
of idleness, rowdyism, profligacy or dissipation.

Higher education, properly speaking, begins when a young man
goes away from home to school. The best part of higher education is
the development of the instincts of the gentleman and the horizon of
the scholar. To this end, self-directed industry is one of the most
effective agents. As the force of example is potent in education, a
college should tolerate idleness and vice neither among its students
nor among its teachers.

THE CITY OF WASHINGTON. 149

THE IMPEOVEMENT OF THE CITY OF WASHINGTON.*

'T^HE city of Washington differs from all other American cities in
-^ the fact that in its original plan parks were laid out as settings
for public buildings. Even its broad avenues were arranged so as to
enhance the effect of the great edifices of the nation; and the squares
at the intersection of the wide thoroughfares were set apart as sites
for memorials to be erected by the various states. Park, in the mod-
ern sense of a large public recreation ground, there was none; but
small areas designed to beautify the connections between the various
departments of government were numerous.

During the nineteenth century, however, the development of urban
life and the expansion of cities has brought into prominence the need,
not recognized a hundred years ago, for large parks to preserve artifi-
cially in our cities passages of rural or sylvan scenery and for spaces
adapted to various special forms of recreation. Moreover, during the
century that has elapsed since the foundation of the city the great
space laiown as the Mall, which was intended to form a unified con-
nection between the Capitol and the White House, and to furnish sites
for a certain class of public buildings, has been diverted from its
original purpose and cut into fragments, each portion receiving a
separate and individual informal treatment, thus invading what was
a single composition. Again, many reservations have passed from
public into private ownership, with the result that public buildings
have lost their appropriate surroundings, and new structures have been
built without that landscape setting which the founders of the city
relied on to give them beauty and dignity.

Happily, however, little has been lost that can not be regained at
reasonable cost. Fortunately, also, during the years that have passed
the Capitol has been enlarged and ennobled, and the Washington
Monument, wonderful alike as an engineering feat and a work of art,
has been constructed on a site that may be brought into relations with
the Capitol and the White House. Doubly fortunate, moreover, is the
fact that the vast and successful work of the engineers in redeeming
the Potomac banks from unhealthy conditions gives opportunity for
enlarging the scope of the earlier plans in a manner corresponding to

* From the report to the Senate committee on the District of Columbia of
the Park Commission, consisting of Daniel H. Burnham, Chicago ; Augustus
St. Gaudens, New York; Charles F. McKim, New York, and Frederick Law
Olmsted, Jr., Brookline.

15°

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

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THE CITY OF WASHINGTON.

151

the growth of the country. At the same time the development of
Potomac Park both provides for a connection betvi^een the parks on the
west and those on the east, and also it may readily furnish sites for
those memorials which history has shown to be worthy a place in vital
relation to the great buildings and monuments erected under the per-
sonal supervision of the founders of the republic.

Now that the demand for new public buildings and memorials has
reached an acute stage, there has been hesitation and embarrassment in
locating them because of the uncertainty in securing appropriate sites.
The commission was thus brought face to face with the problem of

Model of the Mall, showing Pkesekt Conditions. Looking w est.

devising such a plan as shall tend to restore that unity of design which
was the fundamental conception of those who first laid out the city as
a national capital, and of formulating definite principles for the pla-
cing of those future structures which, in order to become effective,
demand both a landscape setting and a visible orderly relation one to
another for their mutual support and enhancement.

To the unique problem of devising a way of return to the original
plan of the city of Washington, was added the task of suggesting lines
for the development of those large parks which have been obtained in
recent years either by purchase or by reclamation; of advising the

152

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

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THE CITY OF WASHINGTON.

153

acquisition of such additional spaces as are deemed necessary to create
a modern park S5^stem ; and of selecting for purchase and improvement
suitable connections between the various park areas.

If Washington were not a nation's capital, in which the location
of public buildings is of the first importance, and if the city itself
were not by its very plan tied to a historic past, the problem would
be less complicated. The very fact that Washington and Jefferson,
L 'Enfant and Ellicott, and their immediate successors, drew inspira-
tion from the world's greatest works of landscape architecture and of
civic adornment made it impera-

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tive to go back to the sources of
their knowledge and taste in order
to restore unity and harmony to
their creations and to guide fu-
ture development along appropri-
ate lines. Indeed the more the
commission studied the first plans
of the Federal City, the more they
became convinced that the greatest
service they could perform would
be done by carrying to a legitimate
conclusion the comprehensive, in-
telligent, and yet simple and
straightforward scheme devised by
L 'Enfant under the direction of
Washington and Jefferson.

L 'Enfant 's plan shows that he
was familiar with the work of Le-
notre, whose examples of landscape
architecture, not only in France
but also in Italy and England, are
still the admiration of the world.
We know, also, that L 'Enfant had the advantage of those maps of
foreign cities, 'drawn on a large and accurate scale,' which Jefferson
gathered during his public service abroad, and we learn from Jeffer-
son's letters how he adjured L 'Enfant not to depart from classical
models, but to follow those examples which the world had agreed to
admire. In order to re-study the same models and to take note of the
great civic works of Europe, the commission spent five weeks of the
summer of 1901 in foreign travel, visiting London, Paris, Eome, Ven-
ice, Vienna, Budapest, Frankfort and Berlin. Among the many prob-
lems with which the commission is called upon to deal, there is not one
which has not been dealt with in some one of the cities mentioned, and

ir^

7

s

Part OF L'Enfant Map of Washington
(1791).

^54

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

by way either of example or of warning the lessons of the past have
been brought to bear upon the present work.

On beginning work the commission was confronted by the fact
that while from the first of October till about the middle of May the
climatic conditions of Washington are most salubrious, during the
remaining four and a half months the city is subject to extended peri-
ods of intense heat, during which all public business is conducted at
an undue expenditure of physical force. Every second year congress
is in session usually until about the middle of July; and not infre-
quently it happens that, by reason of prolonged or special sessions,
during the hottest portion of the summer the city is filled with the
persons whose business makes necessary a more or less prolonged stay

View showing the Proposed Treatment of Union Square, at the head of the Mall.

in Washington. Of course nothing can be done to change weather
conditions, but very much can be accomplished to mitigate the physical
strain caused by summer heat. Singularly enough, up to the present
time the abundant facilities which nature affords for healthful and
pleasant recreation during heated terms have been neglected, and in
this respect Washington is far behind other cities whose climatic con-
ditions demand much less, and whose opportunities also are less favor-
able.

In Eome throughout the centuries it has been the pride of emperor
and of pope to build fountains to promote health and give pleasure.
Mile after mile of aqueduct has been constructed to gather the water
even from remote hills, and bring great living streams into every quar-
ter of the city; so that from the moment of entering the Eternal City
until the time of departure the visitor is scarcely out of sight of beau-
tiful jets of water, now flung upward in great columns to add life and

THE CITY OF WASHINGTON.

155

dignity even to St. Petcn-'s, or again gushing in the form of cascades
from some great work of architect or sculptor, or still again dripping
refreshingly over the brim of a beautiful basin that was old when the
Christian era began. The Forum is in ruins, basilicas and baths have
been transformed into churches, palaces have been turned into mu-
seums; but the fountains of Eome are eternal.

If all the fountains of Washington, instead of being left lifeless
and inert as they are during a greater portion of the time, should be
set playing at their full capacity, they would not use the amount of
water that bursts from the world-famous fountain of Trevi or splashes
on the stones of the piazza of St. Peter's. At the Chateau de Vaux-

ViEw IN Monument Garden, Main Axis, showing Proposed TreaTiMENT of Approaches
AND Terraces, forming a setting for the Washington Monument.

le-Vicomte, near Paris, the great landscape architect Lenotre built
cascades, canals, and fountains, using one twelfth of the daily water-
supply of the District of Columbia. The fountains at Versailles are
one of the most attractive spectacles enjoyed by the people of France.
The original plans of Washington show the high appreciation L 'En-
fant had for all forms of water decoration; and when the heats of a
Washington summer are taken into consideration, further argument is
unnecessary to prove that the first and greatest step in the matter of
beautifying the District of Columbia is such an increase in the water
supply as will make possible the copious and even lavish use of water
in fountains.

156

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

The location of public buildings has received the very careful con-
sideration of the commission. In general terms their conclusions are:

1. That only public buildings should face the grounds of the Capi-
tol.

2. That new department buildings may well be located so as to
face Lafayette square.

View showing the Proposed Development of the Lincoln Memorial Site,

SEEN FROM THE CaNAL.

Proposed Development of Lincoln Memorial Site, seen from Riverside Drive.

3. Buildings of a serai-public character may be located south of the
present Corcoran Art Gallery, fronting on the White Lot and extend-
ing to the park limits.

4. That the northern side of tlie jMall may properly be used by
museum and other buildings containing collections in which the public
generally is interested, but not by (l('i)arliniMit buildings.

THE CITY OF WASHINGTON.

157

5. That the space between Pennsylvania avenue and the Mall
should be occupied by the District building, the Hall of Records, a
modern market, an armory for the District militia, and structures of
like character.

The city of Washington, during the century since its foundation,
has been developed in the main according to the plan made in 1791
by Major Peter Charles L 'Enfant and approved by President Wash-
ington. That plan the commission has aimed to restore, develop and
supplement.

The 'Congress house' and the 'President's palace,' as he termed
them, were the cardinal features of L 'Enfant 's plan; and these edifices
he connected 'by a grand avenue four hundred feet in breadth, and

Anacostia Marshes from Benning Bridge, showing Malarial Flats to be excavated

about a mile in length, bordered by gardens, ending in a slope from
the houses on each side.' At the point of intersection of two lines,
one drawn through the center of the Capitol, the other drawn through
the center of the White House, L 'Enfant fixed the site of an eques-
trian statue of General AVashington, one of the numerous statues voted
by the Continental Congress but never erected.

When, in 1848, the people began to build the Washington Monu-
ment, the engineers despaired of securing on the proper site a founda-
tion sufficient for so great a structure; and consequently the Monu-
ment was located out of all relations with the buildings which it was
intended to tie together in a single composition. To create these rela-

158

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

tions as originally planned was one of the chief problems of the com-
mission.

Again, the reclamation of the Potomac flats, prosecuted since 1882,
has added to the monument grounds an area about one mile in length
from east to west; so that where L 'Enfant dealt with a composition
one and a half miles in length, the commission is called upon to deal
with an area two and a half miles long, with a maximum breadth of
about one mile.

By the inclusion of the space between Pennsylvania and New York
avenues on the north, and Maryland avenue and the Potomac Eiver on
the south, the new composition becomes a symmetrical, polygonal or

Rock Creek, showing Possibility of Seclusion from Disagreeable Surrot'ndings.

kite-shaped figure bisected from east to west by the axis of the Capitol
and from north to south by the White House axis. Regarding the
Monument as the center, the Capitol as the base, and the White House
as the extremity of one arm of a Latin cross, we have at the head of
the composition on the banks of the Potomac a memorial site of the
greatest possible dignity, with a second and only less commanding
site at the extremity of the second arm.

So extensive a composition, and one containing such important
elements, does not exist elsewhere; and it is essential that the plan for
its treatment shall combine simplicity with dignity.

THE AGE OF COLLEGE GRADUATION. 159

CHANGES IN THE AGE OF COLLEGE GRADUATION.

By W. SCOTT THOMAS,

TEACHERS COLLEGE, COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

nnHE belief seems to have become general that the American boy
-■- of to-da}' takes his first collegiate degree — A.B. or its equivalent
— a good deal older than his father took his, and a great deal older
than his grandfather. The present study was undertaken with a view
to determining from actual records the measure and rate, if real, of
this increase. The plates and tables that are presented herewith tell,
in the main, their own story; my task will be little more than the
making of a running commentary upon these.

The calculations are based upon nearly twenty thousand cases, and
include the graduates of eleven colleges, representing all parts of the
country except the extreme west. If undue weight seems to be given
to the New England colleges, my excuse is twofold : first, the proportion
of colleges that date back fifty years or more is much larger in New
England than elsewhere; secondly, I have used all the published ma-
terial I have been able to find, in the shape of alumni catalogues which
give the date of birth of graduates. These have, moreover, been
largely supplemented by private information very kindly furnished
by the officers of colleges whose general catalogues do not come down
to the year 1900.

The results are given in decade periods for the double reason that
shorter periods are imwieldy, becoming too numerous, and because the
longer period is more reliable. Two- or three-year periods often show
what seems a very decided trend in a given direction; but this is in
all cases decidedly modified if not entirely obliterated by the addition
of the remaining years of the ten. The results thus win stability and
evenness.

Before beginning the discussion of the tables and plates, one further
word of explanation may be given. It will be noted that in Table I.
and elsewhere the median age is used rather than the average age. The
reasons for using the median age — the point above which and below
which, respectively, one half of the students in each decade graduate —
are evident. In the first place, the labor of finding the exact arith-
metical average of the age of graduation of 20,000 students would be
enormous ; and when found it would not give us what we wish, viz., the
age at which the students, or a definite percentage of them, actually

i6o

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

do graduate. It is evident that a few students graduating in a class
above forty years of age — by no means an unheard-of state of affairs —
would unfairly raise the average age of that class, since it is mani-
festly impossible to graduate twenty years below the normal age.
Again, a class, or series of classes, may graduate a considerable number
of its members below twenty, while a still larger number graduates
above twenty-four or twenty-five. The curve of distribution of the
ages of graduation will then resemble the letter M. Manifestly,
in such a case, which occurs several times, the arithmetical average
tells us nothing of value. Finally, the median age gives us the exact
information that one half the students in question graduated at or
above the given age, and the other half at or below it. The curves
of distribution, moreover, given in the plates for all graduates and all
colleges for the years 1850-59 and 1890-99, show exactly what per-
centage graduated at each age.

Table I.
Median Ages of Graduation by Decades.

Dartmouth.

Middlebury.

Bowdoin.

U. of Ver.

Adelbert.

Age.

No.

Age.

No.

Age.

No.

Age.

No.

Age.

No.

1770-79

23-0

78

- -

1780-89

23-1

150

1700-99

23-2

336

1800-09

22-6

323

22-10

76

1810-19

22-9

330

23-1

194

20-4

106

1820-29

23-1

328

23-0

187

20-8

258

22-4

59

1830-39

22-5

384

23-4

242

21-7

289

22-7

80

23-0

41

1840-49

23-1

586

22-8

109

21-9

356

22-0

184

23-2

125

1850-59

23-8

558

23-3

121

22-1

335

22-4

168

23-0

98

1860-69

23-1

491

23-5

132

22-10

348

22-6

91

22-10

160

1870-79

22-10

593

23-4

111

22-5

321

22-6

98

22-9

217

1880-89

22-10

527

22-11

86

22-8

303

22-8

108

23-0

251

1890-99

22-9

678

23-2

125

22-7

481

22-9

215

22-9

156

We now come to a consideration of Table I.* The most obvious
and surprising thing that strikes us at first sight is the fact that our

*In Table I., decade '1770-79,' equals Dartmouth 1771-79; decade '180U-
09,' equals Middlebury 1803-09; decade '1830-39,' equals Alabama 1832-39,
New York University 1833-39, Oberlin 1837-39, Wesleyan 1833-39; decade
' 1850-59,' equals in Syracuse 1852-1)9. In each case the corrected year
marks the date of the first gradvuiting class. In decade ' 1890-99 ' Adelbert in-
cludes only the years 1890-95; New York University, 1890-94; Syracuse,
1890-98. In Alabama University there were no graduates for the years
1806-71 inclusive. During several of these years the luiiversity was closed.

The data for the decade '1900- ' are as follows: Dartmouth, Oberlin,
DePauvv, each, class of 1900 only; Wesleyan, Alabama and Vermont, classes
of 1900-01; Howdoin. 1900-02. The whole number of cases in this 'decade'
is 572.

In reference to tiie degrees included in tlic investigation, I have attempted
to use only A.B., Ph.B. and B.S. In a few instances the last named degree

THE AGE OF COLLEGE GRADUATION.

i6i

assumed great increase in the age of graduation, taken generally and
so far as our material reaches, is absolutely non-existent.

The median age of graduation in Dartmouth, for instance, has in
one hundred and thirty years fallen three months; in one hundred
years the median for Middlebury has risen four months. But note that
in 1830-39 the median for Middlebury was two months higher than
now. In the case of Bowdoin, there has been a steady rise to a little
over two years, which, however, reached its maximum in the decade
beginning in 1860, and has since been falling. In seventy years, the
University of Vermont median age has risen but two months; while
in the same period that of Adelbert College has fallen three months.
Again, we may compare the New York University with Oberlin Col-
lege. While the age at the former has in sixty years risen one year and
five months, in the latter it has fallen one year and seven months. It
may be noted in passing that the number of graduates in the given

Table I.
Median Ages of Graduation by Decades.

U. of Ala.

N. Y.

Uni.

Wesleyan.

Oberlin.

De Pauw.

Syracuse.

Age.

No.

Age.

No.

Age.

No.

Age.

No.

Age.

No.

Age.

No.

20-4

57

20-2

73

23-0

107

24-11

34

20-3

126

20-3

147

23-3

231

25-6

122

21-7

63

20-9

173

20-7

102

23-4

231

25-2

120

22-9

89

23-11

28

20-0

48

20-8

128

24-0

260

24-0

176

23-2

115

24-0

29

20-3

66

21-6

141

23-8

325

24-3

270

23-1

230

24-6

138

20-0

209

21-1

154

23-3

323

24-3

267

23-2

317

23-9

224

20-2

270

21-8

115

23-6

456

23-11

403

23-9

371

23-11

264

seems to be used as a semi-professional degree, implying for instance, that the
student has taken an engineering, or some such course not purely ' cultural.'
It seemed impossible to shut out entirely cases of the semi-professional de-
grees. The number of them is, however, too small to materially influence the
results. In Dartmouth College the graduates of the Chandeler Scientific
School are not included in the calculations, for the reasons above given. The
justice of the exclusions above referred to is evident at once; for the
examination is an attempt to show the changes that have come about
in the college course as formerly understood. That is, when it did not in-
clude the study of a profession within itself, as several of the present courses do.
Only young men have been considered in my inquiry. It is interesting,
however, to note that if young women had been included in the investigation,
the averages and medians would have, in almost every case, been materially
reduced. In other words, the young woman is either more highly selected as
a student, or she meets with fewer hindrances external to her work while
going through high school and college. At any rate, whatever the cause or
causes may be, the young woman graduates are, as a rule, younger than the
young men in the same college. This subject is worthy of a separate inquiry.

VOL. LXIII. — 11.

l62

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

time is in Oberlin about double that in the New York University.
Finally, we may call attention to the fact that in the University of
Alabama and in Syracuse University, the age of graduation has re-
mained practically unchanged, with a slight tendency to decrease.

So much for the general aspects of Table I. It will be of some
interest to consider somewhat closely the changes that have come within
the last two generations of college graduates, or since 1850. At this
period all the colleges in our list are available for comparison; and
it is since the beginning of this period that practically all the modern
development of the American college has taken place. What happened
before 1850, while it may be interesting, can not have the importance
ior us now that the changes of the past fifty years have.

At the outset, we note that of the eleven colleges in the table, the
anedian age for one only remains quite unchanged — Syracuse. The
^following show increases, in months: Bowdoin, 6; Vermont, 5; New
"York University, 13; Wesleyan, 2; DePauw, 12; total, 38. The
if olio wing show decreases, thus: Dartmouth, 11; Adelbert, 3; Alabama,
7; Oberlin, 15; Middlebury, 1; total, 37.

Table II.
Average of Median Age of Graduation foe Past Fifty Years.

Dartmouth ...
Middlebury...

Bowdoin

Univ. of Vt...

Adelbert

Univ. of Ala.
N. Y. Univ...,

Wesleyan

Oberlin

DePauw

Syracuse

Av. of Totals

1850-59

1860-69

1870-79

1880-89

23-8

23-1

22-10

22-10

23-3

23-5

23-4

22-11

22-1

22-10

22-5

22-8

22-4

22-6

22-6

22-8

23-0

22-10

22-9

23-0

20-9

20-0

20-3

20-0

20-7

20-8

21-6

21-1

23-4

24-0

23-8

23-3

25-2

24-0

24-3

24-3

22-9

23-2

23-1

23-2

23-11

24-0

24-6

23-9
22-8.3

22-9.6

22-9.3

22-9.9

1890-99

22-9

23-2

22-7

22-9

22-9

20-2

21-8

23-6

23-11

23-9

23-11

22^7.5

The net result of the changes that have come in the age of gradua-
tion in these fifty years is more clearly presented to the eye by Table
II. Here is presented a view of the medians for all the eleven colleges,
wherein each college is given an equal weight, regardless of whether
it be a large or a small college. By this method then is avoided the
overweighting which a large college, like Dartmouth or Bowdoin, would
otherwise exert on the results. The results show that in only one
decade is the average of medians as high as that of 1850-59. More-
over, the last two decades show a slight decreasing tendency, making
a net reduction in fifty years of two months for all the colleges.

Thus far we have dealt with the median age of graduation as distinct
from the average age, and reasons have been adduced to show why the

THE AGE OF COLLEGE OEADUATION.

163

former is preferable to the latter as the measure in our present study.
Inasmuch, however, as the arithmetical mean is the one in most com-
mon use, and further, as some may still feel that it, if investigated,
would show the rise that has been supposed to exist, we will consider
the data and results that Table III. shows. In this table are shown

Table III.
Average Age of Graduation foe the Past Fifty Years.

Dartmouth ...
Middlebury ..

Bowdoin

Vermont

Adalbert

U. of Ala

N. Y. U

Wesleyan

Oberlin

DePauw

Syracuse

Av. of Totals

1850-59

1860-69

1870-79

1880-89

1890-99

23-9.4

23-6.7

23-4.9

23-1.3

23-2.7

23-8.1

23-6.5

23-5.8

23-6.5

23-8.1

22-6.4

22-11.7

23-0.0

23-1.6

23-2.4

22-11.5

23-3.3

22-8.6

23-3.4

23-0.2

23-9.6

23-7.2

23-2.4

23-2.4

22-10.8

21-0.0

20-1.8

20-2.4

20-3.6

20-6.0

21-1.6

21-2.3

20-8.4

21-7.5

21-10.8

23-10.8

24-3.3

24-2.8

23-10.2

23-6.1

25-0.7

24-7.5

24-5.3

24-8.7

24-3.9

22-2.4

23-8.4

23-8.4

23-9.1

23-10.3

24-1.6

24-5.0

24-7.7

24-8.6

24-7.5

23-1.3

23-3.4

23-0.8

23-2.3

23-1.9

Cases.

5362

1386

2797

1003

1048

949

860

1933

1392

1185

751

the arithmetical averages of each college by decades, supposing that
the students graduating at any given year of age, say 32, are about
equally distributed throughout the months of the year, thus giving an
average for the given year of, say 22.5 years. With small numbers,

7'

J

IS-

r-T

-,

Jki. p,cuLx.oiM,

—

|0-

r—

*— 1

—

i ■

]0

-nL

It li. 1% JO

2ff

30
IS

-

—

r— '

— I

h

l^^O-qq

"■

' J

1 ^""-"-^

-|

-

lit IS

io

^i.

i.v '-(• '■i JO

this assumption is not without its liability to error ; but with numbers
so large as we have, the errors are found by actual trial practically to
negative each other ; so that we can rely upon the results as being, for
all practical purposes, and in the main, substantially correct.

164

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

The first striking thing to be observed in Table III. is the fact that
the average age is a few months higher than the median throughout
in the totals of all colleges. In the past fifty years, the average age
of graduation has remained quite unchanged, while in the past forty
years, the average has fallen one and a half months. This difference

11-

a.

[in- Mo- K[7tf\ (**o- 't1«- '?«»■

1

23.

CULL cjuuy^:

Ufa- Itta- ^^^o• iMo- i^jjo- lloo-

is, however, probably too small to be in itself significant, so that we
may conclude that there is neither any actual change in the average,
nor any definite tendency observable towards rising or falling.

In the above discussion of averages, each college has been given the
same weight as every other. Now, we may look. at the same matter
from another point of view. We may bunch all the graduates, as though

\iso. ;»to- /«io- ivvo- it*«- iioo-

they were all students of one great college; and, still assuming that
they will be about equally distributed through the months of any given
year — an assumption which by the now very much larger numbers is
made doubly secure — we may take the average for the five decades
since 1850. By this method we obtain the following results:

Av.

1860-59.

Yr. M.

.23 3.0

1860-69.
Yr. M.
23 5.4

1870-79.
Yr. M.
23 4.8

1880-89.
Yr. M.
23 3.9

1890-99.
Yr. M.
23 6.1

1900- .
Yr. M.
23 0.5

Even here, where every concession possible is allowed to the weight-
ing of the averages by the few colleges which in the last decade have
relatively much larger numbers, together with their consistently

THE AGE OF COLLEGE GRADUATION.

165

higher average age of graduation than in the earlier decades, we still
find no change of any significance. At the very best, or worst, the
change in fifty years past has been only three months. While now,
if we may use for the sake of further illustration the available data
of the colleges for the decade beginning 1900, we find on an average
three months less than that of 1850-59. The colleges included here
are those seven which furnished for the decade 1890-99 over 81 per
cent, of all graduates, and include all the colleges except New York
University, Adelbert College, Middlebury College and Syracuse Uni-

15-

15-

5

So-
ts-
ua-
IS-
10
s-

IS-

l-'aA/Vy>v(TVurtv

n 11 21 0 isr 17 l<j

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n '1 j-» zj ij i7 17 n Jo XI i« jt 1%

versity. It will be noted that all the largest colleges are included,
and that of those omitted two are above and two below the average in
the decade 1890-99.

We may now turn from the consideration of the tables to an ex-
amination of the plates. Plate I. shows the percentage of students
actually graduating at each age — 16 years to 31 years — in which last
category are bunched for convenience all graduates of the age of 31
years or over — for the two decades 1850-59 and 1890-99, respectively.
The upright line on the base in the twenty-second year marks the actual

i66

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY,

median age of graduation of all students for the decade. It will be
noticed that its position remains absolutely unchanged. Perhaps the
most noticeable exhibition presented by this plate is the pushing of the
great bulk of graduates in the last decade into the comparatively
narrow compass of the years 20-24, and the consequent great reduc-
tion of the numbers graduating above or below these limits as com-
pared with the earlier decade.

One further observation is worth making : At first sight it appears
that the mode — the year in which the largest number graduates — is in

f'

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iO-

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the first decade, the twenty-first year; while in the second decade this
has been pushed up, and is now the twenty-second. In this there are
two matters of significance. First, while the mode in the first decade
is 21, the percentage here is still less than it is in the same year in the
next decade, where the mode appears as 22; secondly, the reduction of
the percentages in the years below the twenty-second in the second
decade is largely due to the fact that in the first decade two or three
colleges which have a high median age of graduation have in this decade

THE AGE OF COLLEGE GRADUATION.

167

very few students, while in the last decade they have a relatively very
much higher number of graduates, thus acquiring an undue influence
in the second decade, and failing to exert this influence in the first

?

iST- r— 1

JO-
IS

10

If-

20-

iS-

10-

s-

I'<i7, •+■5", '^7

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t^ ^1 13 i^ 17

'4 '» 20 21 Z« 2.6 ig 1^ i/ J5 if J7 J.J

n w j-i !■» iy »-7 11 11 i-i iJ IS i7 j-i

decade. This fact, which does not come out in this plate, becomes much
clearer if we take decade 1860-69 for comparison with decade 1890-99.

i68 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Plates IV., v., VI. and VII. present the evolution of the individual
colleges during the last five or six decades in the matter of concentration
of the body of graduates into a few years. We may in a measure take
the degree of this concentration as an indication of the homogeneity
of the student body, and of the organization of the educational ma-
chinery that prepares the students for college. It will be noted that
while there is the greatest difference in the degree to which the con-
densation has gone on in different colleges, there is, nevertheless, a
distinct and uniform tendency towards this concentration, which must
in every case be set down as a distinct advantage to the college. The
ideal types may be said to be very nearly approximated by such curves
as those of Yale, Plate VI., Adelbert and Dartmouth, Plate IV., and
Alabama, Plate V. Such a curve as that of Dartmouth, which we
may take as the type which all the other colleges more or less closely
resemble, shows most clearly that the college has changed in sixty years
from a place to which a young man might go for study at any age, to
a place to which young men go as a matter of business, so to speak, and
at a definite period of their life. In other words, the going to college
has become a matter of social organization, with its very definite place
in the life of the youth. The intermediate decades, which lack of
space prevents our showing, present curves which show how gradually
this change has come about. It seems, further, a safe conclusion to
say that all the colleges that have not yet reached the high degree of
concentration which some show are, nevertheless, distinctly destined
to come to it, unless some unseen force changes their direction of
development.

It should be noted, in passing, that an anomaly, such as the curve
of Syracuse for 1850-59, is due to the small number of cases. There
were but twenty-nine graduates in this decade.

Plate II. presents in graphic form the same facts that have been
given in the tables. Division 'a' shows in the upper line, marked '1,'
the average age of all graduates as presented in Table III., 'Average
of Totals,' plus the data for decade 1900, so far as available, also
referred to above. The second line, marked *2,' gives the actual median
age of all graduates considered as students of one college. It will be
noted that, while the median has remained practically uniform
throughout, the average has varied, but with no marked tendency
either up or down.

Plate II. 'b' presents the same facts as 'a,' except the units of
comparison are now colleges instead of individual students. While,
as would be expected from the small number of cases, the fluctuations
are greater than in the *a' division, the same absence of pronounced
trend in either direction is easily observable.

THE AGE OF COLLEGE GRADUATION. 169

There is one tendency in American education which it seems we
may accept as established beyond cavil, viz., that for the future, the
public high school will take the place of the old academy, as the insti-
tution in which the average boy will receive his training antecedent
to entering college. In the days of our grandfathers, the prospective
college student received his preparation for college either under the
private instruction of his pastor, or in one of the academies of the
time. In either case, the body of college-going boys was a highly
selected one — a class who had both the tradition of the scholarly life
and, to no small extent, the taste and opportunities to follow this tradi-
tion. Then, even more than now, the college turned out men whose
future work was to be the ministry, law or medicine.

With the advent of the public high school and the growing tendency
of colleges to accept its graduates for entrance to college courses, we
should expect to find two or three changes in particular becoming mani-
fest: First, we should expect to find the college-going students less
selected along the lines of intellectual aptitudes and scholarly tradi-
tions; secondly, we should expect a greater scope of life employment
among the college graduates; and thirdly, we should anticipate a nat-
ural advance in the age at which boys would go to college as a result
of the above-named circumstances, with all that they imply. Now,
our public school system is, for the most part, so constructed that the
normal age for a boy to finish his high school course is in his nine-
teenth year, making his age of graduation from college between 22
years and 22 years, 11 months, inclusive.

From this point of view, it becomes important to examine our data
with a view to finding out in how far these influences which would be
expected to raise the age of graduation from college have been active
over other conditions which have negatived them, or vice versa. Plate
III. shows the percentage of students that actually graduated in all
colleges under the age of 23 years, since 1850 — the date at which the
data for all our colleges become available. Comment is hardly neces-
sary here. With the exception of decade 1860-69, which evidently
shows the effects of the civil war, the trend has been unmistakably
upwards. Even if we throw out the figures for 1900 — which repre-
sent, as explained above, all the available data from the colleges that
in 1890-99 furnished over 81 per cent, of all graduates — the trend is
still unmistakably upwards.

Concerning the influences that have been instrumental in causing
the marked rise in the median or average age of graduation in certain
colleges in our list, it is not possible to speak with certainty for all.
In the case of one or two, such as New York University and Bowdoin
College, it would seem that the rise is due to an increase in the require-
ments for admission. In the case of certain other, pronouncedly

I70 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

denominational institutions, as DePauw and Syracuse, there is one
element separable from perhaps others that may be surmised, which
has played an important role. This is found in the decidedly high
average or median age of those young men who go into the ministry.
The following shows the conditions in the two institutions just named :

DePauw University (1). Syracuse University (2).

MediaQ of non- Median of Per cent, of

ministers. ministers. ministers.

(1) (2) (1) (2) (1) (2)

1850-59 22 1 23 8 25 5 25 6 27.2 27.6

1860-69 23 1 23 3 23 3 24 6 22.8 41.6

1870-79 22 7 23 11 25 6 25 9 25.2 28.5

1880-89 22 11 23 3 25 3 25 6 25.4 31.7

1890-99 22 9 23 2 26 9 26 7 22.2 30.7

It thus appears that our medians for these two colleges as shown in
Table II. would, with this element of disturbance removed, give quite
different results. Thus the median of the last decade for DePauw
would be lowered by Just twelve months; while that of SjTacuse for
the same decade, instead of remaining the same as that of fifty years
before, would be lowered by nine months.

While I have not been able to work over the data for the other
denominational colleges completely enough to give the results here,
there are nevertheless many indications that a similar state of affairs
prevails, though probably in different degree.

In conclusion, we may sum up our findings as follows: The in-
crease in age of graduation from college in general has been tremen-
dously exaggerated. It exists only for certain institutions; while
others show a corresponding decrease.

The normal age of graduation, as our school system is constituted,
is below twenty-three years and above twenty-two; our results show
that more students graduate now within those limits than ever before;
that the gradually organizing secondary education tends to make this
percentage increasingly larger. (Nearly 85 per cent, of all graduates
of the Johns Hopkins University in the twenty years since its found-
ing to 1899 have been within these limits.)

If entrance into professional life is later than formerly, the cause
must be sought elsewhere than in the college and preparatory school.

Whereas it was once possible for a boy to graduate from college at
sixteen or even younger, though very few really did so, this is true no
longer. But the young man now, as a consequence, leaves college with
very much higher academic attainments, and but little if any older
than was his father, or even his grandfather.

All colleges show, in different degrees, an increasing diminution
of range in age of graduation. This shows that the secondary educa-
tion is becoming better organized.

TEE AGE OF COLLEGE GRADUATION, 171

If now, the age of graduation which we have shown to be the pre-
vailing one, viz., 22.5 years, be deemed still too old, three means of ■
reducing this would seem to be possible: First, cut off one year from 1
the college course, without lowering the entrance requirements; sec- !
ondly, in view of the far greater efficiency of the secondary school,
reduce the entrance requirements to college and, retaining the four !
years' course, permit the boy to enter college, say, a year younger; I
thirdly, drop one year from the college course, increase the length of
the actual weeks of residence and instruction to thirty-eight or forty, i
and endeavor to disabuse the mind of the average collegian of the
belief that college is a place to dawdle and loaf four years for the j
sake of a degree that he does not earn, but which he generally gets '
Just the same. The college would then have a serious opportunity to
prove its right to existence, and if it succeeded, the present dilet- ;
tantism of college life would tend to disappear. ,

One further suggestion we may venture to make. Every boy that I

has the native capacity to do college work should be put into the high
school in the fall after he is fourteen years old, regardless of whether
he has done all the prescribed grammar school work or not. If he
can not then get ready for college by eighteen, don't let him go to
college. He is not cut out for the strenuous intellectual life.

172 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

EDUCATION NOT THE CAUSE OF EACE DECLINE.

By GEORGE J. ENGELMANN, M.D.,

BOSTON.

"'VT'ALE graduate families have been growing steadily smaller, says
-*- Mr. Clarence Deming in an interesting review (Yale Alumni
Weekly, March 4, 1903) based upon class returns which show a
gradually decreasing fecundity from 1810 to 1880: this statement
together with the small size of the Harvard family as revealed by the
report of President Eliot, has justly directed attention to the ap-
parently sad family condition prevalent among college graduates,
or, as it has been expressed, among 'the highly educated portion of
our population'; and it is generally assumed that this small family
size pertains mainly to the highly educated, that conditions are
better among the — let us say — less highly educated. It has been in-
ferred that college graduates' families stand alone in not reproducing
themselves and 'not adding to the increase of the population,' and
that other portions of the population do so reproduce and add to the
increase. Accepting this, it naturally follows that education, which
has caused the mischief, must be suitably regulated. One suggestion
is to shorten the term of study. But are the premises correct?

Speculation has been rife, and the small size of the graduate
family is discussed far and wide without ever a thought as to what the
conditions among the great mass of our native population may be,
and yet it would be well to establish the facts in the case, and to de-
termine the existence of an exceptionally low fecundity among college
graduate families before deciding on cause and cure.

True, the average graduate family does not reproduce itself, but no
more does that of any other group of our native American population,
and the surviving family, the net family of the college graduate is
not smaller, but actually larger than that of his less highly educated
brother. This points to an unusually low rate of reproduction for the
entire native-born element of our population; in fact the conditions
now existing among the American people are worse than those found
in any other country. They are those of a decadent race, those of
Greece and Rome in the period of decline ; and again and again, within
the past few years, have I urged that the attention of thinking men
be seriously given to a consideration of the alarming status attained.

RACE DECLINE.

173

To present this properly, and demonstrate the part taken by
each group in the movements of population, it is essential to consider
class reproduction ; not alone fecundity and size of family, but marriage
rate as well must be taken into account. In both the status of the
college graduate as a class is most creditable, and at variance with
all that has been assumed, though conditions differ greatly in indi-
vidual institutions.

The marriage rate is surprisingly high for the highly educated, or, to
be precise, for 4,408 college graduates, even if the 88.7 per cent, of
Brown '72 and the 87 per cent, of the Bowdoin classes of 1875 and
'77 is above the average, which is 79.4 per cent, for 16 Yale, Brown,
Bowdoin and Princeton classes, and 75.4 per cent, if we include the 9
Harvard classes '72- '80 with their low marriage rate of 71.4 per cent.

My investigations show that the college graduate, the academic grad-
uate (conditions differ for scientific graduates), marries 7-7^ years
after leaving college, at nearly 30 years, so that we can compare him
with the age group 30-39 of the native American male, with a mar-
riage rate of 68.8 per cent., closely approximating the Harvard
average.

Table I.

Marriage Rate. 30 Ciasses, 4,408 Graduates.*

Group J^O — Jf9 years of age, approximately.

3,009 College Graduates, 22.5-47 years of age.

Population at large.

27 Classes from 5
Colleges.

No. of Years

out of

College.

<4-l

Year of
Graduating.

11

Ih cS
OP'S*

Male population

Massachusetts,

40-49
Years of Age.

Brown

25
25
25
25
25
25
71.6
71.1

1
2
1
1
1
10

9

72
75 and 77
73
61
76
'60-79

'72-'80

88.7?«

86.9

82.3

82

80

78.4

71.4

79.02

Bowdoin

Yale

Bowdoin

Princeton

Foreign born.

Yale

Harvard }'%l!IP -

545 College Graduates, 10-11 years out of College.

30-39 years.

Harvard

10
11
10

1

1

1

79
86
91

54.2
51.9
75.4

68.8
74.5

a

Native born.

Princeton

Foreign born.

Group 20 — 29 years of age, approximately.

848 Graduates 7J Years out of College,
22.5-30 Years of Age.

Male Population of Massachusetts,
20-29 Years of Age.

Princeton 7J 1 '95
Harvard 7i 1 '95

43^
26^

27.7!«
36.2<«

Native born.
Foreign bom.

This table is arranged according to rate of marriage.

174 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Accepting 22.5 as the age of graduating,* graduates of 1895, 7^/^
years out of college would have attained the age of 30 and must have
married between the ages of 22.5 and 30, so that they are comparable
to native males of the age group of 20 to 29, with a marriage rate of
27.7 per cent. The Harvard class of '95 shows a somewhat lower
rate, 26 per cent., but the Princeton class of the same year a very much
higher one — 13 per cent. The Princeton class of 1891, ten years
only out of college, has 75.4 per cent, of its members married, more
than any Harvard class as far back as '72 shows after its twenty-fifth
anniversary.

These figures, though small and bearing on only a few of the many
colleges, certainly indicate that the male college graduate in this
country is not more given to solitary life than the native male of all
classes throughout the state and that the supposition of Eubin and
Westergaard for Denmark, that the marriage frequency of the profes-
sional class is only two thirds that of the average does not hold good
for the American alumnus, and probably not for the professional
classes of the United States. It shows that a larger per cent, of college
graduates marry, and those of some colleges marry in such numbers
that it would appear that they marry as early as does the average
native male, because the percentage in the earlier years is the same
for average males and graduates.

The marriage rate of Harvard graduates alone differs from that
recorded for all alumni investigated, from Princeton, Yale, Brown
and Bowdoin, so that the alumnus of this institution can not well serve
as an exponent of the highly educated part of our population, or
even of the average college graduate, differing distinctly from this
group and less than that of the native male of the same age
throughout Massachusetts with a marriage rate of 79 per cent. (I
recall that for purpose of comparison with the 25 year graduates, I
have taken the age group 40 to 49 of the native population, which
presents the highest marriage rate, 79.02 per cent.)f

* 22.5 years is the average age of graduating for the Princeton classes
1901-02, 22.6 for Yale classes 1882-92, 22.8 for Yale 1892-02; for a crude
average 22.5 will answer. For Harvard the age of entering is 19 with a prob-
able 22.9 for graduating, an approximation necessitated by the non-existence
of authoritative data.

t My figures are based on a study of 4,408 alumni from leading eastern
colleges:- 848 graduates 7^ years out of college, 545 10 and 11 years out
and 3,015 25 years out, and I have been careful to record rates for all older
classes, i. e., graduated more than 25 years ago, as given at the time of
the twenty-fifth anniversary, for purposes of comparison on a just basis. This
explains some trifling discrepancies which may be observed between my figures
and others recently published. To me it seemed the only correct procedure.
The Harvard classes '78, '79 and '80 are reported on a 23, 21 and 20 years'
basis respectively, making but a slight difference, as may be seen by a study
of Princeton '91.

RACE DECLINE.

175

The fecundity of graduate marriages, the total numher of children
born (gross fertility) is a trifle less than that of the average native
marriage, rarely above, as in the Princeton class of '76, .with 3.2
children: it is 2.55 for the Yale classes 1860-80, 2.4 for Brown '72,
2.07 for Harvard 1872-80, 2 for Bowdoin 1875 and '77 as compared
to 2.7 for the native American family of Massachusetts according to
the refined statistics of Kuczynski, which show a greater fecundity for
the native population than is proved by my studies in St. Louis and
those of Dr. Chadwiek in Boston, 2.1 and 1.8 respectively.* Even
granted so high a fecundity as 2.7 for the average native family, the
surviving children under this assumption are only 1.9 to the family;
the lower death rate for children of the cultured and well-to-do — 10
per cent, in college graduate families against 28.5 per cent, for the
lower classes — reverses the relative status when we consider the actual
family size ; the number of surviving children, the net fertility : this is
greater for the graduate family (see Table II.) ; and it is the surviving
children who serve to reproduce the population. 1.9 (1.92 precisely)
is the largest possible number for the native population of Massa-
chusetts, as compared to 2.7 for Princeton, 2.28 for Yale, 2.26 for
Brown, 1.86 for Harvard 1872-80, 1.88 for Bowdoin. .

Table Il.f
Death Rate in Families of Professional and Laboring Classes.

Parentage.

3015 College Graduates

Population f Native Born,
of Mass. I Foreign Born.

Denmark J Upper Class

( Artisan and Laboring Class.

Ti.>i.i;n i Military or Upper Class.
jjernn. ^ ^jj children

Number of

Children to
each Married

Death.

Couple.

<" .

i

to

a -2

2I

>

sQ

"Ss

1— (

S3

!2;

55 oj

2.34

2.1

0.24

10 i«

2.61

1.92

0.69

28.5

4.53

3.01

1.52

33.4

A.52

IS.Sl

1.21

26.7

i.95

3.U

1.81

36.6

12.84

24.72

United States.

■ Europe.

* My own data are obtained direct from the mother and will more correctly
represent existing conditions than figures like those of Kuczynski secured by
additions for possible omissions to state registration records. I must add that
they show, on an average, the number of children borne in 10 years of mar-
riage, which should be very near the total.

tThis table does not quite indicate what I wish to show, as the mortality
rate compared with that of the graduate family is not the mortality in families
of the lower and laboring classes, but in those of the entire population, which
includes the educated and professional classes.

176 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Graduate families are, as these figures show, not only not smaller,
but they are larger than those of the native-born American population
of all classes, and larger than would have been expected from what is
known of the relative fecundity of rich and poor in other countries.
The relation of the educated and professional classes to the masses, to
the laboring or artisan class, however, is the same as that shown for
Copenhagen by Eubin and Westergaard, the total number of offspring
born being somewhat larger for the family of the artisan; the real
family, the number of the surviving, on the contrary, being somewhat
larger for the educated, for the reason of the lower death rate in such
families.

The rate of child-birth has been decreasing in college families, but
it has been decreasing throughout the civilized world, slowly in the
old world, with astonishing rapidity in the new, that is, among the
native American-born of our population, until it has reached a
minimum; the number of children to the native American family
of all classes (and in this lies the danger) being less than it is in any
other country, France even not excepted, which has long been known
to be at the point of stagnation.

These are facts ; the figures have all been elaborated and repeatedly
presented so that any hypothesis is unnecessary. The American popu-
lation is not holding its own; it is not reproducing itself, and the
highly educated do not stand alone in this.

Important as is the fact of our racial decline, bearing as it does
upon our future as a nation, it has not been observed, because of the
fair general rate of child-birth, due to the much greater fecundity of
the foreign element, which is from 2 to 2^/2 times that of the native,
thus bringing the total birth rate of the state to an equality with that
of France, — 22.4 per 1,000 living population, or above it.

This is true of six representative states, for which we have fairly
reliable statistics; in some, the birth rate is distinctly higher than that
of France, as high as 26 and 28 per 1,000, but even in such states, that
of the native-born is far below that of France. So in Massachusetts,
with a total birth rate for the state of 27.78, practically 28 per 1,000
living population, that of the native-born is only 17, whilst that of
the foreigner is over 52 per 1,000.

The net fertilitv, the total number of children born is 2.1 in
France, and for the native population of the above state it is said
to be 2.17 for 3,015 graduates from 25 classes 1870-80, in five eastern
colleges it is 2.34. But these figures may be ignored, as it is not the
total number of children born, but the surviving who add to the popu-
lation, and it is these whom we consider: the surviving children
of college graduates, 2.7 for Princeton, 2.28 for Yale, 1.86 and 1.88

FACE DECLINE. 177

for Harvard and Bowdoin, respectively, must be compared with the
number of surviving chiklren lor tlie native American population of
the state of Massachusetts, which is 1.9, less, according to my own
observations.

Less than 2 surviving offspring to reproduce the race for all native-
American marriages, 3.1 for those of the limited group of college
graduates !

This indicates a remarkable change since the days of Benjamin
Franklin, who tells us that ' one and all considered each married couple
in this country produced 8* children.' Though this is not a conclu-
sion drawn from statistical study, it is yet indicative, and in harmony
with my own deduction from genealogical records. Whatever the
precise figures be, all observations agree as to the high fecundity of
the American colonies, and tell of the great change which has taken
place in one short century.

From conditions better than those in any other country, five and
more children to the family, such as led to the Malthusian theory of
superfecundation and to the fear of over population of the earth's
surface, we have passed in hardly one hundred years to our present
condition, with a fecundity for the native-born below that of any other
country, such that the American race is unable to reproduce itself with
a birth rate of 17 per 1,000 population,! hardly 3 children to the family !

These facts I first presented in 1901, | with records up to the end

* Let no one discredit this and call it impossible ! Though surprising to
us with a knowledge of the present, these figures are even exceeded at this day
by the French-Canadian with a fecundity of 9.2 children to the family, as I
gather from a study of one thousand families found in the records of Quebec
life insurance companies : 9.3 for the rural, 9.0 for the urban population, is
the fecvmdity of the child-bearing woman, not the fecundity per marriage, but
nearly so, as sterile marriages are rare. The birth rate of the Russian peas-
antry in the Kaluga district, near Moscow, is 7.2 children to the marriage.
Throughout Norway it is 5.8 at the present time, as much as it was in the
American colonies at the time of the Declaration of Independence.

t That the native population is dying out, and that at an alarming pace,
is evident, not alone from a birth rate much lower than that of France, but
also from a comparison with that of Berlin. In France the birth rate was 22.5
per 1,000 li\dng population; that of the native population of Massachusetts is
17 per 1,000; in Berlin, 1891-95, with 10 hirths for every 100 women of child-
bearing age, the births were one ninth behind the number necessary to keep the
population stationary, whilst in Massachusetts the birth rate is much loiter,
6.3 births for 100 adult American born women of child-bearing age. The re-
sult is self-evident.

X The subject has been treated in the following papers by the writer : ' The
Increasing Sterility of American Women, with Increase of Miscarriage and
Divorce, Decrease of Fecundity.' Engelmann, Jour, of the Amer. Med. Assoc.,
October 5, 1901. ' Decreasing Fecundity Concomitant with the Progress of
Obstetrics and Gynecology.' Engelmann, Philadelphia Med. Jour., January 18,
1902. ' Birth and Death Rate as influenced by Obstetric and Gynecic Practice.'
Engelmann, Boston Med. and Surg. Jour., May 15, 1902.

VOL. LXIII. — 12.

1 78 . POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

of the eighteenth century, when the decline began, and at the same
time I published complete statistical data for the end of the nine-
teenth century, when the lowest level had been reached.

I have shown that a gradual decline had already taken place dur-
ing the colonial period from 6 and more children in the seventeenth
century to 4.5 at the end of the eighteenth; then 2 at the close of
the nineteenth ; data for the intervening period I had none. It seemed
reasonable to conjecture a gradual decline with developing civiliza-
tion and rapidly increasing luxury of life, but proofs were wanting.

The Yale records fill the gap, and supply the intervening data I
had so far persistently but vainly searched for; they distinctly portray
the gradual decrease in the rate of child-birth and enable me to com-
plete the table, period by period, which shows the remarkable changes
that have taken place in family life in this country. To this the
highly educated portion of our population is no exception. The decline
is general, not confined to any one element, it is the same for college
graduate and laboring class, for all American-born, for highly edu-
cated and less highly educated, so that higher education can not be the
causative factor.

This table presents a startling record for a young and vigorous
community, and it is but natural that we should ask for the cause
of this rapid decline in birth rate among all classes of the American-
born : where are we to seek the explanation ? It can not be in physical
inability, though the ravages of venereal disease are leaving their
traces more clearly with increasing civilization and centralization, and
constantly add to the number of the sterile. (This is 2.5 per cent,
among a simple, hard-working people in the interior of Eussia
(Kaluga), and in Norway, whilst 20 and 25 per cent, of marriages
are barren in the civilized and infected communities of the United
States and of France.) I find 25 and 30 per cent, of families barren
among the married graduates of large and centrally located colleges,
as low as 9 per cent, in a Princeton class with high marriage rate and
large families, an exceptionally healthy condition when we remember
that 20 per cent, of all native marriages in the entire state of Massa-
chusetts are childless.

The cause for this decline in family size can not be sought in the
increased age for marriage, as this is delayed for all educated and
professional men in this country as in England by nearly three years,
from 27.2 to 30 for the male, and for the educated female from 24.3 to

* This steady decrease in the number of oflFspring in college graduate fami-
lies IS admirably shown by Professor Thorndike in his article on ' Decrease in
Size of American Families' (Pop. Science Monthly, May, 1903). Unfortu-
nately he does not give the number of surviving children and pictures only
graduate families.

RACE DECLINE.

179

Table III.
Race Decline. Decrease in Size of the American Family.

Period of
Observation.

Locality or Group.

Am. Colonies
1700-1750
1750-1800

1726-1779
1727-1784

1783
1800-1830
1804-1811
1810-1842
1842-1860

1861
1860-1879

1872

1876
1872-1877
1877-1880

1885

1870-1880
1870-1890

1900
1885
1900

Benjamin Franlilin.
Genealogical Records.

U it

Am. Colonies (Sadler).

New York State.

Hingham (Town Rec.).

Salem

Hingham (Holyoke).

Genealogical Records.

Portsmouth.

Yale Grad. Class Rec.

Bowdoin
Yale Grad.
Brown "
Princeton Gr.
Harvard "

State of I native-born.
Mass. I foreign-born.
Boston Labor Class,

Chadwick.®
St. Louis Labor Class,

Engelm.*
St. Louis Higher Class,

Engelm.*
Boston Upper Class,

Engelm.®
Female Col. Grad.,

Wright.®
Female Col. Grad.,

Smith.*
Female Col. Grad.,

England.

Numlier

of Children to

Each Married

No. of

Couple.

Cases.

d
0

r— <

8

503

6.6

784

6.1
5.2
5.2

521

4.3

'

4.6
4.6

213

4.6
4.3

447

4.13

839

3.33

45

2.62

2.35

1104

2.55

2.28

53

2.45

2.26

118

3.2

2.7

888

2.21

1.97

513

1.87

1.66

2.69

1.92

4.5

3.01

1374

1.9

804

2.1

114

1.8

600

1.8

1.8

804

1.3

343

1.8

1.6

58

1.5

From table of Prof E.
L. Tliorndike excluding
fannlies where husband
died in first 10 years of
married life — for Middle-
bury and N. Y. Univ.,
for Wesleyan all married
are taken.

All Children Born. '

O 'S

« a

^

u

p

d

i&

.a

>,

%

a>

T!

^

1803-09

5.6

1810-19

4.8

1820-29

4.1

1830-39

3.9

4.5

1840-49

3.4

3.3

1850-59

2.9

2.2

18G0-69

2.8

2.6

1870-74

2.3

1875-79

1.8

4.0
3.2
2.9
2.5

26.4, but as the number of surviving offspring is not less, this delayed
marriage can not be looked upon as a factor in determining the small
size of the graduate family. The cause is not to be sought in educa-
tion, in so far as the male is concerned. The educated female is in
a different class; the fecundity of the female college graduate in this
country is lower than that of any other native group, and this low
birth rate holds good for her English sister as well, the very small
size of her family — smaller than that of the American alumna —
standing out in striking contrast with the much higher fecundity of
the English people, which is nearly double that of the native-born of the
United States.

Family shrinkage seems clearly referable to the strenuous, nerve-
racking life of the day, to the struggle, not for existence, but for a

* Average 10 years of married life.

i8o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

luxurious existence, to the ever-increasing desire for the luxuries of
life and the morbid craving for social dissipation and advancement.
It is due, as plainly expressed and openly advocated by many, to the
desire to have no children or only such a number as husband and wife
believe in their wisdom suitable and adapted to their ideals of com-
fort, and to their sujjposed financial possibilities; the most important
factor is the "deliberate and voluntary avoidance, the prevention of
child-bearing on the part of a steadily increasing number of married
couples,* who not only prefer to have but few children, but who 'know
how to obtain their wish' " (Dr. John S. Billings). Professional ob-
servation and the plainly expressed ideas of men and women who do
not hesitate to make known their views substantiate the above, as
does the startling decrease of fecundity and the corresponding increase
in sterility in the face of the scientific progress of the day in all that
pertains to the physical well-being and health of woman. This de-
crease of fecundity in the face of advance in obstetrical and gynecolog-
ical science, which should lead to a healthier condition of the child-
bearing organs — a decrease confined to one element of the community,
the native American — clearly proves the condition to be one determined
by the volition of that element. Families are small among all classes
of the native-born, large among all classes of the foreign-born popula-
tion, showing that the cause of this low fecundity is not universal but
it is one confined to the native element only; this limiting of the
small family to the native of all classes in itself would prove that
education is not that cause, were such proof not made needless by
the fact that the family of the educated man is actually larger than
that of the native male throughout the state.

Let us no longer beat about the bush and attribute the low fecundity
now prevailing to later marriages and higher education. This ex-
planation has been accepted because it is a tradition and universally
credited; it is not so in other countries, and it has never been proved
to be so for the United States. Theoretically later marriage must, it
would seem, lead to the lowering of the birth rate. Facts plainly dis-
prove this, and why should higher education lessen the size of the

* I liave used the word couples intentionally, though in the original it is
icoiiicn; Dr. Billings says tliat the cause of declining fecundity is in the "vol-
untary prevention of child-bearing on the part of a steadily increasing number
of married women,' indicating that the wife is mainly at fault, whilst in truth
it is the husband to an equal and even a greater extent, according to my ob-
servation.

]n defense of the American woman it is but right to call attention to this
fact and to correct the false impressions which are prevalent. This assertion
is substantiated by experience and by the carefully prepared Michigan registra-
tion reports.

RACE DECLINE. i8i

family as all seem to assume ? Because the years of marriage are less ?
This is a hasty assumption as will ajipear when we recall that all
children are born on an average within 7V2 years after marriage, some
authorities even say within 5 years. Accepting the longer term of 7y^
years, this leaves the alumnus who marries 7 years after graduating
in his thirtieth year, at SYi'o, and his wife, who marries at the latest
at 26.4, in her thirty-four year. The end of the average child-bearing
period falls accordingly for both the late marrying graduate and his
spouse, still in the most vigorous period of life, 37^ for the educated
male, 34 for the female, not so late as to interfere in any way with the
family prospects. This is true for the college graduate ; for the entire
highly educated portion of our population I have no data and make
no assertions. No figures are available for a group such as this, and
this must be noted as the family size of this class has of late been
considered. It is too comprehensive a term, and has been somewhat
indiscriminately used in recent discussions of race decline; even far-
reaching conclusions bearing upon this large group of the highly edu-
cated have been based upon data derived from the graduates of a single
institution. Not even from those of several institutions if under
similar conditions or even if of the same sex are we warranted in judg-
ing of the entire highly educated part of our population. The female
college graduate must be classed among the highly educated, and the
number of children in her family is below that of the native popu-
lation; it is lower than that of any other group, whilst that of the
average male graduate family is higher. Then again the college alum-
nus can not without further investigation be accepted as a standard,
for even the highly educated male, as appears from the facts presented
by Professor Dexter in his recent study of ' High Grade Men : in College
and Out.' He shows that hardly more than one third, 37 per cent, of
the 8,603 supposedly successful and prominent Americans mentioned
in 'Who's Who' are college graduates, and only 2.2 per cent, of all now
living alumni are included among these 8,000 supposedly higher type
and most representative of living Americans. Eegardless of this
the variation in marriage and birth rate of the different elements of this
group of the highly educated make it impossible to consider them
jointly.

These facts, together with the limited data on hand, make it im-
possible as yet to reach conclusions of any kind as to the part taken
by the highly educated portion of our population as a class in race
reproduction; it is the male college graduate whom we here consider
and compare, not with the male of the entire population, but with the
native-born American only. I emphasize this as the two groups, the
native- and foreign-born of our citizens differ widely as to the part they

1 82 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

play in reproduction of race. If the term highly educated is here
used it refers solely to the college graduate.

A high marriage rate and an average of 2.1 surviving children to
the graduate family as compared to 1.9 for the native-born male
throughout the state tells us plainly that, contrary to all theory and
supposition, higher education does not mean diminished reproduction.
It is the American nationality that stands for lessened marriage and
low birth rate, in striking contrast to the foreign -born of our citizens
with families of from 3 to 5 children, 4.5 in Massachusetts with 3
surviving, and this is true for all classes of foreign-born.

Graduates as a group make an exceptionally good showing, and
college alumni are to be congratulated upon the standard maintained;
the net fecundity is greater, family size is larger than that of the
general native population and marriage rate of some groups is higher,
so that reproduction is more nearly approximated by the college grad-
uate family. Contrary to European statistics for professional men,
who, as already stated, are assumed to have a marriage rate two thirds
less than the average male of the population, class reproduction for
college graduates is higher than it is for the population at large.

The average marriage rate for 1,614 graduates of the classes 1870-
77 from Yale, Princeton, Brown and Bowdoin is 79,4 per cent, and for
a corresponding group of Harvard graduates, 1,401 of the classes
1872-80, it is 71.4 per cent., a rate so much lower than that for
graduates at the other institutions named that we must differentiate.
The average of these 3,015 alumni of both groups is 75.7 per cent.

The marriage rate of Harvard graduates varies so much from that
of the alumni of all other institutions so far investigated that the
Cambridge graduate can evidently not serve in this respect as an
index for family conditions among college men any more than he
can be looked upon as representative of that other element of the
highly educated portion of our population, the female college graduate
with a marriage rate of from 30 per cent, to 50 per cent, or, for still
another, the highly educated man who has never received an academic
degree and this, as has recently been shown, is a surprisingly large
number in this country. The general marriage average of 79.4 per
cent, for a group of graduates from four colleges and 71.4 per cent, for
Harvard alumni must be compared with 79.02 per cent, for the native
male population of the age group 40-49 years, and is greatly to the
credit of college men. By reason of this high marriage rate the
number of surviving children for 100 graduate members of a group
or class, married and unmarried, is larger than it is for the less
highly educated and in fact larger than it is for all other elements
of our native male population, even where the number of children

RACE DECLINE.

183

to the married couple is the same; to this the Harvard graduate
is an exception; with botli family size and marriage rate lower than
the graduate average and lower than that of the native-born
male of IMassachusetls (of a comparable age group — 40-49 years),
reproduction per class is naturally less. A Princeton class, if
we may take '76 as an example, more than reproduces itself: it
reproduces not alone the married couple, 2.7 surviving children to
each, but more than reproduces the entire class, 3.3 to each class
member, married and unmarried (2.3-net class reproduction). Brown
just reproduces itself with 2.26 living children to the married gradu-
ates and precisely 2 to each member of the class.

All classes later than 1870 of other institutions so far considered
fail to reproduce themselves, most so Harvard alumni. Yale graduates
very nearly reproduce themselves with 2.28 surviving children to the
married graduate and a net class reproduction of 1.78 {i. e., for each
member of the class). Next comes the single Yale class of '73 with
a class reproduction of 1.57 children. The two Bowdoin classes 1875
and '77 are represented by 1.5 and the 9 Harvard classes 1872-80 by

1.3 children for each graduate, married and unmarried (1872-77 by

1.4 and 1878-80 by 1.19 respectively).

A great decrease has indeed taken place in the birth rate of
graduate families, but not quite to the same extent as among other
groups of the same social grade : the wealthy or leisure class, the well-
to-do invariably do less towards reproducing themselves than does the
population at large; the college graduate, the highly educated male,
does more.

Table IV.
Reproduction of Class and Race.

Year of
Graduating.

Number
in Class.

Per Cent.
Married.

Number of Surviving Children.

g.2
1^

College.

To Each

Married

Graduate.

To Each Mem-
ber of Class
Married and
Single.

To Class
of 200.

1

1

10

Princeton ...

Brown

Yale

'76

'72

'60-'79

'79

'73

'75 and '77

'72-'80

118
53

1,105
118
113
107

1,401

80.4
88.7
78.4
81.3
82.3
86.9
71.4

2.7
2.26

2.28
2.05
1.98
1.88
1.86

2.1

2.3

2.—
1.79
1.66
1.57
1.56
1.34

460
400
358

1
1

Yale

Yale

332
314

2
9

Bowdoin

Harvard ....

312
268

25

'70-'80

3,015

75.7

1.49

350

Yale, Princeton, Brown and Bowdoin.

6

Y. P. Br. Bo.

'6Q-'80

1,614

79.4

2.28

1.81

362

9

Harvard

'72-'80

1,401

71.4

1.86

1.34

268

Tliis table is arranged according to rate of reproduction.

t84 popular science MONTHLY.

In view of the data here presented the college graduate does more
towards reproducing the population than does the native American of
other classes — this is true even of Bowdoin alumni but not of those
of Harvard with a lower marriage rate.

I am well aware that this statement must cause surprise. It is
contrary to all tradition, but in harmony with the conditions known
to exist in all countries of the old world where recent statistical study
has enabled us to make such comparisons.

Resume. — The data now available indicate that the highly edu-
cated male element does more towards reproducing itself than any
other large grouj) of our native population. The marriage rate is the
same, and the number of surviving children to the family is greater
than it is for the native population at large, so that we can no longer
accuse the college graduate or, if I may say, 'the highly educated
male portion of our pojDulation, ' of having an exceptionally small
family, and of doing less than other groups towards reproducing the
population; nor must we lay the blame for the low fecundity of the
native American family on higher education. Shortening the term
of college study will effect no change. Wealth, luxury and social
ambition are cause of the diminishing size of the family and of race
decline. The factors are the same which have been active in earlier
civilizations as they are to-day : increasing wealth and the introduction
of foreign manners are pointed out as causing in ancient Eome the
lessening fertility among the better classes which preceded political
disruption. Cause and effect were the same and even the methods
employed to thwart the tendencies of nature were the same: "Few
children are born in the gilded bed, to the wealthy dame, so many
artifices has she, and so many drugs, to render women sterile and
destroy life within the womb" (Juvenal Sat. VI., 11. 594).

The assumption of a false social position, the struggle for the
attainment of luxury even more than its possession, leads to the limita-
tion of the family, by 'the increased amount of restraint exercised,' as
one author delicately expresses it, but to speak without circumlocution,
by often ruinous measures for the prevention of conception, and by
criminal means for the destruction of the product of such conception
if it does accidentally occur. Such, in plain words, are the causes
which lead to tlie small size of the American familv of all classes.

DISCUSSION AND CORRESPONDENCE.

185

DISCUSSION AND CORRESPONDENCE.

MAGAZINE SCIENCE.
To the Editor: In the course of the
past year or two I have read quite a
number of articles on scientific sub-
jects in diflferent magazines by Carl
Snyder. They seem very interesting,
and I should like to know whether they
are quite reliable. — B. F. L.

[This question, which in one form or
another has been asked a number of
times, must be answered in the nega-
tive. Mr. Snyder appears not to have
had a scientific training; his articles
are sensational and inaccurate. This
somewhat sweeping condemnation is
easily justified. Let us consider the
last article by Mr. Snyder that has
come to our attention — ' The Mechan-
ism of the Brain ' in Harper's Monthly
for May. It is a potpourri of truth,
half-trutli and falsehood concerning
chemistry, physics, anatomy, physiol-
ogy and psychology. Thus we are told:

Or, supposing that this especial colloid can-
not be fixed upon as the seat of the highest
powers of man, they might be thrown upon
that extraordinary and rather hypothetical
ether, of which physicists talk so much and
know 90 little.

Within half a column Mr. Snyder
passes easily from the ether to elec-
tricity :

As there is no nerve action without the evi-
dent presence ot electricity, it seems probable
that nerve action, thought, and consciousness,
and what in our present ignorance we call
electricity, are one and the same

Physicists may not know all that they
would like to know about the ether
and electricity, but they know enough
not to write nonsense about them.

As an example of misstatement of
fact the following may be quoted:

The size of the brains of comparatively fe^^'
distinguished men is known, and most pub-
lished figures are worthless. The list given
below is authoritative, and speaks for itself.
. . . It will be seen that Byron, who was com-
monly supposed to have a small head, is highest
in the list ; and whatever may be thought of his
poetry, certainly he was a man of rather medi-
ocre intell ectual attainmen ts, as poets generally
are.

The question of the intellectual attain-
ments of poets may be left to the
editor of Harper's Monthly; we are
able to state definitely that the weight
of Byron's brain is unknown, as is
also true in the case of Turgenieff,
whose brain is given as the second
largest on Mr. Snyder's ' authorita-
tive ' list. In the same paragraph Mr.
Snyder says:

Pirections for measuring the size of your own
brain, if you are interested, will be found in
any good encyclopedia, or would doubtless be
supplied by the distinguished Professor Wilder
of Cornell.

Apart from such indications as are
given by the size of the hat, the only
feasible directions would be for the
interested person to commit suicide,
bequeathing his brain to Professor
Wilder's collection.

It may seem unkind thus to criti-
cize Mr. Snyder's articles, but it is
unfair to the public for magazines,
such as Harper's, Scribner's, The Cen-
tury and McClure's, not to separate
their science from their fiction. — Edi-
tor.]

i86

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

SCIENTIFIC LITEEATUEE.

HERMANN VON HELMHOLTZ. j terests of von Helmholtz were so far-

Hermann von Helmholtz, one of reaching, his activities so multifarious

the great names in the history of sci- ' and his intellect so profound that the

ence, is the subject of a sympathetic ; preparation of an adequate memoir

IlKllMANN VON UEL.MHOLTZ.

From a drawing by Lenbach (1894).

and dignified biography prepared by \ was a task of unusual diniculty. It
Dr. Leo Koenigsberger and published j is fortunate that it has been so ade-
in three volumes by Vieweg. The in- | quately performed. Hermann Ludwig

SCIENTIFIC LITERATURE.

187

Ferdinand von TTelniholtz was the son
of a gjnnnasiuni teacher, his mother,
Caroline Penne, being a descendant of
William Penn. He was born at Pots-
dam on August 31, 1821, and died in
Berlin on September 8, 1894. After a
childhood of ill health, he studied medi-
cine and was for four years a military
surgeon; for a year he was teacher in
the Berlin Academy of Fine Arts, and
afterwards professor of physiology at
Konigsberg from 1849 to 1855. He
was professor at Bonn for three years
and was then professor of physiology
at Heidelberg from 1858 to 1871, when
he was transferred to Berlin as pro-
fessor of physics. In 1888 he was
made president of the Reichsanstalt,
organized under his direction. All
possible academic and imperial honors
were of course conferred on him.

Helmholtz married Olga von Velten
in 1849. She died after ten years, and
in 1861 he married Anna von Muhl, who
died in 1899. One of his sons died in
1889, the other in 1901. His surviving
daughter is the wife of Wilhelm von

Sienians. Holmholtz traveled more than
is the usual habit of the German pro-
fessor. His visit to America in 1893
will be remembered by many. He seems
to have had misgivings in regard to a
civilization which has electric lights,
while the elements of the art of cook-
ery are ' ausserst Stiimperhaft,' and
bandits and reporters go at large.

A list of Helmholtz's contributions
to science would fill many pages. The
essay on the conservation of energy
was printed in 1847. Researches of
great range and importance, including
the invention of the ophthalmoscope,
led to his two epoch-making books on
physiological psychology — ' Tonempfind-
ungen ' (1862) and ' Physiologische
Optik' (1867). Helmholtz always con-
tinued his work in physiological psy-
chology, but his transfer from a chair
of physiology to one of physics repre-
sented a change in his main interests.
His great contributions to mathe-
matical physics, especially electrody-
namics, are of almost unparalleled im-
portance.

i88

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

THE PEOGEESS OF SCIENCE.

JOSIAH WILLARD GIBBS.
It is well known that the past
quarter of a century has been one of
extraordinary advances in the sciences

have contributed to those advances.
Maxwell, Kirchhoff, Hertz, Helmholtz,
Fitzgerald, Rowland, Stokes, and now
Gibbs, have all fallen since 1879. Onlv

J. WiLLAED GIBBS.

of heat, light, electricity and magnet- I two of tiicse leader.s, Helmholtz and
ism. It is less well known, however, Stokes, passed the proverbial three
that this period has been one of ex- score and ten years; Kirchhoff and
traordinary losses by death of the Gibbs attained only a little more than
eminent mathematical physicists who I sixty years; while the others, as if to

THE PnOGRESS OF SCIENCE.

189

indicate tliat it is the pace of hard
tliinking that kills, all fell at tlie age
of fifty or less.

Josiali Willard (itibbs was born at
New Haven, Connecticut, February 11,
1839, and he died at the same place
April 28, 1903. He was the son of
Josiah Willard Gibbs, professor of
sacred literal ire in Yale College from
1822 to 18G1, and Mary Anna (Van
Cleve) Gibbs. His preliminary acad-
emic studies were pursued at the Hop-
kins Grammar School, New Haven,
and he entered Yale College, at the
early age of fifteen years, in 1854.
As an undergraduate he easily won
distinction, and he took prizes for
meritorious work in Latin and in
matliematics.

After graduation from Yale College,
in 1858, ne spent five years there as a
student of the mathematico-physical
sciences especially. From 1803 to 186G
he served as a tutor at Yale. The next
three years he spent in Europe, study-
ing at the universities of Paris, Berlin
and Heidelberg. In 1871 he was elected
to the professorship of mathenj,atical
physics at Yale, and he held this chair
up to the time of his death.

Early in his scientific career Pro-
fessor Gibbs ajjpears to have concen-
trated attention on the field of thermo-
dynamics, and during the decade fol-
lowing his appointment to a professor-
ship he produced a series of papers
which placed him in the front rank of
workers in this field. Indeed, the most
important of these papers, ' On the
Equilibrium of Heterogeneous Sub-
stances,' is now regarded as marking
an epoch in the history of thermo-
dynamics and as furnishing the foun-
dation for the new science of physical
chemistry. The comprehensive knowl-
edge of mechanical pnilosophy which
made him a master in thermodynamics,
made him also an authority in electro-
magnetic science, and during the decade
from 1880 to 1890 he published several
noteworthy papers on the electromag-
netic theory of light anti kindred topics.

He was likewise a profound student
of pure mathematics. ITis vice-presi-
dential address, ' On Multiple Algebra,'
read before the section of astronomy
and mathematics of the American As-
sociation for the Advancement of Sci-
ence in 188G, is an original contribu-
tion of great merit in a domain already
well worked by Mobius, Hamilton,
Grassmann, Peirce, Tait and others.
His more recent contributions to sci-
ence are found in two volumes of the
Yale Bicentenial Publications, namely,
' Vector Analysis,' edited by a pupil,
Dr. E. B. Wilson, and ' Elementary
Principles of Statistical Mechanics.'
The unpretentious title of the latter
work, though strikingly characteristic
of the author, is too modest; for it
appears destined to take rank among
the small number of fundamental con-
tributions to the science of mechanics.
Professor Gibbs was the recipient of
many honors from scientific societies
at home and abroad. He knew well
how to economize his time, however;
and although one of the most genial
and kindly of men, he mingled spar-
ingly with the world, and was thus,
alas! too little known and appreciated,
especially by the younger generation
of his fellow-countrymen interested in
science.

THE SCIENTIFIC PROGRAM OF

THE LOUISIANA PURCHASE

EXPOSITION.

The dedication of the Louisiana
Purchase Exposition on April 30 dem-
onstrated to a hundred thousand
visitors that the preparations are un-
usually far forward. Many of the
buildings are practically ready, and the
fencing, grading, road-making and the
like of the 1,200 acres are well ad-
vanced. Indeed, the exposition bids
fair to be bigger and more successful
than might have been anticipated.
Thanks to hitting upon the psycholog-
ical moment in international relations
and of domestic liberality, money is
being spent by the tens of millions.

ipo

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

and a world somewhat weary of world
fairs is arousing itself to an active in-
terest in the St. Louis Exposition. Of
most immediate scientific concern is
the Congress of Arts and Sciences,
described by Professor Hugo Miinster-
berg, of Harvard University, in the
Atlantic Monthly for May. j

some protest against the scheme from
men of science, as it is difficult to
draw the line between demonstrating
the unity of knowledge and illustrating
the tenets of Professor Mlinsterberg's
system of philosophy. The catalogue
of Harvard University or the names of
our national scientific societies would

Educational Building, Louisiana Purchase Exposition.

'^*.;

^^^

1^ ^^- im_^3i^'^^^''^,:^^ «

University Hall, Washington University, Executive Building of
THE Louisiana Purchase Exposition.

Professor Miinsterberg tells us that
he proposed to substitute for the con-
geries of international congresses which
have formed a part of recent world
fairs a single congress demonstrating
the unity of hinnan knowledge, and
that his plan has been adopted in all
its details. There will doubtless be

give a more objective classification of
the sciences.

Professor Miinsterberg divides the
sciences into seven groups, of which
four are theoretical and three practical.
The theoretical sciences are normative
(philosopliy and mathematics), histor-
ical ( which do not deal with the

THE PEOGRESS OF SCIENCE.

191

description and explanation of phe-
nomena), physical and mental. The
practical sciences are utilitarian, regu-
lative and cultural. These seven divi-
sions are subdivided into twenty-five
departments and one hundred and thirty
sections. The congress is to open on
Monday, September 19, when the three
members of the organizing committee
will make introductory addresses — Pro-
fessor Newcomb on scientific work,
Professor Miinsterberg on the unity of
theoretical knowledge and Professor
Small on the unity of practical knowl-
edge. In the afternoon there are to
be addresses in each of the seven divi-
sions on its fundamental conceptions.
On the next day there will be two ad-
dresses in each of the twenty-five de-
partments, one on its development
during the last hundred years^ the
other on its methods. On the follow-
ing four days the seventy-one theoret-
ical and the fifty-nine practical sec-
tions will each be addressed by two
speakers, one treating the relation ot
the section to other sciences and the
other the problems of to-day. The ad-
dresses before the divisions and de-
partments are to be made by Ameri-
cans, and at least one of those before
each of the one hundred and thirty
sections by foreigners. The author-
ities of the exposition have made a
liberal appropriation — $200,000 it is
said — toward the expenses of the con-
gress. The speakers will be paid, and
their addresses will be published.

CONGRESSES OF PHYSICIANS.

The Fourteenth International Con-
gress of Medicine met at Madrid during
the last week of April ; the American
Medical Association held its fifty-
fourth annual meeting at New Orleans
in the first week of May, and the Con-
gress of Physicians and Surgeons held
its sixth triennial session at Washing-
ton during the following week. The
multiplicity of sections, societies^ ad-
dresses and papers is bewildering and

beyond the possibility of brief descrip-
tion.

At Madrid there were some 5,000
delegates, those from foreign nations
being proportioned as follows : Ger-
many and Austria, 1,000; France, 825;
Great Britain, 235; Russia, 290; Italy,
335; other European countries, 327;
United States, 193; South America,
13G. The prize for original research,
established by the city of Moscow, in
honor of the meeting of the congress in
that city in 1897, was awarded to Pro-
fessor Metchnikofl", and that of Paris
to Professor Grassi. The next congress
will be at Lisbon in 1906. No dis-
coveries of an epoch-making character
were presented to the congress, though
the programs contained the titles of
many papers of importance.

The meeting of the American Medi-
cal Association was attended by about
2,000 members. Dr. Frank Billings in
his presidential address reviewed the
present condition of medical education
in the United States. There are in the
country 156 medical schools which last
year graduated 5,000 physicians. To
maintain the present ratio of one phy-
sician to 600 of the population, which
in the cities, at least, is rather an over-
supply, only 3,000 recruits are needed
annually. Dr. Billings held that the
overcrowding of the medical profession
must be controlled by higher standards
of education. The American Medical
Association has recently organi5;ed a
house of delegates for the discussion
of the interests of the medical profes-
sion, and this year a code of ethics
was adopted. According to the reports
presented, the association is in a
flourishing condition. Its membersliip
is over 12,000, having nearly doubled
within five years. In this period its
funds have increased fourfold, the net
increase last year having been $40,000.
The prosperity of the association is
largely due to its weekly journal, which
has a circulation of over 25,000.

The Congress of American Physi-
cians and Surgeons, which meets once

192

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

in three years at Washington, is an
affiliation of national medical societies
devoted chiefly to different depart-
ments, but including the Association
of American Physicians, which is a
small and select body of practitioners.
These societies, sixteen in number, had
special programs, holding their sessions
in the mornings, while the congress met
as a whole in the afternoons and even-
ings. The president. Dr. W. W. Keen,
of Philadelphia, chose as the subject
of his address ' The Duties and Re-
sponsibilities of Trustees of Medical
Institutions.' The subjects for special
discussion were ' The Pancreas and
Pancreatic Diseases ' and ' The Medical
and Surgical Aspects of the Diseases
of the Gall-bladder and Bile Ducts.'

SCIE^'TIFIG ITEMS.

Paul Belloki Du Chaillu, the ex-
plorer and author, died at St. Peters-
burg on April 29. He was born in
New Orleans in 1838, and in 1855 he
went from New York to the west coast
of Africa, where he made the well-
known expedition described in his ' Ex-
plorations and Adventures in Equa-
torial Africa.'

At the recent meeting of the Na-
tional Academy of Sciences new mem-
bers were elected as follows : T. C.
Chamberlin, professor of geology, Uni-
versity ol Chicago; William James,
professor of philosophy, Harvard Uni-
versity; E. L. Mark, professor of an-
atomy, Harvard University; Arthur G.
Webster, professor of physics, Clark
University; Horace L. Wells, professor
of analytical chemistry anu metallurgy,
Yale University.

The board of regents of the Univer-
sity of Wisconsin on April 21 elected
Dr. Charles R. Van Hise, professor of
geology, to the presidency of that in-
stitution.— The Walker Grand Prize,
which is bestowed once in five years
by the Boston Society of Natural His-
tory, has just been awarded to J. A.
Allen of the American Museum of
Natural History ' for his able and long
continued contributions to American
ornithology and mammalogy. — Pro-
fessor Simon Newcomb, of Washington,
has been appointed a delegate from the
National Academy of Sciences to the
International Association of Acad-
emies, which meets in London this
coming June. Mr. S. F. Emmons and
Mr. Geo. F. Becker, of Washington,
and Professor C. R. Van Hise, of Madi-
son, Wis., have been appointed dele-
gates to the International Geological
Congress, which meets in Vienna in
August of this year.

Mr. Andrew Carnegie has given
$1,000,000 for a building for the en-
gineering societies. It is to be situated
in New York City, and will provide an
auditorium, a library and headquarters
for five engineering societies, namely,
the American Society of Civil Engin-
eers, the American Society of Mechan-
ical Engineers, the American Society of
Electrical Engineers, the American In-
stitute of Mining Engineers and the
Engineers Ckib. Mr. Carnegie has also
given $1,500,000 for the erection of a
court house and library for the per-
manent court of arbitration at The
Hague and $600,000 to the endowment
fund of the Tuskegee Normal and In-
dustrial Institute.'

«^^'

'>!

f:

THE

POPULAR SCIENCE

MONTHLY.

JULY, 1903.

HEETZIAN WAVE WIEELESS TELEGRAPHY. II.

By Dr. J. A. FLEMING, F.R.S.,

PROFESSOR OF ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING, UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON.

'\ XTE have next to consider the appliances for creating the neces-
' » sary charging electromotive force, and for storing and releas-
ing this charge at pleasure, so as to generate the required electrical
oscillations in the aerial.

It is essential that this generator should be able to create not only
large potential difference, but also a certain minimum electric current.
Accordingly, we - are limited at the present moment to one of two
appliances, viz., the induction coil or the alternating current trans-
former.

It will not be necessary to enter into an explanation of the action of
the induction coil. The coil generally employed for wireless telegraphy
is technically known as a ten-inch coil, i. e., a coil which is capable of
giving a ten-inch spark between pointed conductors in air at ordinary
pressure. The construction of a large coil of this description is a matter
requiring great technical skill, and is not to be attempted without con-
siderable previous experience in the manufacture of smaller coils. The
secondary circuit of a ten-inch coil is formed of double silk-covered
copper wire, generally speaking the gauge called No. 36, or else Ko..
34 S.W.G. is used, and a length of ten to seventeen miles of wire is
employed on the secondary circuit, according to the gauge of wire
selected. For the precautions necessary in constructing the secondary
coil, practical manuals must be consulted.*

* Instruction for the manufacture of large induction coils may be obtained
from a ' Treatise on the Construction of Large Induction Coils,' by A. T.
Hare. (Methuen & Co., London.)

VOL. LXTTT. — 13.

194 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Very great care is required in the insulation of the secondary
circuit of an induction coil to be used in Hertzian wave telegraphy, be-
cause the secondary circuit is then subjected to impulsive electro-
motive forces lasting for a short time, having a much higher electro-
motive force than that which the coil itself normally produces.

The primary circuit of a ten-inch coil generally consists of a length
of 300 or 400 feet of thick insulated copper wire. In such a coil the
secondary circuit would require about ten miles of No. 34 H.C. copper
wire, making 50,000 turns round the core. It would have a resistance
at ordinary temperatures of 6,600 ohms, and an inductance of 460
henrys. The primary circuit, if formed of 360 turns of No. 12 H.C.
copper wire, would have a resistance of 0.36 of an ohm, and an induct-
ance of 0.02 of a henry.

An important matter in connection with an induction coil to be
used for wireless telegraphy is the resistance of the secondary circuit.
The purpose for which we employ the coil is to charge a condenser of
some kind. If a constant electromotive force (V) is applied to the
terminals of a condenser having a capacity C, then the difference of
potential (v) of the terminals of the condenser at any time that the
contact is made is given by the expression :

i; = F(l— 6~"^)

In the above equation, the letter e stands for the number 2.71828,
the base of the Napierian logarithms, and R is the resistance in series
with the condenser, of which the capacity is C, to which the electro-
motive force is applied. This equation can easily be deduced from
first principles,* and it shows that the potential difference v of the
terminals of the condenser does not instantly attain a value equal to
the impressed electromotive force Vj but rises up gradually. Thus, for
instance, suppose that a condenser of one microfarad is being charged
through a resistance of one megohm by an impressed voltage of 100
volts, the equation shows that at the end of the first second after con-
tact, the terminal potential difference of the condenser will be only
63 volts, at the end of the second second, 86 volts, and so on.

Since c~iois an exceedingly small number, it follows that in ten
seconds the condenser would be practically charged with a voltage equal
to 100 volts. The product CR in the above equation is called the

Also see Vol. II. of ' The Alternate Current Transformer/ by J. A.
Fleming, Chap. I. (The Electrician Publishing Co., 1, Salisbury Court, Fleet
St., London, E. C.)

* See ' The Alternate Current Transformer,' by J. A. Fleming, Vol. I.,
page 184.

HERTZIAN ^yAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 195

iime-constant of the condenser, and we may say that the condenser is
practically charged after an interval of time equal to ten times the
time-constant, counting from the moment of first contact between the
condenser and the source of constant voltage. The time-constant is to
be reckoned as the product of the capacity (C) in microfarads, by the
resistance of the charging circuit {R) in megohms. To take another
illustration. Supposing we are charging a condenser having a capacity
of one hundredth of a microfarad, through a resistance of ten thousand
ohms. Since ten thousand ohms is equal to one hundredth of a
megohm, the time-constant would be equal to one ten-thousandth of a
second, and ten times this time-constant would be equal to a thou-
sandth of a second. Hence in order to charge the above capacity
through the above resistance, it is necessary that the contact between
the source of voltage and the condenser should be maintained for at
least one thousandth part of a second.

In discussing the methods of interrupting the circuit, we shall re-
tarn to this matter, but, meanwhile, it may be said that in order to
secure a small time-constant for the charging circuit, it is desirable that
the secondary circuit of the induction coil should have as low a re-
sistance as possible. This, of course, involves winding the secondary^
circuit with a rather thick wire. If, however, we employ a wire larger
in size than No. 34, or at the most No. 32, the bulk and the cost of the
induction coil began to rise very rapidly. Hence, as in all other de-
partments of electrical construction, the details of the design are more
or less a matter of compromise. Generally speaking, however, it may
be said that the larger the capacity which is to be charged, the lower
should be the resistance of the secondary circuit of the induction coil.

In the practical construction of induction coils for wireless teleg-
raphy, manufacturers have departed from the stock designs. We are
all familiar vdth the appearance of the instrument maker's induction
coil; its polished mahogany base, its lacquered brass fittings, and its
secondary bobbin constructed of and. covered with ebonite. But such
a coil, although it may look very pretty on the lecture table, is yet very
unsuited to positions in which it may be used in connection with
Hertzian wave telegraphy.

Three important adjuncts of the induction coil are the primary
condenser, the interrupter and the primary key. The interrupter is
the arrangement for intermitting the primary current. We have in
some way or other to rapidly interrupt the primary current, and the
torrent of sparks that then appears between the secondary terminals
of the coil is due to the electromotive force set up in the secondary cir-
cuit at each break or interruption of the primary circuit. We may
divide interrupters into five classes.

196 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

We have first the well known hammer interrupter which continental
writers generally attribute to Neef or Wagner.* In this interrupter,
the magnetization of the iron core of the coil is caused to attract a soft-
iron block fixed at the top of a brass spring, and by so doing to inter-
rupt the primary circuit between two platinum contacts. Mr. Apps, of
London, added an arrangement for pressing back the spring against
the back contact, and the form of hammer that is now generally em-
ployed is therefore called an Apps break.

As the ten-inch coil takes a primary current of ten amperes at six-
teen volts when in operation, it requires very substantial platinum con-
tacts to withstand the interruption of this current continuously without
damage. The small platinum contacts that are generally put on these
coils by instrument makers are very soon worn out in practical wireless
telegraph work. If a hammer break is used at all, it is essential to
make the contacts of very stout pieces of platinum, and from time to
time, as they get burnt away or roughened, they must be smoothed up
with a fine file. It does not require much skill to keep the hammer
contacts in good order, and prevent them from sticking together and
becoming damaged by the break spark.

By regulating the pressure of the spring against the back contact,
by means of an adjusting screw, the rate at which the break vibrates
can be regulated, but as a rule it is not possible, with a hammer
break, to obtain more than about 800 interruptions per minute, or say
twelve a second. The hammer break is usually operated by the mag-
netism of the iron core of the coil, but for some reasons it is better
to separate the break from the coil altogether, and to work it by an
independent electromagnet, which, however, may be excited by a cur-
rent from the same battery supplying the induction coil. For coils
up to the ten-inch size the hammer break can be used when very
rapid interruptions are not required. It is not in general practicable
to work coils larger than the ten-inch size with a platinum contact
hammer break, as such a butt contact becomes overheated and sticks
if more than ten amperes is passed through it. In the case of larger
coils, we have to employ some form of interrupter in which mercury or
a conducting liquid forms one of the contact surfaces.

The next class of interrupter is the vibrating or hand-worked mer-
cury l)reak, in which a platinum or steel pin is made to vibrate in and
out of mercury. This movement may be effected by the attraction of
an iron armature by an electromagnet, or by the varying magnetism of
the core of the coil, or it may be effected more slowly by hand.

* Du Moncel states that MacGauley of Dublin independently invented the
form of hammer break as now used.

See ' The Alternate Current Transformer,' Vol. II., Chap. I., J. A. Fleming.

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 197

The mercury surface must be covered with water, alcohol, paraffin
or creosote oil to prevent oxidation and to extinguish the break spark.
The interruption of the primary current obtained by the mercury break
is more sudden than that obtained by the platinum contact in air, in
consequence of the more rapid extinction of the spark ; hence the sparks
obtained from coils fitted with mercury interrupters are generally
from twenty to thirty per cent, longer than those obtained from the
same coil under the same conditions, with platinum contact inter-
rupters. The mercury breaks will not, however, work well unless
cleaned at regular intervals by emptying off the oil and rinsing well
with clean water, and hence they require rather more attention than
platinum interrupters. It is not generally possible to obtain so many
interruptions per minute with the simple vibrating mercury inter-
rupter as with the ordinary hammer interrupter. The mercury in-
terrupter has, however, the advantage that the contact time during
which the circuit is kept closed may be made longer than is the case
with the hammer break. Also, if fresh water is allowed to flow con-
tinuously over the mercury surface, it can be kept clean, and the
break will then operate for considerable periods of time without atten-
tion. The mercury interrupter may be worked by a separate electro-
magnet or by the magnetism of the core of the induction coil.

The third class of interrupter may be called the motor interrupter,
of which a large number have been invented in recent years. In this
interrupter some form of a continuously rotating electromotor is em-
ployed to make and break a mercury or other liquid contact. In one
simple form, the motor shaft carries an eccentric, which simply dips
a platinum point into mercury, or else a platinum horseshoe into two
mercury surfaces, making in this manner an interruption of the pri-
mary circuit at one or two places. As a small motor can easily be run
at twelve hundred revolutions per minute, or twenty per second, it is
possible to secure easily in this manner a uniform rate of interruption
of the primary current, at the rate of about twenty per second. If, how-
ever, much higher speeds are employed, then the time of contact be-
comes abbreviated, and the ability of the coil to charge a capacity is
diminished.

Professor J. Trowbridge has described an effective form of motor
break for large coils, in which the interruption is caused by withdraw-
ing a stout platinum wire from a dilute solution of sulphuric acid, and
by this means he increased the spark given by a coil provided with
hammer break and condenser from fifteen inches to thirty inches,
when using the liquid break and no condenser.*

* See Professor J. Trowbridge, ' On the Induction Coil,' Phil. Mag., April,
1902. Vol. III., Series 6, p. 393.

198 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

A good form of motor-interrupter, due to Dr. Mackenzie Davidson,
consists of a slate disc bearing pin contacts fixed on the prolonged steel
axle of a motor placed in an inclined position; the disc and the lower
part of the axle lie in a vessel filled one third with mercury, and two
thirds with paraffin oil. The circuit is made and broken by the revo-
lution of the disc causing the pins to enter and leave the mercury.
The speed of the motor can be regulated by a small resistance, and can
be adapted to the electromotive force used in the primary circuit.
When the motor is running slowly, the interrupter can be used with a
low electromotive force, that is to say, something between twelve and
twenty volts, but with a higher speed a large electromotive force can
be used without danger of overheating the primary coil, and with an
electromotive force of about fifty volts, the interruptions may be so
rapid that an unbroken arc of flame, resembling an alternating cur-
rent arc, springs between the secondary terminals of the coil.

Mr, Tesla has devised numerous forms of rotating mercury break.
In one, a star-shaped metal disc revolves in a box so that its points dip
into mercury covered with oil, and make and break contact. In another
form, a jet of mercury plays against a similar shaped rotating wheel.
For details, the reader must consult the fuller descriptions in The
Electrical World of New York, Vol. XXXII., p. Ill, 1898 ; also Vol.
XXXIII., p. 247; or 8cie7ice Abstracts, Vol. II., pp. 46 and 457, 1898.

The fourth class of interrupter is called a turbine interrupter. In
this appliance, a jet of mercury is forced out of a small aperture by
means of a centrifugal pump, and is made to squirt against a metal
plate, and interrupted intermittently by a toothed wheel made of
insulating material rotated by the motor which drives the pump. The
current supplying the coil passes through or along this jet of mercury,
and is therefore rendered intermittent when the wheel revolves. In
the case of this interrupter, the duration of the contacts, as well as the
number of interruptions per second, is under control, and for this
reason better results are probably obtained with it than vrith any
other form of break.

A description of a turbine mercury break devised by M. Max Levy
was given in the Elehtrotechnische Zeitsclirift, Vol. XX., p. 717,
October 12, 1899 (see also Science Abstracts, Vol. III., p. 63, abstract
No. 165) as follows:

A toothed wheel made of insulating material carries from 6 to 24
teeth, and can be made to rotate from 300 to 1,000 times per minute,
the interruptions being thus regulated between 5 and 400 per second.
By raising or lowering the position of the jet of mercury and that of
the plate against which it strikes, the duration of the contact can be

HERTZIAN ^YAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 199

varied, so that it is possible to regulate this period without disturbing
the number of interruptions per second.

The sparks obtained from a coil worked with a turbine interrupter
have more quantity than the sparks obtained with any other interrupter
under similar conditions, and the coil can be worked with a far higher
voltage than is possible when using the hammer break. In this manner,
the appearance of the secondary sparks can be varied from the thin
snappy sparks given by the hammer break to the thick flame-like arc
sparks given by the electrolytic break. This break can be adapted
for any voltage from twelve to two hundred and fifty volts, and the
primary circuit can not be closed before the interrupter is acting.
The mercury in the break is generally covered with alcohol or paraffin
oil to reduce oxidation, and the appliance is nearly noiseless when in
operation. The mercury has to be cleaned at intervals, if the inter-
rupter is much used. If alcohol is used to cover the mercury, the
cleaning is very simple; the break requires only to be rinsed under a
water tap. When paraffin oil is used, the cleaning is generally effected
with the help of a few ounces of sulphuric acid in a very few minutes.
It is best, however, to clean the mercury continuously by allowing the
water to flow over it.

The motor driving the centrifugal pump and the fan can be wound
for any voltage, and it is best to have it so arranged that this motor
works on the same battery which supplies the primary circuit of the
coil, the two circuits working parallel together, A rheostat can be
added to the motor circuit to regulate the speed.

The turbine break driven by an independent motor, which is kept
always running, has another advantage over the hammer break in
practical wireless telegraphy, viz., that a useful secondary spark can be
secured with a shorter time of closure of the primary circuit, since there
is no inertia to overcome as in the case of the hammer break. This
latter form has only continued in use because of its simplicity and ease
of management by ordinary operators.

The mercury turbine interrupter has been extensively adopted both
in the German and British navies in connection with induction coils
used for wireless telegraphy.

Lastly we have the electrolytic interrupters, the first of which was
introduced by Dr. Wehnelt, of Charlottenburg, in the year 1899, and
modified by subsequent inventors. In its original form, a glass vessel
filled with dilute sulphuric acid (one of acid to five or else ten parts
of water) contains two electrodes of very different sizes; one is a large
lead electrode formed of a piece of sheet lead laid round the interior
of the vessel, and the other is a short piece of platinum wire projecting
from the end of a glass or porcelain tube. The smaller of these elec-

200 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

trodes is made the positive, and the large one the negative. If this
electrolytic cell is connected in series with the primary circuit of the
induction coil (the condenser being cut out) and supplied with an elec-
tromotive force from forty to eighty volts, an electrolytic action takes
place which interrupts the current periodically,* An enormous num-
ber of interruptions can, by suitable adjustment, be produced per
second, and the appearance of a discharge from the secondary terminals
of the coil, while using the Wehnelt break, more resembles an alternate
current arc than the usual disruptive spark.

At the time when the Wehnelt break was first introduced, great
interest was excited in it, and the technical journals in 1899 were full
of discussions as to the theory of its operation.! The general facts
concerning the Wehnelt break are that the electrolyte must be dilute
sulphuric acid in the proportion of one of acid to five or ten of water.
The large lead plate must be the cathode or negative pole, and the
anode or positive pole must be a platinum wire, about a millimeter
in diameter, and projecting one or two millimeters from the pointed
end of a porcelain, glass or other acid-proof insulating tube. The
aperture through which the platinum wire works must be so tight that
acid can not enter, yet it is desirable that the platinum wire should
be capable of being projected more or less from the aperture by means
of an adjusting screw. The glass vessel which contains these two
electrodes should be of considerable size, holding say a quart of fluid,
and it is better to include this vessel in a larger one in which water can
be placed to cool the electrolyte, as the latter gets very warm when the
break is used continuously. If such an electrolytic cell has a con-
tinuous electromotive force applied to it tending to force a current
through the electrolyte from the platinum wire to the lead plate, we
can distinguish three stages in its operation, which are determined by
the electromotive force and the inductance in the circuit. First, if the
electromotive force is below sixteen or twenty volts, then ordinary and
silent electrolysis of the liquid proceeds, bubbles of oxygen being
liberated from the platinum wire and hydrogen set free against the
lead plate. If the electromotive force is raised above twenty-five volts,
then if there is no inductance in the circuit, the continuous flow of cur-
rent proceeds, but if the circuit of the electrolyte possesses a certain

* See Dr. Wehnelt's article in the Elektrotechnische Zeitschrift, January,
1899.

fSee Electrician, Vol. XLII., 1899, pp. 721, 728, 731, 732 and 841. Com-
munications from Mr. Campbell Swinton, Professor S. P. Thompson, Dr.
Marehant, the author and others. Also page 864, same volume, for a leader
on the subject. Also page 870, letters by M. Blondel and Professor E. Thom-
son. See also Electrician, Vol. XLIII., p. 5, 1899, extracts from a paper by
P. Barry; Comptes Rendus, April, 1899. See also The Electrical Eevieic, Vol.
XLIV., p. 235, 1899, February 17.

HERTZIAN ^YAYE ^\ IRE LESS TELEGRAPHY. 201

minimum inductance, the character of the current flow changes, and
it becomes intermittent, and the cell acts as an interrupter, the current
being interrupted from 100 to 2,000 times per second, according to the
electromotive force, and the inductance of the circuit. Under these
conditions, the cell produces a rattling noise and a luminous glow
appears round the tip of the platinum wire. Thus, in a particular case,
with an inductance of 0.004 millihenry in the circuit of a Wehnelt
break, no interruption of the circuit took place, but with one millihenry
of inductance in the circuit, and with an electromotive force of 48
volts, the current became intermittent at the rate of 930 per second,
and by increasing the voltage to 120 volts, the intermittency rose to
1,850 a second.

The Wehnelt break acts best as an interrupter with an electromo-
tive force from 40 to 80 volts. At higher voltages a third stage sets
in: the luminous glow round the platinum wire disappears, and it
becomes surrounded with a layer of vapor, as observed by MM. Violle
and Chassagny; the interruptions of current cease, and the platinum
wire becomes red hot. If there is no inductance in the circuit, the
interrupter stage never sets in at all, but the first stage passes directly
into the third stage. In the first stage bubbles of oxygen rise steadily
from the platinum wire, and in the interrupted stage they rise at
longer intervals, but regularly. The cell will not, however, act as a
break at all unless some inductance exists in the circuit.

In applying the Wehnelt break to an induction coil, the condenser
is discarded and also the ordinary hammer break, and the Wehnelt
break is placed in circuit with the primary coil. In some cases, the
inductance of the primary coil alone is sufficient to start the break
in operation, but with voltages above 50 or 60, it is generally neces-
sary to supplement the inductance of the primary coil by another
inductive coil. The best form of Wehnelt break for operating induc-
tion coils is the one with multiple anodes (see Dr. Marchant, The
Electrician, Vol. XLII, page 841, 1899), and when it has to be used
for long periods, the kathode may advantageously be formed of a
spiral of lead pipe, through which cold water is made to circulate.

Another form of electrolytic break was introduced by Mr. Cald-
well. In this, a vessel containing dilute sulphuric acid is divided
into two parts. In the partition is a small hole, and in the two
compartments are electrodes of sheet lead. The small hole causes an
intermittency in the current which converts the arrangement into a
break. Mr. Campbell Swinton modified the above arrangement by
making the partition to consist of a sort of porcelain test-tube with
a hole in the bottom. This hole can be more or less plugged up by
a glass rod drawn out to a point, and this is used to more or less close
the hole. This porcelain vessel contains dilute acid and stands in a

202

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

larger vessel of acid, and lead electrodes are placed in both compart-
ments. The current and intermittency can be regulated by more or
less closing the aperture between the two regions.

When the Wehnelt break is applied to an ordinary ten-inch induc-
tion coil, and the inductance of the primary circuit and the electro-
motive force varied until the break interrupts the current regularly,
and with the frequency of some hundred a second, the character of
the secondary discharge is entirely different from its appearance with
the ordinary hammer break. The thin blue lightning-like sparks are
then replaced by a thicker mobile flaming discharge, which resembles
an alternating current arc, and when carefully examined or photo-
graphed is found to consist of a number of separate discharges super-
imposed upon one another in slightly different positions.

Many theories have been adopted as to the action of the break,
but time will not permit us to examine these. Professor S. P. Thomp-
son and Dr. Marchant have suggested a theory of resonance.* One
difficulty in explaining the action of the break is created by the fact
that it will not work if the platinum wire is made a kathode.

Although the Wehnelt break has some advantages in connection
with the use of the induction coil for Eontgen ray work, its utility
as far as regards Hertzian wave telegraphy is not by any means so
marked. It has already been explained that, in order to charge a
condenser of a given capacity at a constant voltage, the electromotive
force must be applied for a certain minimum time, which is deter-
mined by the value of the capacity and the resistance of the secondary
circuit of the induction coil. If the coil is a ten-inch coil and has a
secondary resistance of say 6,000 ohms, and if the capacity to be
charged has a value say of one thirtieth of a microfarad, then the
time-constant of the circuit is 1/5,000 of a second. Therefore, the
contact with the condenser must be maintained for at least 1/500
of a second, during the time that the secondary electromotive force
of the coil is at its maximum, so that the condenser may become
charged to a voltage which the coil is then capable of producing.

In the induction coil, the electromotive force generated in the
secondary coil at the 'break' of the primary current is higher than
that at the 'make,' and this electromotive force, other things being
equal, depends upon the rate at which the magnetism of the iron core
dies away, and its duration is shorter in proportion as the whole time
occupied in the disappearance of the magnetism is less. The Wehnelt
break does not increase the actual secondary electromotive force, nor
apparently its duration, but it greatly increases the number of times
per second this electromotive force makes its appearance. Hence this
break increases the current, but not the electromotive force in the

* See The Electrician, Vol. XLII., 1899.

HERTZIAN ^YAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 203

secondary coil. It therefore does not assist us in the direction re-
quired, viz., in prolonging the duration of the secondary electromotive
force to enable larger capacities to be charged.

The important point in connection with the working of a coil used
for charging a condenser is not the length of spark which the coil
can give alone, but the length of spark which can be obtained between
small balls attached to the secondary terminals, when these terminals
are also connected to the two surfaces of the condenser. Thus, a
coil may give a ten-inch spark if worked alone, but on a capacity of
one thirtieth of a microfarad it may not be able to give more than
a five-millimeter spark. Hence in describing the value of a coil for
wireless telegraph purposes, it is not the least use to state the length
of spark which the coil will give between the pointed conductors in
air, but we must know the spark length which it will give between
brass balls, say 1 cm. in diameter, connected to the secondary ter-
minals, when these terminals are also short-circuited by a stated
capacity, the spark not exceeding that length at which it becomes
non-oscillatory.

A good way of describing the value of an induction coil for wire-
less telegraph purposes is to state the length of oscillatory spark
which can be produced between balls one centimeter in diameter con-
nected to the secondary terminals, when these balls are short-circuited
by a condenser having a capacity say of one hundredth of a micro-
farad, and also one tenth of a microfarad.

If a hammer or motor interrupter is employed with the coil, then
a primary condenser must be connected across the points between which
the primary circuit is broken. This condenser generally consists of
sheets of tin-foil alternated with sheets of paraffin paper, and for a ten-
inch coil, may have a capacity of about 0.4 or 0.5 of a microfarad.*

Lord Eayleigh discovered that if the interruption of the primary
circuit is sufficiently sudden and complete, as when the primary circuit
is severed by a bullet from a gun, the primary condenser can be re-
moved and yet the sparks obtained from the secondary circuit are
actually longer than those obtained with the condenser and the ordi-
nary break, f

In the use, however, of the coil for Hertzian wave telegraj^hy,
with all interrupters except the Wehnelt break, a condenser of suitable
capacity must be joined across the break points.

Turning in the next place to the primary key, or signaling inter-
rupter, it is necessary to be able to control the torrent of sparks between

* For a discussion of the function of the condenser in an ordinary induc-
tion coil, see ' The Alternate Current Transformer,' by J. A. Fleming, Vol.
II., p. 51.

t See Lord Eayleigh, Phil. Mag., December, 1901.

2 04 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

the secondary terminals of the coil, and to cut them up into long and
short periods in accordance with the letters of the Morse alphabet.
This is done by means of the primary key. The primary key generally
consists of an ordinary massive single contact key with heavy platinum
contacts. As the current to be interrupted amounts to about ten
amperes and is flowing in a highly inductive circuit, the spark at break
is considerable. If the attempt is made to extinguish this spark by
making the contacts move rapidly away from one another through a
long distance, in other words, by using a key with a wide movement,
then the speed at which the signals can be sent is greatly diminished.
The speed of sending greatly depends upon the time taken to move
the key up and down between sending two dots, and hence a short
range key sends quicker than a long range key. If it is desired to
use a short range key, then some method must be employed to extin-
guish the spark at the contacts. This is done in one of three ways :
Either by using a high resistance coil to short-circuit these contacts, or
by a condenser, or by a magnetic blow-out, as in the case of an electric
tram-car circuit controller. Of these, the magnetic blow-out is probably
the best.

Mr. Marconi has designed a signaling key which performs the
function not only of interrupting the primary circuit, but at the same
time breaks connection between the receiving appliance and the aerial.

The author has designed for signaling purposes a multiple contact
key which interrupts the circuit simultaneously in ten or twelve differ-
ent places. The particular point about this break is the means which
are taken to make the twelve interruptions absolutely simultaneous.
If these interruptions are not simultaneous, the spark always takes
place at the contact which is broken first, but if the circuit is inter-
rupted in a dozen places quite simultaneously, then the spark is cut up
into a dozen different portions, and the spark at each contact is very
much diminished. By this break, voltages up to two thousand volts
may be quite easily dealt with.

Various forms of break have been devised in which the circuit is
broken under oil or insulating fluids, but, generally speaking, these
devices are not very portable, and a dry contact between platinum sur-
faces with appropriate means for cutting up the spark and blowing it
out so that the mechanical movement of the switch may be small is the
best thing to use.

The signaling key is really a very important part of the trans-
mitting arrangement, because whatever may be the improvements in
receiving instruments, it is not possible to receive faster than we can
send. A great many statements have appeared in the daily papers
as to the possibility of receiving hundreds of words a minute by

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 205

Hertzian wave telegraphy, but the fact remains that whatever may be
the sensibility of the receiving appliance, the rate at which telegraphy
of any kind can be conducted is essentially dependent upon the rate at
which the signals can be sent, and this in turn is largely dependent
upon the mechanical movement which the key has to make to interrupt
the primary circuit, and so interrupt the secondary discharge.

In order to make the separation of the contact points of the switch
as small as possible, and yet prevent an arc being established, various
blow-out devices have been employed. The simplest arrangement for
this purpose is a powerful permanent magnet so placed that its inter-
polar field embraces the contact points and is at right angles to them.

As already explained, the applicability of the induction coil in
wireless telegraphy is limited by the fact of the high resistance of the
secondary circuit, and the small current that can be supplied from it.
Data are yet wanting to show what is the precise efficiency of the
induction coil, as used in Hertzian wave telegraphy, but there are
reasons for believing that it does not exceed 50 or 60 per cent.

Where large condensers have to be charged, in other words, where
we have to deal with larger powers, we are obliged to discard the induc-
tion coil and to employ the alternating current transformer. But this
introduces us to a new class of difficulties. If an alternating current
transformer wound for a secondary voltage, say of 20,000 or 30,000
volts, has its primary circuit connected to an alternator, then if the
secondary terminals, to which are connected two spark balls, are grad-
ually brought within striking distance of one another, the moment
we do this an alternating current arc starts between these balls. If
the transformer is a small one, there is no difficulty in extinguishing
this arc by withdrawing the secondary terminals, but if the trans-
former is a large one, say of ten or twenty kilowatts, dangerous effects
are apt to ensue when such an experiment is tried. The short circuit-
ing of the secondary circuit almost entirely annuls the inductance of
the primary circuit. There is, therefore, a rush of current into the
transformer, and if it is connected to an alternator of low armature
resistance, the fuses are generally blown, and other damage done.

Let us suppose then that the secondary terminals of the trans-
former are also connected to a condenser. On bringing together the
spark balls connected with the secondary terminals, we may have one
or more oscillatory discharges, but the process will not be continuous,
because the moment that the alternating current arc starts between
the spark balls, it reduces their difference of potential to a compara-
tively low value, and hence the charge taken by the condenser is very
small, and, moreover, the circuit is not interrupted periodically so as
to re-start a train of oscillations.

When, therefore, we desire to employ an alternating current trans-

2o6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

former as a source of electromotive force, although it may have the
advantage that the resistance of the secondary circuit of the trans-
former is generally small compared with that of the secondary circuit
of an induction coil, yet nevertheless we are confronted with two
practical difficulties: (1) How to control the primary current flowing
into the transformer; and (2) how to destroy the alternating current
arc between the spark balls and reduce the discharge entirely to the
disruptive or oscillatory discharge of the condenser.

The control over the current can be obtained, in accordance with
a plan suggested by the author, by inserting in the primary circuit of
the transformer two variable choking coils. The form in which it is
preferred to construct these is that of a cylindrical bobbin standing
upon a laminated cross-piece of iron. These bobbins can have let
down into them an E-shaped piece of laminated iron, so as to com-
plete the magnetic circuit, and thus raise the inductance of the bob-
bin. By placing two of these variable choking coils in series with
the primary circuit, the current is under perfect control. We can
fix a minimum value below which the current shall not fall, by adjust-
ing the position of the cores of these two choking coils, and we can
then cause that current to be increased up to a certain limit which
it can not exceed, by short-circuiting one of these choking coils by
an appropriate switch. Several ways have been suggested for extin-
guishing the alternating current arc which forms between the spark
balls connected to the secondary terminals when these are brought
within a certain distance of one another. One of these is due to Mr.
Tesla. He places a strong electromagnet so that its lines of magnetic
flux pass transversely between the spark balls. When the discharge
takes place the electric arc is blown out, but if the balls are short-
circuited by a condenser, the oscillatory discharge of the condenser
still takes place across the spark gap. Professor Elihu Thomson
achieves the same result by employing a blast of air thrown on the
spark gap. This has the effect of destroying the alternating current
arc, but still leaves the oscillating discharge of the condenser. The
action is somewhat tedious to explain in words, but it can easily be
understood that the blast of air, by continually breaking down the
alternating current arc which tends to form, allows the condenser con-
nected to the spark balls to become charged with the potential of the
secondary circuit of the transformer, and that this condenser then
discharges across the spark gap, producing an oscillatory discharge in
the usual manner. The author has found that without the use of
any air blast or electromagnet, simple adjustment of the double cho-
king coil in the primary circuit of the transformer as above described
is sufficient to bring about the desired result, when the capacity of the
condenser is adjusted to be in resonance.

HERTZIAN ^yAYE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 207

Another method which has been adopted by M. d'Arsonval is to
cause the spark to pass between two balls placed at the extremities of
metal rods, which are in rapid rotation like the spokes of a wheel.
In this case, the draught of air produced by the passage of the spark
balls blows out the arc and performs the same function as the blast
of air in Professor Elihu Thomson's method. When these adjust-
ments are properly made, it is possible, by means of a condenser and
an alternating current transformer supplied with current from an
alternator, to create a rapidly intermittent oscillatory discharge, the
sparks of which succeed one another so quickly that it appears almost
continuous. When using a large transformer and condenser, the
noise and brilliancy of these sparks are almost unbearable, and the eyes
may be injured by looking at this spark for more than a moment.
In the construction of transformers intended to be used in this man-
ner, very special precautions have to be taken in the insulation of
the primary and secondary circuits, and the insulation of these from
the core.

It may be remarked in passing that experimenting with large high
tension transformers coupled to condensers of large capacity is ex-
ceedingly dangerous work, and the greatest precautions are necessary
to avoid accident. In the light, however, of sufficient experience there
is no difficulty in employing high tension transformers in the above
described manner, and in obtaining electromotive forces of upwards
of a hundred thousand volts supplied through transformers capable of
yielding any required amount of current.

On occasions where continuous current alone is available, a motor
generator has to be employed converting the continuous current into
an alternating current. This is best achieved by the employment of a
small alternator directly coupled to a continuous current motor ; or by
providing the shaft of a continuous current motor with two rings con-
nected to two opposite portions of its armature, so that when continuous
current is supplied to the brushes pressing against the commutator,
an alternating current can be drawn off from two other brushes touch-
ing the above mentioned insulated rings.

The next element of importance in the transmitting arrangement
is the spark gap. In the case of those transmitters employing an ordi-
nary induction coil, the secondary spark, or the discharge of any con-
denser connected to the secondary terminals can be taken between the
brass balls about half an inch or one inch in diameter, with which the
terminals of the secondary coil are usually furnished; and it is gen-
erally the custom to allow this spark discharge to take place in air at
ordinary pressure. In the very early days of his work Mr. Marconi
adopted the discharger devised by Professor Ehigi, in which the spark
takes place between two brass balls placed in vaseline or other hio-hlv ■''n"*'' *-}'^ '^

: •■ ' :•/ c

2o8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

insulating oil.* But whatever advantage may accrue from using oil as
the dielectric in which the spark discharge takes place, when carrying
out simple laboratory experiments on Hertzian waves, there is no
advantage in the case of wireless telegraphy. The Rhigi discharger
was, therefore, soon discarded. If discharges having large quan-
tity are passed through oil, it is rapidly decomposed or charred,
and ceases to retain the special insulating and self-restoring character
which is necessary in the medium in which an oscillating spark is
formed. The conditions when the discharges of large condensers are
passed between spark balls are entirely different from those when the
quantity of the spark, or to put it in more exact language, the current
passing, is very small. In the case of Hertzian experiments, it is
necessary, as shown by Hertz, to maintain a high state of polish on the
spark balls when they are employed for the production of short waves
of small energy, but when we are dealing with large quantities of
energy at each discharge, those methods which succeed for laboratory
experiments are perfectly impracticable. The conditions necessary to
be fulfilled by a discharger for use in Hertzian wave telegraphy are
that the surfaces shall maintain a constant condition and not be fused
or eaten away by the spark, and, next, that the medium in which the
discharge takes place shall not be decomposed by the passage of the
spark, but shall maintain the property of giving way suddenly when
a certain critical pressure is reached, and passing instantly from a
condition in which it is a very perfect insulator to one in which it
is a very good conductor; and, thirdly, that on the cessation of the
discharge, the medium shall immediately restore itself to its original
condition.

When using the ordinary ten-inch induction coil, and when the
capacity charged by it does not exceed a small faction of a microfarad,
it is quite sufficient to employ brass or steel balls separated by a certain
distance in air, at the ordinary pressure, as the arrangement of the
discharger. When, however, we come to deal with the discharges of
very large condensers, at high electromotive forces, then it is necessary
to have special arrangements to prevent the destruction of the surfaces
between which the spark passes, or their continual alteration, and many
devices have been invented for this purpose. The author has devised
an arrangement which fulfils the above conditions very perfectly for
use in large power stations, but the details of this can not be made
public at the present time.

* It has sometimes been stated that the spark balls must be solid metal and
not hollow, but this is a fallacy, and has been disproved by Mr. C. A. Chant.
See ' An Experimental Investigation into the Skin Effect in Electrical Oscil-
lators,' Phil. Mag., Vol. III., Sec. 6, p. 425, 1902.

{To he continued.)

WHY A FLAME EMITS LIGHT. 209

WHY A FLAME EMITS LIGHT— THE DEVELOPMENT OF

THE THEORY.

BY Professor ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD, Ph.D.,

UNIVERSITY OF THE STATE OF MISSOURI.

AS one would naturally suppose, the theory now generally held re-
garding the nature of an ordinary flame and its power to emit
light is not altogether the result of modern research, but one which has
been evolved from very ancient and hazy notions. Naught else is to
be expected when we consider the important place fire has held through-
out the development of mankind. It is the first recorded object
of his worship, and we have reason to believe that all architecture had
its beginning in rude structures erected to protect the sacred fire. It
is not the nature of man to see phenomena so striking as those which
attend the consumption of matter by fire and not speculate upon them.
But the centuries had multiplied and modern times had been reached
before man's ideas regarding fire, flame and light became distinct, and
the use of these terms differentiated. The best text-books and works
on natural philosophy published near the end of the eighteenth century
still used the terms with great looseness, and the conceptions of the
material nature of flame and light were yet in their death struggles.

After the corpuscular theory of light had given place to the wave
theory, conflicting ideas arose as to why and how a flame emits light
waves. When it was agreed that the waves were sent out by solid par-
ticles of carbon heated to incandescence, the question of the origin of
the carbon, or the chemical changes taking place in the flame, was dis-
cussed, and along with this the source of heat which renders it incan-
descent. The last and most generally accepted answer to these two
questions — ^the origin of carbon particles and the source of heat — is
given in the 'acetylene theory,' first advanced in 1892 by Professor
Vivian B. Lewes, of England.

This theory expressed briefly is that a portion of the hydrocarbon
gas, by the heat of combustion of another portion, is converted into
acetylene, and that this on being decomposed by heat furnishes the car-
bon particles, which particles are rendered incandescent mainly by the
heat liberated when the gas is decomposed; acetylene being a substance
which absorbs heat during its formation and hence liberates heat when
it breaks down. Whatever is burned, whether a solid candle or liquid
oil, must pass through the gaseous state, and hence this applies to all
flames used for lighting purposes.

VOL. LXTTT. — 14.

2IO POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

But before explaining this theory more fully and seeing upon what
experimental evidence it is based, it would be well to consider its gene-
sis and briefly recall the ancient notions regarding 'artificial' light.

Light was first confused with seeing, and it is said that up to the
time of Aristotle men commonly thought they saw by reason of some-
thing shooting out from the eyes and coming in contact with objects;
the converse of the Cartesian conception of many centuries later, that
certain movements in bodies cause them to shoot out minute particles
in all directions, which, striking the eye or causing 'globules' of air to
strike it, excite vision.

The fluid nature of fire and the corporeal nature of light, which were
believed in throughout the early and middle ages, seem to have been
first doubted by Sir Francis Bacon about the end of the sixteenth cen-
tury, although he was by no means sure that these conceptions were
wrong. Bacon classed together the light from flames, decayed wood,
glowworms, silks, polished surfaces, etc., and said that inasmuch as
some animals can see in the dark, air has some light of itself. Boer-
haave, somewhat later, also expressed doubts as to the substantive na-
ture of fire.

Among the first recorded experiments upon the nature and action
of luminous fiames are those which were carried out by Sir Eobert Boyle
between 1660 and 1670. He attempted to prove by experiment whether
the light from a flame is like that from the sun, and whether it is cor-
poreal or merely a quality. He allowed a flame to play on metals
directly and also when in open and sealed vessels, and because the sub-
stance formed a calx and gained in weight, he thought that the light
or flame (he uses the terms indiscriminately) had combined with the
metal, and hence it must be a fluid. Boyle also conducted a large nimi-
ber of experiments upon live or 'quick' coals, phosphorescent bodies,
animals and insects to see the effect of exhausting a receiver in which
they were placed, and he seems to have concluded that the lights from
live coals, rotten wood and putrefying fish differ not in kind but only
in degree. He considered that the increase of light from coals, etc.,
and the reviving of certain insects when air was readmitted to the re-
ceiver indicated a relation between a visible flame and the so-called
'vital flame.' But he would not commit himself upon the question of
the supposed kinship between the 'flame' from live coals and rotten
wood and the 'vital flame' thought to be burning in the hearts of all
living beings.

The interesting views of Sir Isaac NeA\i;on are set forth in a number
of queries published in his work entitled 'Optics.' As is well known,
Newton believed in the material nature of light, and he asserted that
the change of light into matter and of matter into light is an acknowl-
edged possibility and of common occurrence. He attributed the light

^yHY A FLAME EMITS LIGHT. 211

which appears when a body is rapidly and repeatedly struck or when
heated beyond a certain point, as when flint and steel are struck to-
gether, etc., to vibrations of the parts of the body so rapid as to throw
off the particles which, according to Newton's idea, occasion the sensa-
tion of light. With these he also classed electric sparks, saying that
the 'electric vapor' excited by rubbing glass dashes against a strip of
paper or the end of the finger held to it, is thereby so agitated as to
cause it to emit light. He thought the light from glowworms and
putrefying matter was of the same kind as the above, and said that the
light seen at night in the eyes of certain animals, cats for instance, is
'due to vital motions.'

Eegarding true luminous flames Newton's ideas were nearer those
of the present time. He wrote "Is not fire a body heated so hot as
to emit light copiously? For what else is a red hot iron than fire?
And what else is a burning coal than red hot wood?" "Is not flame
a vapor, fume or exhalation heated red hot, that is, so hot as to shine ?
For bodies do not flame without emitting a copious fume, and this
fume burns in the flame. Metals in fusion do not flame for want of a
copious fume." "All fuming bodies, as oil, tallow, wax, wood, etc.,
by fuming waste and vanish into burning smoke." 'Put out the
flame and the smoke is visible, it often smells; and the nature of the
smoke determines the color of the flame.' "Smoke passing through
flame can not but grow red hot, and red hot smoke can have no other
appearance than that of flame. ' '

During the hundred years, more or less, following the publication
of jSTewton's views there was little change in the prevailing theories.
Stahl said 'flame is light' liberated from bodies in the act of combus-
tion, and that light and heat are the constant attendants of flre; fire
combined with combustible matter was 'phlogiston.' Scheele said
light, heat and fire are combinations of air and ' phlogiston. ' Lavoisier
thought flame to be light disengaged from air, with which it had been
in combination, and this idea seems to have been adopted by most of
the French chemists.

There might be mentioned in this connection the queer ideas regard-
ing our being able to see objects, and the emission of light by incom-
bustible bodies, which were held during the latter half of the eighteenth
century. As expressed by Macquer, and quoted by Fourcroy,* "The
vibrations (under the impulse of more or less heat) dispose the par-
ticles (of bodies) in such a manner that their faces, acting like so
many little mirrors, reflect upon our eyes the rays of light which are in
the air by night as well as by day ; for we are involved in darkness dur-
ing the night for no other reason but because they are not then so
directed as to face our organs of sight. ' '

Fourcroy's ' Chemistry,' press date 1796.

212 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

At a single step we pass from the rather crude ideas of the older
thinkers to those ideas which obtain at the present day, and the transi-
tion finds little expression in the literature.

About the year 1816 Sir Humphry Davy advanced what has been
known ever since as the '^olid particle' theory of luminosity; a theory
which went unchallenged for forty-five years and was accepted by prac-
tically every one.

He was experimenting upon the combustion taking place in his
famous safety lamp and said, "I was led to imagine that the cause of
the superiority of the light of a stream of coal gas might be owing to
the decomposition of a part of the gas towards the interior of the
flame, where the air is in smallest quantity, and the deposition of solid
charcoal, which, first by its ignition and afterwards by its combustion,
increased to a liigh degree the intensity of the light; and a few experi-
ments soon convinced me that this was the true solution of the prob-
lem." "Whenever a flame is remarkably brilliant and dense, it may
always be concluded that some solid matter is produced in it; on the
contrary, whenever a flame is extremely feeble and transparent it may
be inferred that no solid matter is formed. ' ' The idea that solid carbon
in the flame is the source of its light was not original with Davy — he
says it was suggested by a Mr. Hare — but it was Davy's investigations
which put it on a firm basis and he formulated the theory.

Davy showed the relation between the heat and light of flames, the
effects of rarefaction and compression of the surrounding air and the
influence of cooling and heating. He pointed out also that a luminous
flame will deposit carbon on a cold surface, and if rendered non-lumin-
ous no carbon can be obtained. These conclusions were immediately
accepted and were not seriously disputed until the appearance in 1861
of a communication to the Eoyal Society from E. Frankland.

In this article Frankland advanced what has come to be known as
the ' dense vapor ' theory. He and his adherents claimed that, although
solid particles in a flame do cause it to emit light, the light from our
ordinary illuminating flames is dependent to a great extent upon the
presence of dense, transparent, hydrocarbon vapors from which it is
radiated, and is not due to the presence of incandescent solid carbon
particles. They further claimed that the soot deposited is not carbon,
but a mixture of dense hydrocarbons of remarkably high boiling points.

Frankland was led to take up his investigations by seeing a report
that candles burned at the same rate on the top of ]\It. Blanc as in the
valley at its foot; and a second report regarding the retardation of the
bursting of shells with time fuses at high elevations in India.

Besides carrying on investigations in artficially rarefied air in his
laboratory, he climbed to the top of Mt. Blanc mth a goodly supply of
standard candles and timed their slow wasting away; probably keeping

WHY A FLAME EMITS LIGHT. 213

warm in the meantime by the fire of his enthusiasm. Many interest-
ing facts were brought to light by these investigations, but his use of
them in interpreting the causes of luminosity in ordinary flames led
him into error, and, although he found adherents at the time, his views
have long since been replaced by those based upon more careful obser-
vation. The importance of the work of Frankland lay not so much in
what he did as in what he led others to do; and since the publication
of his views a great deal has been done by Heumann, Stein, Smithells,
Burch, Lewes and others.

Stein disproved Franldand's assertion that soot is a mixture of
dense hydrocarbons by showing that it can not be volatilized even by
great heat, and that it contains only about nine tenths of one per cent,
of hydrogen, which can be separated from it only at high temperatures
in an atmosphere of chlorine.

Nor did Frankland 's view that glowing, dense vapors cause the light
appeal to Heumann, who thought it unlikely that such dense vapors
exist in a flame or that there is a sufficiently high temperature to
cause them to glow. He knew, of course, that at a temperature like
that of an electric arc many gases do glow and give continuous spectra,
and that a highly heated gas under pressure acts likewise; but he
argued that if carbon really does exist as such in a flame, it most prob-
ably is the source of luminosity. To prove its presence or absence he
studied the effects upon a flame of heating and cooling it, of diluting
and varying the temperature of the gases supplied to it, its transparency
and the shadows cast by it, as well as other phenomena ; and the results
of his experiments led him to give unqualified support to the theory
of Davy.

Some account of the salient features at least of Heumann 's elab-
orate investigation must be given in order to convey any idea of his part
in firmly fixing the 'solid particle' theory. By allowing a luminous
flame to play upon a surface which rapidly conducted heat away from
it, like a platinum dish, its luminosity was destroyed. Heating the
upper surface of the dish restored the luminosity, and hence Heumann
concluded that cooling a flame diminishes its light-giving properties,
while heating increases them. He varied the temperature of illumi-
nating gas before it reached the burner and found that the same effects
were produced. The heating in some cases increased the normal light-
giving power as much as a hundred and twenty-five per cent. Further
investigation showed that luminosity can also be diminished or de-
stroyed by rapid oxidation of the hydrocarbons, as well as by diluting
them with a neutral gas like nitrogen or carbon dioxide; the effect of
dilution being to necessitate a higher temperature for luminosity. He
next rendered a flame non-luminous by cooling, introduced chlorine
into it to break down the hydrocarbons, and obtained a brilliant light.

2 14 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

A porcelain rod introduced into the lower part of a flame cooled it and
decreased its light, but collected no carbon, while, if introduced into
the upper part, its under side became coated with soot. Heumann
argued that if Frankland was right and the light is reflected from dense
hydrocarbon vapors, these should be condensed on all sides of the rod
at once in a quiet flame, while, as a matter of fact, soot was deposited
only on the under side ; and furthermore, soot can also be collected upon
a surface too hot to condense hydrocarbons at all. He therefore con-
cluded that the surface merely stops carbon which is formed lower down
in the flame. If one luminous flame is allowed to play aga,inst an-
other, the carbon is rolled up and can be seen as glowing particles in
the outer non-luminous sheath.

Frankland had said that flames can not contain solid particles be-
cause they are transparent. Heumann pointed out that tliick flames
are opaque and that tliin ones are no more transparent than is an equal
layer of soot rising from burning turpentine; the rapidity of the mo-
tion of the particles preventing any obstruction to the view, just as is
the case with a rapidly revolving, spoked wheel.

Heumann next took up the phenomena of shadows and showed that
the luminous portion casts a definite shadow when interposed between
sunlight and a screen, and that the shadow is continuous for a lumi-
nous turpentine flame and the column of soot above it. And further,
that a hydrogen flame which ordinarily casts no shadow and gives no
light will cast a sharp shadow and emit a fairly bright light if passed
through suspended lampblack or if it sweeps any solid matter into the
flame. Luminous vapors do not cast shadows, absorption bands being
very different from true shadows.

C. J. Burch found that when sunlight is reflected from a luminous
flame it is polarized, while if reflected by glowing vapors, however
dense, it does not exhibit this phenomenon. Sunlight which was re-
flected and refracted by luminous flames was found to exhibit phenom-
ena identical with that reflected and refracted by non-luminous flames
rendered luminous by the introduction of solid matter, and also with
light reflected, and refracted by very finely divided solid matter held in
suspension in a liquid. The phenomena presented by like experiments
with glowing vapors were totally different. All of Burch 's work was
confirmed by Stokes some years later.

There was now left no shadow of doubt about carbon being the
source of the light rays, and the next question that concerned investi-
gators was the chemical changes which give rise to carbon particles.

Sir Humphry Davy thought the separation of carbon to be due to
a decomposition of the hydrocarbon compounds (of which all illumi-
nants are composed) within the flame where the air is in smallest quan-
tity, and no other cause was assigned by other investigators. Prior to

WHY A FLAME EMITS LIGHT.

215

II

1861 the view, it seems, was that carbon is liberated because of a sup-
posed greater affinity of oxygen for the hydrogen of the hydrocarbon
than for the carbon, there not being enough for both. But these points
had to be tested.

In the study of the chemical changes that take place, a flame burn-
ing at a circular orifice offered the best conditions. As explained in
text-books of chemistry, such a flame may be thought of as being made
up of an inner, faintly luminous cone fitting into an outer, brightly
luminous one — as a finger fits into a glove finger — this latter being
surrounded by a non-luminous sheath of water vapor and carbon diox-
ide. It was desirable to separate these two cones, in order to study
the gas after it had left the inner cone and before any change had been
brought about by the conditions existing in the outer
cone. This separation was first accomplished by Techlu,
in France, and Arthur Smithells, in England, work-
ing independently, with a piece of apparatus, the
essential features of which are pictured in cross-sec-
tion in Fig. 1. By a proper control of the relative
proportions of gas and air the inner cone was made to
burn at the orifice i, while the outer cone burned at
the orifice o. The outer cone got its oxygen from the
surrounding air, while that for the lower flame was sup-
plied along with the gas. The temperature of each
cone was measured and the gases entering and leaving
each were analyzed. It was found that as the propor-
tion of gas to air was increased, the tip of the inner or
lower cone became brightly luminous and a column of
soot passed upward through the tube, becoming faintly
luminous in the outer edge of the upper flame. As soon
as the inner cone becomes luminous the unsaturated*
hydrocarbon compound known as acetylene begins to
appear among the gases passing to the outer cone.

Vivian B. Lewes now attacked the problem as to how carbon comes
to be in the flame in the free state. He analyzed gas drawn from dif-
ferent parts of a coal-gas flame, measured the temperature of its dif-
ferent parts, etc., publishing his results between 1893 and 1895. These
results may be stated as follows : Coal-gas consists mainly of a mixture
of hydrogen and hydrocarbons, both saturated and unsaturated. In an
ordinary 'fishtail' burner flame all hydrogen is consumed before the
middle of the luminous portion is reached. Of the saturated hydro-
carbons about seventy-five per cent, disappears as such in the dark por-

* The terms ' saturated ' and ' unsaturated ' have reference, amonsr other
things, to the relative quantity of hydrogen to carbon in the molecule, an un-
saturated compound having relatively less hydrogen than a saturated one.

k.

,A

Tic. I.

2i6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

tion and about twenty-four per cent, is lost in the lower half of the
luminous part. In the dark part there occurs a transformation of
saturated into unsaturated hydrocarbons, along with a general break-
ing down of all to yield products less rich in hydrogen and the oxides
of carbon. At the point where luminosity just begins, seventy to eighty
per cent, of the unsaturated compounds is acetylene, although less than
one per cent, was originally present. No acetylene could be found in
the flame when it was made non-luminous.

By causing pure gases to pass through tubes heated to known tem-
peratures and analyzing the products formed, Lewes studied the effects
of heat upon both saturated and unsaturated hydrocarbons. At 800°
C. an unsaturated compound, like ethylene, CgH^, breaks down into
hydrogen and the still more unsaturated acetylene, C2H2. At 1200°
C. the very stable, saturated hydrocarbons decompose into acetylene and
hydrogen, and the acetylene in turn decomposes into carbon and hydro-
gen. Even very dense hydrocarbons decompose at 1200° C. These
results strengthened Lewes 's conviction that under the baking action
of the flame-walls in the lower portions acetylene is produced in rela-
tively large quantities and that this is the source of the carbon.

The question which immediately presented itself was. Does there
exist in an ordinary flame such conditions of temperature as may bring
about the formation of acetylene from the very stable constituents of
the illuminants? On measuring the temperatures at various places
the necessary temperatures were found to exist.

The work was complete and conclusive and forced a general accept-
ance of the theory that acetylene is the immediate source of the car-
bon.

But a yet harder problem presented itself. What gives rise to heat
sufScient to make the carbon become incandescent ? ; a burning question
certainly and one not easy to answer.

From the time of Davy to the year 1892 the only opinion was that
the burning hydrogen, carbon monoxide and hydrocarbons furnished
the heat necessary to raise carbon to incandescence. In that year
Lewes advanced his 'latent heat' theory. This theory declared that
the latent heat set free when acetylene is decomposed instantly heats
the carbon particles thus set free to incandescence.

After showing that the heat of combustion of a flame is only suffi-
cient to render carbon faintly luminous, Lewes compared the temper-
atures of flames burning coal-gas, the unsaturated hydrocarbon gas,
ethylene, and the still less saturated acetylene, and also the amount of
light given by each when burning equal volumes of gas per hour from
burners best suited to each. He likewise studied the temperatures de-
veloped when acetylene is exploded and the localization of the heat set
free by its decomposition. His experiments were ingenious and con-

WHY A FLAME EMITS LIGHT. 217

vincing. By comparing ethylene, CgH^, with acetylene, C2H2 (where
for equal consumption the same number of carbon atoms were pres-
ent), and also with coal-gas, it was seen that the luminous portion of
the acetylene, flame is not as hot as that of either ethylene or coal-gas,
while the illuminating powers of the flames were : acetylene, 240.0 can-
dle power, ethylene, 65.5 c.p. and coal-gas, 16.8 c.p. Evidently the
heat of combustion does not account for the incandescence of the car-
bon ; for if it did the cooler acetylene flame would give less light, while,
as a matter of fact, it gives twice as much as the ethylene and about
fourteen times as much light as the very much hotter coal-gas flame.
It was evident that our temperature measuring instruments do not
detect the heat of the carbon particles themselves.

To see if luminosity be even partly due to the latent heat of acety-
lene, Lewes exploded that gas in a closed tube. This was done by
wrapping a bit of fulminate of mercury in tissue paper and suspend-
ing it by copper wires joined by platinum in contact with the fulminate,
and passing an electric current. There followed a brilliant flash of
light and a complete decomposition of the gas, and of the eudiometer as

3

J't'g.JZ

well. Pieces of glass were coated with carbon, and the tissue paper was
not scorched except in a small hole where the explosion of the fulmi-
nate had burst through. This experiment showed the formation of
carbon, the emission of a brilliant light and the localization of the
heat liberated. But as the decomposition in a flame can hardly be as
rapid as in this experiment, and as hydrogen and oxygen also give a
feeble light when exploded, he sought to detect the rise in temperature
at the moment of decomposition when this is caused by heat. He
arranged a thermo-couple in a small tube so that only the turn of wires
was exposed, and after sweeping out the air passed a slow current of
acet3dene through the tube, the arrangement being as shown in Fig. 3.
The heat was raised throughout the tube at a rate of about 10° C. per
minute, and almost as soon as the temperature of area a passed 800°
C. it took a sudden leap to 1000° C, the gas burst into a lurid flame
and streams of carbon passed on through the tube. Although the tem-
perature of area h was made considerably higher than a the carbon

2i8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

passing through it was not luminous. This experiment would seem to
leave no doubt that the incandescence is caused by latent heat, yet fur-
ther evidence was produced. In another experiment in which diluted
acetylene was used it required a higher heat to cause the decomposition
and luminosity. This latter is the condition existing in a flame, and
the temperature there found is above that required. In other experi-
ments it was found that if the flame temperature were high enough
the luminosity was directly proportional to the amount of acetylene in
the flame at the point where luminosity generally begins. Acetylene
was introduced at the corresponding place in a non-luminous flame
through very fine holes in a small capillary platinum tube, and the rate
of its flow, as well as that of the illuminating gas, was measured and
controlled so as to have present the amount of acetylene, which analy-
sis showed to exist in a similar luminous flame. At the holes there was
an intense light, and dull red streams of carbon passed upward in the
flame.

Lewes sums up his conclusions, drawn from all his work, about as
follows: When the hydrocarbon gas leaves the jet at which it is
burned, those portions which come in contact with the air are consumed
and form a wall of flame, which surrounds the issuing gases. The
unburnt gas in its passage through the lower heated area undergoes
a number of chemical changes, brought about by the heat radiated from
the flame walls ; the principal change being the conversion of hydrocar-
bons into acetylene, hydrogen and methane. The temperature of the
flame rapidly increases with the distance from the jet and reaches a
point at which it is high enough to decompose acetylene into carbon
and hydrogen with a rapidity almost that of an explosion. The latent
heat so suddenly set free is localized by the proximity of carbon par-
ticles, which by absorbing it become incandescent and emit the larger
part of the light given out by the flame ; although the heat of combus-
tion causes them to glow somewhat until they come into contact with
oxygen and are consumed. This external heating gives rise to little
of the light.

There have been opponents to this theory of the cause of luminosity
— as there are, fortunately, of all theories — but the evidence is so strong
and covers so many points, and so many investigators have confirmed
one part or another of the work, that it has been generally accepted as
a true statement of the facts with which it deals.

EVOLUTION, CYTOLOGY AND MENDEL'S LAWS. 219

EVOLUTION, CYTOLOGY AND MENDEL'S LAWS.

By O. F. cook,

u. s. depabtment of agriculture.

^T^HE debt of science to theory is a truism. Bad theories are only
-L less valuable than good ones, and for some purposes they are
even better. We do not arrive where we expected to go, but reach ;

an undiscovered country which a more direct route would have left .

unexplored. The recent history of biology furnishes two excellent ;

examples of the fertility of false theories in the development of the I

related sciences, embryology and cytolog}\ The theory of organic
recapitulation, to the effect that the phylogeny or evolutionary history
of natural groups must be repeated in the ontogeny or development I

of each individual organism promised the student of embryology an j

easy wealth of scientific discovery, and within a few years hundreds )

of razors were paring thin the mysteries of evolution. Libraries of
new facts were discovered and published, but as our knowledge of life |

histories increased there was a corresponding decline in the probability |

that any particular stage in the growth of the individual is necessarily {

more ancestral than any other. That no general doctrine of recapit- '

ulation could be maintained was perceived by Sir John Lubbock as '

early as 1873,* but vertebrate embryologists did not permit their zeal
to be dampened by even the most obvious facts of entomology. Indeed,
one of our prominent investigators, finding that recapitulation is
elusive by microscopical methods, now proposes to test it by breeding
experiments, the results of which may be available in a future geologic
epoch, f I

The organism having been followed back to its unicellular stage |

without discovering any process or mechanism by which its adult form
was predetermined, believers in such a device must needs seek it inside j

the cell, and thus was opened another highly fertile field of investiga- I

tion. Instead of mere homogeneous jelly, surprisingly complicated
intracellular structures and processes have been discovered and de-
scribed, and to identify some of these as the long-sought 'hereditary [
mechanism' is now the dream of the c}'tologist. J

To judge from his recent article on 'Mendel's Principles of
Heredity and the Maturation of the Germ-Cells' + Professor Wilson,

* * Origin and Metamorphoses of Insects.' "'f^^ "04^

t Science, N. S., 16: 506, September 26, 1902. /I" •" ' '■' ' -

iScience, N. S., 16:991, December 19, 1902. /-'"' C

;. ■ i

ft.*' •

2 20 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

at least, is still very strongly of the belief that the investigator of
reproductive cells holds the keys of evolution, and he even finds it
remarkable that a general cytological explanation of these 'principles
of inheritance' was not suggested before. According to Professor
Wilson the facts discovered by Mendel, that in some hybrids, characters
of the parents are not permanently combined, are explainable by the
'normal phenomena of maturation,' that is, if we admit that 'indi-
vidual chromosomes stand in definite relation to transmissible char-
acters,' and that the 'reducing division' by which the reproductive
cells are formed 'leads to the separation of paternal and maternal
elements and their ultimate isolation as separate germ-cells.' This
would be important if true, but the Mendelian facts are unable to
accept this proffered support of cytological theory, because they have
already demonstrated its falsity.

The commonly accepted view of organic descent may be illustrated
by a simple diagram which indicates that a single individual may

A B C D

\ / \ /

\ / \ /

\y

\

I

ABCD

inherit characters from all four of its grandparents. Professor Wil-
son's explanation of Mendel's law would deny this possibility, and
would limit the descent of all individuals to two grandparents, so that,
the form of our family tree would be completely altered.

A EC n

\

\

/

\ /

/

\ /

/

\ /

/

\ /

/ /

\ \5

^/ /

\ \

/ /

^i\ \

/ /^

\

/ /

\

1 /

AC,

AD, BCorBD

EVOLUTION, CYTOLOGY AND MENDEL' 8 LA^Y8. 221

It would be impossible to have any such compound as ABCD, but
we should get instead one of the four character-combinations AC,
AD, BC, BD. The inheritance of a single character from one grand-
parent would certify the inheritance of all, and thus establish an alibi
for the other ancestor of the same side of the house. What a resource
for genealogists to be able to prove that a man was no relative of his
grandfather, or even that he had no consanguinity with his own
brother! Alas that Mendel and other 'experimental evolutionists'
have proved that inheritance is by characters and not by chromosomes,
if these behave as Professor Wilson indicates. Only the so-called
monohybrids, those differing by a single character, would tolerate such
an interpretation, and the fallacy of it is obvious as soon as we re-
member that hybrids may be assembled with reference to two, three
or more characters derived from different ancestors. Moreover, Pro-
fessor Spillman has recently drawn from his experiments with wheat
concrete and detailed examples of the fact that definite proportions
of such combinations are permanent, since two dominant characters
do not antagonize each other.* Unless it be in the case where the
varieties crossed differ in but a single character we know of a certainty
that the germ-cells are not of pure descent with respect to parentage.]
The most that can be claimed is that they are organized reciprocally
with reference to the divergent 'parental characters, since it seems that
the different features may be distributed and recombined quite with-
out reference to the manner in which they were grouped in the parents.
In his hybrid wheats Professor Spillman finds all the combinations
possible under the mathematical theory of chance. How this could
be managed by the chromosomes our cytological friends may be able
to conjecture, though from the outside it looks like a rather difficult
question.

Hybridization is possible only between groups of common origin,
and the characters which show the Mendelian effect are those on which
the greatest divergence has taken place. That such characters may
be changed about or substituted, and are able to enter freely into all
varieties of combination, not only does not prove that the chromosomes
are mechanisms of heredity, but it greatly decreases the probability
of mechanical theories of evolution, since it shows the facility with
which characters may be accumulated in normal interbreeding, before
the Mendelian degree of divergence has been reached.

If two plants different in other respects are found to differ also in

* ' Mendel's Law,' Popular Science Monthly, 62 : 269.

t The theory of Bateson that the germ-cells are pure with respect to char-
acters seems to have been misunderstood both by Professor Wilson and by Mr.
Cannon in his ' Cytological Basis for the Mendelian Laws ' (Bulletin Torrey
Botanical Club, 29:657, 1902).

2 22 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

chromosomes this does not prove that the chromosomes cause the other
differences, even though the differences of the chromosomes inter-
fere with the conjugation of the reproductive cells and thus prevent
the hybridization of the plants. Species or varieties seldom, if ever,
differ by single characters or at one stage merely, and there is no
known reason why related species should not diverge in their single-
celled condition as well as at any later period. It is rapidly becom-
ing apparent that the internal organs and functions of cells are as
diverse as those of embryos and adult organisms, and as much in
need of a general evolutionary explanation,*

The notion that heredity, variation or other phases of evolution
are the functions of special organs or mechanisms of cells, has no
ascertained basis of fact, and is but an inference from the traditional
evolutionary errors that species are normally constant or stable, and
that developmental changes are the results of external influences. To
move a stationary organism some sort of 'hereditary mechanism' would
be needed to bring about the inheritance of characters 'acquired' from
the environment, but if we consider that the individuals of a species
are normally diverse, and that the species as a whole is normally in
motion, a 'hereditary mechanism' becomes quite superfluous, or may
be identified with the organism itself, whether in a unicellular or a
polycellular stage.

Heredity is the term under which we allude to the fact that organ-
isms exist in series of similar individuals; we have as yet no warrant
for holding that it is special 'force' or agency. Crystals of the same
substance are thought of as repeatedly taking the same form because
of certain properties of matter, not because of a special crystallizing
mechanism. The analogy of crystals is, of course, quite inadequate
for biological purposes, but we need not reject it entirely, since for
all purposes of expression heredity is a general property of living
things, and with these there is even less reason than with crystals to
seek a cause in the function of a special organ.

Inorganic elements and compounds are homogeneous and similar
in all masses or parts; but diversity is the rule among organisms, no
two of which are exact duplicates. The idea of a heredity which
maintains identity of structure or form represents no fact in nature.
The necessity of continued readjustment is general in life, and is not
confined, even in complex organisms, to preliminary stages or to re-
productive cells. The individual is not constant nor permanent, but
has its own cycle of growth, reproduction and decline, accompanied
by continuous changes in all parts of the bodily form and structure.

* Chromosome differences utterly disproportional to the differences of the
adult organisms have recently been described by Monkhouse in hybrid fish eggs.

EVOLUTION, CYTOLOGY AND MENDEL'S LA^VS. 223

Organisms are not made up merely by the few characters enumerated
by the S3'stematist ; an infinite number of differing relations of parts
might be formulated. Evolutionary divergence is not confined to
external adult characters, but may appear in any structure, function
or instinct, and at any time in the life history. Species very different
as adults may have closely similar young, or larvae may be much more
diverse than the mature insects. Only the inadequacy of our notions
of the vital structure and activities has led us to expect that repro-
ductive cells will be found to contain special 'hereditary mechanisms'
for the predetermination of the characteristics of adults. The largest
and most complex individuals are still groups of cells, and no adequate
reason has been shown for believing that particular cells or links of
the organic sequence are more hereditary or more determinant than
the others. Characters are to be thought of as lines of biological
motion, not as structures or entities of reproductive cells. The pre-
determination of the infinity of structural and morphological char-
acters and positional relations of the millions of cells of the adult by
a working model resulting from the conjugation of sexual elements
may be dismissed as a crudely anthropomorphic notion of biological
processes, as unsupported by facts as it is illogical in conception. Cells
have their functions and organs, but evolution is not confined to these;
it is also a supercellular or organic process. Cytology is a very inter-
esting branch of descriptive biology, but it enjoys no special evolution-
ary facilities.

Polycellular organisms grow by the division of cells; but instead
of proving that all cells divide in the same way cytologists have found
that the same result may be accomplished by a great variety of pro-
toplasmic organs and processes. Unicellular organisms are known to
be extremely diverse cytologically, and the cells of compound organ-
isms are, if possible, more so. We know also that the diversity of
organisms is not due so much to differences of the individual cells as
to differences of number and arrangement in the cell-colonies of which
they are constituted.

Heredity is the unknown means by which successive generations of
organisms are able to construct themselves in similar, though not iden-
tical, forms ; it is, in short, an organic memory, and is responsible, not
alone for the repetition of the structural type, but also for vast num-
bers of involuntary functional coordinations and instinctive acts,
whether of unicellular or of compound organisms, or of whole colonies
of organisms. A colony of social termites is as truly an evolutionary
unit as a tree with its many branches, and the cooperative instincts
which pervade the individual insects are as truly a hereditary phe-
nomenon as the peculiar arrangement of branches which we term a
'character' of the tree.

2 24 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

To compare heredity with memory explains nothing, of course,
since we know as little of the physical basis of the one as of the
other, but if the analogy be admitted it will prevent the too confident
insistence upon the theory that heredity depends entirely upon posi-
tional or other mechanical relations of molecules, or is in some way
embodied in particular granules or chromosomes.

But even the most fantastic theories often have some basis of sug-
gestion in fact, and although we can not accept Professor Wilson's
cytological explanation of Mendel's laws, nor even share his hope that
cytology will elucidate evolution, it is by no means impossible that the
normal individual diversity of organisms has a cytological as well as
an evolutionary significance. That normal development or growth by
cell division is advantaged by cross-fertilization may mean that the
cells divide more readily and normally when they contain protoplasmic
'elements' of a proper degree of diversity than when they have only
one kind of protoplasm, as would happen in narrow inbreeding, and
also when cross-breeding is too wide for the intimate cooperation re-
quired for true fertilization. The Mendelian effect would then be
explainable on the suggestion of a partial cooperation which has to be
abandoned in the formation of new individuals, because, while the
organism can follow either of two diverging parental roads with re-
spect to any character, it is, as it were, a stranger to the path that an
average would require.

The conjugation of cells may be viewed as a process quite distinct
from reproduction, though it is a necessary preliminary to the long
series of cell divisions required to build up the complex bodies of the
higher animals and plants. As we descend in the organic scale the
conjugating cells become more and more similar to each other and to
the so-called vegetative or somatic cells of which the body of the organ-
ism is composed. Among simple organisms all the cells are alilce,
including those formed immediately before and after conjugation, and
it is not strange that with the diversification of the cells which consti-
tute the various tissues of the plant or animal body the germ cells
should become specialized and unlike any of the others. The exist-
ence of special reproductive cells among the higher animals and plants
is therefore to be looked upon as corresponding to the general com-
plexity of the organism, rather than as an indication of a special
mechanism of heredity resident in the germ cells. As founders of new
cell-colonies or compound individuals they develop, it appears, on one
or the other of divergent parental lines instead of striking out on an
untraveled road between.

JSTotwithstanding their great significance Mendel's laws are nega-
tive rather than positive in their bearing upon descent, since we do

EVOLUTION, CYTOLOGY AND MENDEL'S LAWS. 225

not learn from them the nature of that process, but one of its limits.
Moreover, the probability that these laws are of general application is
greatly lessened by the fact that they are demonstrable only in con-
nection with narrowly inbred and much divergent varieties of plants
and animals, to which condition of the experiment the phenomena
discovered may prove to be due, rather than to any general fact or
mechanism of heredity. It seems certain, however, that neither theory
nor experiment will make permanent progress in this direction as long
as we continue to confuse under the word hybrid several extremely
diverse evolutionary conditions, and fail to realize that generalizations
based on any one kind or type of hybrids are quite premature and
irrational.

Sterile Hybrids. — The original notion of a hybrid, or at least the
most popular meaning of the term, is that of a cross between organic
types so widely diverse that the progeny are in some way abnormal or
defective, especially with reference to reproduction. Among animals
sterile hybrids can not be propagated, but in plants they can be grown
from cuttings or buds, and are thus preserved as horticultural
* varieties. '

Aberrant Hybrids. — The second and succeeding generations of
hybrids not completely sterile often show striking deviations from
both parental types. As these new characters are analogous to the
abrupt variations of close-bred plants described by Darwin as 'sports'
and more recently renamed 'mutations' by De Vries, it has been sug-
gested that they ma}^ be due to the same causes, that is, they may not
be in reality the result of crossing, but rather of an inadequate con-
jugation or defective fertilization which allows a lapse from the normal
form. Both mutations and mutative hybrids are comparatively in-
fertile, so that their suddenly attained new characters should not be
looked upon as true contributions to evolutionary progress.

Reciprocal or Mendelian Hybrids. — Mendel and his successors have
proved that there is still a third type of less abnormal hybrids, in
which there is no permanent combination or averaging of divergent
parental characters, although it is not known that vigor and fertility
are notably diminished. Mendel's so-called laws are generalized state-
ments of the results of his experiments upon the crossing of different
garden varieties of the pea; he himself found that the same was not
true among hybrids of Hieracium.* A part of the scientific com-

* The question has been raised as to whether Mendel's discoveries should
be called ' laws.' The present view would deny to them universal application
as ' laws ' or ' principles ' of heredity, though it admits as probable their gen-
eral truth for a certain evolutionary condition or stage.

Laws of gases are not called laws of matter, and do not apply until
matter reaches the gaseous state. Similarly, there can be no objection to

VOL. LXIII. — 15.

2 26 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

munity which a few years ago was properly characterized as more
Darwinian than Darwin might now be described as more Mendelian
than Mendel, and expects to find in 'Mendel's laws' an explanation
of heredity, to say nothing of other things. Crosses between some
twenty-six close-bred varieties of plants and animals have been found
to 'Mendelize,' as the new expression is, and it may be expected that
others will do the same wherever the conditions of the experiment
can be met, though no amount of similar facts would justify the
general conclusions which some recent writers have so promptly drawn.
'Mendel's laws' have already had many different statements, but the
most that can be said with certainty is that after close-bred varieties
of a plant or animal have sufficiently separated, their divergent char-
acters do not again blend or reduce to an average, but draw apart into
definite proportions of each succeeding generation of ofllspring. Ob-
viously, this is not a method or law of inheritance, but of non-inherit-
ance or fractional inheritance. The sterile and aberrant hybrids are
evidence that too wide crossing is not advantageous and makes no
contribution to evolutionary progress. Mendel's experiments afford
further evidence of the same fact, in that the organisms themselves
are found to have means of dissolving such alliances and thus of
holding to the paths on which their varietal divergencies have gone
forward. The theory that hybridization assists evolution by encour-
aging variability is shown to have a distinct limit, since little evolu-
tionary progress would come from mere combination of the stable or
divergent characters which are a prerequisite of the Mendelian ex-
periments.

Synthetic or Blended Hybrids. — If the normal flexibility of the
organism has not been diminished by narrow segregation or inbreed-
ing, the Mendelian repugnance of divergent characters does not ap-
pear; Mendel's law of reciprocal characters gives place to Spillman's
law of blended or graded characters.* Thus there is no record of a
normal straight-haired white child as the offspring of two mulattoes.
Inbreeding to an extent far beyond anything usual in nature is the
rule among domesticated plants and animals, but if the varieties are
not too divergent they cross freely and with obvious advantage, as
shown by increase in vigor, though such 'new characters' soon disap-
pear under renewed inbreeding. Characters which would become
dominant in the Mendelian hybrids are in the less divergent stages
termed prepotent, that is, they are impressed with increased intensity
upon increasing numbers of each successive generation. On the other

such expressions as * Mendel's laws of the disjunction of characters in hybrids,'
or ' Mendel's laws of reciprocal hybrids.'

* ' * * « hybrids show every possible gradation between the characters of
the two parents.'

EVOLUTION, CYTOLOGY AND MENDEL'S LA^VS. 227

hand, characters acquired through inbreeding or other debilitating
causes may disappear or become recessive as soon as crossing permits
a return to a more normal and vigorous ancestral type of organization,
as in the historic pigeon experiments of Darwin. The popularization
of Mendel's laws should make it more easy to perceive that the normal
effect of cross-breeding is a progressive synthetic evolution and not
a stationary average, though we are having some fine examples of the
lengths to which the specialist will sometimes go to escape facts too
simple and obvious for his appreciation.

Individual 'Hybrids.' — Perhaps the loosest use of the word hybrid
is for the offspring of crosses between so-called 'horticultural varieties'
of domesticated plants propagated by cuttings or grafts. Everybody
knows, though some forget, that the Baldwin apple, the Bartlett pear,
the Niagara grape, and a great multitude of analogous sorts, are de-
scending from single seedling trees or vines, and are thus for evolu-
tionary purposes single individuals. The distinction between such
individuals and those of wild species in nature is largely psychological ;
we have learned to regard differences between individual apple trees,
but have not attained such close acquaintance with oaks and elms.
If crosses between the normally diverse individuals of a species are
to be termed hybrids then the word covers all sexually differentiated
organisms and is utterly useless as a means of drawing biological dis-
tinctions. Mendel deliberately disregarded the question as to which
of his pea hybrids were between different species, and which between
varieties merely, and for the purposes of his inquiry this was a matter
of little importance. But for his followers to draw general conclu-
sions, while ignoring all distinction between the evolutionary condi-
tions of the organisms which they study, is a reversion to the same
general woolliness of evolutionary thinking to which Mendel consti-
tuted so brilliant an exception.

The millions of species with which nature has been experimenting
for millions of years seem to make it very plain that individual diver-
sity with free interbreeding is the optimum condition for evolutionary
progress, since this is what we find everywhere among natural species.
It is true that the diversity masks the slow and gradual motion of the
species from perception by our momentary observations, and also that
the interbreeding hinders the segregation of species; but we may take
the results as evidence that evolutionary progress is not impeded by
wide individual variation, nor by opportunities for the progressive
accumulation of new characters. Nor need we turn our backs on this
interpretation of the history of organic nature because Mendel and
others have given new demonstrations of the old fact that there are
degrees of evolutionary divergence in which the combination of parental
characters is no longer possible.

2 28 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Mendel's laws are of much practical importance because they make
plain to breeders of economic plants and animals that they can not
do what has been attempted so frequently, make improved breeds by
combining the divergent characters of close-bred varieties. The Men-
delian facts are of general evolutionary interest, not because they ex-
plain descent, but because they are incompatible with the commonly
accepted static theories of development which hold that evolutionary
progress is due to external or environmental influences and overlook
the independent self-caused motion of species. More detailed presenta-
tion of the latter view can not be undertaken here;* it must suffice for
the present to have pointed out that cytology has not proved the uni-
versality of Mendel's laws as 'principles of inheritance,' nor do the
laws prove that the chromosomes are the long-sought 'hereditary
mechanisms. '

Heredity should be thought of as a general property of organisms,
and not as the function of a special organ of the cell or of the embryo.
As a phenomenon it should be associated with crystallization, on the
one side, and with memory, on the other. There may be simpler
properties of matter which render crystallization, heredity and memory
possible, but such properties are not yet recognized in physics and
chemistry, so that the terms and theories of these sciences are of little
use in the discussion of evolution.

Viewed as the basis of an independent generalization the Mendelian
experiments ran counter to multitudes of the most obvious and best
established data of biology, and it may have been on this account that
they were so long disregarded. The apparent conflict is here ex-
plained as due to erroneous theories of evolution; the recognition of
spontaneous organic motion enables Mendel's facts to find a place in
the evolutionary series, and renders the general inferences of de Vries,
Bateson and Wilson unnecessary. Nor need the present view be
thought to depreciate the importance of Mendel's laws, since such dis-
coveries are of much greater practical value after they have found their
true place among related facts than while as novelties they are per-
mitted to obscure all the adjoining fields of investigation.

* See ' A Kinetic Theory of Evolution,' Science, N. S., 13: 969, June 21, 1901.

THE PEARL FISHERIES OF CEYLON. 229

THE PEAEL FISHERIES OF CEYLON.*

By Professor W. A. HERDMAN, B.Sc, F.R.S.,

UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LIVERPOOL.

nr^HE celebrated pearl 'oysters' of Ceylon are found mainly in certain
-*- parts of the wide shallow plateau which occupies the upper end
of the Gulf of Manaar, off the northwest coast of the island and south
of Adam's Bridge.

The animal (Margaritifera vulgaris, Schum. = Avicula fucata,
Gould) is not a true oyster, but belongs to the family Aviculidae, and is,
therefore, more nearly related to the mussels (Mytilus) than to the
oysters {Ostrcea) of our seas.

The fisheries are of very great antiquity. They are referred to by
various classical authors, and Pliny speaks of the pearls from Taprobane
(Ceylon) as 'by far the best in the world.' Cleopatra is said to have
obtained pearls from Aripu, a small village on the Gulf of Manaar,
which is still the center of the pearl industry. Coming to more recent
times, but still some centuries back, we have records of fisheries under
the Singhalese kings of Kandy, and subsequently under the successive
European rulers — the Portuguese being in possession from about 1505
to about 1655, the Dutch from that time to about 1795, and the English
from the end of the eighteenth century onwards. A notable feature of
these fisheries under all administrations has been their uncertainty.

The Dutch records show that there were no fisheries between 1732
and 1746, and again between 1768 and 1796. During our own time
the supply failed in 1820 to 1828, in 1837 to 1854, in 1864 and several
succeeding years, and finally after five successful fisheries in 1887, 1888,
1889, 1890 and 1891 there has been no return for the last decade.
Many reasons, some fanciful, others with more or less basis of truth,
have been given from time to time for these recurring failures of the
fishery; and several investigations, such as that of Dr. Kelaart (who
unfortunately died before his work was completed) in 1857 to 1859,
and that of Mr. Holdsworth in 1865 to 1869, have been undertaken
without much practical result so far.

In September, 1901, Mr. Chamberlain asked me to examine the rec-
ords and report to him on the matter, and in the following spring I
was invited by the government to go to Ceylon with a scientific
assistant, and undertake any investigation into the condition of the

* Abstract of discourse before the Royal Institution of Great Britain.

230 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

banks that might be considered necessary. I arrived at Colombo in
January, 1902, and as soon as a steamer could be obtained proceeded
to the pearl banks. In April it was necessary to return to my uni-
versity duties in Liverpool, but I was fortunate in having taken out
with me as my assistant, Mr. James Hornell, who was to remain in
Ceylon for at least a year longer, in order to carry out the observations
and experiments we had arranged, and complete our work. This pro-
gram has been carried out, and Mr. Hornell has kept me supplied
with weekly reports and with specimens requiring detailed examination.

The steamship Lady HavelocJc was placed by the Ceylon govern-
ment at my disposal for the work of examining into the biological con-
ditions surrounding the pearl oyster banks; and this enabled me on
two successive cruises of three or four weeks each to examine all the
principal banks, and run lines of dredging and trawling and other
observations across, around and between them, in order to ascertain the
conditions that determine an oyster bed. Towards the end of my stay
I took part in the annual inspection of the pearl banks, by means of
divers, along with the retiring Inspector, Captain J. Donnan, C.M.G.,
and his successor. Captain Legge. During that period we lived and
worked on the native barque Bangasameeporawee, and had daily oppor-
tunity of studying the methods of the native divers and the results they
obtained.

It is evident that there are two distinct questions that may be
raised — the first as to the abundance of the adult 'oysters,' and the
second as to the number of pearls in the oysters, and it was the first of
these rather than the frequency of the pearls that seemed to call for
investigation, since the complaint has not been as to the number of
pearls per adult oyster, but as to the complete disappearance of the
shell-fish. I was indebted to Captain Donnan for much kind help
during the inspection, when he took pains to let me see as thoroughly
and satisfactorily as possible the various banks, the different kinds and
ages of oysters, and the conditions under which these and their enemies
exist. I wish also to record my entire satisfaction with the work done
by Mr. Hornell, both while I was with him and also since. It would
have been quite impossible for me to have got through the work I did
in the very limited time had it not been for Mr. Hornell 's skilled
assistance.

Most of the pearl oyster banks or 'paars' (meaning rock or any
form of hard bottom, in distinction to 'Manul,' which indicates loose
or soft sand) are in depths of from five to ten fathoms and occupy
the wide shallow area of nearly fifty miles in length, and extending
opposite Aripu to twenty miles in breadth, which lies to the south of
Adam's Bridge. On the western edge of this area there is a steep

TEE PEARL FISHERIES OF CEYLON. 231

declivity, the sea deepening within a few miles from under ten to over
one hundred fathoms; while out in the center of the southern part of
the Gulf of Manaar, to the west of the Chilaw Pearl Banks, depths of
between one and two thousand fathoms are reached. On our two
cruises in the Lady Haveloch we made a careful examination of the
ground in several places outside the banks to the westward, on the
chance of finding beds of adult oysters from which possibly the spat
deposited on the inshore banks might be derived. No such beds,
outside the known 'paars,' were found; nor are they likely to exist.
The bottom deposits in the ocean abysses to the west of Ceylon are
'globigerina ooze,' and 'green mud,' which are entirely different in
nature and origin from the coarse terrigenous sand, often cemented
into masses, and the various calcareous neritic deposits, such as corals
and nullipores, found in the shallow water on the banks. The steepest
part of the slope from ten to twenty fathoms down to about 100 fathoms
or more, all along the western coast seems in most places to have a
hard bottom covered with Alcyonaria, sponges, deep-sea corals and
other large encrusting and dendritic organisms. Neither on this slope
nor in the deep water beyond the cliff did we find any ground suitable
for the pearl oyster to live upon.

Close to the top of the steep slope, about twenty miles from land,
and in depths of from eight to ten fathoms, is situated the largest of
the 'paars,' the celebrated Periya Paar, which has frequently figured
in the inspectors' reports, has often given rise to hopes of great
fisheries, and has as often caused deep disappointment to successive
government officials. The Periya Paar runs for about eleven nautical
miles north and south, and varies from one to two miles in breadth,
and this — for a paar — large extent of ground becomes periodically
covered with young oysters, which, however, almost invariably dis-
appear before the next inspection. This paar has been called by the
natives the 'mother-paar' under the impression that the young oysters
that come and go in fabulous numbers migrate or are carried inwards
and supply the inshore paars with their populations. During a careful
investigation of the Periya Paar and its surroundings we satisfied
ourselves that there is no basis of fact for this belief; and it became
clear to us that the successive broods of young oysters on the Periya
Paar, amounting probably within the last quarter century alone to many
millions of millions of oysters, which if they had been saved would
have constituted enormous fisheries, have all been overwhelmed by
natural causes, due mainly to the configuration of the ground and its
exposure to the southwest monsoon.

The following table shows, in brief, the history of the Periya
Paar for the last twenty-four years :

232 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Feb. 1880. Abundance of young oysters.

Mar. 1882. No oysters on the bank.

Mar. 1883. Abundance of young oysters, 6 to 9 months old.

Mar. 1884. Oysters still on bank, mixed with others of 3 months old.

Mar. 1885. Older oysters gone, and very few of the younger remaining.

Mar. 1886. No oysters on bank.

Nov. 1887. Abundance of young oysters, 2 to 3 months.

Nov. 1888. Oysters of last year gone and new lot come, 3 to 6 months.

Nov. 1889. Oysters of last year gone; a few patches 3 months old present.

Mar. 1892. No oysters on the bank.

Mar. 1893. Abundance of oysters of 6 months old.

Mar. 1894. No oysters on bank.

Mar. 1895. Ditto.

Mar. 1896. Abundance of young oysters, 3 to 6 months.

Mar. 1897. No oysters present.

Mar. 1898.' Ditto.

Mar. 1899. Abundance of oysters, 3 to 6 months old.

Mar. 1900. Abundance of oysters 3 to 6 months old; none of last year's

remaining.
Mar. 1901. Oysters present of 12 to 18 months of age, but not so numerous

as in preceding year.
Mar. 1902. Young oysters abundant, 2 to 3 months. Only a few small

patches of older oysters (2 to 214 years) remaining.
Nov. 1902. All the oysters gone.

It is shown by the above that since 1880 the bank has been natu-
rally restocked with young oysters at least eleven times without yielding
a fishery.

The ten-fathom line skirts the western edge of the paar, and the
one hundred-fathom line is not far outside it. An examination of the
great slope outside is sufficient to show that the southwest monsoon
running up towards the Bay of Bengal for six months in the year,
must batter with full force on the exposed seaward edge of the bank
and cause great disturbance of the bottom. We made a careful survey
of the Periya Paar in March, 1902, and found it covered with young
oysters a few months old. In my preliminary report to the govern-
ment written in July, I estimated these young oysters at not less than
a hundred thousand millions, and stated my belief that these were
doomed to destruction, and ought to be removed at the earliest oppor-
tunity to a "safer locality further inshore. Mr. Horn ell was authorized
by the Governor of Ceylon to carry out this recommendation, and went
to the Periya Paar early in November with boats and appliances suit-
able for the work, but found he had arrived too late. The southwest
monsoon had intervened, the bed had apparently been swept clean, and
the enormous population of young oysters, which we had seen in March,
and which might have been used to stock many of the smaller inshore
paars, was now in all probability either buried in sand or carried down
the steep declivity into the deep water outside. This experience, taken

TEE PEARL FISHERIES OF CEYLON. 233

along with what we know of the past history of the bank as revealed by
the inspectors' reports, shows that whenever young oysters are found
on the Periya Paar, they ought, without delay, to be dredged up in the
bulk and transplanted to suitable ground in the Cheval district — the
region where the most reliable paars are placed.

From this example of the Periya Paar it is clear that in consider-
ing the vicissitudes of the pearl oyster banks, we have to deal with
great natural causes which can not be removed, but which may to
some extent be avoided, and that consequently, it is necessary to
introduce large measures of cultivation and regulation in order to
increase the adult population on the grounds, give greater constancy
to the supply, and remove the disappointing fluctuations in the
fishery.

There are in addition, however, various minor causes of failure
of the fisheries, some of which we were able to investigate. The
pearl oyster has many enemies, such as star-fishes, boring sponges
which destroy the shell, boring molluscs which suck out the animal,
internal protozoan and vermean parasites and carnivorous fishes, all
of which cause some destruction and which may conspire on occasions
to ruin a bed and change the prospects of a fishery. But in connec-
tion with such zoological enemies, it is necessary to bear in mind
that from the fisheries point of view their influence is not wholly
evil, as some of them are closely associated with pearl production in
the oyster. One enemy (a Plectognathid fish) which doubtless devours
many of the oysters, at the same time receives and passes on the parasite
which leads to the production of pearls in others. The loss of some
individuals is in that case a toll that we very willingly pay, and no one
would advocate the extermination of that particular enemy.

In fact the oyster can probably cope well enough with its animate
environment if not too recklessly decimated at the fisheries, and if
man will only compensate to some extent for the damage he does by
giving some attention to the breeding stock and 'spat,' and by trans-
planting when required the growing young from unsuitable ground
to known and reliable ' paars. '

Those were the main considerations that impressed me during
our work on the banks, and, therefore, the leading points in the con-
clusions given in my preliminary report (July, 1902) to the governor
of Ceylon ran as follows :

1. The oysters we met with seemed on the whole to be very
healthy.

2. There is no evidence of any epidemic or of much disease of
any kind.

234 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

3. A considerable number of parasites, both external and internal,
both protozoan and vermean, were met with, but that is not unusual
in molluscs, and we do not regard it as affecting seriously the oyster
population.

4. Many of the larger oysters were reproducing actively.

5. We found large quantities of minute 'spat' in several places.

6. We also found enormous quantities of young oysters a few
months old on many of the paars. On the Periya Paar the number
of these probably amounted to over a hundred thousand million.

7. A very large number of these young oysters never arrive at
maturity. There are several causes for this :

8. They have many natural enemies, some of which we have
determined.

9. Some are smothered in sand.

10. Some grounds are much more suitable than others for feeding
the young oysters, and so conducing to life and growth.

11. Probably the majority are killed by overcrowding.

12. They should therefore be thinned out and transplanted.

13. This can be easily and speedily done, on a large scale, by
dredging from a steamer, at the proper time of year, when the young
oysters are at the best age for transplanting.

14. Finally there is no reason for any despondency in regard to
the future of the pearl oyster fisheries, if they are treated scientific-
ally. The adult oysters are plentiful on some of the paars and seem
for the most part healthy and vigorous; while young oysters in their
first year, and masses of minute spat just deposited, are very abun-
dant in many places.

To the biologist two dangers are however evident, and, paradoxical
as it may seem, these are overcroioding and overfishing. But the
superabundance, and the risk of depletion are at the opposite ends of
the life cycle, and, therefore, both are possible at once on the same
ground — and either is sufficient to cause locally and temporarily a
failure of the pearl oyster fishery. What is required to obviate
these two dangers ahead, and ensure more constancy in the fisheries,
is careful supervision of the banks by some one who has had sufficient
biological training to understand the life-problems of the animal,
and who will therefore know when to carry out simple measures of
farming, such as thinning and transplanting, and when to advise as
to tbe regulation of the fisheries.

In connection with cultivation and transplantation, there are
various points in structure, reproduction, life-history, growth and
habits of the oyster which we had to deal with, and some of which
we were able to determine on the banks, while others have been the

THE PEARL FISHERIES OF CEYLON. 235

subject of Mr. Hornell's work since, in the little marine laboratory
we established at Galle.

Although Galle is at the opposite end of the island from the pearl
banks of Manaar, it is clearly the best locality in Ceylon for a marine
laboratory — both for general zoology and also for working at pearl
oyster problems. Little can be done on the sandy exposed shores of
Manaar island or the Bight of Condatchy — the coasts opposite the
pearl banks. The fisheries take place far out at sea, from ten to twenty
miles oS shore; and it is clear that any natural history work on the
pearl banks must be done not from the shore, but, as we did, at sea
from a ship during the inspections, and can not be done at all during
the monsoons because of the heavy sea and useless exposed shore.
At such times the necessary laboratory work supplementing the
previous observations at sea can be carried out much more satis-
factorily at Galle than anywhere in the Gulf of Manaar.

Turning now from the health of the oyster population on the
'paars, ' to the subject of pearl formation, which is evidently an
unhealthy and abnormal process, we find that in the Ceylon oyster
there are several distinct causes that lead to the production of pearls.
Some pearls or pearly excrescences on the interior of the shell are
due to the irritation caused by boring sponges and burrowing worms.
Minute grains of sand and other foreign bodies gaining access to the
body inside the shell, which are popularly supposed to form the
nuclei of pearls, only do so, in our experience, under exceptional
circumstances. Out of the many pearls I have decalcified, only one
contained in its center what was undoubtedly a grain of sand; and
from Mr. Hornell's notes taken since I left Ceylon, I quote the follow-
ing passage, showing that he has had a similar experience :

"February 16, 1903 — Ear-pearls. Of two decalcified, one from the
anterior ear (No. 148), proved to have a minute quartz grain (micro,
preparation 25) as nucleus."

It seems probable that it is only when the shell is injured, as, for
example, by the breaking off or crushing of the projecting 'ears,'
thereby enabling some fine sand to gain access to the interior, that
such inorganic particles supply the irritation which gives rise to
pearl formation.

The majority of the pearls found free in the tissues of the body
of the Ceylon oyster contain, in our experience, the more or less easily
recognizable remains of Platyelmian parasites; so that the stimula-
tion which causes eventually the formation of an 'orient' pearl is, as
has been suggested by various writers in the past, due to infection by a
minute lowly worm, which becomes encased and dies, thus justifying.

236 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

in a sense, Dubois' statement that — 'La plus belle perle n'est done, en
definitive, que le brillant sarcophage d'un ver. '*

To Dr. Kelaart (1859) belongs the honor of having first con-
nected the formation of pearls in the Ceylon oyster with the presence
of vermean parasites. It is true that Filippi seven years before (in '
1852), showed that the Trematode Distoinum duplicatum was the
cause of pearl formation in the fresh-water mussel Anodonta, and
Kiichenmeister (1856), Moebius (1857) and others extended the
discovery to some of the larger pearl oysters, and to other para-
sites; but it is probable that Kelaart knew nothing of these papers
and that he made his discovery in regard to the Ceylon oyster quite
independently. He (and the Swiss zoologist, Humbert, who was with
him at a pearl fishery) found "in addition to the filaria and cercaria,
three other parasitical worms infesting the viscera and other parts of
the pearl oyster. We both agree that these worms play an important
part in the formation of pearls; and it may yet be found possible to
infect oysters in other beds with these worms, and thus increase the
quantity of these gems."

Thurston, in 1894, confirmed Kelaart 's observation, finding in the
tissues, and also in the alimentary canal, of the Ceylon oyster, 'larvae
of some Platyhelminthian (flat-worm).'

Garner (1871) associated the production of pearls both in the
pearl oysters and also in our common English mussel {Mytilus edulis)
with the presence of Distomid parasites; Ciard (1897) and other
French writers have made similar observations in the case of Donax
and other Lamellibranchs ; and Dubois (1901) has more recently
ascribed the production of pearls in mussels on the French coast, to
the presence of the larva of Distomum margaritarum. Jameson
(1902) then followed with a more detailed account of the relations
between the pearls in Mytilus and the Distomid larvae, which he identi-
fies as Distomum {Bracliyccelium) somaterice (Levinson). Jameson's
observations were made on mussels obtained partly at Billiers (Mor-
bihan), a locality at which Dubois had also worked, and partly at the
Lancashire Sea-Fisheries Marine Laboratory at Piel in the Barrow
Channel. Finally, Dubois has just published a further notef in which,
referring to the causation of pearls in Mytilus, he says (p. 178) : "En
somme ce que ce dernier [Garner] avait vu en Angleterre en 1871, je
I'ai retrouve en Bretagne en 1901. Quelques jours apres mon depart
de Billiers, M. Lyster Jameson, de Londres, est venu dans la meme
localite et a confirme le fait observe par Garner et par moi." But
Jameson has done rather more than that. He has shown that it is prob-

* Comptes Rendus, October 14, 1901.

I Comptes Rendus Acad. d. Sci., January 19, 1903.

THE PEARL FISHERIES OF CEYLON. 237

able (his own words are 'there is hardly any doubt') that the parasite
causing the pearl-formation in our common mussel (not in the Ceylon
'pearl oyster') is the larva of Distomum somaterice, from the eider
duck and the scoter. He also believes that the larva inhabits Tapes or
the cockle as a first host before getting into the mussel.

We have found, as Kelaart did, that in the Ceylon pearl oyster
there are several different kinds of worms commonly occurring as para-
sites, and we shall I think be able to show in our final report that
Cestodes, Trematodes and Nematodes are all concerned in pearl forma-
tion. Unlike the case of the European mussels, however, we find so far
that in Ceylon the most important cause is a larval Cestode of the
Tetrarhynchus form. Mr, Hornell has traced a considerable part of the
life history of this parasite, from an early free-swimming stage to a late
larval condition in the file fish {Batistes mitis) which frequents the
pearl banks and preys upon the oysters. We have not yet succeeded in
finding the adult, but it will probably prove to infest the sharks or other
large Elasmobranchs which devour Balistes.

It is only due to my excellent assistant, Mr. James Hornell, to
state that our observations on pearl formation are mainly due to him.
During the comparatively limited time (under three months) that I
had on the banks I was mainly occupied with what seemed the more
important question of the life-conditions of the oyster, in view of the
frequent depletion of particular grounds.

It is important to note that these interesting pearl-formation
parasites are not only widely distributed over the Manaar banks, but
also on other parts of the coast of Ceylon, Mr, Hornell has found
Balistes with its Cestode parasite both at Trincomalie and at Galle, and
the sharks also occur all round the island, so that there can be no ques-
tion as to the probable infection of oysters grown at these or any other
suitable localities.

There is still, however, much to find out in regard to all these
points, and other details affecting the life of the oyster and the pros-
perity of the pearl fisheries, Mr, Hornell and I are still in the middle
of our investigations, and this must be regarded as only a preliminary
statement of results which may have to be corrected, and I hope will
be considerably extended in our final report.

It is interesting to note that the Ceylon Government Gazette, of
December 22 last, announced a pearl fishery, to commence on February
22, during which the following banks would be fished:

The southeast Cheval Paar, estimated to have 49 million oysters.

The East Cheval Paar, with 11 millions.

The Northeast Cheval Paar, with 13 millions.

The Periya Paar Kerrai, with 8 million — making in all over 80
million oysters.

238 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

That fishery is now in progress, Mr. Hornell is attending it, and
we hope that it may result not merely in a large revenue from pearls
but also in considerable additions to our scientific knowledge of the
oysters.

As an incident of our work in Ceylon, it was found necessary to fit
up the scientific man's workshop — a small laboratory on the edge of
the sea, with experimental tanks, a circulation of sea-water and facili-
ties for microscopic and other work. For several reasons, as was
mentioned above, we chose Galle at the southern end of Ceylon, and
we have every reason to be satisfied with the choice. With its large
bay, its rich fauna and the sheltered collecting ground of the lagoon
within the coral reef, it is probably one of the best possible spots for
the naturalist's work in eastern tropical seas.

In the interests of science it is to be hoped, then, that the marine
laboratory at Galle will soon be established on a permanent basis with
a suitable equipment. It ought, moreover, to be of sufficient size to
accommodate two or three additional zoologists, such as members of the
staff of the museum and of the medical college at Colombo, or scien-
tific visitors from Europe. The work of such men would help in the
investigation of the marine fauna and in the elucidation of practical
problems, and the laboratory would soon become a credit and an attrac-
tion to the colony. Such ■ an institution at Galle would be known
throughout the scientific world, and would be visited by many students
of science, and it might reasonably be hoped that in time it would per-
form for the marine biology and the fishing industries of Ceylon very
much the same important functions as those fulfilled by the celebrated
gardens and laboratory at Peradeniya for the botany and associated
economic problems of the land.

LAND AND WATER PLANTS. 239

A COMPAEISON OF LAND AND WATEE PLANTS.

By Professor GEORGE JAMES PEIRCE, Ph.D.,

LKLAND STANFORD JR. UNIVERSITY.

THE aquatic origin of all living things is now a generally accepted
conception. The arguments in its favor are : ( 1 ) morphological,
based on comparative studies of the vegetative and reproductive parts;
(2) biological, based on observation of the habits of plants and ani-
mals, especially at the breeding season; (3) paleontological, based on
the now known fossil remains of formerly living organisms; (4)
physiological, based on the absolute dependence of all living things on
water. These last arguments appeal to me more strongly than any
others. When we realize that all food, all the materials of which the
body is constructed, and all the substances which its cells use, can
enter the cells only in solution in water, we see at once how indis-
pensable water is. When we realize besides that the form and size of
the cells, and therefore of the body, depend upon the pressures within
the cells which are due to the presence of aqueous solutions therein,
we see how necessary water is in another way. Upon the tension of
the cells depends the mechanical force which they, the tissues, and the
organism, can exert. The absolute dependence of all living things
upon water is one of the two most important characters which they
possess. The amount of water which different cells, organs and organ-
isms use varies greatly, but they all require some water. The ease
with which different organisms, organs and cells obtain water also
varies, though not necessarily in a degree corresponding with the
amounts used. If we compare the conditions under which water and
land plants live, we shall see some reasons for the differences in the
structure and habits of these two classes.

The constantly submersed aquatic, whether fresh or salt water, is
buoyed up with a very considerable force. A solid mass of plant tissue
from which all air and water had been pressed would be buoyed up in
water by a force from seven to eight hundred times as great as would
be exerted if it were in the air. This is in accordance with Archimedes'
well-known law in physics — a body in a fluid is buoyed up with a force
equal to the weight of the volume of fluid which it displaces. Any
part of a land plant, therefore, which rises into the air is supported with
say only one seven hundredth of the force which supports the sub-
mersed aquatic. This difference is met by the land plant in two ways.
It develops tissues which mechanically support it, which carry that part

2 40 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

of its weight which the air can not carry; and it so constructs certain
parts, for instance the leaves, of nearly all but the pines and their allies,
that their form is best fitted for floating. The leaves are the organs
in which most food is made. Their efficiency depends upon the amount
of light which they can absorb, and they will evidently absorb most
light if they are flat and placed at right angles to the rays as they come
from the sun. This may be the main reason for the expanded form
of the leaves, and it is the only reason which has been proved by
experiment. But it is evident that a leaf is buoyed up more strongly
and, therefore, requires less mechanical support if it is flat and more
01 less horizontal than if it were vertical or if it were cylindrical or
cubical. Comparing weight for weight, we find more mechanical tissue
in the pine-needle than in the flat leaf. And we find no such mechanical
tissues even in the largest and longest submersed aquatics, some of
which are as long as trees are tall.

The amount of mechanically strengthening tissue in a part or a
plant has been proved by experiment to depend upon the amount of
mechanical strain to which it is exposed. Garden plants which ordi-
narily carry the weight of their branches will be mechanically much
weaker if supported on trellises. Conversely climbers and prostrate
plants, if subjected to mechanical pull, will develop strengthening
tissues which they ordinarily do not form. In these cases, the so-called
inherited tendency to form or not to form mechanically strengthening
tissues is so promptly overcome in the individuals experimented upon
as to suggest some doubt whether there is such a tendency at all,
whether the structure and behavior of living things is not more due to
the influence of their surroundings than to inheritance.

We may conclude, then, that the presence in erect land plants of
mechanically supporting tissues which are never found in submersed
aquatics is not mere coincidence. The difference in the mechanical
tissues of these plants is due, not to the differences in their places in
any scheme of classification or to their degree of evolution, but to the
differences in the buoyancy of air and water. Aquatic plants do
develop mechanical tissues, but they resist the pullings, bendings and
blunt blows which the waves give. These tissues can not support much
weight.

The strength of the submersed aquatic will vary greatly according
as it is a floating or an attached organism. All submersed aquatics
which are unattached are mechanically weak and they are usually
small, whereas those which are attached must develop a certain amount
of mechanical strength to resist the tugging of the free parts against the
holdfasts. Compare, for instance, Spirogyra and fresh-water Cladoph-
ora, plants of somewhat similar size, structure and situation. A
Cladophora filament will break only under a much stronger pull than

LAND AND WATER PLANTS. 241

a Spirogyra filament of the same size and general structure growing in
the same pool. Cladophora grows attached, Spirogyra is free. Com-
pare Nereocystis and Macrocystis, the great kelps of the Pacific, with
the Sargassum of the Atlantic. Sargassum begins life as an attached
plant but is mechanically weak, is broken away and is for most of its
life free. Our Pacific kelps are always attached and are tremendously
tough. The comparison is not fair, however, for Sargassum is smaller
than our giant kelps.

The attached plants between the tide-marks are among the most
interesting as to mechanical strength. The rock weeds (Fucus), the
Irideas, the Gigartinas, etc., of our Pacific shore withstand a tre-
mendous amount of pulling and buffeting and are very hard to pull,
though comparatively easy to tear, to pieces. These and other thinner
and more delicate plants, e. g., the Ulvas, Porphyras, etc., escape
destruction by their extreme pliancy rather than by toughness.

The most striking example of mechanical strength displayed by
any plant living between the tide-marks is furnished by the sea palm
(Postelsiu) , which is peculiar to the Pacific coast. This plant grows to
a height of twelve to eighteen inches. The erect and smooth tapering
trunk rises from the tangled mass of holdfasts attaching it to the flat or
shelving ledge. The leaves, often over half as long as the trunk, nar-
row and corrugated, spring from its top. The trunk is like that of an
erect land plant in being able to support a considerable weight applied
vertically. The sea palm resembles in carrying power the land plant
which gave it its name, but its remarkable strength is shown by its
living where almost nothing else can, where the constantly beating surf
is too much even for barnacles unless they take hold in some crevice.
The spores must germinate very rapidly in the short times of compara-
tive quiet, taking fast hold of the rock, for in most places where T have
seen the sea palm growing, the waves were constantly in motion, and
usually so violent, even at low water, that a man would be carried off
his feet almost instantly. The sea palm bows before a breaker, bends
away from it, resists its downward crushing force, holds on and holds
together in spite of the shoreward thrust and seaward pull, thrives
only where the sea is roughest, is the only plant where it grows every
part of which has not fast hold of the rock.

Turning from the relative buoyancy of air and water and the
effect of this difference in the supporting tissues of land and water
plants, we may examine the relative ease with which land and water
plants obtain their food-materials. The means by which any organ-
ism takes food or food materials into its living cells are simple though
not generally enough understood. Only when the aqueous solution m
the cell, permeating all its parts including the wall, is in contact with

VOL. LXIII. — 16.

242 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

an aqueous solution outside the cell, can there be any absorption. The
submersed aquatic has many or all of its cells in direct contact with
the water. The land plant has only those cells which touch, or are in,
the soil which are regularly in direct contact with water. Except those
plants living in swamp or marsh, and except immediately after heavy
rain, land plants are able to obtain only those thin films of water
held on the surfaces of the soil particles. To reach these films, to
bring the solution within the cells into contact with the water (also a
solution) on the soil particles, land plants develop hairs — the rhizoids
of the lower forms, the root-hairs of the higher. An aquatic com-
posed of a chain or of a film of cells has all its cells directly in con-
tact with the water, which holds in solution oxygen, carbon dioxide,
and those mineral salts which constitute its food materials. An
aquatic composed of a mass of cells, on the other hand, has only some
cells which are able directly to absorb food materials from the water,
those cells on the surface. The surface cells constitute the absorbing
organ. Under these are other cells, containing chlorophyll, which
manufacture the absorbed food materials into foods. If the plant is
small, there may be besides only those cells which are used for storing
the manufactured product and those concerned with reproduction. If
the plant is larger, like the rock weeds and kelps, there must be in
addition a system of cells for conducting the foods from the cells
manufacturing them to others needing them. In all aquatics, even the
largest, unless some are land plants retaining the structures charac-
teristic of land plants even after becoming aquatic, there is only this
one system of conducting tissues, the one which distributes food.

As we pass from the submersed aquatics to those only periodically
submersed, from these to plants living prostrate on the ground, like
most liverworts, and from these to erect plants, we see progressive
changes in absorbing and conducting systems. The plants living
between the tide-marks, for example the rock weeds and devil's apron
(Lamviaria), possess a conducting system similar to the submersed
kelps, but the absorbing system is reduced in extent to prevent the
plant from losing water by evaporation while exposed at low tide.
Jn these plants there is need of two sets of qualities, those adapted to
life under water, those fitted to life in the air — essentially, enough
cells for absorbing water, and enough cells so placed and of such
composition as to keep evaporation within safe limits.

The prostrate land plants, for example the liverworts, possess tis-
sues similar to the small though massive algge living between the
tide-m&,rks — an absorbing system and a protective system. But as,
for most of the time, the prostrate land plant can absorb water
only from the soil underneath it, and lose water by evaporation
only from its upper surface, the absorbing and protective systems are

LAND AND WATER PLANTS. 243

seiDarated, the food-manufacturing tissue lying between the other
two. These prostrate i)hints are all so small that no conducting
system is needed.

So soon as a plant turns up into the larger and unoccupied space
above the soil, the part which grows up cuts ^itself off from a direct
supply of water and mineral food materials and exposes itself to
greater loss by evaporation. The absorbing system of the part still
in contact with the soil must be extended, the part above must be
covered with material less permeable to water, and a conducting system
which will supply the part above with water, which can come only
from below, must develop. This we find in the erect mosses, and
also in these cells which mechanically support the parts the weight
of which is not wholly or directly carried by air and soil. The larger
mosses, Polytrichum for instance, show these different tissues.

^Vhen a plant assumes the erect posture, its structure must cor-
respond with its changed habit. The anatomical changes in man's
body, which supposedly took place when he assumed the erect posture,
have been explained by zoologists. Similarly there are changes in
the bodies of plants which take on the erect habit of growth. These
changes enable them to conform to the new relations and degrees of
mechanical strains, the different relations to absorption and loss of
water, the different relations to light, etc. The simpler, larger, erect
plants, for instance the grasses, have worked out the relations of
absorbing, protecting, food manufacturing, conducting, and mechan-
ically supporting systems in very definite fashion. In these plants,
absorbing and food-manufacturing systems are remote from each
other, connected, however, by conducting tissues which carry the min-
eral salts and water needed for food manufacture, plus the amount of
water which must inevitably be lost by evaporation, an amount con-
stantly varying everywhere, but differing greatly according to situa-
tion, climate, etc. In these plants there must be the other conducting
system, the one for distributing the food made in the leaves to all
the living cells in other parts. Here we encounter, as in the ferns
and their allies, which might equally well have been selected as illus-
trating these points, the double conducting system. The food-dis-
tributing system is found in all larger plants in which there are other
living cells than those engaged in food manufacture. This is the
primitive conducting system, the one first needed, as our consideration
•of the larger aquatics showed. Only when absorbing and food-inanu-
facturing tissues are remote from each other is another conducting
system needed and developed, and the dimensions of this correspond
with the volume of water to be carried to supply food materials and
to make good the loss by evaporation.

244 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

In the ferns and their allies, and in the grasses, the tissues
mechanically supporting the parts above ground are combined into
what may be called an external skeleton. This is distinct from the
conducting tissues. It forms a cylinder close under the epidermis
and enclosing the conducting and storing tissues. Each strand of
conducting tissue may also be inclosed in a strengthening cylinder.
This kind of skeleton is strong for the weight and amount of material
in it, but it has the serious disadvantage of limiting the size of the
organ or organism. The lobster and crab can continue to grow only
by splitting the external skeleton. They shed this periodically, form-
ing a new and larger one. Till this is formed they are weak and
defenseless. If an erect plant were to split its external skeleton it
would be too weak to stand. The limit which it sets to the size of
the plant, rather than the difficulty of branching which is sometimes
alleged as the disadvantage, is the serious defect in an external skeleton.

The grasses show an approach to an internal skeleton in that the
greater part of the strength of the stem is due to the cylinders of
supporting tissue in which the strands of conducting tissue are enclosed.
But if the whole plant were to continue to grow, the cylinders in which
the conducting tissues are enclosed would have to increase in diameter
to allow an increase in the conducting tissues and this can not be done
without splitting the strengthening cylinders and thereby greatly
weakening the whole plant.

In the pines (using the word broadly) support and the conduc-
tion of liquids are accomplished by the same tissues, the same cells.
These are the lowest plants in which an internal skeleton, if I may call
it so, is found. Such a skeleton sets no limit to growth. It can
be added to year by year as there is need of increased strength, and
at the same time increased conducting tissue is formed. But con-
duction and mechanical support can not ])oth be attained with the
utmost efficiency and economy of material in cells which must serve
both purposes. The diameter of the conducting elements must be
limited lest they be weak, they must be comparatively short for
the same reason, there can be no continuous tubes through which
liquids can be rapidly transported. To ensure the requisite mechan-
ical strength to the whole plant, the walls of the conducting cells
must be thicker than would otherwise be necessary.

In the highest flowering plants, the dicotyledons, conducting and
mechanically supporting tissues are combined in the same strands,
but the same cells do not serve both purposes. In these plants, con-
ducting and strengthening cells are side by side, they increase in
number according to the needs of the plant, the conducting cells
roost rapidly when most needed — as in the early spring — the strength-
ening cells later, when the increasing weight of the growing parts

LAND AND WATER PLANTS. 245

makes increased support necessary. In this combination of conduct-
ing and strengthening tissues, with the distribution of the two func-
tions among different cells, the highest eflicicncy with the greatest
economy of material is possible. There is no limit to which the plant
can increase in size, provided only it preserve, from year to year,
a layer of reproductive cells (the cambium) from which new cells
developing into new conducting and strengthening elements may be
formed.

In comparing the conditions under which water and land plants
live this must be added. In the water, conditions change slowly
and in regularly recurring periods. On land they change not only
in regularly recurring j^eriods but also frequently and suddenly.
Submersed aquatics fall into a smaller number of species than do
the plants living between the tide-marks. These again are numbered
in fewer species than are land plants. The vertical distribution of
aquatics is limited by the light to a few feet; the vertical distribution
of land plants is limited by the temperature to a few thousand feet.
Within this greater vertical space there is far greater diversity of
conditions than in the shallow layer of water in which plants can live.
This greater diversity of environment has been the cause of the greater
diversity among land plants. But land and water plants, were they
not sensitive to all the influences which combined make their environ-
ments, and had they not reacted to these influences, would never
have attained the diversity which they now possess. The depend-
ence of all living things upon water, and their power of reacting
to all the influences of their environment to which they are sensi-
tive, are the most striking phenomena displayed by animals and
plants.

246 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

THE PRESERVATION OF WILD FLOWERS.

By FRANCES ZIRNGIEBEL,

KOXBURY, MASS.

^T^HE fact that several of our delicate and most beautiful wild flowers
-*~ are fast disappearing from places where they were once found
has led to an effort to prevent the complete extermination of certain
species and the increasing scarcity of other plants. The plants so en-
dangered differ in different localities. The endeavor to protect par-
ticular ones has therefore local modifications, but the basis of the move-
ment, the desire to prevent wasteful destruction of plant life, is the
same in all sections of the country.

A national society, known as 'The Wild Flower Preservation Society
of America,' has been organized, aiming to do for the native plants
what the Audubon Society has so well done for the birds. Its methods
of work are similar to those of the bird society. In its official organ,
The Plant World, has been published during the past year a series
of articles on the general subject of plant preservation with the addi-
tion of specific suggestions regarding the flowers about New York
city. Reprints of these articles may be obtained upon application to
the secretary of the society, C. L. Pollard, 1854 Fifth Street, Washing-
ton, D. C. A number of persons in New England who take keen
interest in wild flowers have united to form a 'Society for the Pro-
tection of Native Plants.' The object of this society is to try to do
something to check the wholesale destruction to which our native
plants are exposed. Brief appeals, to the general public, to children
and to nature study teachers have beeen issued and widely distributed
in the form of leaflets, which can be obtained of Miss Maria Carter,
Boston Society of Natural History. In the state of Connecticut laws
have been passed which protect the Hartford fern, and governing
boards of various metropolitan reservations of field and woodland have
made restrictions regarding the picking of their flora.

The problem presented to the various organizations interested in
plant preservation is how depredations may be checked without
seriously restricting the freedom or enjoyment of the nature lover.
It is desired to set at work such factors as will arouse a healthy public
sentiment against indiscriminate and thoughtless flower picking.

The work is much more difficult than that which was before the
Audubon Society, and the right public sentiment can not be created
in the same manner. Many of the strongest reasons given for bird

THE PRESERVATION OF ]YILD FLOWERS.

247

protection are wanting in an appeal for the plants. Birds, high in
the scale of animal life, with power to feel pain and pleasure, with
food-seeking, home-making and young-protecting instincts, demand,
as fellow creatures, freedom from cruelty. Efforts were first made to
protect them as individuals, while the prevention of the destruction of
species was a secondary consideration. Through the agricultural de-
partment of our government, knowledge of the great economic value
of birds was disseminated, and this was a most effective means of in-

GOLDEN-ROD {SoLidago serolina).

suring their protection. Through the same department people learned
of the vast value of our trees to preserve which a public sentiment was
created. Laws were then passed for their protection, and we now have
a distinct forestry policy.

To most persons our wild plants are only things of beauty, com-
mon property to be admired or destroyed at will and, therefore, can not
be preserved by the same petitions as were made in behalf of the birds.
The appeal for the plants is much more difficult and must be at first

248

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

not a thoiightfulness for the plant, less it degenerate into an un-
healthy sentiment, but a request that consideration be given to the
rights of other people, that common property be protected for com-

Tu'iNKLOWEK (Linncea borealts).

mon enjoyment. Efforts to create reforms through calling upon
higher altruistic motives require a long time for their process of evolu-

Great Laurel {Rhododendron maximum).

tion, and demand most strenuous Avork iu order that the 'influence of
the enlightened few' may be felt by the 'unenlightened many.' Per-
manent reform is best assured by positive rather than negative means.

THE PRESERVATION OF WILD FLOWERS.

249

and this particular one can be eas-
ily, though slowly, accomplished
through nature study.

The increasing interest in the
study of nature and the publication
of numerous illustrated popular
books on the subject have been much
feared by the friends of the wild
flowers, who feel that wanton de-
struction will follow in the path of
the enthusiastic young student.
This fear has been somewhat justi-
fied in towns and cities where, in
their eagerness to get specimens for
the class, the thoughtless pupils
have robbed the parks and gardens.
Perhaps, too, in the country, the na-
ture study program has been the

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r

Wt

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^i-

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iPfe

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w4^'h^

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Hk

Saebatia {S. stellaris).

Aster {A. spectabilis).

means of reducing the numbers of
our most attractive wild flowers.
This was a natural result of the
first step in a movement which will
develop into a more carefully di-
rected study. The popular teach-
ing of ornithology in America has
advanced farther than botany. In
its early days collecting 'sets of
eggs' and skins of birds were prom-
inent features of the work and the
extinction of the great auk was one
of the results. But now, partly
through nature study and partly
through the influence of the Audu-
bon Society, studying the habits of
i)irds, naming them without a gun,
photographing eggs in the nest and
Itirds in the bush are the most pop-
ular asoects of the studv.

250

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

The gathering of plants to be used in schools as specimens for class
instruction can be obviated by school authorities arranging to purchase
such supplies from botanic gardens or nurseries where they have been

- ~'-^syr<z:::3Eny.*

Bird-foot Violet (Viola pedata).

raised in large numbers for the purpose. Such an arrangement has
been made between a few teachers of botanv in Boston, and the

Plymouth Mayflowkk, Trailin*; Aitiicrvs (AVi'i/a'a j-e/icws).

directors of the Bussey Institute of Harvard University. Well might
a portion of city parks and public gardens bo devoted to the raising
of sucli plants as are in domnud for boianieal instruction. Tlic farmer's

THE PRESERVATION OF WILD FLOWERS. 251

boy or girl, having at his disposal various kinds of land and being able
to gain intimate knowledge of the conditions best suited to the different
wild flowers which would not flourish in a city park, can experiment
with their cultivation, and in time find the raising of native plants a
useful and fascinating employment. The instilling of a love of flowers
will help to protect them, but this must be united with scientific
knowledge of their structure and relation to their environment in
order that the necessity for restricting the manner in which they are
gathered and the number that are collected Avill be evident.

The epig£ea perhaps has suffered more from inroads upon it than
any other New England plant. Its sweet odor and delicate beauty

^-. ^-^r^ «^ - ^ W -^v 1 1^ ■*

m^^^

Mountain Laurel (Kalmia latifolia).

were in themselves attractive. Its connection with the Plymouth
settlement created for it a patriotic sentiment which unfortunately
was not united with a knowledge of the office of its underground root-
stock and its slow manner of growth. Bryant's poem drew to the
fringed gentian the attention of those who never knew before of its
intrinsic beauty and interesting botanical structure. It is now being
gathered for flower markets and becoming scarcer in meadows.

The epigsea, the gentian and other fast disappearing flowers, though
difficult of cultivation, should be choicely guarded in wild flower
reservations, which should be to the plants of America what the large
country estates are to those of England. The Sharon Biological

252

POPVLAB. SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Observatory controls three lum-
dred acres of land in Massachu-
setts which serves as a 2:)reserve for
native plants and animals. All
the deciduous trees of the state
and also the native flowering
plants are now growing there
under protection. As people be-
come more and more devoted to
nature study; when they see how
much more l;)eautiful the plants
are in their haunts than in a wilt-
ed bouquet; when they gain more
knowledge of botany and know the
plants intimately, learning in what
ways they struggle for existence;
they will not need to be asked not

Purple Fkinged-orchis (Habenaria
psy codes).

to destroy the plants needlessly,
but will unite themselves with the
'enlightened few' until they be-
come the enlightened many. Then
the gentian, the sabbatia, the epi-
gsea, the orchids and other deli-
cate plants, ill fitted to struggle
for existence, but not necessarily
unworthy to survive, will be pro-
tected and mutual aid will become
a factor in their evolution.

Plant preservation depends
partly upon the natural adapta-
tion of plants to their environ-
ment and partly upon the attitude
of people toward them. The very
absence of beauty in some plants

SWAJIP KosEMALLOW (Ilibiscus
Moscheutos ) .

THE rRESERVATION OF WILD FLOWERS.

253

renders llioni unlikely to be destro3^cd by too much picking, while the
strikingly beautiful ones fall prey to thoughtless collectors. Others,
on account of their protective coloration, escape the notice of wild
flower gatherers or browsing cattle. The disagreeable odor of the
skunk cabbage, the bitter taste of the crowfoots, the poisonous prop-
erties of various members of the parsley and nightshade families, and
the stinging glands of the nettles prevent animals from repeating un-
pleasant experiences with them.

The power to produce, through a long season, many flowers, bearing
many seeds, well adapted for dissemination and germination, under
ordinary conditions, is the height of plant differentiation for pre-
servation of species. A consideration of some Xew England wild

Floweeing Dogwood (Cornus florida).

flowers will serve as specific illustrations of the way in which plants
are self protected and the reasons why they require other aid in order
that preservation may be insured.

In the early days of April the bloodroot pushes itself through the
ground, each flower-bud rolled in a green leaf. The leaf unrolls some-
what ; the flower pushes itself through it up into the air. The delicate
calyx drops off and the corolla of pure white petals spreads itself out
surrounding a cluster of golden yellow stamens, in the center of which
is the pistil. After a few days the stamens wither up, the petals drop
off and the pistil, if fertilized, remains, growing larger and larger
until the ovules within it are matured. Then the work of the plant,
along the line of perpetuation of its kind, is over for a year. The
unfolded leaves expand more and more on their lengthened petioles
and spread themselves out into the light and air. They then continue

254

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

to act as organs of great activity in the vegetative work of the plant.
Through them carbon dioxide and oxygen are taken in from the air
and united, in the green cells, with water and nitrogenous matter
absorbed from the soil by the root hairs. The carbon dioxide and
water unite to form carbohydrates such a starch and sugar, and oxygen
which is given off as a waste product. The carbohydrates and other
food products, proteids manufactured in the leaves, are transported to
regions of growth, such as buds, or places of storage, like underground
stems. Before being transported to growing points, the insoluble pro-
ducts are digested or changed to soluble forms, starch being changed
to sugar and then transformed into various plant tissues. If carried
to storage regions they are first converted back into insoluble forms,

Showy Lady's Slipper {Cypripedmm xj)ectabilf).

such as starch, and then stored up to supply energy for the rapid
development of the next spring.

Picking the flowers of the bloodroot destroys the only possible
chance of those particular flowers producing seed which may be able to
survive and reproduce their kind. Destroying the leaves or the root-
stock interferes with subsequent growth of the plant.

Herbaceous perennials, that is soft-stemmed plants which live on
and produce flowers season after season, die down to the ground each
fall and in the spring send forth shoots from the l)uds which are just
under the surface. Those which blossom earliest have the largest

THE rRESERVATlON OF ^\ILD FLOWERS. 255

underground storehouses. The Solomon's seal, ginseng, anemone,
violet, bellwort, irillium and iris liavo underground rootstocks which
provide energy for rapid development in the spring. The adder's
tongue and other lilies, the claytonia or spring beaut}^, and the jack-
in-the-pulpit have bulbs or corms deep down in the ground which
serve as storehouses for plant food. They send up in the spring a few
comparatively large leaves and a single scape of flowers which can be
picked without doing much damage to the plant itself. Tlie jack-in-
the-pulpit, however, grows in moist soil and is easily uprooted. The
mayflower (epigsea), and the twin-flower (linntea) both have slender,
rather woody creeping rootstocks which are frequently torn up when
the blossoms are broken off rather than cut off.

The late blooming perennials suffer less by picking than those
plants which blossom earlier, for their vegetative work for the season
is nearly completed when they become attractive and subject to injury.
The woody perennials, shrubs and trees, form buds in the axils of
their leaves and at tijis of branches. The buds increase in size during
the summer and the next spring become swollen as the sap from the
stem rises in them. Then they burst open and develop into new
branches bearing leaves and flowers. If the twigs are broken off the
growth of several years and also the buds, promises of new branches,
are destroyed. The rhododendron, magnolia, mountain laurel, flower-
ing dogwood and other attractive early blooming shrubs suffer in this
way. The gathering of mountain laurel for winter decorations de-
stroys quantities of buds which would have developed into beautiful
clusters of blossoms in the early summer. Careful cutting or pruning
of a shrub or tree is nevertheless advantageous to it, checking an over
exertion on the part of the plant, which is necessary to flower produc-
tion, and thereby strengthening the parts which remain.

Annuals are herbaceous plants which live but one year, dying after
the maturing of the seed. Their only means of perpetuating their
race is through the production of seed. Wholesale plucking of their
blossoms will, therefore, lead to their extermination. The fringed
gentian, and the pink sabbatia are among these plants. They are very
difficult to transplant and local in distribution. The painted cup,
known in the west by the better name of painter's brush, is also an
annual, and exhibits a sign of weakness in parasiticism of its roots.
These plants call for special protection. Careful cutting of few blos-
soms from the portions of a plant where they are thickest is often a
benefit to the flowers which remain, giving them additional energy for
the production of fruit which is more exhausting to the plant than
production of flowers.

256 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Notwithstanding the inroads that are made upon violets they
thrive and increase in numbers. One reason for this is that they have
hidden underground flowers which do not ojDen, but in which self-
pollination is efEected and seed produced, giving the violet an extra
means of reproducing its kind. The fringed polygala is also provided
with these hidden flowers. Many of the so-called weeds, plants which
have been accidentally introduced into this country, are so well fitted
for the struggle for existence that they have successfully combated
dgainst unnatural environment and have increased enormously in
numbers and geograj^hical distribution. Many of these, as the daisy
(white weed), chickory, dandelion and the thistle, as well as the native
golden rods and asters, are members of the compositse family. This
group is represented by over 10,000 species, comprising one tenth of all
the seed plants, each represented by many individuals of a wide range.
This family of plants is the most highly differentiated. Numbers of
small flowers are arranged in compact heads or clusters, presenting a
complete organization in which there is a division of labor among the
members of a head. They present various contrivances for cross-
pollination and various adaptations of the calyx into agents for seed
dissemination.

In the early summer the fields are white with daisies, which later
are replaced by the golden rods. Their

Midas touch hath turned the hind to gold
For us to have and hold.

Quantities of golden rod, as well as daisies, asters, golden-ragwort,
chicory, fleabane and rudbeckia can be gathered without causing any
serious reduction in their numbers. The desire to possess arnifuls of
flowers is thereby gratified, as is also the farmer who counts these plants
as pests.

AMERICAN AGRICULTURAL EDUCATION. 257

AN UNTILLED FIELD IN AMERICAN AGRICULTURAL

EDUCATION".

By kenyon l. butterfield.

AGRICULTURAL education in this country has thus far been an
attempt to apply a knowledge of the laws of the so-called 'nat-
ural' sciences to the practical operations of the farm. Comparatively
little attention has been paid to the application of the principles of the
'social' sciences to the life of the farmer. AU this is partly explained
by the fact that the natural sciences were fairly well developed when
the needs of the farmer called the scientist to work with and for the
man behind the plow — when a vanishing soil fertility summoned the
chemist to the service of the grain grower, when the improvement of
breeds of stock and races of plants began to appeal to the biologist.
Moreover, these practical applications of the physical and biological
sciences are, and always will be, a fundamental necessity in the agri-
cultural question.

But in the farm problem we cannot afford to ignore the economic
and sociological phases. While it may be true that the practical suc-
cess of the individual farmer depends largely upon his business sense
and his technical education, it is folly to hope that the success of agri-
culture as an industry and the influence of farmers as a class can be
based solely upon the ability of each farmer to raise a big crop and to
sell it to advantage. General intelligence, appreciation of the trend of
economic and social forces, capacity to cooperate, ability to voice his
needs and his rights, are just as vital acquirements for the farmer as
knowing how to make two blades of grass grow where but one grew
before. It finally comes to this, that the American farmer is obliged
to study the questions that confront him as a member of the industrial
order and as a factor in the social and political life of the nation, with
as much zeal and understanding as he is expected to show in the study
of those natural laws governing the soil and the crops and the animals
that he owns.

In this connection it is significant to note that farmers themselves
are already quite as interested in the social problems of their particular
calling and in the general economic and political questions of the day,
as they are in science applied to their business of tilling the soil. Not
necessarily that they minimize the latter, but they seem instinctively
to recognize that social forces may work them ill or work them good
according to the direction and power of those forces. This statement

VOL. Lxin. — 17.

258 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

is illustrated by the fact that the aims, purposes, labors and discussions
of the great farmers' organizations like the Grange are social in
character, having to do with questions that are political, economic,
sociological.

When, however, we turn to those public educational agencies that
are intended to assist in the solution of the farm problem, we discover
that they are giving slight attention to the social side of the question.
An examination of the catalogues of the agricultural colleges, whether
separate institutions or colleges of state universities, reveals the fact
that, beyond elementary work in economics, in civics, and occasionally
in sociology, little opportunity is given students to study the farm
question from its social standpoint. With a few exceptions, these insti-
tutions offer no courses whatever in rural social problems, and even in
these exceptional cases the work offered is hardly commensurate with
the importance of the subject. Nearly all our other colleges and
universities are subject to the same comment. The average student of
problems in economics and sociology and education gains no concep-
tion whatever of the importance and character of the rural phases
of our industrial and social life.

It may be urged in explanation of this state of affairs that the
liberal study of the social sciences, and especially any large attention to
the practical problems of economics and sociology, in our colleges and
universities is a comparatively recent thing. This is true and is a
good excuse. But it does not offer a reason why the social phases of
agriculture should be longer neglected. The purpose of this article
is less to criticize than to describe a situation and to urge the timeliness
of the large development, in the near future, of rural social science.

At the outset the queries may arise. What is meant by rural social
science? And, What is there to be investigated and taught under such
a head? The answer to the first query has already been intimated.
Rural social science is the application of the principles of the social
sciences, especially of economics and sociology, to the problems that
confront the American farmer. The reply to the second query is not
designed as an outline of all the courses that may be offered, but merely
as a concrete illustration of work that could be followed by investigators
and teachers, and by them indefinitely expanded.

Taking first those subjects that have an economic bearing, we may
suggest agricultural geography: the relation of soil and climate to
agriculture, agricultural resources, the natural and actual distribution
of crop-growing, relation of science to agriculture, etc. — The farmer's
market: including, besides a general discussion of the subject, a con-
sideration of the special features of the local market, the domestic mar-
ket and the foreign market. Also, a brief discussion of special
influences affecting the farmer's market, such as the tariff, export
duties, bounties, dealings in 'futures,' crises, the development of manu-

AMERICAN AGRICULTURAL EDUCATION. 259

i'acturing, etc. — Questions like the relation of transportation, of indus-
trial concentration, and of taxation, to agriculture. — Business coopera-
tion among farmers. — Exchange facilities in rural districts. — Tenant
farming. — Large vs. small farming. — Machinery and agriculture. —
History of the farming industry.

Considering now themes that are more purely sociological, we may
name rural education, including first, the rural schools proper and sec-
ond, agricultural education especially. Under the latter head could be
discussed nature-study teaching in rural schools, agricultural schools
and colleges, experiment station work, agricultural fairs, farmers ' insti-
tutes.— Eural religious institutions. — Farmers' organizations: the
Grange, farmers' clubs, farmers' alliances. — Eural communication;
wagon roads, trolley lines, telephones, rural mail delivery. — Degeneracy,
pauperism, intemperance, crime, in rural life. — Social life in the
country. — Arts and crafts in rural communities. — Eural social
psychology. — Social history of agriculture.

These lists are purely suggestive and by no means complete. There
are also subjects that have a political bearing, such as local govern-
ment in the country, and primary reform in rural communities, which
perhaps ought not to be omitted. So too, various phases of home life
and of art might be touched upon. The subjects suggested and others
like them could be conveniently grouped into from two to a dozen
courses, as circumstances might require.

What classes of people may be expected to welcome and profit by
instruction of this character ? (1) The farmers themselves. Assuming
that our agricultural colleges are designed, among other functions, to
train men and women to become influential farmers, no argument is
necessary to show how studies in rural social science may help qualify
these students for genuine leadership of their class of toilers. On the
other hand, it may be remarked that no subjects will better lend them-
selves to college extension work than those named above. Lectures and
lecture courses for granges, farmers' clubs, farmers' institutes, etc., on
such themes would arouse the greatest interest. Correspondence and
home study courses along these lines would be fully as popular as those
treating of soils and crops. (2) Agricultural educators. The soil
physicist or the agricultural chemist will not be a less valuable specialist
in his own line, and he certainly will be a more useful member of the
faculty of an agricultural college, if he has an appreciative knowledge
of the farmer's social and economic status. This is even more true of
men called to administer agricultural education in any of its phases.
(3) Eural school administrators and the more progressive rural
teachers. The country school can never become truly a social and
intellectual center of the community until the rural educators under-
stand the social environment of the farmer. (4) Country clergjrmen.
The vision of a social service church in the country will remain but a

26o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

dream unless, added to the possession of a heart for such work, the
clergyman knows the farm problem sufficiently to appreciate the
broader phases of the industrial and social life of his people. (5) Edi-
tors of farm papers, and of the so-called 'country' jjapers. Probably
the editors of the better class of agricultural papers are less in need of
instruction such as that suggested than is almost any one else. Yet
the same arguments that now lead many young men aspiring to this
class of journalism to regard a course in scientific agriculture as a
vestil)ule to their work, may well be used in urging a study of rural
social science, especially at a time when social and economic problems
are pressing upon the farmer. As for the country papers, the
work of purveying local gossip and stirring the party kettle too
often obscures the tremendous possibilities for a high class service to
the rural community which such papers may render. ISTo men, in the
aigricultural states at least, have more real influence in their community
than the trained, clean, manly, country editors — and there is a multi-
tude of such men. If as a class they possessed also a wider appreciation
of the farmer's industrial difficulties and needs, hardly any one could
give better service to the solution of the farm problem than could they.
(6) Everybody else! That is to say, the agricultural question is big
enough and important enough to be understood by educated people.
The farmers are half our people. Farming is the largest single
industrial interest in the country. The capital invested in agriculture
is four fifths the capital invested in manufacturing and railway trans-
portation combined. Wliether an individual has a special interest in
business, in economics, in education, or in religious institutions, he
ought to know the place of the farm and the farmer in that question.
No one can have a full appreciation of the social and industrial life
of the American people who is ignorant of the agricultural status.

The natural place to begin work in rural social science is the agri-
cultural college. Future farmers and teachers of farmers are supposed
to be there. The subjects embraced are as important in solving the
farm problem as are biology, physics or chemistry. No skilled farmer
or leader of farmers should be without some reasonably correct notions
of the principles that determine the position of agriculture in the
industrial world. A brief study of the elements of political economy,
of sociology, of civics, is not enough; no more than the study of the
elements of botany, of chemistry and of zoology is enough. The specific
problems of the farmer that are economic need elucidation alongside
the study of soils and crops, of plant- and stock-breeding. And these
economic topics should be thoroughly treated by men trained in social
science, and not incidentally by men whose chief interest is technical
agriculture.

The normal schools may well discuss the proj^riety of adding one or

AMERICAN AGRICULTURAL EDUCATION. 261

two courses which bear on the social and economic situation of the
rural classes. Wliile these schools do not now send out many teachers
into rural schools, they may do so under the system of centralized
schools; and in any event they furnish rural school administrators, as
well as instructors of rural teachers. There seems to be a growing
sentiment which demands of the school and of the teacher a closer
touch with life as it is actually lived. How can rural teachers learn
to appreciate the social function of the rural school, except they be
taught ?

Nor is there any reason why the theological seminaries, or at least
the institutions that prepare the men who become country clergymen,
should not cover some of the subjects suggested. If the ambition of
some people to see the country church a social and intellectual center
is to be realized, the minister must know the rural problem broadly.
The same arguments that impel the city pastor to become somewhat
familiar with the economic, social and civic questions of the day hold
with equal force when applied to the necessary preparation for the
rural ministry.

The universities may be called upon to train teachers and investi-
gators in rural social science for service in agricultural colleges, normal
schools and theological seminaries. Moreover, there is no good reason
why any college or university graduate should not know more than he
does about the farm problem. There can be little doubt that the
interest in the farm question is very rapidly growing, and that the
universities will be but meeting a demand if they begin very soon to
offer courses in rural social science.

The arguments for rural social science rest, let us observe, not only
upon its direct value to the farmers themselves, but upon its necessity
as a basis for that intelligent social service which preacher, teacher
and editor may render the farming class. It is an essential underlying
condition for the successful federation of rural social forces. Indeed
it should in some degree be a part of the equipment of every educated
person.

It may not be out of place to add, in conclusion, that instruction in
rural social problems should be placed in the hands of men who are
thoroughly trained in social science as well as accurate, experienced and
sympathetic observers of rural conditions. It would be mischievous
indeed if in the desire to be progressive any educational institution
should offer courses in rural social science which gave superficial or
erroneous ideas about the scientific principles involved, or which
encouraged in any degree whatever the notion that the farmer 's business
and welfare are not vitally and forever bound up with the business and
welfare of all other classes.

262 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

THE STOEY OF ENGLISH EDUCATION".

By J. E. G. DE MONTMORENCY, B.A., LL.B. (Cantab.),

BAEEISTER-AT-LAW.

n^HE history of education in England is a suljject of profound in-
-*- terest and of singular importance; for it is intimately associated
with all the great crises of the national life, and exhibits, as no other
subject can, the effects of the interplay of religion, learning and poli-
tics upon the sociological development of a great people. The subject
is, moreover, one that belongs to all the daughter-nations of England,
whether, like Canada, they are still, to use a simile from Eoman law,
within the English manus, or whether, like the United States, they
have become sui juris. For it is necessary to go back far in time
if we would trace with honesty the obscure streams of thought, learn-
ing and tendency that are responsible for the great systems of educa-
tion in force in the various parts of the English-speaking world
to-day. We have indeed to go back to times which are the com-
mon property of that world, and delve among the records of
fifteen hundred years of strife and effort if we would understand
the meaning and the direction of modern education as conceived by
the Anglo-Saxon race. It is well sometimes to dwell, if only for a
moment, on the j)ermanence, the persistence, the soundness of the
social forces that through a millennium and a half have emanated and
still emanate from Britain. Fifteen hundred years almost exactly
measured the period of the great Eoman race from Eomulus the first
king to Eomulus the last emperor. The Anglo-Saxon race at the
end of a similar period shows little sign of exhaustion. It has, as
we are often reminded by reformers of every possible type, faults and
vices enough ; but in the main they are the vices and faults of youth — of
youth somewhat impatiently and curiously approaching adolescence
after an infancy of fifteen centuries. I desire in these pages briefly
to consider this infancy and to indicate the main educational lines
that have been followed in so vast a period of preparation. To
do so will, I believe, be valuable, for, in the storm and stress of
modern times, men are perhaps a little apt to neglect the principles
of progress that have been wrung, at the cost of infinite tears, from
nature in the past — principles that are the motives of history if we
will but read it.

We know from the writings of Tertullian and Origen that it is
now at least seventeen hundred years since Christianity took root
in Britain; while Zozomen and Euscbius reveal to us, in the fourth

THE STORY OF ENGLISH EDUCATION. 263

century of our era, a complete and organized British church, holding the :
catholic faith, represented at the great church councils, and in inter- '
course with Palestine and Eome. This early church undoubtedly i
possessed and disseminated some measure of culture in the Isle, and :
when the first contact with the See of Eome came, that culture was |
certainly broadened, though from first to last during the Saxon period ^
the spiritual control of Eome was specifically rejected. Augustine, the j
first Archbishop of Canterbury, came to Britain in 596 A. D., and to
him in the year 601 A. D. Pope Gregory committed the charge of
'the Bishops of the British.' The church as reorganized by Augus-
tine and his followers maintained the old independence, and when 1
Theodore of Tarsus, a successor of Augustine in the See of Canter-
bury, deposed Wilfrid, Bishop of York, Pope Agatho was unable ■
to compel either king or archbishop to restore him to his seat.
This Theodore of Tarsus is one of the earliest names in English !
education. He and the Abbot Adrian, about the year 668 A. D., \
brought to England new means and methods of education. They ^^
made each of the greater monasteries an educational center, and it /w^"''
is certain that in this dark age Greek itself was taught to those who/^;^^' ''j^t
would learn. Indeed, the first important period of English culturaf^^-; '.a ^
was at hand. Bede tells us in his 'Ecclesiastical History' (Vol. IV.',
C. II.) that in the year 732 A. D. there were living in England
disciples of Theodore and Adrian, who knew the Greek and Latin
tongues as well as their own language. The use of Latin became
indeed so usual that Bede speaks of it as 'the vernacular': 'The •
Creed and the Our Father I have myself translated into English for
the benefit of those priests who are not familiar with the vernacular.'
He himself taught in the monastery school at Jarrow, and wrote ,
small treatises on the Trivium and Quadrivium for use in monastic
schools. Alcuin was born into this first spring of learning in the {
year 735 A. D., and he boasts of the learned men and noble libraries of !
England. Charlemagne did all that he could to benefit by the scholar- |
ship that existed in our island, and in securing the services of Alcuin ,
he initiated that earliest movement of Gallic culture which resulted i
in the creation later of the University of Paris. The first English i
period died away all too soon. "The sloth of the priesthood, the ]
unrest of the land, the red ruin of the Dane, killed it south to north, j
and when Alfred came all that was left were some stray vestiges of j
scholarship in far Northumbria. " The age was dark indeed, and j
despite the remarkable efforts made by the church of Eome in the '
ninth century for the extension of learning and the founding of \
schools,* little could be done. Alfred did what could be done. He j

* See the Canon de scholis reparandis pro studio literarum promulgated at
the Concilium Romanum in 826 A. D., in the time of Pope Eugenius II. This
canon appears to be little kno^\Ti to educationists. It should be read in connec-

264 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

founded and endowed with an eighth of his income a school mainly
for the children of his nobility. Possibly, however, even serfs could
attend this school. He also secured the freedom from tribute of the
Saxon school in Eome. From this time forward we find that steady
educational progress can be noted. King Ethelstan, by a law of 936
A. D., bestowed certain special benefits on learned clergy and thus
founded the doctrine of 'Privilege of Clergy' — the right of a person
(lay or clerical), who could read, to special rights in relation to the
criminal law. This privilege in the middle ages certainly aided the
spread of learning and though, when abolished in England in 1826,
it had long outgrown all meaning and even all harmfulness, its im-
portance as an educational factor must not be forgotten. *

The development of education from the ninth century onwards was
in the hands of the national church for many generations. It was
the practice, both in England and in France, from the end of the
eighth century, for the mass-priests to hold at their houses schools for
young children and, at any rate from the tenth century, it was usual
for parents to pay school fees. The Church of England by thus cre-
ating an elaborate educational system rapidly established a new claim
to the possession of a national character. With the coming of the
Normans in 1066 and the sudden increase of papal influence, we might
expect to find, as we do find, the bishops speaking on educational
questions in an authoritative manner. Eome realized the importance
of exercising control over schools, and of fostering their increase, and
she developed this policy in spite of the stern anti-Roman position
eventually exhibited by William I. We must note here two canons on
the question of education which, though promulgated at national
synods sitting at Westminster, really emanated from Rome. Canon
XVII. of 1138 A. D. ordained that schoolmasters should not, under
penalty of ecclesiastical punishment, 'hire out' their schools. This
canon made for efficiency. The man who took the fees must teach
the school. Canon VIII. of the year 1200 ordained that nothing
should be exacted by the church from schoolmasters in return for the
license to teach. This canon shows how widespread was church con-
trol over education in the opening of the thirteenth century. This
power of granting licenses to teach created a valuable and valued
monopoly, and local records (such as the records of Beverley Min-
ster) prove that many a stern fight took place between licensed and
unlicensed schoolmasters for the lucrative right of instructing youth,
and that on occasions the secular and spiritual courts came into coi-
tion with decrees of the third Coiincil of Lateran (1179 A. D.), the fourth
Council of Lateran (1215 A. D.) and the Council of Vienna (1311 A. D.) .

*I believe that benefit of clergy still nominally exists in some states of the
Union.

THE STORY OF ENGLISH EDUCATION. 265

lision on the subject. The crown, moreover, as in the Ferenclon
schools case, decided in 1344, absolutely declined to admit ecclesiastical
patronage over the grammar schools of England. From about this
same date the absolutism of the church over education was threatened
in various directions.

The 'Black-Death' of 1348-9 had the result of driving foreign
priests from the land. After the terrible ravages of the dread pesti-
lence had been smoothed away by the hand of time, we find that one
of the lasting economic results was the fact that priests of English
birth and speech served the churches and schools. We know this
from contemporary documents. John de Trevisa tells us that im-
mediately after the 'Black Death' John Cornwaile, master of grammar,
'ehaunged the lore in gramer scole and construccioun of Frensche
in to Englische'; and by the year 1385 'in alle the gramere scoles
of Engelond, children leueth Frensche and construeth and lerneth an
Englische.' The influence of Eome was diminished by the growth
of a purely national English priesthood. At this very time the Lol-
lard movement dealt a new blow at papal power. John Wyclif
entirely repudiated Eoman Catholicism, and his ideas rapidly perme-
ated the country. Many Lollard schools were founded, while great
and successful efforts were made by Wyclif 's followers to protestantize
the existing grammar and parochial schools. The revolt was so ef-
fective that by statute in 1401 and by the constitutions of Archbishop
Clarendon in 1408, Lollard schools and Lollard schoolmasters were
suppressed with violence, and for the space of some fifty years were
apparently exterminated. In the meantime the Commons, possibly
through fear of Eome or of Lollardy, or both, determined if possible
to stop the spread of education among the unfree classes. The Articles
of Clarendon more than two centuries before had forbidden villeins to
become clerks without the permission of their lord and special manorial
customs to the same effect were not unusual. The Commons determined
to strengthen if possible these old feudal, customs — originally designed
to preserve for the lord of the manor the labor of his hind — and in
1391 petitioned King Eichard II. to ordain and command that hence-
forward no neif or villein should send his children to the schools for
the purpose of enabling them to alter their social status by the acquisi-
tion of 'clergy.' Such a retrograde movement was impossible. Even
in the twelfth century the serf had been able to struggle by means
of education into a higher class,* and it was impossilDle now to close
the door. The king, therefore, and boldly, rejected the petition, and
in a few years the first statute of education, setting forth the right
of man to education, became law. This act, passed in 1406 (7. Hen.
IV. c. 17), declared that 'every man or woman, of what state or con-

* See the de nugis curialium (Distinc. 1, Cap. X.), by Walter Map (fl. 1180
A.D.).

2 66 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

dition that he be, shall be free to set their son or daughter to take
learning at any school that pleaseth them within the realm.' This
great step was reached just five hundred years ago. The universal
right of all, bond or free, to education was placed on a firm and
unalterable basis. Until that was done it would have been hopeless
for the ' New Learning, ' for the Eenaissance, to take root in England.
Great movements take hold, not of individuals but of nations, and
unless this nation had been free and fit to learn it never could have
received the new life of the spiritual movement, which, beginning
with the work of Wyclif, concluded with the ironies of the political
reformation under Henry VIII. The tremendous though futile efforts
made by Eobert Grossteste, Bishop of Lincoln, Roger Bacon, and their
school to introduce the awakening culture of the thirteenth century into
England proved that the work was impossible till England had become
once more a free nation, speaking its own tongue, and proud of its
own personality. The end of the fourteenth and the opening of the
fifteenth century show us an England where these conditions, despite
the growing power of the Papacy, were fulfilled. The power of the
Pope in England was, despite its total illegality, immense. It was
tolerated as a balancing force to political Lollardy, on the one hand,
and a turbulent baronage on the other. The country paid a heavy
price, in illegal taxation and the farming of Ijenefices in the interests
of Rome, for the political benefits derived from the tacit suspension
of the anti-papal legislation on the statute-book. But the great power
of the papacy during the fifteenth century was exercised in regard to
education on the whole, to good effect. During that century the whole
social order was changing. The feudal system was in its last stage,
and under the stress of the Wars of the Roses the entire machinery
of tenures was falling to pieces. The church during this period not
only kept learning alive, but developed the grammar schools and made
them effective feeders for the universities, dravsdng upon every class
of society for the supply of scholars. It is true that the temporary
suppression of the Lollard movement involved the closing of many
schools, but it is evident that at the very period when these schools
were attacked a larger policy was in the air. I have referred to
the statute of 1406 which gave the right of education to all. The
famous Gloucester Grammar School Case decided further (in 1410)
that at common law every man who was able had the right to teach,
and this fact undoubtedly bore fruit. Throughout the century com-
petition among schoolmasters was keen in all the great centers of
population, and there can be no manner of doubt that during the
fifteenth century, before the introduction of printing, educational
activity was preparing the way among all classes for the introduction
of the 'New Learning' and the final rejection of papal interference
in spiritual affairs.

THE STORY OF ENGLISH EDUCATION. 267

Wlien we regard the great movement known as the Eeformation
apart from the local incidents that appear to have precipitated it, we
seem to see, in the present connection at any rate, the working of
long ripening issues. The crown in the fifteenth century had been
glad enough to play off Eome against a rebellious and heretical com-
monalty and a dangerous baronage. The opening of the sixteenth
century presented a new scene of action, from which the feudal barons
had disappeared. The commonalty and the king had now one thing
in common : the old-standing hatred of papal interference and foreign
taxation; while the moving force of the new learning was urging both
king and people, unconsciously enough perhaps, towards the same end.
The Eenaissance, the lessons of history, and the hope of gain, all com-
bined to make men see in a free and purified church that vision of na-
tional liberty and national isolation which had always been the ideal of
English statesmen from Alfred onwards. So the Eeformation came,
affirming, only in more downright fashion, the policy laid down by
Edward III. in the famous statute of Provisors of Benefices. The
independence of the church of England indeed had been asserted over
and over again from British times to Magna Charta, from Magna Charta
down to the Eeformation-Parliament, which, in the seven years from
1529 to 1536, finally did away with de facto papal supremacy. The
notable fact of the Eeformation legislation for us is that it finally
broke the bond that Eome in the teeth of history and the law had
bound round England. The separation from Eome played a notable
part in the history of English education. The first result was an
unhappy one. I have pointed out that in the century immediately pre-
ceding the Eeformation the educational system in England was in
many ways effective. In fact there was a primary class of schools
that fed the grammar schools, while the grammar schools fed the
universities. There are still extant a considerable number of both
primary and secondary schools that were created during that period;
but the number is but a small proportion of the noble medieval system.
Henry VIII. and the ministers of his son Edward VI. in their haste
to abolish all traces of Eome, to divert all papal taxation and to
absorb the property of papal foundations, destroyed innumerable educa-
tional foundations. The chantry legislation alone would have com-
passed the practical destruction of the medieval system. It is, how-
ever, probable, nay, almost certain, that the Tudors had no desire in
any way to injure national education. The advancement of learning
was a thing dear to the hearts of Henry VIII., Edward VI.,
Mary I. and Elizabeth, but learning itself fell before the progress
of a definite and destructive political policy. It was intended to
recreate the destroyed foundations, but the funds nominally allocated
for this purpose were diverted to other and less laudable uses.

The course of destruction, however, left the universities untouched —

268 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

indeed, their position was strengthened — and the desire for a national
system of education grew with the development of the Reformation.
Queen Elizabeth showed herself keenly interested in the task of creating
the means that should bring the opportunities of learning within
the grasp of her poorest subject. It is true that she insisted on the re-
ligious conformity of schoolmasters to the established church. To so
insist was part of her conception of national unity; but this, at that
date, was in no way inconsistent with an enlightened educational policy.
Shortly after her accession she published special injunctions on the
subject of education, while the bishops closely enquired into the char-
acter and quality of the teaching in their dioceses. Parliament more-
over specially excepted all educational foundations from annexation on
religious grounds, and also by the statute of apprentices of 1562
exempted 'a student or scolar in any of the Universitees, or in any
Scoole' from the strict provisions of that act. Moreover, commis-
sioners for charitable uses were appointed — a commission that still
occasionally sat in the nineteenth century — who enquired into the abuses
of educational foundations. A statute of 1588, which is still in force,
attacked with increased vigor the dire corruption of these foundations.
The act aimed alike at the universities and the schools. All educa-
tional foundations were, moreover, relieved from the burden of sub-
sidies and other taxation. Nor was this all. The queen in 1571
incorporated by statute the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge in
order to secure 'the mayntenannce of good and Godly literature, and
the vertuouse Education of Youth within either of the same Univer-
sities.' It is interesting to note that this quotation from the pre-
amble to the act uses, so far as can be ascertained, the word 'educa-
tion' for the first time in its modern sense. We may say then that
the great queen removed, in so far as in her lay, all artificial draw-
backs to education; she opened up all educational endowments to the
fittest scholars, and she gave a new and as yet unexhausted impetus to
the university system, while she inspired both church and state with
a new interest in educational matters.

After the death of Elizabeth, we find that the subject of educa-
tion was doomed, in view of new political j^roblems and in spite
of the personal interest that James I. and probably Charles I. took
in letters, to some neglect. Yet Parliament even in the stern days
of 'the Great Eebellion' had time to think of education, for we
find that Cromwell passed in 1649 a measure for education
in Wales as well as a general act that diverted to national edu-
cation tithe-rent charges of the value of £20,000 a year, and di-
rected that if the annual sum fell below that amount it should
be supplemented out of the national exchequer. We thus find in
England as early as 1G49 provision for parliamentary grants in aid

TEE STORY OF ENGLISH EDUCATION. 269

of national education. Local rates in aid of education existed in rare
and sporadic cases, perhaps a century earlier than this; while it is
interesting to note that in the colony of ]\Iassachusetts Bay as early as
October 25, 1644, the general court granted a voluntary rate for the
maintenance of poor scholars at Harvard College, and the Connecticut
code of 1650 dealt with the whole question of rate-aided education.
It is also well to remember that while this beginning of state
and rate aid had almost died away in England before the beginning
of the eighteenth century, yet the English crown in 1695 confirmed
a New England statute creating a system of rate-aided education.
The idea, however, soon vanished as completely in the American col-
onies as it did in the mother country. The restoration of Charles II.
in 1660 sounded indeed the death note of the commonwealth con-
ception of national education. It achieved as well an even more
lamentable result, for it reduced the great Elizabethan system to
a state of coma. Elizabeth, we have seen, insisted on religious con-
formity, but she did not allow this to interfere with her educational
policy. The Act of Uniformity of 1662 and the Five Mile Act of
1665 seem to us to have been literally designed for the extinction
of education. These acts involved such a peering into the lives
of schoolmasters, such a course of inquisitorial folly, that the posi-
tion became intolerable. Men would not become schoolmasters,
and practically all secondary and (apart from a certain new move-
ment to be referred to immediately) primary education ceased to
exist. Education has no meaning when none but political and
religious hypocrites are allowed to teach. The campaign against
dissent and Eoman Catholicism may possibly be defended on political
grounds, but, from the point of view of national education, the result
was lamentable. For the third time national education had been de-
stroyed ; it seemed hopeless to try and evolve a fourth system.

That fourth system, incorporating much of the wrecked materials
of the old systems, is receiving its coping-stone to-day. We must, there-
fore, briefly trace its growth. The Uniformity legislation that fol-
lowed the Restoration was so severe in character that a reaction or a
revolt from its operation was inevitable. The decisions of the courts of
justice were the first sign of this reaction. The courts held that a school-
master, if he was a nominee of the founder or of the lay-patron of a
school, could not be ejected from the school for teaching without the
bishop's license {Bates's case, 1670) ; while it was decided in Cox's case
in 1700 that there was not and never had been ecclesiastical control over
any schools save grammar schools; that the church, in fact, had no
control over elementary education. In Douse' s case, decided in 1701,
it was held that it was not a civil offence to keep an elementary school
without the bishop's license. Hence the elementary school could
escape the inquisition of the bishop whether imposed by statute or

2 70 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

ecclesiastical law. An act of 1714 exempted elementary schools from
the penalties of the conformity legislation, and so such schools could,
if they would, multiply. The opportunity for a great movement was
at hand: the question for England, perhaps the question for civiliza-
tion, was, would it be seized? To attempt to deal in any detail with
the manner in which this opportunity, emerging so obscurely among
the bitter political conflicts of the time, was seized, is beyond the scope
of a review article,* but I may indicate some broad aspects of the
movement.

First, we must remember that the modern system, though it in-
cludes now all the endowed educational foundations that had fallen
on to evil days at the end of the seventeenth century, did not in any
sense spring from those old foundations. It was not till the middle
of the nineteenth century that the abuses in these foundations were
remedied. "Whoever will examine," said Lord Kenyon in 1795,
"the state of the grammar schools in different parts of this kingdom
will see to what a lamentable condition most of them are reduced.
* * * empty walls without scholars, and everything neglected but
the receipt of the salaries and emoluments." The state of the Court
of Chancery was such that it would have ruined any individual as
well as the endowment to have brought almost any specific case before
the courts. These foundations lay dormant till better days — till the
days of the grammar school act of 1840 and the endowed schools act
of 1869. It may be stated generally that it was not until after 1870
that the ancient grammar schools and endowed schools — the numerous
secondary schools of the country which are now proving of such vast
importance in coordination with the state-aided primary system — ^be-
came in any sense efficient. Yet we have to look to a certain class of
endowed schools for one source of the modern elementary system.
In England and Wales there were in 1842 some 3,000 endowed schools
and of these more than 1,000 were founded between the years 1660
and 1730. This extraordinary movement, which has left so vast a
result, is certainly difficult to understand. About the year 1660
church and state had practically suppressed endowed education, and
yet in the face of that suppression a huge endowment movement arose.
One explanation is certainly Bates's case, which decided in 1670 that
a schoolmaster presented by the founder of a school or by a lay patron
could not be ejected from his office by reason of his not holding the
bishop's license. This case was a direct incentive to all dissenters,
and to all who hated the Erastianity of the period, to found schools
where children could be safely educated. This appears to be a reason-
able explanation of a movement which was as remarkable as it has
been unnoticed by historians,- This explanation finds support in the

* I have dealt with it at some length in my volume on ' State Intervention
in English Education,' published last year by the Cambridge University Press.

THE STORY OF ENGLISH EDUCATION. 271

fact that the charity schools movement — largely supported by dis-
senters— to some extent synchronized in its early rapid development
with this school endowonent movement. The Act of Uniformity (16G2)
pressed with great severity on the dissenting schoolmasters, and, in
order to give them relief, Dean (afterwards Archbishop) Tillotson
and Richard Baxter (the distingiiished writer and dissenter) com-
bined in 167-1 to draft a 'Healing Act' that should make the spread of
elementary education possible. The bishops would not accept the
compromise, but it is probable that it had some indirect effect, for
the church made few attempts to interfere with dissenting schools,
though they were often attended by church children.

The earliest 'voluntary' schools were started in Wales in 1672 by
Thomas Gouge, a clergjinan of the established church, who had been
ejected from his living on Bartholomew's Day, 1662, under the provi-
sions of the act of Uniformity. The bishops sanctioned his Welsh
schools, and in 167-1 a strong committee of churchmen and dissenters
was formed in London to carry on the good work. In 1675 there were
1,850 children at school, of whom 538 were educated by Welsh voluntary
subscriptions. John Strype, writing before 1720, connects this work
with the charity school system, started in 1698 by the Society for Pro-
moting Christian Knowledge. This latter movement was immensely
successful and spread all over the country. In 1729 there were no less
than 1,658 schools, containing 3-1,000 children. I have elsewhere
estimated that, allowing a considerable margin for overlapping be-
tween the endowment movement and the charity school movement,
there were over 2,500 schools of all classes founded in England and
Wales between 1660 and 1730, that over one hundred schools received
supplementary endowments and that 650 unattached educational chari-
ties were created. These schools supplied the poor with such educa-
tion as was to be had in the eighteenth century — the education given
was ineffective enough, but it was at any rate better than nothing. Spe-
cial efforts were made in heathen Wales. Griffith Jones, a clergyman of
the established church, in 1730 started 'circulating schools' in the
towns, villages and wild country districts. The teachers stopped in
each district for a few months only and then passed on to other centers.
The Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge helped the movement,
and large funds were supplied by a Mrs. Bevan, who carried on the
schools after Griffith's death in 1761. At that date there had been
3,000 schools opened, in which 150,000 scholars had been taught.
There were 10,000 children in the schools in 1760. In 1779 Mrs.
Bevan died and bequeathed her large property to the carrying on of
the work. Her estate was thrown into chancery and the schools were
closed for thirty years. Such were the changes and chances of educa-
tion in the eighteenth century. All higher education — apart from
the work, often great, of individuals here and there, such as Isaac

2 72 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Newton and certain university developments (such as the foundation of
various chairs) destined to bear fruit in later days — was asleep, while
primary education was poor indeed. It was, however, living and awake
and so led on to the great revival of the nineteenth century.

Three new causes united with the new foundations and the charity
schools to produce this revival. The first was the Sunday
School system, tried by John Wesley in Savannah in 1737, but
only introduced into England in 1763, made a national system by
Eobert Kaikes, of Gloucester, in 1780 and brought to London about
1785, when the Sunday School Society was founded. In 183-1 there
were about 1,500,000 children with 160,000 voluntary teachers in the
Sunday Schools of England and Wales. The secular work done by
these schools was most valuable. In Manchester we find that in 1831
Sunday Schools were open for secular instruction for five and a half
hours on Sunday and for two evenings in the week, and that the
ages of the scholars varied from five to twenty-five years. Manchester
in those days was still writhing under the scourge of universal child
labor, and the Sunday Schools did work that secured the social salva-
tion of thousands. In Mr. Benjamin Braidley's Manchester Sunday
School there were 2,700 scholars, taught by 120 unsalaried teachers, all,
save two or three, former scholars. The self-sacrifice to be found in the
Manchester of those days perhaps more than balanced the sorrows
involved in the policy of the Manchester school and David Eicardo.
The second cause to which I have referred was the introduction of the
monitorial system between 1798 and 1803, by Andrew Bell, a clergy-
man of the established church (who subsequently founded in 1811 the
National School Society), and Joseph Lancaster, who received the close
support of King George III., and from whose work sprang in 1814 the
British and Foreign School Society. These two men worked with im-
mense vigor at their task and quarreled with no less energy. Their
quarrel for precedence as the discoverer of the monitorial system was
taken up by the political parties of the day. The tories or church party
supported the claims of Dr. Bell, while the whigs and dissenters rallied
round Mr. Lancaster. The system was in itself a bad one. It was
the parent of the modern pupil-teacher system and gave permanence
to the lamentable practice of employing untrained teachers. We may,
therefore, believe that the quarrel for precedence was unimportant.
It had, however, two vast issues. It created the modern religious or
denominational controversy which has had such a marked influence
on the development of primary education in England, and it also
brought education into modern politics.

The third cause to which I have referred above is this connection
between education and politics, a relationship which has evolved the
elaborate educational system that found its completion in the educa-
tion act of 1902. The earliest legislation on the subject of national

TEE STORY OF ENGLISH EDUCATION. 273

elementary education in the modern sense was carried through Parlia-
ment in 1802 — just a century before the great statute of last year.
The factory act of 1803 was intended to deal with the health and
morals of children employed in cotton and other mills and factories.
The state of the children in these factories and mills was deplorable :
ignorant beyond all imagination; housed under conditions subversive
of all health, of all morality; working by methods that involved the
stagnation of intelligence; these children presented a fearful problem
and constituted a positive menace to the future of society. The act
of 1803 was passed without discussion: it directed the mill rooms to
be whitewashed twice a year and to be ventilated; it ordered an ap-
prentice to have one suit of clothes a year and not to work more than
twelve hours a day exclusive of meal times; it forbade work between
nine at night and six in the morning ; it provided that male and female
apprentices should sleep in separate rooms and not more than two
r.pprentices should sleep in one bed; it made medical attendance com-
pulsory in case of infectious disease; it directed the mills to be in-
spected by visitors appointed by the justices and ordered the children
to be taught the elements of knowledge and the principles of Chris-
tianity. It is an awful picture; a picture for which the discovery of
machinery and of the usefulness of children in machine work are re-
sponsible. This reformatory measure was petitioned against in the
following year by both manufacturers and parents and it was never
enforced. Many generations of little, seven-year-old slaves — the
thought is heart-breaking — were to be worn away in the mills before,
late in the century, effective relief came. Until 1878 children under
nine years of age could be employed in silk mills. At the present time
every child in the country — who is not specially exempt on the ground
of adequate private teaching, sickness, inaccessibility of school, or
other reasonable excuse — is compelled to attend school full time between
the ages of five and at least twelve years (save in the case of children
employed in agriculture when the child may be partially exempted at
eleven). Moreover every local education authority may make by-laws
compelling attendance up to the age of fourteen years. The child can,
however, be employed during holidays or during hours when the school
is not open ; and this is a source of abuse. A child can not do his school
work and school play and also be an up-hill down-dale errand boy.
However, the change in the matter of child labor is remarkable since
that year of grace 1803 and it may be admitted that some forms of
employment in non-school hours are better than idleness with its con-
comitant evils.

From this time parliamentary interest in educational matters in-
creased very rapidly. Mr. Whitb read's bill of 1807 provided for the
establishment of schools and the appointment of schoolmasters by

VOL. LXIII. — 18.

2 74 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

the magistrates in every school-less district. All poor children were
to be entitled to two years schooling between the ages of seven and
fourteen years. The bill was mangled in the Commons and lost in
the Lords. In 1816 a select committee was appointed to report on
the education of the lower orders. In 1818 it reported on the condition
of the country at large. 'The anxiety of the poor for education' was
daily increasing, though the opportunities were very bad. The single-
school (mostly church-school) districts showed, however, an increasing
degree of liberality, and the religious views of the school were not
pressed upon the children of parents holding other views, provided
that the children were really taught such other views. This committee
recommended the universal use of a conscience clause, the establish-
ment of rate-supported, free parochial schools in very poor districts — •
the principle of the act of 1870 — and, in rich districts, the making of
grants to aid in the building of schools the maintenance of which
would fall upon voluntary subscribers — the principle adopted by
Parliament in 1833. Had both these suggestions been accepted in
1818, educational progress in the nineteenth century would have been
far more rapid.

In 1820 Mr. Brougham introduced his first education bill. In his
speech he fully recognized the labors of the clergy on behalf of educa-
tion, and he noted the great improvement of the position since 1803.
Then only one in every 21 persons in the population was at school,
while in 1820 it was one in every 16 persons. This meant, however,
that still one fifth of the population was without the means of educa-
tion. Moreover, London was still ' the worst-educated part of Christen-
dom.' The bill proposed the universal establishment of parochial
schools with efficient teachers. Funds were to be found by local rates
and by the diversion of old endowments. The religious teaching was
to be undenominational. This bill was opposed both by the dissenters
and the Eoman Catholics, and was abandoned after the second reading.

Thirteen years now passed without legislative effort, but these years
saw the growth of a great volume of public opinion. Mr. Brougham's
pamphlet entitled ' Observations on the Education of the People, ' pub-
lished in 1825, ran through twenty editions in less than a year, and
on all sides the importance of the problem received recognition. The
year 1833 produced the first results of the educational renaissance.
On Saturday, August 17, the House of Commons voted the sum of
£20,000 in aid of private subscriptions for the erection of school-
houses. The new era of definite state intervention in the education
of the people may be said to have opened with this vote. From that
date to this an ever-increasing annual vote for education has dignified
and justified the statute book.*

*Over £10,000,000 was voted by Parliament for Elementary Education in
England and Wales for the year 1902-3.

{To be conliuued.)

DISCUSSION AND CORRESPONDENCE.

275

DISCUSSION AND CORRESPONDENCE.

THE QUESTION OF RACIAL
DECLINE.
To THE Editor: I have read in your
June issue the article entitled ' Race
Decline ' by George J. Engelmann,
M.D., of Boston. The writer states
'The American population is not hold-
ing its own, it is not reproducing itself,'
etc., and quotes statistics of college
classes and of Massachusetts to prove
it. When a young man thirty years
ago I heard the same story, and people
predicted that the American people of
native stock would be extinct in a few
generations. The census of 1900 flatly
contradicts the gentleman's statements.
It shows that the rate of natural in-
crease is not exceeded by any nation on
the face of the globe. What has
doubled the population (white) of the
states in the south since 1870? There
is but little immigration to that sec-
tion. Also what causes the great in-
crease of population in states like In-
diana where the foreign born are de-
creasing?

The fact is that the native population
is increasing very rapidly and is not
■dying out, not even in Massachusetts.
We hear a great deal about the j^rolific
French Canadians and their great nat-
ural increase. It may astonish some
people that the native Americans are
increasing just as rapidly and in the
south much more so. I will quote a
few statistics taken from the recent
■census.*

Native born white native

parentage 41,053,917

Under 20 years of age 19,556,558

Percentage under 20 47.6%

* Vol. 2 — Population, part 2, page 2,
Table 1.

In the province of Quebec (French
Canada) the 1901 census shows that
49 per cent, of the population were
under twenty years of age, or a little
more than 1 per cent, more than the
native Americans. If we omit those
under five years of age the percentages
will be as follows:

Native American from 5 to 19

inclusive 34.3%

French Canadians from 5 to 19
inclusive 34.6%

This indicates a greater death rate
among the French Canadians under
five years of age. Now for figures for
typical native states I take Indiana in
the north, and North Carolina in the
south. In the former the foreign-born
are but 51/0 per cent, of the population
and in the latter less than half of 1
per cent.

Indiana.

Under 20 years of age 46.3 %

From 5 to 19 inclusive 34 %

North Carolina.

Under 20 years of age 51.7 %

From 5 to 19 inclusive 37 %

Notice how much larger the per-
centage of children in North Carolina
is than in French Canada. This is
typical of all the southern states.
Among the mountaineers the percentage
of children even exceeds this, and a
comparison of the number of children
among these people and the French
Canadians would make the latter look
like a decadent race. It is true that
in Massachusetts and some of the ad-
joining states the foreign element in-
creases in the natural way more
rapidly than the native, but this does
not hold good as to the whole country.

But the showing made by Massachu-
setts is not as bad as indicated by Dr.
Engelmann. I quote from Vol. 3 of

276

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

the U. S. Census Vital Statistics, Part
1, page 356, for the census year ending
May 31, 1900. This does not indicate
that the native is dying out in Massa-
chusetts.

Massachusetts : Births and Deaths.

Both parents native, births. . . . 21,343

Botli parents native, deaths (all

ages) 15,357

Natural increase 5,986

One or both parents for-
eign 44,252

Foreign born 624 44,876

Natives, one or both par-
ents foreign, deaths
(all ages) 16,194

Foreign born 13,645 29,839

Natural increase 15,037

While the above shows a very
healthy increase among the natives of
Massachusetts it also indicates a larger
increase among the foreign element.
But in this connection it must not be
forgotten that a very large proportion
of those included in the foreign ele-
ment are of the same stock as tne na-
tives. Thus in Massachusetts there are
nearly a half million English, Scotch,
Welsh and English Canadians, both for-
eign and native born. I think the fore-
going shows pretty conclusively that
the natives are not dying out and that
all opinions to the contrary are based
on a false foundation.

C. E. Smith.

Brooklyn, N. Y.

[We publish Mr. Smith's letter as
the question is of such importance
that it should be discussed from all
sides. It ought to be said, however,
that statisticians hesitate to di-aw con-
clusions as to racial increase from the
figm-es of the census. When the na-
tive population increases from one cen-
sus to another, this is partly and may
be entirely due to the childi-en of for-
eign parents who are counted as na-
tives. When Mr. Smith gives figures
showing that in Massachusetts the
births when both parents are natives
exceed the deaths when both parents
arc natives, it should be noted that the

births come from a considerably larger
group than the deaths. The native
children of foreign parents are not
counted among the deaths, but their
children are counted among the births.
It is also true that after a period
when the native population has in-
creased (perhaps only by children of
foreign parents) there would be an
excess of births. Mr. Kuczynski in
his careful analysis of the fecundity
of the native and foreign-born popu-
lation in Massachusetts {Quarterly
Journal of Economics, November, 1901,
and February, 1902) states that in
Berlin, where proper statistics are col-
lected such as do not exist in this
country, the birth rate is not suffi-
cient to maintain the population. But
in Berlin there was an annual birth
rate of 10 for every 100 married
women in child-bearing age, w^hereas
it was only 6.3 in the native popula-
tion of Massachusetts.

It seems also fair to our readers to
state that we do not accept the con-
clusions of Dr. Engelmann published
in the last number of the Monthly.
In an article such as Professor Flem-
ing's on ' Wireless Telegraphy,' we
have simply to learn what the leading
authority on the subject teaches us.
Wlien we leave the exact sciences, and
especially when we enter the field of
applied sociology, we have our science
to make. The fact that sociology is
now in about the condition of the
physics of three hundred years ago
does not detract from its interest, but
rather adds to the possibilities of
progress. Readers should, however,
remember that while a physicist can
usually speak for the science of phys-
ics, a sociologist can usually only
speak for himself. The fact that the
editor of this journal does not agree
with Dr. Engelmann in regard to the
interi)retation of statistics does not
necessarily mean that Dr. Engelmann
is mistaken, but only that the subjects-
are not yet in the field of exact sci-
ence.

DISCUSSION AND CORRESPONDENCE.

277

Dr. Engclmann claims that an older
age at marriage docs not mean a
smaller family, that the maiTiage rate
of the college graduate is higher and
the size of the surviving family larger
than in the population at large, and
that the decreasing size of family is
entirely voluntary. We think that he
has established none of these conclu-
sions. Adequate statistics may not be
at hand correlating the size of family
with the age of marriage, but it seems
almost certain that there is an in-
verse correlation, those who marry
later having fewer children. This
would hold especially for women — and
older men are likely to marry older
women — and for men who remarry.
It is also of course true that earlier
marriages produce a more rapid se-
quence of generations and a larger
population.

Dr. Engelmann gives 2.1 as the size
of family of graduates more than
twenty years out of college and 1.9
as the size of family of the native-
born in Massachusetts, and tells us
that the college graduate does more
towards reproducing the population
than does the native American of
other class. He appears to be in
serious error in his statistics. A cer-
tain loyal Princeton graduate discov-
ered that his class of '76 had 2.7 sur-
viving children for each married grad-
uate. Whether this case is typical

or not we do not know, but Dr.
Engclmann gives it the same weight
in his average as the 1.86 ob-
tained from 1,401 Harvard graduates.
The families of Princeton and Yale
gi'aduates and of many Harvard grad-

j uates coming from a region having
higher fertility can not be compared
with the decadent native population
of Massachusetts, nor can college

j graduates in part of foreign origin
be compared with the exclusively na-
tive population. Dr. Engelmann com-
pares the native surviving Massachu-
setts family of 1.9 with that of college
graduates of more than twenty years'
standing. The native population in-
cludes girls of fourteen and women
just married. The average number of
living children of native women of
INIassachusetts between the ages of
forty and forty-nine was 2.13. With

I this family and a marriage rate of 79
per cent, the population is rapidly
decreasing. Harvard gi-aduates, with

j a marriage rate of 71.4 and a family

I of 1.86 surviving for a time are des-
tined to even more rapid extermina-
tion. The Harvard graduate of New
England stock is doubtless still more
infertile, but we have no exact infor-
mation in regard to this, nor as to
whether or not the college gi'aduate is
more infertile than the race and class
from which he comes. Editor.]

278

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

SCIENTIFIC LITERATURE.

PSYCHOLOGY.

There has just been published a
group of psychological books which
could scarcely have been produced else-
where. In both volume and value of
work, American psychologists appear
to hold their own with Germany and
to surpass Great Britain or France.
The books to which we especially refer
are ' Experimental Psychology and
Culture,' by Professor Stratton, of the
University of California; 'Outline of
Psychology,' by Professor Eoyce, of
Harvard University ;/ Genetic Psychol-
ogy for Teachers/ by Dr. Judd, of
Yale University, and 'Why the Mind
Has a Body,' by Professor Strong, of
Columbia University.* If we go back
a couple of years, there may be added
'Talks to Teachers,' by Professor
James, of Harvard University; 'Psy-
chology and Life,' by Professor Miin-
sterberg, of Harvard University; 'Fact
and Fable in Psychology,' by Professor
Jastrow, of the University of Wiscon-
sin; 'Introduction to Psychology,' by
Professor Calkins, of Wellesley Col-
lege; 'Experimental Psychology,' by
Professor Titchener, of Cornell Uni-
versity, and 'Analytical Psychology,'
by Pi-ofessor Witmer, of the Univer-
sity of Pennsylvania. We have in ad-
dition the monumental ' Dictionary of
Psychology,' edited by Professor Bald-
win, of Princeton University, the third
and last volume of which has just been
published, and various works limited to
a special field, such as Professor
James's 'Varieties of Eeligious Expe-
rience' and 'Aristotle's Psychology,'

* The books are published by The
Macmillan Company, except Professor
Judd's which is one of the Interna-
tional Education Series of the Apple-
tons.

by Professor Hammond, of Cornell
University. The books can not be said
to represent a school of psychology,
but they show certain rather definite
tendencies. They are scientific, being
based on the results of recent experi-
mental research, and yet they tend to
maintain an intimate connection with
philosophy. The relations to educa-
tion are strongly emphasized. The
human interest and literary style are
noticeable, being scarcely equaled by
similar works in other sciences.

This is not the place for critical re-
views, but a few words may be said
about the contents of the books that
have just been issued. Professor
Strong's work is somewhat technical
in character, but is scarcely beyond the
comprehension of the untrained reader.
It discusses the relations of mind and
body, defending a parallelism that
gives room for the efficiency of mind
and an idealism that makes conscious-
ness the reality that appears as the
brain-process. The books by Pro-
fessor Eoyce and Dr. Judd both appear
in series for teachers, but they diff"er
widely in their contents and methods.
The former is a general treatise on
psychology, in which the phenomena
are classed in a new way under the
heads of sensitiveness, docility and in-
itiative; the latter contains chiefly
concrete facts of direct use to teach-
ers. Professor Stratton's book is a
well-informed and well-written account
of some of the results of experi-
mental psychology treated in relation
to wider interests. The difliculty in
recommending a book on psychology
for students of other sciences or for
general readers is not now in the lack
of books, but in their number and ex-
cellence.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

279

THE PEOGEESS OF SCIENCE.

LOIW KELVIN ON ' CREATIVE

PURPOSE.'
There has been in progress in the
columns of the London Times a corre-
spondence on certain serious topics
that has aspects both amusing and
pathetic. Lord Kelvin, in moving a
vote of thanks at the close of a lecture
before the Christian Association of
University College, London, said that
'■' science positively confirmed creative
power. . . . Modern biologists were
coming to a firm acceptance of some-
thing, and that was a vital principle.
. . . They were absolutely forced by
science to admit and to believe with
absolute confidence in a directive
power." Lord Kelvin subsequently ex-
plained that a fortuitous concourse of
atoms would account for the forma-
tion of a crystal, but that creative
power is necessary for the growth of
a sprig of moss. Sir William Thistle-
ton-Dyer, director of the KeAV Botan-
ical Gardens, calls Lord Kelvin
sharply to account, saying that 'for
dogmatic utterance on biological ques-
tions there is no reason to suppose
that he is better equipped than any
person of average intelligence.' Sir
William is, however, ready to enter
the field of physics, and tells Lord
Kelvin that his ether is ' a mere mathe-
matical figment.' Sir John Burdon-
Sanderson intervenes to express regret
that "A most distinguished British
botanist has thought it necessary to
' cross swords ' with the most distin-
guished of British physicists with ref-
erence to a question on which it is
desirable that all men of science should
be in accord," and to disclaim on the
part of his own science, physiology,
the opinion that Lord Kelvin is not
competent, when von Helmholtz has

j spoken of his ' surprising acuteness,
clearness and versatility.' But Sir
John immediately proceeds to state
that physiologists do not believe in a
vital principle, that the processes of
animal and plant life are governed by
the natural laws which have been estab-
lished for the inorganic world. Mental
processes and organic evolution can
not, however, be directly measured or
observed. In spite of the desirability
of accord and of Lord Kelvin's gi-eat
competence, he is mistaken as regards
Sir John's science, though psychology
and organic evolution may very well
be outside the range of exact science.
Sir Oliver Lodge, the eminent physi-
cist, does not like the phrase ' creative
power,' but believes that the formation
of an animal or plant requires in addi-
tion to the laws of mechanics ' the
presence of a guiding principle or life-
germ.' He also regards ' telepathy ' as
a recently discovered fact. Professor
Ray Lankaster, director of the British
Museum of Natural History, thinks
that an injustice would be done both
to Lord Kelvin and to his critics un-
less he points out the significant fea-
tures of the matter. Professor Karl
Pearson, Mr. W. H. Mallock and others
have joined in the discussion, and it is
the theme of editorial articles in the
Times and The Spectator, both of which
are orthodox and dogmatic.

It is a fact of some interest that
British physicists have been inclined
to religious oi'thodoxy — Faraday,
Maxwell, Stokes and Kelvin may be
mentioned. Sir Oliver Lodge believes
in telepathy and Sir William Crookes
in ghosts. The physical sciences have
outlived their conflict with current
theologj^, whereas in the past half
century biology has had to bear the

28o

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

brunt. The physicists hold that their
realm is governed by their laws, but
that the biological kingdom is a theoc-
racy. It appears that there is as
much or as little evidence for teleology
in an earth suited for life as in its
inhabitants, as much or as little evi-
dence for creative purpose in a crystal
or a solar system as in a sprig of
moss or a man. But perhaps such a
statement is in continuation of the
dogmatism, to which attention has
been called. .

to two of the great scientific advances
of the last century, the atomic theory
and Joule's work on the mecha'nical
equivalent of heat. Manchester has an
ancient and active Literary and Phi-
losophical Society, which invited Pro-
fessor F. W. Clarke of the U. S.
Geological Survey, chairman of the
International Commission on Atomic
Weights, to give its Wilde lecture. He
reviewed the history of the atomic
theory from its first conception among

'.\jljjdy,-i

' o"f^yy>

/

CELEBRATIO'NS IN HONOR OF
D ALTON AND LIEBIG.

Theke have recently been celebrated
the centenary of Dalton's discovery of
the atomic theory and the hundredth
anniversary of Liebig's birth. The
ceremonies in honor of Dal ton were at
Manchester, a city which gave birth

the Greeks to the present day and out-
lined the work still needed. Professor
J. H. van't Iloff, of Berlin, was pre-
sented with an address by the Owens
College Chemical Society, and laid the
cornerstone of the extension of tlie
chemical laboratory. The Wilde medal
of the Literary and Philosophical So-

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

281

ciety was presented to Professor
Clarke, and he and Professor van't Hoff
received the degree of Doctor of Science
from Victoria University.

John Dalton was born in 1766 of
Quaker parentage. He began to teach
school at the age of twelve, and sup-
ported himself tlirough life bj' teaching,
and later by making analyses for local
manufacturers, being thus one of the
earliest professional chemists. From
1793 until his death in 1844 he lived
quietly at Manchester, unmarried and
entering but little into society. He
was made secretary of the Literary and

Memorial Tablet over door of house in
WHICH John Dalton was born.

From a photograpti supplied to Nature by
Mr. A. Humphreys. The inscription on the
tablet reads : — " John Dalton, D.C.L., LL.D.,
the Discoverer of the Atomic Theory, was born
here Sept. 6, 1766. Died at Manchester July 27,
1844."

Philosophical Society in 1800, was its
president after 1817, and carried on his
chemical work in the rooms of the so-
ciety. He was a member of the Paris
Academy before he was elected to the
Royal Societj', but finally received all
the usual honors. Dalton once said:

With regard to myself, I shall only say, see-
ing so many gentlemen present who are pur-
suing their studies, that if I have succeeded
better than many who surround me in the
different walks of life, it has been chiefly —
nay I may say almost solely — from unwearied

assiduity. It is not so much from any superior
genius that one man possesses over another,
but more from attention to study and per-
severance in the objects before them, that
some men rise to greater eminence than
others. This it is, in my opinion, that makes
one man succeed better than another.

Yet his own life supports the theory
of innate genius, for though he worked
diligently to the end, his great discov-
eries were made while he was a young
man. It is generally known that he
discovered color-blindness, sometimes
called Daltonism; he also did much
work in meteorology, recording over
200,000 observations; he is said to have
enunciated the law of the expansion
of gases before Gay-Lussac; he carried
on research in different departments of
physics and chemistry. But of course
his great discovery was the atomic
theory, the centenary of which has just
been celebrated. The theory, like most
others, was of gradual development,
but. as Dalton says in a letter to his
brother in 1803, he had 'got into a
track that has not been much trod
before,' and this track has become the
highway of modern chemistry.

Justus von Liebig was born on May
12 of the year in which Dalton formu-
lated the atomic theory, and the hun-
dredth anniversary of his death has
been celebrated in Germany and here.
In New York there was a meeting of
chemists, Avhich was addressed by
President Remsen, of the Johns Hop-
kins University, whose laboratory has
done much to carry forward the work
in organic chemistry which Liebig
founded; by Professor Brewer, of Yale
University, one of Liebig's oldest
pupils, who has continued his work
on agi'icultural chemistry, and by Dr.
Carl Duisberg, managing director of
the Farbenfabriken of Elberfeld, who
spoke of Liebig's influence on the
chemical industries.

There will be found articles on Liebig
in the third, ninth and twentieth vol-
umes of this joiu-nal, the last being

282

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

an extremely interesting autobiog- I shelves of the Court Library and made
raphy. Like many others who have his own experiments. At the univer-
attained eminence in science, Liebig | sity things were not much more to his

did not profit much from the existing i taste. He attended the lectures of
system of education; out as a boy he Kastner, regarded as an eminent chem-

read all the books on chemistry in the
order in whicli they stood on the

ist, but capable of telling his students
that ' the influence of tlie moon upon

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

283

tlu> rain is clear for as scion as the
moon is visible a tluuideistoi 111 ceases.'
T\w seienee of the iiiilNcrsities was
inuler tlie iloniination of tlic ' specida-
tive physics ' of Ilegel and Scheliing,
whose chemistry is fairly represented
by such a quotation as " Water con-
tains just the same as iron, but in ab-
solute indifference as yoniU-r in relative
indifference, carbon and nitrogen, and
thus all true polarity of the earth is
reduced to an original south and north
wliich are fixed in the magnet." What
Liebig accomplished will be better ap-
preciated if the deplorable state of
science in the German iiniversities is
recalled.

Liebig was made professor of chem-
istry at Giessen at the age of twenty-
one, and full professor two years later.
He immediately proceeded to establish
a laboratory for students, the proto-
type not only of chemical laboratories,
but of the laboratory method in sci-
ence. In 1852 he removed to Munich,
where he died in 1873. Like many
other men eminent in research, Liebig
was a gi-eat teacher, an editor and a
popularizer of science. He also com-
bined the discovery of facts with the
formulation of wide-reaching theories.
Neither the facts nor the theories can
be described here; it suffices to say
that Liebig may properly be regarded
as the founder of organic, physiological
and agricultural chemistry.

THE AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NAT-
URAL HISTORY.
The thirty-fourth annual report
(that for 1902) of the American Mu-
seum of Natural History in Xew York
City records the events of a prosperous
year for the institution. During the
year the membership increased ma-
terially, and the attendance on lec-
tures was larger than ever before.
Several scientific societies held their
regular meetings in the building. In
October, 1902, the International Con-
gress of Americanists held its thir-
teenth annual session at the museum,

and discussed subjects I'elating to ' The
Native Races of .America ' and ' The
History of the Early Contact between
America and the Did World.'

In May 1902, upon the aiiivul of
the news of the disaster in Marti-
nique, Dr. Hovej', of tlie Geological
Department, was detailed by the
president to investigate the causes of
the eruptions, and his work has placed
the museum among the leading con-
tributors to seismology.

The additions to the collections of
mammals during the year numbered
more than 2,000, secured largely
through the museum collectors. The
gift of the Peary Arctic Club of about
one hundred mammals, collected by
Commander Peary on his last Arctic
expedition, is especially noteworthy.
The museum is now the richest in the
world in mammals from Arctic Amer-
ica. The donations from the New
York Zoological Society and the Cen-
tral Park Menagerie are of great value
to the museum. The specimens of
mammals obtained by the Andrew J.
Stone Expedition in North British
Columbia form the largest single col-
lection that has ever been brought
down from the north. In the Ba-
hamas and Virginia material was col-
lected for special bird groups for the
museum. The vertebrate paleontolog-
ical collections of the museum were
enriched by expeditions maintained in
the field, and the establishment of a
fund by a member of the board of
trustees for providing material to il-
lustrate the origin and development
of the horse produced immediate re-
sults of the highest importance. The
Cope collections, the purchase of which
was effected in the year, include fossil
reptiles, amphibians and fishes, and
the Pampean collection of fossil mam-
mals from South America.

A nixmber of archeological collections
not before exhibited were installed,
notably the valuable collections made
in the southwest under grants fur-
nished by the Messrs. Hyde. Through

284

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

the generosity of the Duke of Loubat
and contributions made by the presi-
dent of the museum and the Messrs.
Hyde, the museum came into the pos-
session of a verj' large amount of ma-
terial illustrating the culture of ancient
Mexico. Another exhibit worthy of
note is that of a portion of the mate-
rial obtained during the researches in
the Delaware which have been carried
on for more than twenty years. It
seems to show that man was in the
valley of the Delaware at the time
that certain of the glacial deposits and
those immediately following were
made. The year was signalized by the
conclusion of the explorations of
Messrs. Bogoras and Jochelson, on ac-
count of the Jesup North Pacific Ex-
pedition, and their return to the mu-
seum with vast quantities of ethno-
logical material. The expedition has
covered the whole district from Colum-
bia Eiver in America westward to the
Lena in Siberia, and it is already evi-
dent that the relationship between
Asia and America is much closer than
had hitherto been supposed. The
Huntington California Expedition and
the North American Research Expedi-
tion were continued in 1902, and much
information gained in regard to certain
of the native races of America. The
east Asiatic work of the Expedition to
China promises important scientific re-
siilts. The Hyde Expedition carried
on work in the southwest and in north-
ern Mexico. The results of the work
of the Mexican Expedition throw
much light on the burial customs of
the ancient Zapotecans, and the collec-
tions obtained add materially to the
importance of the collection in the mu-
seum. Rare specimens of gold, cop-
per and jadeite secured by the expedi-
tion, added to those already in the
museum, make this part of the Mexi-
can collection the best in any museum.
From the Duke of Loubat the mu-
seum received a gem collection of
great importance from the state of
Oaxaca. Local explorations were car-

ried on in the Shinnecock and Poose-
patuck reservations on Long Island
and Staten Island and at Shinnecock
Hills.

Several additions were made during
the year to the gem collection, in the
Department of Mineralogy, namely,
five magnificent crusts of amethyst, a
large yellow sapphire, two parti-colored
sapphires, an immense star sapjihire,
and a curious archaic axe of agate, gifts
of Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan. A splendid
collection of gold and silver coins from
the Philadelphia mint, the gift of Mr.
Morgan, was placed in the gem room.

The Department of Invertebrate
Zoology received an important acces-
sion in a collection of West Indian
corals, actinians and alcyonarians col-
lected in Jamaica. The New York
Zoological Society and the Department
of Parks were the principal donors of
reptiles and batrachians.

A section of one of the giant trees
of California has been placed on ex-
hibition and attracts considerable at-
tention. , The tree from which the sec-
tion was cut was 1,341 years old; it
was almost 30 feet in diameter at the
base, and had reached a height of 300
feet. Cards indicating the discoveries
in biology during the life of the tree
have been attached to the mounted sec-
tion.

In the Department of Entomology,
the Hoffmann collection of butterflies
was transferred to the new cases, and
the Schauss collection of moths provi-
sionally arranged. From the Black
Mountains of North Carolina, 7,000
specimens were obtained for this de-
partment. Tlie death of the Very
Reverend Eugene A. Hoff"mann, D.D.,
LL.D., removed a warm friend of the
museum and a substantial support
from the Department of Entomology.

The publications of the scientific re-
sults attending the investigations of
the museum in various lines progressed
during the year. Two numbers of the
' Memoirs ' were issued, namely 'Kwa-

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

28:

Scenes from the Ptarmigan Group

286

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

^ -A

A.

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w

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THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

• 287

kiutl Toxls ' by Franz Boas and. G«orge
Hunt, and " The Night Chant, a Navaho
Coroniony ' by \\asliington ]\Iattho\v.s.
The amount of ' Bnliotin ' matter pub-
lished is the hirgest in the liistory of
the museum. Nine numbers of the EIu-
seum Journal and six 'guide leaflet'
supplements -were issued. The supple-
ments describe collections in the mu-
seum, and their popularity is shown by
the fact that several thousand were
sold in the year at the entrances.

Several courses of lectures were of-
fered under various auspices : To teach-
ers, to members of the museum, and
to the public (holiday course), vmder
a grant from the state; to teachers, by
the museum, in cooperation with the
^-ludubon and Linniiean Societies ; to the
public, by the City Department of Edu-
cation in cooperation with the museum.

In summing up his report, the presi-
dent mentions several items that indi-
cate the progress of the institution:
" In concluding this my twenty-second
report, I take pleasure in assuring the
members of this board that the past
year has been one of achievement. The
increase in the annual appropriation,
the growing popularity of the lectures,
the large sums spent for laboratoiy re-
search, the long list of publications,
the opening of new exhibition halls,
the appropriation by the city of $200,-
000 for a new power house, the receipt
of large invoices of ethnological ma-
terial from Siberia and China, the con-
clusion of negotiations leading to the
purchase of the Cope collection, and
the departure of several exploring ex-
peditions, are only a few of the indices
of activity at the museum, of the gen-
erosity of our friends, and of apprecia-
tion on the part of the city officers and
the visiting public."

TEE AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL
SOCIETY.
In the complex organization of
American scientific societies, the
American Philosophical Society 'held at
Philadelphia for the promotion of

useful knowledge ' seems to be main-
taining a place of its own. It was
originally a national society founded
on tlie model of the Royal Society,
and the general meetings held last
year and this show that it has to a cer-
tain extent maintained this position.
JMembers from Philadelphia and the
vicinity acted as hosts, and were able
to welcome a considerable number of
members from different parts of the
country. Both the arrangements for
social intercourse and the program
compared very favorably with those
of the meeting of the National Acad-
emy of Sciences, held at Washington in
the same month. The meeting lasted
for three days. In one of the evening
sessions Dr. Edgar F. Smith, professor
of chemistry in the University of Penn-
sylvania and president of the society,
made an address on its origin and early
history, drawing from original docu-
ments much interesting information in
regard to the beginnings of science in
America. At the same session Dr. D.
C. Gilman, president of the Carnegie
Institution, spoke of its work during
the past year. After these addresses,
which were given in the hall of the His-
torical Society of Pennsylvania, there
was a reception, and on the following
evening a dinner was given at the
Hotel Bellevue, at which Professor W.
B. Scott, of Princeton University, was
toastmaster.

The meetings were held in the hall
of the society, and a considerable num-
ber of interesting papers were pre-
sented. The American Philosophical
Society includes philology and eco-
nomics in its scope, and papers were
presented by Professor March, of La-
fayette College, on the development
of the English alphabet; by Professor
Haupt, of the Johns Hopkins Univer-
sity, on archeology and mineralogy;
by Professor Jastrow, of the Univer-
sity of Pennsylvania, on the Hamites
and Semites in the tenth chapter of
Genesis, and by Professor Schelling, of
the University of Pennsylvania, on the

288

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

supernatural in Elizabethan and
Jacobean plays. We give these titles,
as it is not usual to combine in one
program papers in the natural and ex-
act sciences and in the philological
and historical sciences. The whole
question of the relation of these two
great groups of sciences to each other
requires solution, and it is of interest
to note that they were successfully
combined at Philadelphia. The fol-
lowing new members were elected:

Residents of the United States — Ed-
ward E. Barnard, Sc.D., Williams Bay,
Wis.; Carl Hazard Barus, Ph.D.,
Providence, R. I.; Franz Boas, Ph.D.,
New York; William W. Campbell,
Sc.D,. Mt. Hamilton, Cal.; Eric Doo-
little, Philadelphia; Basil Lanneau
Gildersleeve, LL.D., Baltimore; Francis
Barton Gummere, Ph.D., Haverford,
Pa.; Arnold Hague, Washington, D.
C; George William Hill, LL.D., Nyack,
N. Y.; William Henry Howell, Ph.D.,
Baltimore; Edward W. Morley, Ph.D.,
Cleveland; Harmon N. Morse, Ph.D.,
Baltimore; Edward Rhodes, Haverford,
Pa.; Alfred Stengel, M.D., Philadel-
phia; William Trelease, Sc.D., St.
Louis.

Foreign Residents. — Anton Dohrn,
Naples; Edwin Ray Lankester, LL.D.,
F.R.S., London; Sir Henry E. Roscoe,
F.R.S., D.C.L., London; Joseph John
Thomson, D.Sc, F.R.S., Cambridge,
Eng. ; Hugo de Vries, Amsterdam.

Action was also taken looking to
the adequate celebration of the two
hundredth anniversary of the birth of
Franklin, the founder of the organiza-
tion. This was expressed in the fol-
lowing preamble and resolution which
were unanimously adopted :

Inasmuch as the two hundredth an-
niversary of the birth of Benjamin
Franklin occurs in January, 1906, it is
proper that the American Philosoph-
ical Society, which owes its existence
to his initiative and to which he gave
many long years of faithful service,
should take steps to commemorate the
occasion in a manner befitting his emi-
nent services to this society, to science
and to the nation. Therefore be it

Resolved, That the president is au-
thorized and directed to appoint a com-
mittee of such number as he shall deem
proper to prepare a plan for the ap-
propriate celebration of the bi-centen-
nial of the birth of Franklin, and re-
port the same to this society.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS.

Professor J. Peter Lesley, the
eminent geologist, died at Milton,
Mass., on June 1, aged eighty-three
years.

The freedom of the city of Rome
has been conferred on Mr. G. Marconi.
— The German Chemical Society has
conferred its gold Hofmann medals on
Professor Henri Moissan and Sir Wil-
liam Ramsay.

Dk. a. C. Abbott, professor of
hygiene at the University of Penn-
sylvania, has been appointed chief of
the Bureau of Health at Philadelphia.
— James Harkness, A.M., since 188S
professor of mathematics at Bryn
Mawr College, has been appointed by
the board of governors Redpath Pro-
fessor of Mathematics at McGill Uni-
versity.— Dr. W J McGee has been
appointed chairman of the committee
of the International Geographical
Congress of 1904, succeeding General
A. W. Greely, who has resigned owing
to ill health and the pressure of official
duties. — Dr. A. Graham Bell has re-
signed the presidency of the National
Geographic Society.

At the meeting of the board of trus-
tees of the Leland Stanford Junior
University held on June 1, Mrs. Leland
Stanford resigned and surrendered all
the powers and duties vested in her
by the terms of the grant founding the
imiversity, under which she had com-
plete control. That control is now
vested in tlie board. Mrs. Stanford
will be elected a trustee, and will be
elected president.

/^-

• 'X!\

U» ^-^^-

'«1 A

THE Xt^

POPULAR SCIENCE
MONTHLY.

AUGUST, 1903.

MODEEN VIEWS ON MATTER*

By Sir OLIVER LODGE, Hon.D.Sc, F.R.S.

rriHE nature of matter has been regarded by philosophers from
-*- many points of view, but it is not from any philosophic stand-
point that I presume in this university to ask you to consider the
subject under my guidance. It is because new views as to the struc-
ture and properties of what used to be called the ultimate atom are
now being born, and because these views, whether they succeed in ulti-
mately establishing th-emselves in every detail or not, are of surpassing
interest, that I have chosen this very recently deciphered chapter of
science as the subject-matter for the lecture — the Eomanes lecture —
to be given this year in remembrance of a man whom I knew as a
friend, and whose mind, if he had been alive to-day, would have been
widely open to these most modern developments of physical science.
Nor would the admittedly speculative character of some of the hypoth-
eses now being thrown out have deterred him from hearing about them
with the keenest interest.

If I may venture to say so, it is the more philosophical side of
physics which has always seemed to me most suitable for study in
this university; and although I disclaim any competence for philo-
sophic treatment in the technical sense, yet I doubt not that the new
views, in so far as they turn out to be true views, will have a bearing
on the theory of matter in all future writings on philosophy; besides
exercising a profound effect on the pure sciences of physics and chem-
istry, and perhaps having some influence on certain aspects of biology
also.

* The Romanes Lecture, delivered in the Sheldonian Theatre, Oxford, June
12, 1903. Copyright by The Science Press,
VOL. LXIII. — 19.

290 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

In admitting that I am going to promulgate a speculative hypoth-
esis, that is a hypothesis for which there is evidence but not yet con-
clusive evidence, I must not lead you to suppose that the whole of
what I have to say is of this character. On the contrary, much of it
is certain, that is to say, is accepted by a consensus of opinion to-day
among those who by reason of study are competent to judge. I will
endeavor carefully to discriminate between what is in this sense cer-
tain and what must still be regarded as doubtful and needing further
support.

To treat the subject properly, to give all the evidence as well as
the results, would need a volume, or a course of lectures; and in order
to be brief I must frequently be dogmatic, but I shall only intend to
be so in those places where I feel sure that the physicists present
(whom here I salute) will agree with me. When I have a dogma of
this kind to propound I shall call it a thesis. The more speculative
opinions I shall plainly denominate hypotheses.

1. My first thesis is that an electric charge possesses the most fun-
damental and characteristic property of matter, viz., mass or inertia;
so that if any one were to speak of a milligram or an ounce or a ton
of electricity, though he would certainly be speaking inconveniently,
he might not necessarily be speaking erroneously. At the same time
it would be well to mistrust any one who employed such a phrase,
except in speaking to experts: he would most likely be talking non-
sense ; but if he talks nonsense to experts, his blood is on his own head.

In order to have any appreciable mass, however, an electric charge
must either be extremely great or must be extremely concentrated;
and, unless it is to be utterly masked by the matter with which it is
associated, it must be the latter: that is to say, it must exist on bodies
of far less than ultra-microscopic size. The mass or inertia of a
charge depends upon two factors — the quantity of electricity in it,
and its potential — and by concentrating a given charge on to a suflB-
ciently small sphere, the latter factor can be raised theoretically to
any value we please, and thus any required inertia can be obtained;
unless a stage is reached at which it becomes physically impossible to
concentrate it any more.

2. The next thesis is a very simple and familiar one, and dates
virtually from the time of Faraday, though the conception has grad-
ually gained in clearness and solidity: it is that every atom of matter
can have associated with it a certain definite quantity of electricity
called the ionic charge, that some atoms can have double this quantity,
some treble, and so on, but that no atom or any piece of matter can
have a fraction of this quantity, which therefore appears to be an ulti-
mate unit, a sort of 'atom,' of electricity. The ratio of the charge to
the weight of a material atom is measured with accuracy in electrolysis.

MODERN VIEWS ON MATTER. 291

in accordance with what are called Faraday's laws; and in so far as
the mass of the atom itself is otherwise approximately known, the
quantity of electricity which can be associated with it is known with
a similar degree of approximate accuracy.

3. Now mathematical data were given by J. J. Thomson in 1881
which enable us to say that if the charge of electricity usually asso-
ciated with a single monad atom of matter were concentrated on to
a spherical nucleus one-hundred-thousandth of an atom's dimension
in diameter, it would thereby possess a mass about one-thousandth of
that of the lightest atom known, viz., the hydrogen atom.

Such a hypothetical concentrated unit of electricity it has become
customary to call an 'electron,' a name invented by Dr. Johnstone
Stoney to designate the so to speak 'atom' or smallest known unit of
electric charge. Every electric charge is to be thought of as due to
the possession of a number of electrons, but a fraction of an electron
is at present considered impossible, meaning that no indication of
any further subdivision has ever loomed even indistinctly above the
horizon of practical or theoretical possibility.

The electrification of an atom of matter consists in attaching such
an electron to it, or in detaching one from it. An atom of matter
possessing an electron in excess is called an 'ion'; and there is reason
to know that, considered as a charged body, its charge is that which
we have been historically accustomed to designate 'negative'; whereas
an atom of matter with one electron in defect is that which has his-
torically been called a 'positive' ion.

This inversion in the natural use of the names positive and nega-
tive is inconvenient but accidental and not really serious ; it dates from
the time of Benjamin Franklin.

These ions or traveling particles of matter have been long known.
A liquid or a gas conducts because of the locomotion of its charged
particles. The particles travel in an electric field because of their
attached charges, all the positive going one way, and all the negative
the other way; and each kind of matter possesses an intrinsic or char-
acteristic ionic velocity, when urged by a given field through a given
solution. The charges may be likened to horses or other propelling
agency, and the atom to the vehicle or heavy body which is dragged
along. The speed of travel through liquids is very slow, but through
gases is considerably quicker, partly because there is less resistance,
and partly because it is easier to maintain a steep gradient of potential
in a medium where the ions are not too numerous.

The act of production of such ions is styled 'ionization,' and the
process has been employed to explain very many facts in both physics
and chemistry.

292 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

As an example, Eontgen rays passing through air ionize it and
so render it conducting for a time: wherefore they are able readily
to discharge electrified bodies, in this secondary way.

It may be convenient here to emphasize the dimensions of an
electron as above specified, for the arguments in favor of that size are
very strong, though not absolutely conclusive; we are sure that their
mass is of the order one thousandth of the atomic mass of hydrogen,
and we are sure that if they are purely and solely electrical their size
must be one hundred-thousandth of the linear dimensions of an atom;
a size with which their penetrating power and other behavior is quite
consistent. Assuming this estimate to be true, it is noteworthy how
very small these electrical particles are, compared with the atom of
matter to which they are attached. If an electron is represented by a
sphere an inch in diameter, the diameter of an atom of matter on
the same scale is a mile and a half. Or if an atom of matter is rep-
resented by the size of this theater, an electron is represented on the
same scale by a printer's full stop. It is well to bear this extreme
smallness in mind in what follows.

An atom is not a large thing, but if it is composed of electrons, the
spaces between them are enormous compared with their size — as great
relatively as are the spaces between the planets in the solar system.

4. My next thesis is that these electrons or minute charged cor-
puscles can exist separately, for they can be detached from their atoms
of matter at an electrode, not only in electrolytic liquids but also in
gases, and when thus released from their thousandfold more massive
atom, they fly away from the negative electrode with prodigious speed,
because they are acted on by the same electrical propelling force as
before, but now have hardly anything to move.

These isolated flying particles travel a long distance in rarefied
gas, and are known as cathode rays. They were studied by Hittorf,
Crookes, Lenard and others, both inside and outside vacuum tubes,
and they are now known to be flung off spontaneously from many
substances. When stopped suddenly by a massive obstacle, they give
rise to the X-radiation discovered by Rontgen. At first these cathode
rays were thought to be atoms of matter, though their extraordinary
penetrating power rendered such a hypothesis difficult of belief, and
caused Crookes to speak of them as matter in a fourth state. They
are, however, certainly energetic bodies, being able to propel light
windmills, to heat platinum to redness, and to charge an electro-
scope; they are also able to penetrate thin sheets of metal and to
affect photographic plates or phosphorescent substances on the other
side. They are not so penetrating, however, as are some of the
Eontgen rays.

MODERN VIEWS ON MATTER. 293

The final definite establishment of the fact that these flying par-
ticles are not atoms of matter, but are bits chipped off the atoms, frac-
tions of an atom as it were, the same identical kind of bits being
chipped off every kind of chemical atom, their mass always about one
thousandth of that of a hydrogen atom, and moving under favorable
circumstances with something not much less than the speed of light, is
due to the researches of Professor J. J. Thomson and his coadjutors
in the Cavendish Laboratory, Cambridge, and represents a, long series
of measurements devised and executed with consummate skill.

I have no time to go into detail concerning these important and
elaborate and most interesting investigations. Suffice it to say that
portions of them are due to your own Wykeham professor of physics.
Professor Townsend, working in conjunction and collaboration with
others, under the leadership of Professor J. J. Thomson; and that
this whole series of Cavendish Laboratory researches may be said to
constitute the high- water mark of the world's experimental physics
during the beginning of this century.

5. I must not dwell upon the properties and powers of electrons,
nor upon the experimental means by which these measurements were
made, for it is far too large a subject. I must exhibit a few diagrams,
and briefly summarize a few main facts.

Electrons have been shown to be shot off from any negatively
charged body, especially from negatively electrified metals, when ex-
posed to ultra-violet light.

When shot into a mass of air they ionize that air for a time, and
render it electrolytically conducting; also of course they can discharge
positively electrified bodies themselves, and can thus be most readily
detected in small numbers.

Electrons in orbital motion have been shown to constitute the
mechanism by which atoms are able to radiate light; and a great
mass of semi-astronomical facts concerning these orbits and their
perturbations have been obtained by immersing the source of light
in a strong magnetic field, and observing the minute but very definite
changes of spectra thereby produced: a branch of science with which
the names of H. A. Lorentz, of Leyden, and Zeeman, of Amsterdam,
will be inseparably associated.

In all these and other ways the electron has become a familiar
object. It constitutes the ionic charge of matter. Multiples of it,
but no fractions, are possible. Its mass, its charge and its speed
have been frequently measured by different processes, and always with
consistent results. It is the most definite and fundamental and simple
unit which we know of in nature.

It has thus displaced the so-called atom of matter from its funda-
mental place of indivisibility. The atom of matter has been shown

294 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

capable of losing an electron, of having at least one chipped ofE it.
The election has been shown to possess in kind, though not in degree,
the fundamental properties of the original atom of which it had
formed a part; and it becomes a reasonable hypothesis to surmise that
the whole of the atom may be built up of positive and negative elec-
trons interleaved together, and of nothing else; an active or charged
ion having one electron in excess or defect, but the neutral atom
having an exact number of pairs. The oppositely charged electrons
are to be thought of on this hypothesis as flying about inside the atom,
as a few thousand specks like full stops might fly about inside this
hall; forming a kind of cosmic system under their strong mutual
forces, and occupying the otherwise empty region of space which we
call the atom — occupying it in the same sense that a few scattered but
armed soldiers can occupy a territory — occupying it by forceful ac-
tivity, not by bodily bulk.

6. The hypothetical part of the statement about the size of an elec-
tron is the following. Whereas both the mass and the charge of an
electron is known, it is not yet quite certain that the mass is wholly
due to the charge. It is possible, but to me very unlikely, that the
electron, as we know it, contains a material nucleus in addition to its
charge, so in that case it need not be so concentrated, because a portion
of its mass would be otherwise accounted for.

I say 'accounted for,' but it would be equally true to say unac-
counted for. The mass which is explicable electrically is to a con-
siderable extent understood, but the mass which is merely material
(whatever that may mean) is not understood at all. We know more
about electricity than about matter; and the way in which electrical
inertia is accounted for electromagnetically and localized in the ether
immediately surrounding the nucleus of charge, is comparatively clear
and distinct.

There may possibly be two different kinds of inertia, which exactly
simulate each other, one electrical and the other material; and those
who hold this as a reasonable possibility are careful to speak of elec-
trons as 'corpuscles,' meaning charged particles of matter of extremely
small size, much smaller than an atom, consisting of a definite electric
charge and an unknown material nucleus; which nucleus, as they
recognize, but have not yet finally proved, may quite possibly be zero.

The chief defect in the electrical theory of matter at present is
that the positive electron, if it exists, has never yet been isolated from
the rest of an atom of matter. It has never been found detached
from a mass less than the hydrogen atom; whereas the negative elec-
tron is constantly and freely encountered flying about alone, its mass
being little more than the thousandth part of an atom of hydrogen.

MODERN VIEWS ON MATTER. 295

Until a positive electron can be similarly isolated, the hypothesis
that an atom is really composed solely of electricity, that is to say,
of equal quantities of positive and negative electricity associated to-
gether in a certain grouping of little bodies, each of which is nothing
more than a concentrated charge of electricity of known amount, must
remain a hypothesis.

7. It is a fascinating guess that the electrons constitute the funda-
mental substratum of which all matter is composed. That a group-
ing of say 700 electrons, 350 positive and 350 negative, interleaved or
interlocked in a state of violent motion so as to produce a stable con-
figuration under the influence of their centrifugal inertia and their
electric forces, constitutes an atom of hydrogen. That sixteen times
as many, in another stable grouping, constitute an atom of oxygen.
That some 16,000 of them go to form an atom of sodium; about 100,-
000 an atom of barium; and 160,000 an atom of radium.

On this view all the elements would be regarded as different group-
ings of one fundamental constituent. Of all the groupings possible,
doubtless most are so unstable as never to be formed; but some are
stable, or at least relatively stable, and these stabler groupings consti-
tute the chemical elements that we know. The fundamental ingredient
of which, on this view, the whole of matter is made up, is nothing more
or less than electricity, in the form of an aggregate of an equal number
of positive and negative electric charges.

This, when established, will be a unification of matter such as has
through all the ages been sought; it goes further than had been hoped,
for the substratum is not an unknown and hypothetical protyle, but
the familiar electric charge. Nevertheless, of course, it is no ultimate
explanation. The questions remain, what then is an electric charge?
what is the internal structure and constitution of an electron?
wherein lies the difference between positive and negative electricity?
and what is their relation to the ether of space? Definite questions
these, and doubtless some day answerable; indeed, powerful methods
of attack on this position have been already contrived by Dr. J. Lar-
mor and others; but they are questions of a higher order of difficulty
than those which occupy us to-day, and it must remain for a future
Eomanes lecturer to report progress in these directions, whenever
adequate progress has in fact been made.

8. That is the end of the first half of my lecture; and six months
ago that, somewhat expanded, might have been the whole of it, because
the next portion would have seemed too fanciful; but discoveries have
been made, chiefly in France and in Canada — some of the most stri-
king of them within the present year — which remove the treatment of
the next part of my subject from the realm of fancy to the region
of probability, and justify my proceeding further with some of

296 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

the theoretical consequences deducible from an electric theory of
matter.

I referred above briefly to the origin of radiation, saying that by
the method of applying a powerful magnet to a source of light, and
examining the minute perturbations in the lines of the spectrum thus
produced, it had been proved that the real source of radiation vras an
electric charge in rapid orbital motion; and I now go on to say that
by careful measurement of the amount of perturbation it has been
definitely proved that it is our friends the negative electrons, with a
mass about one thousandth of the smallest known atom of matter, that
are responsible for the excitation of ether waves or the production of
light. Larmor and others have indeed shown mathematically that
whenever an electric charge is subject to acceleration, an emission of
some amount of radiation is inevitable, by reason of the interaction
of its electric and magnetic fields; and it is probable that there is no
other source of light or radiation possible except this change in the
motion of electrons. It is known, for instance, that the violent accel-
eration or retardation of electrons when they encounter an obstacle
is responsible for the excitation of Eontgen rays. All light, and all
the Hertz waves or pulses employed in wireless telegraphy, are due to
electric acceleration, and the greater the rate of change of velocity
the more violent is the radiation emitted.

The charge may oscillate, as in a Hertz vibrator, or it may revolve,
as in a source of ordinary light such as a sodium flame. In order to
emit perceptible radiation by revolving, it must revolve with extreme
speed in a very small orbit, so that its rate of curvature or centripetal
acceleration may be considerable; for it is on the square of the value
of the average acceleration that the energy of radiation depends.

9. All this is of the nature of a definite and certain thesis; but
now we are going to apply it to our hypothesis that the atom of matter
is either wholly or partially composed of electrons in a state of vigor-
ous motion among themselves. Such revolving or vibrating electrons
are subject to acceleration, either radial or tangential, and must there-
fore to a greater or less extent necessarily emit radiation; it becomes
natural to inquire whence comes the energy that is radiated away.

Now in ordinary familiar cases it is the irregular agitation of
molecules which we call 'heat' that is being radiated away; and in
that case the result is a mere cooling, or diminution of the molecular
agitation, which can readily be made up by receipt of similar energy
from the enclosures or from surrounding bodies; or, if not made up,
it can produce the ordinary well-known effects of 'cold.' But to the
motion of the internal parts of an atom the ideas of heat and tempera-
ture do not apply. The atom, if it lose energy, must lose what is to
it an essential ingredient; and hence this inevitable radiating power

MODERN VIEWS ON MATTER. 297

of the constituents of an atom seemed to constitute a difficulty, for it
suggested that an atom of matter was not really a permanent and
eternal thing, but that it contained within itself the seeds of its own
decay and ultimate dissipation into the separate electrons of which
it was composed. The process might indeed be exceedingly slow, the
radiation loss might be almost imperceptible, but, in so far as an
atom is composed of revolving electrons, it is inevitable that radiation
of energy must go on from it, and that this must in the long run have
some perceptible degenerative result.

10. That result has quite recently, I believe, been experimentally
discovered, and is a part of the phenomenon known as 'radio-activity.'

So now we come to the most remarkable and probably the most
interesting step of all.

The phenomenon of spontaneous radio-activity, discovered first by
Becquerel in uranium and thorium, and greatly extended by the bril-
liant chemical researches of M. and Mme. Curie which resulted in the
discovery of radium (they are coming to London next week, and will
be received, I expect, royally by the scientific world), was at first sup-
posed to consist in the emission of a sort of X-rays or ether pulses;
and was subsequently assumed to consist chiefly in the bodily emission
of electrons, which were shot off from the radio-active substance as
they are from a negative electrode in a vacuum-tube, or as they are
in air when ultra-violet light falls upon clean negatively charged
surfaces.

As a matter of fact both these modes of radiation — the wave form
and the corpuscular form — are emitted by radio-active bodies, but
they turn out to be of subordinate importance, and must be regarded
as secondary or subsidiary results of the main phenomenon.

The main fact of radio-activity has been shown by Professor
Eutherford, of Montreal, in a paper published in the month of Feb-
ruary this very year, to consist in the flinging away with great violence
of actual atoms of matter: atoms electrified indeed, but not negatively
like electrons, and not small or penetrating like them, but full-sized
atoms, such as are easily stopped by a thin sheet of metal, or even
by a sheet of paper — atoms which are positively charged and possessed
of a remarkable amount of energy, ionizing the air which they bom-
bard to an extraordinary extent, and likewise generating quite a per-
ceptible amount of heat wherever they strike; producing indeed a flash
when they strike a suitable target, as Crookes has shown, quite like
the impact of a cannon-ball on an armor-plate. Their speed, indeed,
far exceeds that of any cannon-ball that ever existed, being as much
faster than a cannon-ball as that is faster than a snail's crawl; a
hundred times faster than the fastest flying star, these atomic pro-
jectiles constitute the fastest moving matter known. This furious

298 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

bombardment from a radio-active substance continues without inter-
mission and apparently without sign of diminution or cessation.
There is every reason to believe that a minute scrap of radium,
scarcely perceptible to the eye, may go on emitting these energetic
projectiles for hundreds of years.

11. At first sight the fact that it is merely atoms of matter which
are being flung off by most radio-active substances, and that ethereal
and other effects are subsidiary to this emission of substance, seems
to lessen the interest attaching to the phenomenon, reducing it to
something of merely chemical importance, and suggesting a resem-
blance to scent or other volatilization from solid bodies. But Pro-
fessor Eutherford, with great skill, succeeded in determining approxi-
mately the atomic weight of the utterly imperceptible amount of
substance thrown off, as well as its speed, and found that it was not
by any means the radio-active substance itself which was evaporating,
but something quite different.

Plainly, if an elementary form of matter is found to be throwing
off another substance, it becomes imperative to inquire what that sub-
stance is, and what it is that is left behind. Now the atomic weight
of radium, or of thorium or uranium, or of any known strongly radio-
active substance, is very high, in each case over two hundred times the
atomic weight of hydrogen, whereas the atomic weight of the substance
flung off appears to be more nearly of the order one or two; in other
words, the substance thrown off is more likely to be either hydrogen
or helium than it is likely to be radium. It is just possible that the
inert chemical elements are by-products of radio-activity.

Now clearly here is a fact, if fact it be, of prodigious importance.
Undoubtedly the measurements require confirmation, but for myself
I see no reason to doubt them, at least as regards their order of magni-
tude. The atomic weight of radium being say 235, and that of the
projected portion being say 2, the residue must represent by its atomic
weight the difference between the heavy atom of the original substance
and that of the light atom or atoms which have been flung away : unless
indeed it be assumed, as it will almost certainly be assumed by some
skeptical chemists, those who derided argon and other chemical dis-
coveries when made in a physical manner, that the substance flung
away is some foreign ingredient or impurity — a hypothesis, I venture
to say, already strongly against the weight of available evidence.

The substance left behind in the pores of the radio-active substance
has been examined even more completely than the projected portion:
it is volatile, it slowly diffuses away, and it behaves like a gas. It can
be stored in gas-holders when mixed with air, for in amount it is quite
imperceptible to all ordinary tests; and yet it can be passed through
pipes and otherwise dealt with. It condenses not far above the tem-

MODERN VIEWS ON MATTER. 299

perature of liquid air, and it is itself radio-active, but in such a way
that its power decays rapidly with time. Its radio-activity seems to
consist likewise in throwing away part of itself and leaving yet another
residue, likewise radio-active; and one of the residues so left seems
ultimately to pitch away electrons simply instead of atoms of matter.
It is not to be supposed that thorium and radium and uranium all
behave alike in details. The emanation of one may lose its activity
rapidly, and give rise to another substance which retains its power for
some time; the emanation of another element may last some time and
generate a substance whose activity rapidly decays; but into these
details it is not now the place to go.

12. Assuming the truth of this strange string of laboratory facts,
we appear to be face to face with a phenomenon quite new in the his-
tory of the world. No one has hitherto observed the transition from
one form of matter to another: though throughout the Middle Ages
such a transmutation was looked for. The transmutation of elements
has been suspected in modern times on evidence vaguely deducible by
skilled observers from the spectroscopic details of solar and stellar
appearances. The evolution of matter has likewise been suspected by
a few chemists of genius: it was perceived, on the strength of Men-
delejeff 's law, that the elements form a kind of family or related series,
and it was surmised that possibly the barriers between one species and
the next were not absolutely infrangible, but that temporary transi-
tional forms might occur. All this was speculation ; but here in radio-
active matter the process appears to be going on before our eyes. Pro^
fessor Eutherford and Mr. Soddy, who in Canada during the present
year have worked hard and admirably at the subject, have adduced
facts which point clearly in this direction; and they initially describe
what appear to be the first links of a chain of substances, all produced
in hopelessly minute quantities reckoned by ordinary tests, but which
yet by electrical means can easily be detected, and their boiling-points
and other properties investigated. Moreover, the investigators of these
strange substances are able to dissolve and precipitate, and perform
ordinary chemical operations on, these utterly imponderable and hope-
lessly minute deposits of radio-active substances, because of the power-
ful means of detection which their ionizing power puts into our hands
— even a few stray atoms being able by their ionizing power to dis-
charge an electroscope appreciably.

13. Thus then it would appear that our theoretical conclusion con-
cerning the inevitable radiation and loss of energy from electrically
constituted atoms of matter, a loss which must involve them in neces-
sary change and dissolution, meets with quite unexpectedly rapid con-
firmation, and it is for that reason that I feel willing to accept tenta-
tively and as a working hypothesis this explanation of radio-activity.

300 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

It represents a fact previously wanted on theoretical grounds. For
how is radio-activity to be explained ? It looks as if the massive and
extremely complex atoms of a radio-active substance were liable to get
into an unstable condition, probably reaching this condition whenever
any part of it attempts, or is urged, to move with the velocity of light.
I have shown elsewhere* that the mere fact of radiation will act as a
resisting medium and increase the speed of the particles automatically,
on the same principle that a comet would be accelerated if it met with
resistance; since the inverse square law applies to electrical central
forces. Electrical mass is not strictly constant: it is a function of
speed, but in such a way that it is practically constant until the velocity
of light is very nearly attained. That is a critical velocity, which
apparently can not be surpassed. When this critical speed is reached,
any electrified body becomes suddenly of infinite mass, and something
is bound to happen. What that something is, it is not easy theoret-
ically to say; but the partial or incipient disintegration or dissociation
of the atom, and the flying away of a portion with a speed comparable
to that of light, is no unlikely result.

Out of the whole multitude of atoms, even of the atoms of a con-
spicuously radio-active substance, it is probable that only a very few
get into this unstable or critical condition at any one time; perhaps
not more than one in a million million ; nevertheless, just as occasional
though rare encounters take place in the heavens, followed by the blaze
of a new and temporary star, so, though probably not by the same
mechanism, here and there a few out of the billions of atoms in any
perceptible speck of radium arrive in due time at the unstable condi-
tion, and break down into something else, with energetic radio-
activity during the sudden collapsing process; emitting in the process
of collapse not only the main projected substance, but likewise also a
few electrons and those X-rays which always accompany a sudden
electric jerk or recoil. And the X-rays so emitted are of the most
penetrating kind known, being able to pass through an inch of solid
iron in perceptible quantity.

14. The hypothesis concerning radio-activity which is now in the
field, then, is that a very small number, an almost infinitesimal pro-
portion, of the atoms are constantly breaking up; throwing away a
small portion, say one per cent, of themselves, with immense violence,
at about one tenth of the speed of light; the remainder constitute a
slightly different substance, which, however, is still extremely unstable,
and therefore radio-active, going through its stages with much greater
rapidity than the radium itself, because practically the whole of it is
in the unstable condition, and so giving rise to fresh and fresh products

* See Nature for June 11, 1903.

MODERN VIEWS ON MATTER. 301

of its own decay, till a comparatively stable state is reached, or till the
process passes beyond our means of detection.

Eoughly, the process may be likened in some respects to the con-
densation or contraction of a nebula. The particles constituting a
whirling nebula fall together until the centrifugal force of the periph-
eral portions exceeds the gravitative pull of the central mass, and then
they are shrunk off and left behind, afterwards agglomerating into a
planet; while the residue goes on shrinking and evolving fresh bodies
and generating heat. A nebula is not hot, but it has an immense store
of potential energy, some of which it can turn into heat, and so form
a hot central nucleus or sun. A radium atom is not hot, but it too
has a great store of potential energy, immense in proportion to its
mass, for it is controlled by electrical, not by gravitational forces; and
just as the falling together of the solar material generates heat, so
that a shrinkage of a few yards per century can account for all its
tremendous emission, so it has been calculated that the collapsing of
the electrical constituents of a radium atom, by so little as one per
cent, of their distance apart, can supply the whole of the energy of
the observed radiation — large though that is — for something like
30,000 years.

15. It does not follow that the life of a piece of radium is as great
as that; the data are uncertain at present, but there is absolutely no
ground for the popular and gratuitous surmise that it emits energy
without loss or waste of any kind, and that it is competent to go on
for ever. The idea, at one time irresponsibly mooted, that it contra-
dicted the principle of the conservation of energy, and was troubling
physicists with the idea that they must overhaul their theories — a
thing which they ought always to be delighted to do on good evidence
— this idea was a gratuitous absurdity and never had the slightest
foundation ; but the notion that radium was perhaps able to draw upon
some unknown source or store of energy, without itself suffering loss,
was a possibility which has not yet wholly disappeared from some minds.
Sir W. Crookes, for instance, suggested that it might somehow utilize
the most quickly moving atoms of air, after the fashion of a Maxwell
demon — a possibility that should always be borne in mind as a con-
ceivable explanation of the power of some living organisms. It is
much more reasonable to suppose, however, that radium and the other
like substances are drawing upon their own stores of internal atomic
energy, and thereby gradually disintegrating and falling into other,
and ultimately into more stable, forms of matter.

Not that it is to be supposed that even these are finally and abso-
lutely stable: these too are subject to radiation loss, and so must be
liable to decay; but at a vastly slower rate, perhaps not more than a
few hundred atoms changing and diffusing away each second — a process

302 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

utterly imperceptible to the most delicate weighing until after the lapse
of millions of years; so that for all practical purposes, and for times
such as are dealt with in cosmic history, they are permanent, even as
the solar system and stellar aggregates appear to us to be permanent.
Yet we know that all these systems are in reality transitory, as terres-
trial structures like the pyramids or as the mountains and the conti-
nents themselves are transitory: of all these things it may be said that
in any given form they have their day and cease to be. But whereas
geological and astronomical configurations pass through their phases
in a time to be reckoned in millions of years, the active life of a solar
system covering perhaps no very long period, it is probable that the
changes we have begun to suspect in the foundation stones of the uni-
verse, the more stable elemental atoms themselves, must require a period
to be expressed only by millions of millions of centuries. For in such
a time as this, at the rate of a hundred atoms per second, a bare kilo-
gram— a couple of pounds only — of matter, even of heavy matter,
would have drifted away; not so much indeed — a couple of ounces
more likely. And yet this period is a million times the estimated age
of the earth.

16. If we allow ourselves to speculate, on the strength of the slender
experimental evidence as yet forthcoming, instead of waiting, as to be
wise we must wait, for confirmation and thorough examination of the
facts, we should say that the whole of existing matter appears liable
to processes of change, and in that sense to be a transient phenomenon.

Somehow, we might conjecture, by some means at present unknown,
it takes its rise: electrons of opposite sign crystallizing or falling to-
gether, perhaps at first into a manifestly unstable form; these forms
then pass on from one into another, going through a series of transi-
tional states, and abiding for a long time in those configurations which
are most stable; giving a process of evolution inconceivably slow in
its later stages, comparatively rapid in its early ones: and yet not so
rapid, even in a substance like radium, but that its life as such may
be reckoned by thousands of years.

If such a transitory existence is ever established for the forms of
matter as we know them, it by no means follows that the process goes
on in one direction only, or that the total amount of matter in the
universe is subject to diminution. There may be regeneration as
well as degeneration.

The total amount of radio-activity in a substance is singularly con-
stant. If the radio-active portion is removed, a fresh supply makes
its appearance at a measured rate, that rate being expressible by a
decreasing geometrical progression, and being precisely equal to the
rate at which the power of the removed portion decays.

MODERN VIEWS ON MATTER. 303

Whether the total amount of matter in the universe is constant
likewise, as much disappearing at one end by resolution into electrons
as is formed at the other end by their aggregating together, is at
present quite unknown ; and indeed it is clear that we have now become
far immersed in the region of speculation. Nevertheless, it is specula-
tion not of an illegitimate character, for it is very consistent with all
that we know about the rest of the material universe.

Astronomy tells us that the cosmic scheme, though it looks perma-
nent, is subject to constant flux. In the sky we see solar systems and
suns in process of formation by aggregation out of nebulae ; we see them
rise in brilliancy, maintaining a number of planets in health and
activity for a time, and then slowly become subject to decay and death.
What happens after that is not certainly known ; it may be that by col-
lision a nebula may be reconstituted and the process started again;
though so long as there is only a force of one sign at work (gravitation
only) it would seem that ultimately the regenerative process must
come to an end. The repellent force exerted by light upon small
particles, however, must not be forgotten; it can overcome gravitation
when it acts on small enough bodies; and there are other possibilities.
Among the parts of an atom certainly the forces are conspicuously not
of one sign; inside an atom there exist both attractive and repulsive
forces; the resolution of an atom into its electron constituents, and
the aggregation of these constituents into fresh atoms, are both per-
fectly thinkable. All we have to do is to ascertain by careful and
patient investigation what really happens; and my experience has led
me to feel sure of this, that whatever hypotheses and speculations we
may frame, we can not exceed the reality in genuine wonder; and I
believe that the simplicity and beauty of the truth concerning even
the material universe, when we know it, will be such as to elicit feel-
ings of reverent awe and adoration.

\^u : t S ^ r> A 5^:

\ /

304 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

THE TEAINING OF A PHYSICIAN.*

By President DAVID STARR JORDAN,

LELAND STANFORD JR. UNIVERSITY.

TN mediaeval times the physician was a compound of sorcerer and
-^ priest; distrusted by sorcerers lest he disclose the secrets of their
trade ; distrusted by priests lest he undo their work with the heathenism
of sorcery. His operations were mystic, out of relation to cause and
effect, for it was widely believed that the forces of the body are inde-
pendent of bodily structures, and that sickness was a blow from the
outside, a penalty for sin or lust or unbelief, not the expression of
bodily derangement.

So the physician dealt with words as much as with medicines.
Many Latin words held a magic power. By their use he could call up
spirits, mostly evil, could put man to sleep or make a broomstick alive.
Lest he carry these things too far, there were statutes forbidding the
physician to act save in the presence of a priest. Besides words, he
dealt in simples; each drug having potency over its particular disease.
These drugs he would know by their signatures, the mark of the
Almighty on them indicating their use. Thus a scrofulous-looking root
would cure scrofula, snake-head or snake-root would cure snake bite;
blood-root with red juice was good for the blood ; celandine with yellow
juice was marked for jaundice; liver-wort with liver-shaped leaves
would heal the liver; eye-bright with an eye-spot in the flower would
heal the eyes; bear's grease from hairy bears would cure baldness; a
hair of the mad dog would relieve its venom. A red rag would cure
inflammations. A drug which would give a headache would cure it.
A long series of fancies and superstitions, which find their natural
continuance in the electric belts and patent medicines of to-day.

Surgery was despised by medicine, and the little which was prac-
tised feU to the lot of barbers; with dirty knives and reckless hands
surgery ended in gangrene and blood poisoning.

The success of the physician lay largely in the mystery of his
operations, his Latin words and the red and blue flames which danced
about the broths he concocted.

Meanwhile sanitation and diet were regarded as contrary to re-
ligion. Even the taking of medicine was sometimes forbidden as
being a scheme to thwart God's purposes. Besides all this, the words

* Abstract of address, Cooper Medical College Commencement.

THE TRAINING OF A PHYSICIAN. 305

of the great physician, Galen, became the court of final appeal, and his
ignorance marked the limit of all medical knowledge.

Yet there were great physicians in those days, martyrs and saints
who should rank with the noblest, men who tried to know the truth
and to act in accord with it. Eoger Bacon was on the verge of dis-
covering the secret of contagious disease and its prevention by inocula-
tion and sanitation. Fourteen years in prison prevented all this.

Vesalius in these days was the founder of anatomy. Dissection of
human bodies was prohibited as sacrilegious, the work of sorcerers and
dangerous, as the supposed resurrection bone, the nucleus of the rising
body, might be injured or destroyed by careless handling. "Vesalius
haunted gibbets and charnel houses, for the waste of human bodies.
He hoped especially to find through dissection the secret of the Black
Death. The personal physician of Charles V., he had powerful pro-
tection in his early work, but he fell at last under the mean bigotry of
Philip II. ''He was not lost," says President White. "In this cen-
tury a great painter has again given him to us. By the magic of
Hamann's pencil Vesalius again stands on earth and we look once
more into his cell. Its windows and doors, bolted and barred within,
betoken the storm of bigotry which rages without; the crucifix, tow^ard
which he turns his eyes, symbolizes the spirit in which he labours; the
corpse of the plague-stricken beneath his hand ceases to be repulsive;
his very soul seems to send forth rays from the canvas, which
strengthen us for the good fight in this age."

Those who destroyed Vesalius did so in the name of religion. It
was believed that 'diseases are sent as punisliment; who interferes
with them breaks God's commandment and is God's enemy.'

This belief checked the growth of medicine even so late as fifty
years ago when Simpson first used anaesthetics in obstetrics. This was
held to violate the command : ' In sorrow shalt thou bring forth chil-
dren.' To doubt the prevalent theory of disease was to doubt all
religion and to be a foe to Christianity. No wonder there were physi-
cians who doubted; no wonder that it was declared on high authority:
'When three physicians meet, there are two atheists,' if by atheist was
meant all who believe that diseases are produced by natural causes.

So long as medicine rested on a basis of mystery, symbolism and
philosophy, its limits set by the words of Galen, so long its progress
was marked by martyrs, not by its successful practitioners. Even a
hundred years ago success in medicine was largely quackery. Imagi-
nary diseases were treated and in fantastic ways. In Napoleon's time,
the itch was a prevalent disease in the higher classes, a disease which
they did not know how to cure. At this time, most internal ills
were diagnosed as 'Gale repercutee,' 'Itch struck-in,' and the arch

VOL. LXIII. — 20.

3o6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

medical performer of his time, Hahnemaim, is reported to have said
that two thirds of all diseases have this origin, 'they are the itch
struck-in.' But a little knowledge of entomology with a hand lens has
abolished the disease. Itch no longer 'strikes in' and nothing is more
easily cured. Meanwhile the internal disorders called itch are being
treated each in its own way.

The progress in medicine has been in proportion to its dependence
on science and the scientific method. Science is human experience
tested and set in order. Progress through science means simply
learning through experience and taking pains to sift and test ex-
perience.

I need not speak of the details of this progress. Surgery is applied
anatomy; antisepsis is applied bacteriology ;. pharmacology is applied
chemistry; vnth instruments of precision, wonderful progress is made
in the interpretation of experience. There is nothing in the history
of science more suggestive than the simultaneous lights thrown on
bacteria and microbes from many quarters at once. Lister with his
clean knives and antiseptic surgery, Bastian trying to prove the spon-
taneous generation of infusoria in vegetable broths; Tyndall trying to
clear his tubes from floating particles in the air which break up the
rays of light, Pasteur with his blighted silk-worms — all these men
were at work at the same problem — each with his varied instruments
of precision, and the final result of all, the theory of fermentation,
putrefaction, antisepsis and contagious diseases. Our knowledge of the
minute organisms all about us, as real, as helpful or as harmful as the
larger creatures of the earth, but the whole beyond the reach of the
unaided senses.

With this knowledge, we have a new birth of the art of medicine.
When we know our enemies, we can fight them intelligently. The
progress of medicine, its achievements and discoverias being granted,
how shall we teach it? ^.

There should be advance in methods of teaching as well as in
methods of gaining and testing facts. In the old days we had the
method of apprenticeship. The little doctor saw what the big one did
and followed his method. He learned to say the magic word, to make
the magic passes, to brew the magic drug, to say more than he knows
and to know more than he says.

in the ancient universities, the lecture was an exercise in dictation,
the student taking word for word the wise phrases of the master. The
ancient wizardry still prevails in some of our forms of medico-
religious healing ; the ancient belief in simples and signatory remedies,
in our patent medicine trade. With ignorant people, the mysteries of

TEE TRAINING OF A PEYSICIAN. 307

ignorance are valued above wisdom. To value wisdom is already to be
wise.

The physician of to-day is not a priest nor a sorcerer. His place
is rather that of an engineer. One who understands the make-up of
the human mind machine, tries to keep it in order and faithfully
repairs it when its parts are out of place. He knows that each effect
has a cause, none the more mysterious because it must be sought with
instruments of precision. He regards pain as a warning, not as a
punishment. It is a sign that a screw is loose somewhere, and were
it not for this warning we should not be sure to make it good.

In the continental universities of Europe, the teaching of medicine
has been from the first a university function. The faculty in medicine
has been one of the primary divisions of the university. The teach-
ing of medicine has kept pace with the instruction in law, philosophy
and science, under the same general influences, and with the same
methods of control. In England, medical instruction has been more
or less divorced from the university. It has been rather a function of
medical associations and hospitals.

The American college had its origin in English models. Like the
colleges of Oxford and Cambridge, it was more or less under ecclesias-
tical control, its first purpose being to develop clergymen and gentle-
men, professional training being outside its scope and purpose. Thus
the medical school in America arose through associations of physicians,
wholly apart from the college system.

But the same argument which justifies common schools, high
schools and state universities at public expense, applies to medical
schools also. It is cheaper for a state, and infinitely better for it, to
educate its own physicians than to tolerate uneducated ones. Better
to educate its doctors and hire them afterwards than to be the prey of
the quack, the iiApostor, the nostrum vendor and the almanac. This
was the view of the founders of the University of Michigan, the first
state college to devote itself frankly to the service of the state, regard-
less of tradition, regardless of what other states and institutions may
be doing.

Other states followed the example of Michigan, establishing schools
of law and medicine and of other professions. Still others, as Indiana,
adopted a contrary view, and for a time refused to appropriate money
to ' help young men into these easy professions. '

Meanwhile, in default of endowment and public support, private
interest founded medical schools where they were needed. Later, for
purposes of advertising or of money-making, other schools of lower
standards were established where they were not needed. Hence we
have finally medical schools of every grade of honor and of dishonor,

3o8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

some ranking with the best in the world, others periodically raided by
the police.

Our democratic custom is to let every school shift for itself. In
the eyes of the law, every doctor is a doctor, if he has earned or bought
a diploma somewhere — herb-doctor, corn-doctor, faith-healer, electric-
healer, all kinds of healers, pass as doctors, and the people must choose
for themselves.

Doubtless science wins in the long run. The honest school and
the honest man are the final winners, but there is a prodigious amount
of waste and suffering before the public knows the difference between
surgeons and bloodsuckers.

More and more the honest medical schools are brought into touch
with the university. Around the university the tested educational
machinery tends to center. Sound instruction in medicine demands a
broad base of science — physiology, anatomy, chemistry, histology, bac-
teriology and above all the methods of scientific research. All these
are fundamental to any real knowledge of the art of medicine. All
these are essentials in the work of the modern university. The medical
school is giving these up to the institutions which can teach them for
their own sake, and therefore teach them better. This change shortens
the medical course, by making it longer, by placing it on a broader and
higher foundation. The medical school, then, teaches the application
of science, the science itself being studied elsewhere. There is a
tendency toward an easy transition from the one to the other, so that
the student can not tell when he began to study medicine.

In the old days the transition was abrupt, and the medical student
learned applications of science before he had the faintest idea of
science itself. He was thrown at once into a topsy-turvy world, where
decencies did not count, where grewsome honors were everyday affairs,
and where all ordinary restraints were cast aside. Hence he kept his
tobacco in the skull of a murderer, wore a resurrection bone for a
scarf-pin, and was the most reckless, lawless, irreverent of all students,
careless of temperance, sanitation and chastity. Of all students,
thirty years ago, the medical student had deservedly the reputation
of being the worst.

Leaving out ill-equipped or temporary schools, the American
medical school of the future will have one or the other of two great
purposes. The one is typified perhaps by the Medical School of Michi-
gan. It will take the profession as it is and raise it as a whole. So
many men will be doctors, so many will be lawyers in Michigan. Let
us take them as we find them and make them just as good lawyers and
doctors as we can. Let us not drive them away by requirements they
can not or will not meet, but adjust the work and conditions to the

TEE TRAINING OF A PHYSICIAN. 309

best they can meet, the best standards winning in the long run and
carrying public opinion with them.

The other ideal is perhaps typified by Johns Hopkins University.
Let the university medical school deal with the exceptional man of
exceptional ability and exceptional training. Give him special ad-
vantages; send out a limited number of the best physicians possible,
and raise the standard of the profession by filling its ranks with the
best the university can send.

The one ideal or the other will be, consciously or not, before each
professional school which strives to be really helpful. It is not for me
to say which is best. The one purpose naturally presents itself to state
institutions, or to institutions dependent on appropriations or patron-
age. The other is more readily achieved by institutions of independent
endowment. It is a matter of economy that all schools should not be
alike in this respect.

What should be the regular requirement for entrance to the medical
school ? The university influences tend to push requirements up. The
influence of the counting room and the desire to show numbers tend
to push them down. Shall men go into medicine from the common
school, from the high school; from the middle of the college course;
from its end? Or shall we, with Johns Hopkins, demand not only a
college course, but one which contains all the sciences fundamental to
the study of medicine.

For the second type of schools, the schools which aim at the highest
professional success, the latter is the natural requirement, the only
one worth considering. For the schools which would elevate the pro-
fession as it is, the facts must be met half way. We know that a com-
mon school preparation is farcical, yet great physicians have been
made with this as the basis of education. Such are men who can learn
from their own experience and interpret the experience of others.
No matter how wide the door of the colleges, there are some men so
strong as to be capable of educating themselves.

The high school course gives a certain breadth of culture. The
high school of to-day is as good as the college of forty years ago, so far
as studies go. It misses the fact of going away from home and of
close relation with men of higher wisdom and riper experience than
our high schools demand in their teachers.

It takes a broader mental horizon to be a physician than merely to
practise medicine. For those who want the least education possible,
they can get along with very little; they can omit the college. But
for large-minded, widely competent men, men fit for great duties, not
a moment of the college course can be spared. Whether to take a
college education or not, depends on the man — what there is in him —

3IO POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

and on the course of study. There is no magic in the name of college,
and there is no gain in wrong subjects, work shirked, or in right sub-
jects taken under wrong teachers. Studies, like other food, must be
assimilated before they can help the system.

The great indictment of the college is its waste of the student's
time; prescribed studies taken unwillingly; irrelevant studies taken
to fill up, helpful studies taken under poor teachers, any kind of studies
taken idly — all these have tended to discredit the college course. Four
years is all too short for a liberal education, if every moment be
utilized. Two years is all too long if they are spent in idleness and
dissipation, or if tainted by the spirit of indifference.

The spirit of the college is more important than the time it takes.
The college atmosphere should be a clean and wholesome one, full of
impulses to action. It is good to breathe this air, and in doing so, it
matters little whether one's studies be wholly professional, half pro-
fessional, or directed towards ends of culture alone.

The practical evolution of this matter will be this: The medical
school for the exceptional student will require a college course of
science with physiology and chemistry as the leading subjects, other
sciences, with German and French, being necessary factors. The state
medical colleges and those of similar purposes will content themselves
with a minimum of two years of college work, along semi-professional
lines, the preparatory medical course.

In city colleges where the students live at home, traveling back
and forth on street cars, a college atmosphere can not be developed.
In these institutions, as a rule, the college work is perfunctory, its
recitations being often regarded as a disagreeable interruption of
social and athletic affairs. As a rule, higher education begins when
a man leaves home to become part of a guild of scholars. The city
college is merely a continued high school, and with both students and
teachers there is a willingness to cut it as short as possible, so that the
young men can 'get down to business.' In institutions of this type, the
professional school forms a sharp contrast to the college in its stronger
requirements and more serious purpose. In other types of college, it is
the general student who does the best work. In many of them the
professional departments are far inferior in tone and spirit to the
general academic course.

It becomes, then, a question of the college itself, how long a student
should stay in it. If the academic requirements are severe, just and
honest, if the idler, the butterfly, the blockhead and the parasite are
promptly dropped from the rolls, if the spirit of plain living and
high thinlcing rules in the college, the student should stay there as
long as he can, and if possible take part of his professional work under

THE TRAINING OF A PHYSICIAN. 3"

its guidance. The nearer the teacher, the better the work. The value of
teachers grows less as the square of their distance increases. If the
college course is a secondary matter, with inferior teachers talking
down to their students lessons prescribed because the faculty cares too
little for the individual man to adapt its courses to his needs, an
atmosphere of trifling, or no atmosphere at all, the sooner the student
gets into something real, the better. A good university may develop
in a great city, a good college can not, because teachers and students
are all too far apart.

In this matter the college degree is only an incident. It is the
badge of admission to the roll of alumni, a certificate of good fellow-
ship, which always means a little and may imply a great deal. But
the degree is only one of the toys of our educational babyhood, as hoods
and gowns represent educational bib and tucker. Don't go out of your
way to take a degree. Don't miss it because you are in too great a
hurry. For the highest professional success, you can afford to take
your time. It takes more provision for a cruise to the Cape of Good
Hope than for a trip to the Isle of Dogs.

'ft*

312 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

AMEEICAN TITLES AND DISTIXCTIOXS.

By Professor W. Le CONTE STEVENS,

WASHINGTON AND LEE UNIVERSITY.

rpHOMAS CARLYLE is credited with the statement that England
-■- has a population of twenty or thirty millions — 'mostfy fools.'
The definition of fool is not given. If the word means anything else
than an expression of dislike it is that the unfortunate man who bears
such a title is so deficient in intelligence or in good judgment as to be
worthy of unenviable distinction. But a distinguished man, whether
his distinction be good or bad, stands out among his fellows in some
way. It is impossible for the larger part of any mass of human beings
composing an organized body, whether the students of an educational
institution, or the devotees of fashionable society, or the population of
a great nation, to be distinguished. The mere fact that in such a
body a majority possesses qualities which might otherwise confer dis-
tinction upon an individual destroys the possibility of preeminence
based on such possession. Every one recognizes that Carlyle's epigram
expressed no objective truth, but that he displayed only the acidity and
peevishness of one whose influence was perceptibly waning.

Epigram is never quite consistent with truth. It may contain
enough mixture of truth with falsehood to command the momentary
assent of even a thoughtful man. Its essential feature is brightness
rather than solidity, and it arrests the attention when accuracy fails
to attract. A French writer who has recently passed away, Paul
Blouet, visited America some years ago, and the inevitable book of im-
pressions was the natural consequence. His fondness for epigram had
amused many readers of a previous book entitled 'John Bull and his
Island.' The first chapter of 'Jonathan and his Continent' began
with the following words in imitation of Carlyle: 'The population of
America is sixty millions — mostly colonels.' In a subsequent chapter
he emphasized this idea with the statement, "Every American with
the least self-respect is colonel or judge; but if you should discover
that your interlocutor is neither colonel nor jvidge, call him ' Professor, '
and you are out of the difficulty." This implication that professors
belong by exclusion to a class without the least self-respect may be
unwelcome to some of the unfortunates who are compelled to carry this
mark of Cain; but there is enough truth in the Frenchman's epigram

AMERICAN TITLES AND DISTINCTIONS. 313

to suggest the question whether democratic America is not the richest
in titles of any country in the world; and, if so, why should it be so?

Let an American visit Germany or Russia; any country of conti-
nental Europe where the encroachment of free institutions upon the
military control of society is less marked than among our people. The
first feature that obtrudes itself is that soldiers in uniform are to be
seen in every important town. The visitor is required to register at
police headquarters and answer a variety of questions, rational and
irrational, about his present, past and probable future. He learns that
titles of all kinds, but especially military titles, are protected by law.
The man who calls himself a colonel, or allows his friends to call him
so, is soon required to prove his claim to the title. Where is his uni-
form? If he is a foreigner, why did he not report his rank at the
police registration office? Is he not a suspicious character whose ac-
tions must be watched ? If he is a native jackdaw trying to wear bor-
rowed plumage he is lucky if he avoids arrest. The professor, moreover,
is an officer of the government, whose salary is paid from the public
treasury, so far as his income is derived from a salary. Any one who
assumes the title without official sanction does so at his own peril. To
hold such an office is presumptive evidence of marked ability, and it
carries with it a claim to social deference that is universally accorded.
'No colonel or professor in Germany can exist as such without having
stood tests of special training that prove him an educated man. No
such title comes by inheritance or courtesy. It means much and its
value is great. No such prize can be stolen by the unworthy, for
danger attends the violation of law where popular, sentiment sustains
the military power that ensures its enforcement.

It must not be inferred, however, that all titles in continental
Europe have retained the meaning or the importance originally at-
tached to them. Everything depends upon the consideration whether
the title has been directly acquired or has been inherited. In a Ger-
man university where the present writer spent some time the physical
laboratory assistant, whose duties were exclusively mechanical, was a
count whose inheritance seemed to be limited to liis title. In the
duchy of Mecklenburg a traveler has found a count for landlord of the
village inn, a countess for landlady, young counts filling the places of
hostler, waiter and bootblack, and countesses for cooks and chamber-
maids. Indeed, in one village all the inhabitants except four were
found to be of noble birth. America therefore has by no means a
monopoly of cheap titles.

It would perhaps be interesting to trace in detail the evolution of
iitles with the development of society ; but such a field is too extensive.
Originally a name or title was merely the suggestion of an association.
' Young-man-af raid-of-his-horse ' was a Sioux Indian whose fame might

314 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

have been local only had he not come too near to the American news-
paper correspondent. The desire of the weak to appease or flatter the
strong has been the most fertile origin of titles. In darkest Africa the
king is addressed by such names as the 'Lion of Heaven,' the 'Bird
who eats other birds/ or 'Thou who art as high as the mountains.'
A proper name easily becomes applied to a family or a class, and is
thus handed down to successive generations. Nothing is easier for
the savage than to apply superhuman attributes to a successful warrior
and to deify him after his death. After natural slumber he wakes
with renewed strength. The slumber of death seems merely deeper
and longer than usual, and it is easy to believe that latent power ha*
not been lost. The warlike father of his tribe is transformed into the
god of his tribe. The grand lama of Thibet does not wait for death,
but is worshiped as ' God the Father ' by his obsequious subjects. The
ruler, whether visible or invisible, is 'father,' 'king' or 'God,' indiffer-
ently. If his authority becomes widely recognized, if his empire in-
cludes subordinate kingdoms like that of the German Kaiser to-day,,
he becomes ' king of kings ' and ' lord of lords. '

With the development of successive grades of honor, power and
position comes the demand for recognition to be accorded by those'
below and the temptation to appease and flatter those above. The
fundamental motive is the lively sense of favors to come; the wish to
create obligation among those whose power enables them possibly to
interfere with our welfare, and to exact allegiance from those whom
we may possibly use for our own advantage. The ordinary father of
a family addresses the king in the language of adulation, and is ad-
dressed in similar terms by his wives, children and servants; while
these in turn receive from the dogs all the flattery that can be ostenta-
tiously suggested by wagging tails and eloquent barking.

But while selfishness is one of the bases of title-giving, it is not
the only one. Regard for others is a characteristic of humanity quite
as natural and universal as self-regard. Selfishness and generosity are
relative terms. The man or woman who is much less considerate of
the rights of others than are the majority of people composing society
is soon found out and becomes an object of dislike, if not of positive
hatred. To be kind to one's friends, to take an interest in the welfare
of those around us, to help those who are in trouble, to sympathize with
the pleasures of those who are enjoying life, to make friends by being
friendly — these are some of the most fertile sources of human happi-
ness. Nor is this confined to humanity. If happiness can be judged
by its visible manifestations, there is many a dog whose happiness is
apparently bound up in the most unselfish devotion to his master.
Love in the home circle and politeness in general society are not merely
indications of refinement ; they are positive contributions to the general

AMERICAN TITLES AND DISTINCTIONS. 315

welfare of the race. Every one understands that social usage often
suggests words, phrases and sentences which imply more or less covert
flattery. Indulgence in them is not only pardonable, but often de-
manded by an unwritten law, even if they are not accordant with the
severest requirements of truth. They give pleasure without really
deceiving; they excite laughter without derision; they hide sorrow;
they brighten life. Much title-giving has been the outcome of an
unselfish desire to express appreciation and good will. It may not
be wise, but it is a good-natured attempt to give pleasure by covert
flattery.

This unselfish basis for the giving of titles constitutes a sufficient
explanation of that gradual diffusion and degradation of all distinc-
tions that time invariably develops. A familiar example to all who
have had experience in educational work is found in the class-room
marking system, by which distinctions are based upon attainment in
scholarship. Nearly a century ago the trustees of an academy well
known in Virginia prescribed for the teachers a system of marking
which was made up of three degrees of merit, bonus, melior, optimus,
and three of demerit, malus, pejor, pessimus. If we apply to this the
mathematical principle forming the basis of the theory of probabilities,
it is easy to show that about 30 per cent, of all students examined
ought to be graded tonus, and the same percentage malus, the sum of
these two groups forming thus nearly two thirds of the whole. About
16 per cent, should be graded melior and the same percentage pejor;
not quite 4 per cent, optimus and the same percentage pessimus. But
what was the actual working of the system? The historian, Henry
Euffner, says: ''The continual tendency was to mark inferior scholars
too high. Thus it came to pass that not half the bad scholars got
malus, the worst almost never fell below it, and bonus, though a mark
of approbation, came to be considered as a disgrace, while optimus
which ought to have been reserved for scholars of the highest merit,
was commonly bestowed on all who rose above mediocrity." When
Dr. Euffner in 1829 became temporary president of the college into
which this academy had developed, he secured the abolition of the dis-
credited marking system, and the substitution of three grades: 'Dis-
approved,' 'Approved' and 'Distinguished.' According to the mathe-
matical theory about 60 per cent, should have been approved, about 20
per cent, disapproved and 20 per cent, distinguished. But he writes
that 'within two or three years some bad scholars were approved, and
good scholars were nearly all distinguished.'

This continual temptation to grade as many as possible in the
highest class is by no means based on selfishness alone, or even to any
large extent on selfishness, though personal pride is one element. It
is impossible for an examiner to make an exact numerical statement of

3i6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

a mere judgment of merit. Since the estimate is confessedly only
approximate, the student receives the benefit of every uncertainty. If
any mistake has to be made, let him be encouraged by a false estimate
that includes full credit rather than discouraged by one that does
injustice. The numerical estimate of average success expressed as a
percentage thus tends to become continually higher unless the gener-
osity of the examiner is periodically and frequently checked by having
his attention called to the absurdity of recording the majority of his
students as distinguished. Dr. Ruffner says: "A temporizing pro-
fessor who loves popularity, and desires, like the old man in the fable,
to please everybody, is sure to be guilty of this fault, and, like many
a politician, to sacrifice permanent good for temporary favor. ' ' If the
passing mark is high, for example, 75 per cent., all marks will be pro-
portionally high. What this limiting mark should be depends upon
the idea underlying it. If the grade assigned means that the student
is credited with knowing half, or three fourths, or nine tenths of what
an ideally perfect student would know of the subject of study, the
corresponding grade should obviously be 50, 75 or 90 per cent. Prob-
ably this is the most usual theoretic interpretation. But in practise
the fundamental question is, in a large proportion of cases, not whether
the student's attainments can be expressed accurately by a percentage,
but merely whether in the teacher's judgment he ought to be passed
or not. If so, his marks will be above the arbitrary limit, whatever
may be the numerical value of this. If not, it makes little difEerence
whether the grade assigned to the failure is 10, 30 or 50 per cent. In
an institution where the teaching is good and where the discipline is
firm and consistent, it is not often that more than one fourth of all
students fail to pass in their studies. Theoretically, therefore, 25
per cent, would be better than 75 per cent, for the passing mark. This
would mean no lowering of standard, but only a more rational system
of marking than that which is most common. If results be repre-
sented graphically, the curve showing variation in grades attained
would have its maximum corresponding to 50 per cent. This is an
arithmetical mean between perfection and total failure, and should
therefore be the numerical representation of the average grade. The
curve would thus be substantially the symmetrical 'probability curve,'
which is divided into two equal parts by the maximum ordinate, as
shown in the accompanying diagram.

This study of the distribution of students' grades is worth more
than passing notice, because it affords the best means of showing the
tendency in relation to distinctions generally. Many years ago in a
western universit)^ by comparison of the grades of 287 students in
physics, it was found that the average grade attained was about 85
per cent. In the institution with which the present writer is con-

AMERICAN TITLES AND DISTINCTIONS.

317

nected, he made an investigation two years ago which showed that,
taking into consideration all subjects of study available for the degree
of bachelor of arts, the average grade of the average student under the
average professor was 86 per cent., and that the most usual certificate
conferred for successful work was a so-called 'certificate of distinction.'
The curve of distribution is shown in contrast with the probability
curve. According to this investigation it may be expected that about
one student out of 200 or more will attain maximum grade. Out of
100 students about 10 may be expected to attain a grade of 95; 21

2a 30 ^0 ^ Co 70 S^o ?o

The Probability Curve has its Maximum at 50 Per Cent. ; that of Distribution of
Students' Grades at 86 Per Cent. The Axis of Number of Students is Vertical ; that
OF Percentage Grades is Horizontal.

will attain 90; 22 will attain 85. The slope of this unsymmetrical
curve is thus very steep at the right. At the left of the maximum
ordinate the slope is much more gentle, less than one twentieth of all
grades assigned being below 60 per cent. In this connection it should
be observed that the passing mark is 75. The area at the left of the
dotted line corresponding to 75 is seen to be about one fifth of the
whole area enclosed by the curve. This shows twenty per cent, of
failures. Such a radical change of custom as that of substituting 20
or 25 for 75 as the passing mark, however desirable on account of its
convenience and consistency, would be so misunderstood by both the
students and the general public as to make a trial of the experiment
very impolitic. The tendency to raise marks would at once re-assert
itself, and very soon the majority of students would again be recorded
with grades corresponding to the highest distinction.

This tendency to high marking is inherent in human nature. Every
professor wishes to be at least as fair, at least as generous, as his con-
science may permit; and he is apt to regard his own teaching at
least as good as that of his colleagues. Every student wishes credit
for the best he has done, and is at least willing to have his short-
comings excused. He considers the professor who gives him a high
mark to be eminently fair ; and the professor who remembers all short-
comings is thought to be unsympathetic and inconsiderate. To receive

3i8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

a high mark is to receive a distinction, temporary perhaps, but none
the less acceptable, and often stimulating, even if a high price has not
been paid for it. All of us love to have others in sympathy with us,
to receive expressions of esteem and to present testimonials of success.
The supply becomes gradually adapted to the demand ; and the demand
causes all titles and distinctions to become more common, continually
cheaper, until at last their meaning becomes merely nominal. To be
nominally distinguished becomes the rule; to fail of such distinction
becomes a disgrace.

In primitive society all government is the outcome of military
organization. Aristocracy is originally based on brute force, and titles
are the evidence of privilege accorded by the warrior chieftain in return
for allegiance and military service. The assumption of a title without
his consent is an act of rebellion and is treated as such by an absolute
ruler. Limited monarchies have always been slow in development, and
have in every case retained some features derived from the early estab-
lishment of caste fixed by privilege. The system of hereditary aristoc-
racy which constitutes the groundwork of organization in English
society is sustained by laws that could never have sprung originally
from a democracy. Every Englishman knows his station. If he has
not a place among the aristocracy by birth, he may still indulge the
hope of admission to the charmed circle by royal favor. To call him-
self a lord, or to accept such a title by courtesy of his friends, or to
buy it from some self-appointed college of heraldry would subject him
at once to ridicule and social ostracism, even if he were not subject to
prosecution for violation of long-established law. The mere fact of
social organization imposes restraints upon personal liberty, but re-
straints that are deemed light in proportion to the general recognition
of their reasonableness, justice and necessity. Personal liberty is, all
in all, probably as nearly universal in England as it is in America,
but the subjects in which limitation is imposed are somewhat different
in the two countries. Titles and distinctions are granted in England
in accordance with a well organized system, not theoretically perfect,
but well enough established to be liable to but little misunderstanding.
A colonel or a professor has no reason to fear ridicule in virtue of in-
discriminate use of the title.

In America since the settlement at Jamestown there has been no
basis for titles except the will of the more or less uninstructed people.
Education was long exceedingly restricted. Aristocracy was based
partly on personal character and partly on family influence, but never
on legal prescription. There was no army requiring educated officers.
A militia colonel was elected by his friends, and the title thus con-
ferred by them was a possession for life. Throughout many parts of
the south to-day by common consent a man is called colonel in virtue

AMERICAN TITLES AND DISTINCTIONS. 319

of being a lawyer. No harm is intended by either the victim or the
perpetrators of the practical joke. The explanation is perfectly simple,
that by the inevitable process of good-natured degradation the words
colonel and lawyer have in many places come to mean the same, neither
of them suggesting the slightest suspicion of military education. In
like manner, professors at first constituted a very limited class of
scholarly men engaged in the work of college instruction, a class sharply
differentiated from that of preparatory school teachers. This separa-
tion seems to have been maintained until the close of the civil war.
But prior to the war the title had been assumed by dancing masters,
showmen and all mountebanks. The good-natured American public,
believing in universal freedom, had no objection to such thievery, and
there was no law to prevent it. Annually the use of the title became
more extended. Barbers, tailors, bootblacks and prize-fighters had as
much right as the dancing master to assume any title that might have
a commercial value. Teachers of high schools prepared students for
advanced entrance in college. If the college teacher of geometry is
called professor, why should not the distinction be extended to the high
school teacher of the same subject? Moreover, what is the difference
between a college and a high school? None whatever in many south-
ern and western communities. If the high school teacher is a professor,
why should a discrimination be made against the county superintendent,
the grammar school principal, the primary school principal? The
accommodating spirit of degradation has so changed the original signi-
fication of the word that now it may still mean a college teacher, but
much more generally it means teacher without reference to the grade
of teaching implied. Moreover, the great majority of teachers are
persons with exceedingly small incomes; so that the title professor is
in the large cities generally recognized as a badge of poverty.

Has the professor then no refuge from the charge of mediocrity
implied in his once honored title ? There is a Latin word for teacher,
which was given a few centuries ago by the European universities to
men who had proved their distinguished ability, such as Martin Luther
or Nicholas Copernicus. The doctor was a man of learning, fit to teach
medicine, or jurisprudence, or theology, or philosophy. Ambitious
young men coveted the title, and the universities were places where
doctors could lecture, and young men could enter upon the work of
original investigation so as to establish their theses against all oppo-
nents. Even now the flood of literature made up of young doctors'
theses in Germany is so great that no single reader can give attention
to a tenth part of them. In America the university standards, in
respect to both scholarship and scale of equipment, have risen so rapidly
during the last few decades, that young doctors of all kinds are annu-
ally put forth by the hundred. The young man who is not a doctor

320 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

has now but little hope of winning the position of college teacher. The
professor's refuge, therefore, is found in his doctorate.

But in this free country, made up of forty-iive separate states with
varying grades of civilization, each with its legislature able and willing
to incorporate colleges with standards suited to local demands and local
ideals, or absence of ideals, there is little hope of outgrowing the tend-
ency to degradation of titles. If the dancing master was professor a
third of a century ago, he is equally free in the early future to advertise
himself as D.D., which for him means Doctor of Dancing. Our only
hope is in the gradual elevation of educational standards, causing the
people to become intolerant of such dishonesty. Titles received from
universities should be protected by law in America as they are in
Europe. The corrupt purchase and sale of professional degrees and of
honorary degrees, which is now practised secretly, is to some extent
punishable by law, but there is little vigilance in ferreting out offenders,
and we seldom hear of prosecutions. Charlatanry will continue to be
practised so long as there are gulls to be fooled in this world. Legis-
latures will continue to incorporate colleges without endowment, and
these colleges will give degrees that imply no scholarship. With full
knowledge that present evils will not be removed during the lifetime
of any one now living, each educational institution that has a faculty
of honest men can do its share toward the attainment of a liigher
moral standard of titles and distinctions by setting an example of
truthfulness and moderation.

THE BIRD HOOK FRIES OF LAY SAN.

321

THE BTKD EOOKERIES ON THE ISLAND OF LAYSAN.*

By Professor C. C. NUTTIN'G,
state university of iowa.

PERHAPS the most interesting experience enjoyed by the natural-
ists of the U. S. S. Albatross during lier recent Hawaiian cruise
was a visit to Laysan, an island situated almost in mid Pacific, about
eight hundred miles to the west and a little to the north of Honolulu.
As viewed from the anchorage, a more uninteresting bit of land

could hardly be found, there being •

nothing in view save a stretch of
coral sand beach surmounted by
low bushes and relieved by a wooden
light-house and the sheds of the
guano company that leases the
island. On the morning of our
arrival the surf was the worst seen
during the entire cruise. Nowhere
did there appear to be a spot where
the heavy swell did not break in
thundering roars, and the rollers
appeared to be at least twenty feet
high. One of our party succeeded
in making a landing in a small
boat manned by Japanese, and thus
secured a day with the camera
ashore on the far-famed island of
Laysan, and the experience was one
not soon to be forgotten.

The road to the main albatross
rookery is of the same white coral

sand that covers almost the whole island. The glare is exceedingly
trying to the eyes, and the heat would be oppressive to one who found
time to think of it. Birds are everywhere, and so tame that they
actually have to be shoved aside with the foot. The road was dotted
with the young of the white albatross, with a sprinkling of adults.
The youngsters were but three months old, although fully as large

Fig. 1. Like Great Brown Goslings, bal-
anced on their heels, with their toes in the
air.

* Published with the permission of Hoji. George M. Bowers, U. S. Com-
missioner of Fish and Fisheries.

VOL. LXIII.

-21.

322

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

as the adults, covered with Ijrownish down, except on the breast where
the wdiite permanent feathering had in most cases been acquired.
Their appearance is ludicrous bej'ond description, reminding one of
great Ijrown goslings sitting upright, balanced on their heels with
their toes in the air. Upon being approached they make no attempt
whatever to escape, but straighten up as if about to give a military
salute and snap their mandibles together with great rapidity, making
a rattling noise amusing at first, but annoying after a few thousand
repetitions. Occasionally they resented the intruding foot and vom-
ited a quantity of half-digested food, a most disgusting mess, over
the trouser leg of the visitor.

Fu

ACRES AND ACRf;S OF LEVEL GROUND LITERALLY COVEHKl) W ll'll A1.1;aT1:us^ES.

The scene at the main rookery is beyond description. Here are
acres and acres of level ground worn bare of vegetation and lit-
erally covered with albatrosses. At the time of our visit probably
four out of five were young birds born the preceding February, al-
though adults are everywhere sprinkled among them. Although the
vast majority are of the white species, there are a few sooty albatrosses
which generally prefer the u])per levels of the beaches. Of course all
these youngsters have to be fed, and at any given time most of the
adults are at sea fishing for sustenance for theii' ra])idly growing and
voracious progeny. So far as we could ascertain lliis food consisted
almost exclusively of squid. The stomachs wo dissected contained
S(|iii(! and iiolliiiig else, and tlie only solid excrement was tlie eyes
and heaks of these animals. Mr. Sclilcinincr. maiiaiiXT for the guano
('(iiiinanv, cstiniatcs thai alioiil twD mill ion albatrosses make (licir homo

77//'; III IN) HOOK Eli I ES OF LAY SAX.

323

on Laysan, and one can well brlicvc it. Alllioii.uli a.ugregatcd most
densely at the rookery, these birds are everywlicix' 011 tlic island, which is

Fig. 3. Adult Bikus were evekywherf, Sprinkled among Theji.

in the shape of a rude qnadrilateral about two l)y one and three fourths
miles in area. Albatrosses are scattered everywhere, except on the tide-

n

■!?*■

Fig. 4. About Two Million Albatrosses make their Home on Laysan. (From a
photograph by Mr. Williams, of Honolulu.)

washed beaches and on the central lagoon. They are crouching under
the shade of almost every bush and tuft of grass. The most conserva-

324

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Fig. 5. Downy Young OF W.I [TE \LBvni)Si.

tive estimate of the necessary food siipi^ly yields almost incredible re-
sults. Cutting Mr. Schlemmer's estimate in two, there would be

1,000,000 birds, and allowing only
half a pound a day for each, surely
a minimum for these large, rapidly
growing birds, they would consume
no less than 250 tons daily.

The young birds do not appear
to move about much, otherwise the
parents would have difficulty in
locating them when bringing food,
and one can not but wonder how
each finds its particular progeny
among the hundreds of thousands
that appear exactly alike to the
human eye. Both parents assist
in the labor of feeding the young,
a most interesting process. When
the parent alights near the young
bird the latter begins to beg en-
ergetically by gesture, for they are
silent as a rule, crouching before the old bird and working the head
backward and forward in urgent appeal. Then the youngster grasps
the bill of the adult, holding it crosswise, but at an acute angle, when
the partly macerated food is squirted with unerring aim right down
the throat of the feeding bird, apparently without the loss of a drop.
This process is repeated again and again until the parent has literally
pumped itself dry.

Here and there are small groups of adults engaged in a sort of
play that may be a continuation of the courtship antics, a most
laughable performance. The birds

commence by walking around each

other in a sort of 'cake-walk' with

a peculiar swagger suggestive of

the 'bowery boy' in his glory.

Then they snap their mandibles

together with amazing rapidity,

making a rattling resembling the

drumming of the woodpecker.

Again thoy stand upright, facing

cacli otlicr, and put their bills

under their wings 'as if hunting for a cigar,' as suggested by one of

our officers. Next they stretch their necks upward with bills pointed

Fig. f>. Sooty Albatross Feeding Young.

THE BIRD ROOKERTES OF LAYS AN.

325

heavenward, uttering a long-drawn 'ah-h-li-li-, ' with a rising inflection.
This pkiy is repeated indefinitely, and with variations, and when, as

Fi«. 7. Here and there are Small Groups of Adults engaged in a Sort of Play.

sometimes happens, it is accomplished in perfect unison, the effect is
extremely laughable.

Tlie life history of the albatrosses on Laysan, as given us by Mr.
Schlemmer, is as follows : The eggs are laid late in January or early in

■^?*fr^i

':?^*-. «>

-*«a*r^

;;!l9fVP^B'

r^r^^yl-

''mm

m^i

Fig. 8. They (.'ircle i.\ Clouds around his Head.

February, both parents taking part in incubation. The nest is made
by the female by merely scraping together the earth or mud wherever

326

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

she is resting and building it into an elevated ring within which her
single egg is deposited. The young are hatched late in February,

Fig. 9. Grdvp ok \\ idk-awake Terns in hie Rookekv.

Fi(?. 10. There must be Mii.r.ioNs or Wir>E-.i wakes nesting amoni; the IUshes and
Tufts ok Grass.

usually, and both parents are kept busy from that time until fall in |

providing food for the little ones. By the latl(>r part of September ]

THE nun) h'OOKEh'lES OF J.Al'SAN.

327

(he vouiig liavi- I'lillv iittniiu'd llicir adult itluina.m' aixl are capable of;
sustained flight. Then tlie whoU' great host takes wing into the un-
known, literally so; for, so far as 1 can Icani

'I'diii

to

his species, Diomedea
in man ken for al)out
>()me evideiic',' that it

Fig. 11. Hovering with Gracffui- Poise
LIKE IMJIE.NSE White Butterflies.

iiiniiiitabilis Eoth, absolutely disapjn'ars
two months of each year. There seeln^
betakes itself to the Arctic seas.
Th(> apparent obliteration of this
vast swarm of birds for a definite
period annually is a mystery still to
be solved. In jSTovember the birds
arrive at Laysan as suddenly as
they departed, and at once begin to
prepare for domestic responsibili-
ties. During the ten months annu-
ally spent there they do not appear
to wander far from their breeding grounds. Indeed our vessel did
not encounter them so far to the eastward as the main Hawaiian group.
Great as is the multitude of albatrosses and conspicuous as they
are on account of their size, the terns of five or six species greatly
exceed them in number, probably forming more than half of the entire
bird population of the island. The clamor that greets the intruder
in one of these immense tern rookeries is simply appalling, the air
fairly quivering with their ear-splitting shrieks as they circle in clouds
around his head and dash savagely directly at his face in their fierce

endeavor to drive him away.
There were probably hundreds
of bushels of eggs of these birds
at the time of our visit. The
most numerous terns are the
'black-backed' and 'gray-backed'
wideawakes, of which there must
be millions, nesting among the
bushes and tufts of grass, par-
ticularly on the southern end of
the island. The vegetation grows
right in the dazzling white coral
sand, which appears as white as
snow in the photographs.
One of the most exquisitely beautiful birds that the writer has ever
seen is a small tern known locally as the 'love bird,' pure white with
large black eyes and bill. They have the habit of hovering with grace-
ful poise over the intruder, like immense white butterflies, silently
inspecting one as if impelled by a mild curiosity rather than resent-

FlG. 12. KOOKRRY OF ' LOVE BlRDS.

328

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

ment, the actuating motive of the other terns. There are many small
rookeries of these beautiful creatures scattered over the island; one in
particular is in a very picturesque rocky nook at the south end.

Fig. 13. Noddy Tern on Nest.

Two species of noddy terns are abundant, and much alike, except
in size, being sooty brown with a grayish white cap.

Fig. 14. Large Colonies of Mano-wak Birds were nesting on the Tops of Low Bvshes.

Large colonies of man-o-war birds were nesting on the tops of low
bushes. These are among the most accomplished and graceful fliers

THE BIRD ROOKERIES OF LAY SAN.

329

of all the avian world, and have the habit of soaring with extended

wings for hours at a time. The males have an inflatal)lc air-sack

under the throat which can be distended at will into a great red pensile

bag, resembling both in color and size the red toy balloons in which

children delight. These birds are

probably the most inveterate thieves

and pirates of all the feathered

tribe, robbing other birds of their

fish, and even making them disgorge

for the benefit of their persecutors.

They lay a single white egg, and

young in all stages of development

were numerous. "When the rookery

was disturbed the incubating birds,

both male and female, reluctantly

left their eggs or young, in some

instances carefully depositing a fish

beside the young before leaving.

Afterward, greatly to our surprise,

they would swoop down, actually

grazing our faces with their wings, and deftly seize a nestling by the

head and make off with it, circling around high in air, finally dropping

it to the ground, where it was eventually devoured. We could not

Fig.

15. Young of Shearwater showing
PkotectiveColokation.

Fig. 16. Shearwaters near Burrow.

determine whether the parents actually destroyed their own young or
not, but it is probable that this revolting form of cannibalism must
be added to the other crimes charged to their account.

33°

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Fk;. 17. Tropic Bird on Kest.

tenth' in a most undignilied and
precipitate manner, and is strug-
gling waist deep in the yielding
sand, an unwelcome invader of the
home of the shearwater. This ex-
perience has the charm of novelty
at first, but becomes exasperating
after a score of repetitions in the
course of an hour, with the perspi-
ration streaming down one's face
and the sand jmcked inside of one 's
shoes and clothing. How many
scores or hundreds of thousands of
these burrowing Procellaridffi there
are on the island it is vain to esti-
mate; but there are four or five
species, and the entire surface is

Not only does the bird fauna
crowd all the available space on the
ground, and in the bushes, and
swarm in the air above, but still
another vast multitude burrows
under the sandy surface, forming
a sul)terranean population that in
itself would make the island of
peculiar interest to the naturalist.
jSTor does the human visitor long
remain in ignorance of this fact,
for he has taken but a few steps
anywhere among the bushes before
lie suddenly joins the 'submerged

Fig. 19. ' Sand Gannkt ' with Fgg and
You^(;.

Fig. is. ' Brsn Gan.m;t ' on NHisT.

fairly undermined by their tunnels
and burrowings. Their notes are
melancholy beyond expression, be-
ing a distressful moaning, some-
times reminding one of the less
romantic yowling of the night-
wandering cat.

As one walks among the bushes
be is from time to time greeted
willi most strident and piercing
screams from nesting tropic birds,
i-arely beautiful creatures, pure
satiny white, the wings and tail
mainly black, the two central lail

THE BIRD ROOKERIES OF LAYS AN.

33^

feathers l)eing excessively elongated iiiid bright red. When nesting
these l)irds are so well eoneealed that they ^vould he unnoticed were it
not for their strident outcries. This resulted in distressful experiences
when the 'jackies' from the Albatross were given shore leave, and went
around pulling the tail feathers from every tropic bird they could find;
the birds refusing to leave the nests, but protesting vigorously and occa-
sionally getting revenge by biting savagely with their powerful beaks.
The gannets are among the more conspicuous birds of the island,
being large white birds with black wings. They are known as 'bush

Fig. 20. Winglkss Kail (below) ; L.vysan Finch (to the lelt) ; L.wsan Huneyeateii (to
the right). From a group mounted by Mr. R. M. Anderson.

gannet' and 'sand gannet,' names indicative of their nesting habits.
The downy young of these birds are exquisitely white and fluffy, re-
minding one of animated puff balls.

The Laysan duck, curlews, plover and turn-stones are found in
numbers along the margin of the central lagoon, and furnish a wel-
come addition to the larder of Mr. Schlemmer and the men in his
employ. Four species of land birds complete the list. One is the
'wingless rail,' not literally wingless, but with wings reduced to func-
tionless rudiments.

Another species confined to this limited area is the Laysan finch,

332 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

a large sparrow with yellow head and under surface and a rich sprightly
song; and the last is the 'Laysan honey-eater,' a minute form with
body and head rich, dark red, abundant among some shrubs with red
blossoms growing near the lagoon.

Of course any estimate of the bird joopulation of this remarkable
island is little better than guess-work, but it seems safe to say that at
least six or eight million make their home on this small atoll in mid
Pacific, the total area of which, including the lagoon, is only about
three and one half square miles. I know of no more dense population
anywhere, although it may possibly be matched on some of the islands
in the Alaskan region. But there a vast majority of the birds leave
during the winter, while at Laysan nearly all remain at least ten
months of the year.

Much of interest could be said concerning the guano deposits and
the operations of the company that leases the island. Thousands of
tons are exported annually, and it is entirely possible that this valuable
fertilizer is now being deposited as rapidly as ever it was, owing to the
wise policy of not disturbing the birds that is rigidly enforced by the
company. The excrement is almost entirely fluid, and gradually
saturates and fills the thin soil and porous coral rock, thus making the
'guano' of commerce. Strangely enough there is no very perceptible
odor, even at the rookery.

The naturalists of the Albatross spent a week in studying the fauna
and flora of this exceedingly interesting island, while the naval officers
made a complete map, including a chart of the reefs near the anchor-
age. Here are found unexcelled conditions for collecting and studying
the life histories of birds. All the species are very abundant, and can
be seen in a day's visit. Every species can be caught, either in the
hand or with a hand-net, and mercifully killed with chloroform with-
out mutilation or blood-stains. They can all be studied at leisure, and
at close range. The photographer finds himself in a veritable paradise,
able to set up his camera at any desirable distance, even to 'pose' his
subjects to suit his fancy, and take pictures of birds, nests and young
to his heart's content.

It is simply delightful to find one spot, at least, in this world of
ours where the birds are not afraid. So long as the guano holds out,
these conditions will probably remain unchanged. If this time comes
to an end, the government should see to it that this wonderful preserve
of avian life is protected from the ravages of man, the destroyer, and
of the rapidly diminishing moiety of his better half that still persists
in the aboriginal feather-wearing habit.

BACTERIA IN AGRICULTUEE. 333

BACTEEIA IN MODERN ECONOMIC AGRICULTURE.

By albert SCHNEIDER, M.D., Ph.D.,
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA.

CROPS have been cultivated for thousands of years, and from the
very first the agriculturist has endeavored to get from the soil
a maximum return for a minimum of labor expended. Yet scientific
progress in soil fertilization and crop improvement has been exceed-
ingly slow until very recent years. Now scientific methods are begin-
ning to be applied not only to crop and soil improvement, but also to
the allied branches horticulture, arboriculture, the dairying industries,
etc. That infant science, bacteriology, in particular, gives promise of
inestimable value.

Some microorganisms work in the interests of the agriculturist,
while others work decidedly antagonistically to all desirable interests.
Much efficient work has been done in the eradication of disease-pro-
ducing organisms, and the farmer is given detailed and specific instruc-
tions how to combat organisms which are hurtful to crops, as the rusts,
smuts, rotting bacteria, etc. Attempts have been made to utilize even
essentially harmful organisms in working useful results, as in the
extermination of chintz bugs, potato beetles, plant lice; the extermina-
tion of rats, mice and other undesirable higher animals, by means of
germs which are capable of transmitting fatal diseases to the animals
referred to. The department of entomology at Washington has done
some very effective work of this nature in exterminating insect pests
of trees and plants.

The farmer's great future problem will be to determine what bene-
ficial organisms may be pressed into his service and what noxious organ-
isms may be suppressed, and how such measures may be carried out
most expeditiously and with the best results. There is perhaps no
problem of greater interest or none which gives promise of greater bene-
ficial results than the one pertaining to the bacteria found in the root
tubercles or nodules of leguminous plants (bean family). Without
entering into the history of the discovery of these organisms or the
part they play in the economy of the host plant, or even dwelling
upon the many points still in dispute or under discussion, I shall
describe briefly some of the recent attempts at making practical agri-
cultural use of these organisms in Europe and in this country, and
outline briefly a plan of future research, pointing out the additional
practical possibilities which may be anticipated with reasonable cer-
tainty, based upon results already obtained.

334 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

It has been provecV experimentally that not only do the bacteria
(rhizobia) of leguminous root tubercles have the power of assimila-
ting or chemically binding the free nitrogen of the air, but also other
soil bacteria and various simple algae and hyphal fungi. Undoubt-
edly the true ecological significance of these free nitrogen-assimilating
functions of these organisms is to neutralize, balance or equalize the
work of nitrifying and denitrifying (nitrogen-liberating) bacteria,
which are very plentiful and widely distributed. More si^ecifically
considered, the organisms referred to chemically bind the free nitrogen
of the air, forming nitrogenous compounds which may be taken up and
assimilated by various plants. In the case of leguminous plants these
nitrogen-assimilating bacteria (rhizobia) live within the roots (root
tubercles) and supply the host directly with the enriching nitrogenous
food compounds formed; in other instances the nitrogen-assimilating
organisms live in the soil and the various higher plants as corn, wheat,
etc., take up the compounds formed and deposited in the soil without
being in actual biologic (symbiotic) association with them. These
discoveries have suggested to the scientists interested in agriculture
various possible improvements for increasing the yield of crops. Ex-
tensive and interesting experiments have already Ipeen made, and some
noteworthy results have been obtained and, in other instances, investi-
gations are under way which give promise of final useful results. Sev-
eral processes for inoculating the soil or seeds with b^eficial bacteria
have been patented and, remarkable as it may seem, the slow, plodding
German investigator is the first in the field with patent claims and
'practical' plans for utilizing bacteria in the interests of the farmer
or the tiller of the soil.

The history of the discovery of the free-nitrogen-assimilating bac-
teria found in the root tubercles of leguminous plants is familiar to all
botanists, but the general reader of science requires some detailed
explanations and some specific statements regarding the subject in order
that he may have reasonably clear ideas concerning the practical pos-
sibilities and probabilities of bacteria in modern agriculture. These
necessary explanations will be given as we proceed.

The first to suggest a plan for practically utilizing root bacteria
(rhizobia) and to secure letters patent for the process in Germany and
in the United States were Nobbe and Hiltner, of Tharand, Gerinauy.
Since the wording of tlic specifications for a patent are required to be
simj)l(' and intelligible to persons of ordinary tcclmical learning, the
scheme can best l)e presented l)y siin])ly quoting the specifications.
The following is the specification which forms part of letters patent
No. 570,873 granted Nol)b(' and Uiltncr in ihe Uuiied States, Novem-
ber 3, 1890:

BACTERIA IX AaUICVLTVUE. 335

r?c it known that wc, Fiicdiich Xohlic and Lorcn/. Ilillncr, of Tliarand,
pared for tiausporl in lliiid ciiltuics. 'J'lio colonies in the ajjar-jielatin are dis-
inocuiation of -oil for the cultivation of leguminous ])laiits and we do hereby
declare the following to be a clear and exact description of the invention:

Since the function of the root nodules or tubercles of the Leguniinosfe in
the supply of nitrogen to these ])lants has been discovered by the fundamental
researches of Ilellriegel we have been woiking on this problem f(jr a number
of years, and have examined more especially the bacteria in said nodules or
tubercles (first identified and isolated in cultures by Beyerinck) in order to
determine the relationship between the bacteria and the reception of the free
unt'ombineil nitrogen of the air in the soil by the various kinds of Leguminosae.
These researches have resulted, in the first place, in the confirmation of the at
that time still disputed fact that the introduction of these bacteria into the soil
produces, without exception, in soil free from these bacteria, the root nodules
or tubercles on the plants in question having papilionaceous flowers and enables
these plants to assimilate the free nitrogen. A soil inoculated with these bac-
teria, even when it contains absolutely no nitrogen in an assimilable form so
that the plants without any such inoculation would starve, enables the
Leguminosa? to produce as rich a yield of dry material and nitrogen as they
would otherwise produce if grown in a richly manured soil containing much
assimilable nitrogen.

It has been established by us as an entirely new fact that the tubercle
bacteria of the various Papilionacea? are of full strength ((. e., in the production
of ellicient nodules or tubercles) only in that species (of leguminous plant)
from whose root tubercles they weie themselves obtained. With closely allied
sjjecies they are of less strength and with systematically different species they
are useless or inactive. Bacteria cultures from pea roots, for example, are
quite useless for Rohinia plants, while they promote the growth of peas in a
very energetic manner, and that of the allied vetches somewhat more feebly;
on the other hand, the bacteria from Rohinia nodules or tubercles are quite
efficient with Rohinia plants, but in a lesser degree with Cohitea, and are abso-
lutely useless with j^eas.

At first sight it might possibly be thought that the production, transport,
and distribution of such large masses of crude inoculating material as would
appear to be necessary for the sufficient impregnation or treatment of large
areas of land would be very difficult and costly, and therefore not practicable,
while there would also be the danger that in the crude inoculating material,
besides the active bacteria of the root nodules or tubercles, there would be car-
ried from field to field, at the same time, microscopic organisms which would be
detrimental to growth and would interfere more or less with the action of the
inoculating material. Our process is, however, free from any such objections
as those above mentioned, inasmuch as bacteria bred in quantities directly from
the nodules or tubercles of the Leguminosae in pure cultures are used as the
inoculating material. Farmers are, therefore, placed in a position to make
land, which was unfruitful by reason of its lack of nitrogen, fit for the culti-
vation of fodder and other plants belonging to the order of the Leguminosse
and to insure and increase the yield of soil. This inoculation has, moreover,
an essential practical bearing in connection with the so-called ' green manuring.'

Our process of inoculating land with tubercle bacteria is to be carried out '
as follows: The active bacteria to promote the growth of the Leguniinoste are
delivered to the farmer in glass tubes or other suitable packages, which contain
pure colonies thereof in agar-gelatin having suitable additions for propagating
such bacteria, for instance sugar, asparagin and an aqueous extract of the green

33^ . POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

substance of the Leguminosse. In some cases the bacteria can also be pre-
pared for transport in fluid cultures. The eolonies in the agar-gelatin are dis-
tributed in water, together with the agar-gelatin, by the user (after removing
the stopper) in the proportion, for example, of the contents of one glass tube
to from one to three liters of water, which is previously mixed with a suitable
material, such as an aqueous extract of the green substance of Leguminosse
sugar asparagin, for propagating the bacteria. This propagating material is
delivered with the bacteria tubes. Preferably the glass tube is laid in the
water until the agar-gelatine is dissolved.

Immediately before sowing, the whole of the emulsion prepared as above
mentioned is poured over the seeds. The amount of water added for each kind
of seed is so proportioned that after the seeds have been thoroughly and uni-
formly moistened by a careful working over by hand, a surplus of liquid will
still remain. For clover-seed, for example, for twenty kilograms of seed the ad-
mixture of three liters of water with the contents of three glasses of inoculating
material (each glass containing, for instance, three cubic centimeters agar-
gelatin with pure cultures) is sufficient. For more bulky seeds a somewhat
larger amount of water is required. A sufficient quantity of dry sand or
earth from the field to be sown is then gradually added with careful stirring,
until the body of seed is in a suitable condition for sowing by hand or by means
of a sowing machine.

This microbic (rhizobic) soil fertilizer for leguminous plants was
given the commercial name 'nitragin, ' and its efficiency was quite
carefully and extensively tested and commented upon by European and
American investigators. The consensus of opinion seemed to be that
it was of doubtful practical utility for agricultural purposes. Some
authorities maintained that it was of unquestionable value in virgin
soil. In rich and otherwise favorable soil conditions it is of only
sliglit value. It is maintained that nitragin aids very materially in
developing and ripening the fruit. As becomes evident from careful
consideration, the value of this microbic fertilizer depends upon whether
it will cause an increased development in the number and size of root
tubercles over and above those which would develop without the pres-
ence of this artificial aid. If the soil is already well supplied with
rhizobia or root tubercle bacteria, as soil naturally would be if the
leguminous plants under consideration had been grown in it for one
or more seasons, nitragin would in all probability be of little or no
value. In any case the anticipated practical results have not been
realized, as I am informed by a letter from Victor Koeclil & Co. of
New York City which states that 'nitragin is withdrawn from the
market and is no longer manufactured.'

A second and later improvement in the method of inoculating seeds
with root tubercle bacteria (rhizobia) is given by Hartleb in the fol-
lowing specifications forming part of letters patent No. G74,7G5,
granted May 21, 1901, at Washington, D. C. :

Be it known tliat I, Richard Hartleb, a citizen of Germany, residing at the
Botanisches Institute der Hochschule, Aachen, in the Empire of Germany, have

BACTERIA IN AGRICULTURE. 337

invented a certain new and useful method of inoculating seeds with micro-
organisms, (for which I have applied for a patent in Germany, dated February
23, 1900) of wliich the following is a sj)ccification :

This invention relates to a method of inoculating seeds with microorgan-
isms. For this purpose the seeds in a suitable container are covered with pure
water, so that they are mechanically cleaned, and the damaged or dead seeds
float to the surface of the water. The water and the impurities are then
poured off and the cleaned seeds are left in tlie water until they begin to swell,
whereupon there is a loosening of the external husk of the seed and an increase
in the volume of the grain, so that the seed offers an increased surface for the
microorganisms and the latter obtain easy access, owing to the loosening of the
husk. The seed thus prepared is sown directly without admixture of any
other substance.

The application of this method is to the inoculation of seeds with bakteroids
of the microorganisms of the Leguminosse. Very shortly after the seed has
become imbedded in the soil nodule (root tubercle) formation begins. The
danger of killing the organisms for the inoculation by harmful soil influences
is effectively obviated, owing to the fact that these organisms in consequence
of the rapid germination quickly become active. On the other hand, this danger
of damage or death is always present in a seed which has been merely inoculated
with the liquid and has not been allowed to swell therein, so that it is a long
time in germinating.

Although not specifically stated in the above specification, it is evi-
dent that the Hartleb process is a method of applying pure rhizobia
cultures to seeds of leguminous plants only. Whether the method
offers any advantages over the method of Kobbe and Hiltner is ques-
tionable. In any case it would prove practically advantageous only
under the conditions referred to under the discussion of nitragin.
Although the method has been freely discussed and experimented upon
in Germany, I am not aware that the fertilizer is on the market, cer-
tainly not in the United States.

There is on the market a third patented germ or microbic soil
fertilizer of German origin known as 'alinit.' It consists essentially
of a pure culture of the soil bacillus known as Bacillus Ellenbachiensis
alpha or Bacillus EllenhacMensis Caron. The germ was first brought
to the attention of agriculturists by Caron, a land owner of Germany,
who first isolated it and called attention to the fact that it had the
power of chemically binding the free nitrogen of the air. The
microbe is undoubtedly closely related to B. megatherium and perhaps
also to B. anthracis. According to some authorities it is especially
concerned in assimilating free nitrogen for gramineous plants (grass
family, Graminece). If this is true it may prove of great value to
grain growers.

The commercial alinit is a dry pulverulent substance of a yellow-
ish gray color, with about 10 per cent, moisture and 2.5 per cent,
nitrogen. It is evidently prepared by mixing spore-bearing pure cul-
tures of the bacillus of Caron with a base of starch and albumen. It

VOL. LXIII. — 22.

33^ POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

is used to inoculate soil either by spreading it broadcast or by sowing
or otherwise planting it with the seeds. It is not a nodule or root
tubercle-forming organism and does not enter into intimate symbiotic
or biologic relationship with plants. Its work is simply that of bind-
ing free nitrogen, forming nitrogenous compounds which enrich the
soil, thus increasing the yield of any crop benefited by such com-
pounds. Whether alinit binds free nitrogen more actively in the pres-
ence of gramineous plants must be more accurately determined by
experiment.

In 1892, through a suggestion by Professor Conway MacMillan,
state botanist of Minnesota, the writer conceived the idea of modify-
ing leguminous tubercle bacteria by special culture methods so as to
induce them to develop in or upon the roots of gramineous plants, as
corn, wheat, oats, rye, and barley. Investigations in this direction
were begun at the Illinois Experiment Station at Champaign in 1893,
under the direction of Dr. T. J. Burrill. The time granted for experi-
menting was much too brief for obtaining any definite results. At
that time comparatively little was known of nodule bacteria (rhizobia)
in artificial culture media and most of the time allotted was con-
sumed in making cultures or attempting to make cultures of the rhizo-
bia of different species of leguminous plants. No field experiments
were attempted, but some laboratory observations were made by inocu-
lating sprouting corn grown in vessels filled with sterile sandy soil
with pure cultures of rhizobia grown upon corn extract agar media,
the supposition being that the corn extract would produce the desirable
changes in the organisms. After a few weeks the roots of the young
inoculated corn plants were examined microscopically to determine if
the presumably modified microbes showed any tendency to develop in
or on the root cells. In some instances numerous microbes were found
in the hair cells (trichomes) of terminal rootlets and in epidermal
cells and cells in apical areas, particularly at the points of secondary
root formation. While it was not experimentally proved that the
microbes present were rhizobia, it is highly probable that they were,
as the examination of control plants not inoculated, also grown in
sterile sandy soil, showed the absence of germs in root tissues and root
trichomes. It was apparent that the inoculated corn plants were
thriftier and of a deeper green than the control plants or those not
inoculated. Though the results are meager and far from conclusive,
yet the experiments pointed toward final, more positive results. The
experiment station research was now terminated, and other work kept
the writer from again taking up this line of research extensively until
early in 1902. At this time the investigations were begun in the bac-
teriological laboratory of the Northwestern University School of Phar-
macy at Chicago. Pure cultures of the rhizobia of white clover

BACTERIA IN AGRICULTURE. 339

(Melilotus alba) were grown upon corn extract with agar. Again
considerable difficulty was encountered because of lack of information
regarding the behavior of this particular variety or species of rhizo-
bium in artificial culture media. It was not until the early part of
July that definite and satisfactory conclusions were reached regarding
the identity of this organism in the culture media indicated. The
rhizobia were now transferred to fresh corn extract media from time
to time for about six weeks; in order to effect the desired adaptive
changes in the microbes. Some preliminary field experiments were
carried on at a farm near Fairbury, Illinois. Plots of stubble ground
were selected in which oats had been grown during the season. The
ground was ploughed and harrowed repeatedly. Each plot of ground
was duplicated for control purposes. On August 10 the plots were
planted with white dent corn mixed with the rhizobia cultures and a
small quantity of water. The seeds germinated uniformly with no
appreciable differences in the various plots. Subsequent growth was
carefully observed for a period of four weeks. No very marked dif-
ference was noticeable. The corn treated with rhizobia grown in neu-
tral corn-extract agar seemed to thrive somewhat better than the rest,
but the difference was not sufficiently marked to be noteworthy. The
corn treated with acid agar corn-extract rliizobia showed no apparent
improvement over the normal or untreated corn. The same could be
said of the corn treated with crushed nodules of sweet clover. Oppor-
tunity did not present itself for making a comparative microscopic
examination of the roots of the corn of the various plots. Oats was
also experimented upon, but with no marked results. This in brief is
the outline of the experiments of 1903 and, although no satisfactory
results were obtained, the preponderance of experimental evidences
again seemed to point to ultimate success. In fact so sanguine had
the writer become of early marked success that he made application
for letters patent for the process, but the application in the form in
which it was presented was rejected on the patents by Nobbe and Hilt-
ner and by Hartleb. The specifications filed September 29, 1903,
read in part as follows :

The invention relates to the process of fertilizing the soil and increasing the
yield of crops by means of specially modified pure cultures of the microbes or
organisms found in the soil and in the root nodules or tubercles of plants be-
longing to the leguminosae or bean family, and has for its object to render the
process more effective, much cheaper and practically without the expenditure of
additional labor.

The living microbic fertilizer, consisting of the above mentioned modified
organisms is applied by simply mixing a small quantity of the culture with the
seeds just prior to planting, and introducing it into the soil simultaneously
with the seed. With the germination of the seed thus treated, the modified
microbes will also begin to multiply and appropriate for the use of the plant,
the free nitrogen of the air.

340 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

■ In spite of the wonderful opportunities for the dissemination of
learning, the exchange of scientific thought and plans of research and
the efficient modern laboratory equipment, scientific progress is slow.
To illustrate, the observations and experiments which led to the dis-
covery of the root nodule bacteria were begun about 1863 by Hell-
riegel in Germany and Lawes and Gilbert in England. The nodule
microbe was not discovered or recognized until 1886. At the present
time we are just beginning to become scientifically familiar with the
microbe and are undertaking experiments with a view to practical use-
ful application of this microbe. In consideration of these facts it
need not appear surprising that conclusive results should not, at the
time, have been obtained in the line of research indicated. It is of
course understood that any scientific research deserving of the name
must be founded upon reasonable and sound principles. The entire
experimental plan must be in harmony with the highest and best
results already obtained. The following are the essential and impor-
tant points for consideration and upon which the research work indi-
cated is to be based :

1. Do rhizobia (nodule bacteria of leguminous plants) assimilate
free nitrogen in artificial culture media or when not symbiotically
associated with leguminous plants? Based upon the results of exten-
sive research work, in particular by German investigators, this ques-
tion is to be answered in the affirmative. A negative result would
mean that it would in all probability be wholly impossible to obtain
the anticipated outcome of the experiments. Since this question is,
however, to be answered in the affirmative, the next question in impor-
tance is

2. Can rhizobia of leguminous plants be so modified by special cul-
ture methods as to induce them to develop in and upon the roots of
other plants, as corn, wheat, rye, barley, etc.? Although, as already
indicated, the experimental results thus far obtained are not conclu-
sive, yet the indications are that they will finally prove successful.
German investigators have shown that one variety of leguminous rhizo-
bium may, by culture methods, be converted into another variety.
That is, for example, the rhizobium of the bean nodules may be induced
to develop nodules on the roots of the pea, and perhaps other species of
closely related genera. This is, in part, denied by Nobbe and Hiltner
in the specifications of patent claim, as above recorded. It is, how-
ever, generally admitted by investigators that the rhizobia of the major-
ity of leguminous plants are morphologically very variable, and un-
dergo very marked structural changes in different culture media and
within the host root nodules at different periods of the season and of
growth. Such pronounced polymorphism coincides with marked
adaptive changes to new or changed environment, and it is, there-

BACTERIA IN AGRICULTURE. 34i

fore, highly probable that these polymorphic rhizobia may be induced .
to change hosts, at least temporarily, which is really all that is
required for the success of the experiments. That is, it is desired that i
the rhizobia should live and multiply in or upon the roots of gramine-
ous plants during one season or from the time of seed germination to i
the ripening of the crop (in annuals). This question is intimately 1
associated with the following: '

3. Even should it be possible to induce the rhizobia to develop in ;
and upon roots of gramineous (and other non-leguminous) plants, ;
would they still retain the power of assimilating free nitrogen? It j
is highly probable that this question can be answered in the affirma- \
tive, although Lafar makes the statement that the rhizobia in certain !
stages of existence, for instance those which exist in the infecting i
threads (Infectionsfaden) of nodules and predominate in young tuber- .
cles and in the apical areas of all tubercles, exist in a purely parasitic '\
or harmful relationship with the host plant. It is, however, highly i
probable that this statement is not founded upon experimental proof. '
The assimilation of free nitrogen is an essential function of rhizobia, !
and it is certainly reasonable to assume that the function would con- ^
tinue, though perhaps in a modified degree, no matter how marked i
the morphological adaptive changes might be. This question can be i
settled very simply and easily as the experiments progress. ;

The following question should also be carefully considered: j

4. Are there soil bacteria or other organisms, not found in legu- i
minous root nodules, which assimilate free nitrogen and which may »
be especially adapted to gramineous plants? From what has already ■
been stated, it would appear that the Bacillus Ellenhachiensis of Caron j
is such an organism. If it should become evident that this organism i
assimilates free nitrogen principally in association with gramineous I
plants, it would seem to give promise of great utility in the more ,
effective cultivation of gramineous plants. This organism would be '
especially advantageous, because, in contradistinction to rhizobia, it 1
forms spores. Spore-bearing cultures would be desirable, because they

would keep better and longer. The microbic fertilizer could be put

up in dried form and sent to farmers at great distances without danger \
of becoming worthless. It could be kept for months, or perhaps even
a year or more, though this in itself would not be of prime advantage.
Further extensive researches would be necessary to determine to what

extent adaptive changes could be developed in this particular microbe. ,

Finally the question will arise, i

5. In what morphological, biological and bio-chemical relationship '•
would the modified organisms establish themselves with the prospec- „a-— tt
tive or new host plant? It is, of course, not to be anticipated that /^^y^^l^
they would cause the development of root nodules or tubercles or cause {l.N^.r^"5^^v

W.

\'

342 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

any considerable morphological change in root tissues. Nor is it at
all highly probable that the anticipated morphological and biological
adaptive relationship would be permanent or auto-transmissible to
other generations of the new host. It is probable that the relationship
would be temporary only. It may be quite marked at the period of
seed germination and then gradually decline more or less rapidly.

The time required to change or modify the rhizobia sufficiently to
induce them to develop in or upon the roots of gramineous and other
non-leguminous plants must be determined experimentally, and this
is the most essential part of the experimentation. It is reasonable to
assume that considerable time will be required, one year, and perhaps
even a much longer period. It will also be necessary to experiment
with various media in order to determine which particular culture
medium will produce the desired changes most effectively and most
rapidly. Present indications are that acid media are not specially
indicated as was once supposed, though they induce rapid and very
marked morphological changes in the rhizobia.

The agricultural conditions of Europe are quite different from
those of the United States. In the plan of research suggested, the
interests of the American farmer are of prime importance. Wheat
and corn are the two staple farm products of the central, eastern and
western states, and in the above discussion these have been primarily
in mind. Later researches may be extended to other American farm
products, as cotton, tobacco, potatoes, etc. Opportunity must be had
to make frequent field experiments or tests along with the purely labo-
ratory experimentation.

The successful outcome of the research will result in inestimable
value to farmers. The modified microbic soil fertilizer will serve
essentially as a living fertilizer; it will do away with the use of the
well-known guano, manure and other chemical fertilizers, which are
applied at great labor and expense. It will also do away with the
need of crop rotation, which to the agriculturist is a costly process,
as it necessarily reduces the cultivation of the staple farm product.
It is hoped that the increase in crop yield, resulting from the use of
the microbic soil fertilizer, will amount to from 5 per cent, to even 50
per cent., depending primarily upon the condition of the soil. Eich
soil naturally requires no fertilizer of any kind.

The following is a brief summary of the essential points discussed
in this paper with special reference to the plan of research outline:

1. Bacteria of the root nodules of leguminous plants (rhizobia)
have the power of assimilating free nitrogen independent of their inti-
mate biologic association with the host plant.

2. Ehizobia, especially the species known as R. mutdbile, found in
the root nodules of the majority of leguminous plants, are highly poly-

BACTERIA IN AGRICULTURE. 343

morphic and readily undergo marked morphological changes in differ-
ent culture media and under varying environmental conditions.

3. The species or variety of rhizobium living in natural symbiotic
or biologic relationship with one given species of leguminous plant may
be so modified artificially as to induce it to live in a similar relation-
ship with a different species of leguminous plant, indicating great bio-
logic adaptability.

4. It is probable that rhizobia of various leguminous plants may
be so modified by special culture methods as to induce them to develop
in or upon the roots of non-leguminous plants, continuing their free
nitrogen-assimilating function, thus supplying such plants with nitrog-
enous compounds which serve as soil fertilizer or food for the plants
with which the modified rhizobia will form a temporary intimate rela-
tionship.

5. The bacillus of Caron {Bacillus Ellenhachiensis) also gives
promise of great utility in future economic agriculture, especially in
the cultivation of gramineous plants.

344 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

THE STOEY OF ENGLISH EDUCATION. II.

By J. E. G. DE MONTMORENCY, B.A., LL.B. (Cantab.),

BARRISTER-AT-LAW.

IT is not possible in the space allotted to such an article as this to
deal in any detail with the mass of facts that fill the seventy years
that have passed since this first government grant in aid of education.
It is possible, however, to indicate the course of events. Previous to
1870, apart from unsatisfactory and more or less ineffective factory
acts, and apart from revenue statutes providing yearly grants, there
was no legislation. Educational work was undertaken for the most
part by the education committee of the Privy Council, formed in 1839,
and the great school societies. From 1833 to 1839 the annual grant
of £30,000 was administered by the treasury through these societies.
In 1839 Queen Victoria, on the occasion of the creation of the com-
mittee of council on education, expressed through Lord John Eussell
the wish 'that the youth of this kingdom should be religiously brought
up, and that the rights of conscience should be respected.' Some
statistics of a comparative character may here be noted with advan-
tage. The population of England and Wales in 1833 was almost
14,000,000, and the number of day scholars of all classes nearly 1,300,-
000, a number that was about nine per cent, of the population. If one
in every eleven of the population was at school, it did not prove that
the working classes were in so favorable a case. In fact we may take
it that under one million scholars belonged to the working class; in
other words that not one in fourteen of the laboring population was
at school, when in fact, one in six ought to have been at school. Thus
a great many more than half of the children had no education at all.
By the year 1851 matters had somewhat improved. The population
was then about 18,000,000, and of this population some 1,600,000 of
the children of the laboring poor were at school. In other words, about
one in ten instead of one in six of the poorer part of the population
were at school in 1851. At this date almost exactly half the children
had no education at all. By the year 1870 the population had reached
22,000,000, of whom 19,000,000 constituted the manual-work class.
About 1,700,000 children belonging to this class were at school, or
say, one in eleven of the population. This looks like a decline on
the position in 1851. This is, however, extremely improbable, and it
is more likely that the available figures for 1851 are in error. The
improvement between 1851 and 1870 was most marked in the methods
of education employed and in the books used. The school-teaching
was practically valueless in 1833, it was not of great value in 1851, and

THE STORY OF ENGLISH EDUCATION. 345

in 1870 it was only beginning (despite the great advance on 1851) to
be of real value. In 1870, out of every 1,000 children qualified by
age and attendance for the examination in the two higher standards,
319 ought to have been prepared to pass. In fact only 98 were pre-
sented for the examination. Slow as was the progress between 1833 and
1870, ceaseless efforts had been made to hasten that progress. Popula-
tion and the congestion of soul-ruining unsanitary areas, however, pro-
gressed more rapidly than the education movement and 1870 found a
million and a half of little children without the means of education.
Yet philanthropists and statesmen had striven manfully enough to
solve the awful problem, A select committee of the House of Commons
in 1838 reported on the deplorable conditions of education in the great
towns. This led to the institution of the education committee of
the Privy Council. The inquiry made by the National Society in
1846-7 showed that the established church was striving with might
and main to do its duty, for it was actually educating one million
children in its day schools. A select committee of the House of
Commons in 1853 reported on the Manchester district of England
and showed a school attendance improvement of no less than 300 per
cent. The Duke of Newcastle's commission appointed in 1858 recom-
mended, after a lengthy examination of the education problem, grants
out of rates as well as out of the imperial exchequer, advised the
creation of local boards of education in every county area, advocated
a more efficient system for the training of teachers, and an extension
of evening schools. The grants out of the rates were to be paid in
respect of individual scholars upon examination by examiners appointed
by the local boards of education. The revised code introduced by
Mr. Lowe — the code governing the conditions under which the educa-
tion committee of the Privy Council made the grants to the schools —
adopted the principle of individual examination and the payment of all
grants direct to the managers of the schools that earned the grant. Mr.
Lowe in a famous phrase promised that the system should be either
cheap or efficient. When he made this promise it was dear and ineffi-
cient. Under the revised code the parliamentary annual grant fell
from £813,441 in 1861 to £636,810 in 1865. The system, however,
was not efficient and it was found necessary once more to strive after
educational legislation. In 1843 an effort had been made to pass a
factory act that would secure some measure of religious and useful
education to all children in the factories. The bill, however, in con-
sequence of nonconformist opposition, was withdrawn. In 1853 a
bill was introduced enabling those borough councils that chose to
adopt the act to appoint a school committee for the purpose of con-
trolling the elementary education of the district. It was proposed in
this measure that any elementary school should be admitted to this
control and reap its manifold benefits on the application of the school

346 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

managers for such admission. Admitted schools were to be inspected.
Expenditure under the act was to be met out of the borough fund to
the extent of sixpence on the pound. The bill was coldly received and
withdrawn. About the same time were introduced education bills
emanating from Manchester school societies. One advocated free
secular rate-paid education; the other the assistance out of the rates
of denominational schools. These two bills were referred to a select
committee of the House of Commons on February 17, 1853. The
bills were eventually dropped. In 1855 the denominational bill with
a provision for the foundation of new schools was re-introduced by Sir
John Pakington. In the same session Lord John Russell introduced
another borough bill, with a full conscience clause; while the free
schools bill again represented the views of the Manchester secular
party. The three bills were all abandoned. Bills were once more, with-
out effect, introduced by Lord John Russell in 1856 and Sir John
Pakington in 1857. These were followed by the comparative unsuccess
of Mr. Robert Lowe's revised code. In 1867 came the beginning of
the end, or rather of the beginning. What was practically the Man-
chester denominational schools bill was introduced by Mr. Bruce,
Mr. W. E. Forster and Mr. Algernon Egerton. It was a carefully
prepared scheme, but unfortunately it was not compulsory in form.
Each locality could adopt or refuse it.^ In the then state of education
the worst districts would have refused to adopt the act. The bill was
withdrawn, and in 1868 the Duke of Marlborough introduced into the
House of Lords a bill that purported to solve the problem without the
aid of rates. The bill merely proposed to put a modification of Mr.
Lowe's administrative code into an act of Parliament. Such a bill
could but fail. In the same year the bill of 1867 was again introduced,
and on this occasion it offered the compulsory system. The feeling that
this bill would involve compulsory rate-aid for denominational schools
under private management, and the fact that it gave the proposed
board of education power to enforce the act in any district exhibiting
educational destitution, contrary to the will of the district, weighed
against the bill and it was withdrawn on June 24, 1868. The final
step came when the bill of 1870 was introduced on February 17. It
received the Royal consent on August 9, 1870.

The education act of 1870 divided England into school districts
for the purposes of elementary education, and enacted that in
every district a sufficient amount of accommodation must be pro-
vided in public elementary schools for all children resident in the
district, for whose elementary education sufficient and suitable
provision was not otherwise made. The meaning of 'elementary
education' was not defined by the act, but in the famous Cockerton
case, decided in 1901, it was settled that the phrase was an elastic
term 'which may shift with the growth of general instruction and

THE STORY OF ENGLISH EDUCATION. 347

attainment.' The schools were bound by a conscience clause and
had to be open to government inspectors, who could report whether
the conditions laid down by the central authority as precedent to a
grant had been complied with. This new system comprised two kinds
of schools — the schools supported by voluntary subscriptions, which
were in existence at the date of the passing of the act, and board schools.
These latter schools came into existence in districts where there was
InsuflBcient voluntary school accommodation and where in consequence
the rate payers had elected a school board. This board erected, at the
expense of the rate payers, schools sufficient to supply the wants of the
district, and these schools were maintained out of the rates, central
grants and school fees. In the board schools, in addition to the con-
science clause in use in voluntary schools, the Cowper-Temple clause
of the act of 1870 enforced the rule that *no religious catechism or
religious formulary which is distinctive of any particular denomina-
tion shall be taught in the school. ' Thus the effect of the act of 1870
was to place side by side two great school systems — a denominational
system, the schools of which had for the most part been built and
were maintained by voluntary subscriptions, to some extent supple-
mented by grants — and an undenominational rate-supported system
independent of voluntary subscriptions. The passage of years saw the
rapid increase and development of both systems. The act of 1870
gave the various school boards power to compel parents by by-laws to
send children to school between the ages of five and thirteen years,
but it was not until 1876 that the legislature created the universal
parental duty of causing all children to 'receive sufficient elementary
instruction in reading, writing and arithmetic' This was followed
in 1891 by an act granting to practically all the public elementary
schools a fee-grant in lieu of the fees hitherto paid by the parents.
This important step of creating free elementary education was an
almost necessary corollary of the institution of compulsory education,
and it was essential for the reason that those children who most needed
school life were the offspring of the most needy parents. The result
of these various acts was to create vast school board systems in London
and the great towns which in certain areas crushed the voluntary schools
out of existence. The standard imposed by the Education Department
rapidly rose, and the number of subjects taught greatly increased.
Gradually the great school boards endeavored, by the creation of what
were known as higher elementary schools, to bring secondary educa-
tion within their control and to supply this education out of the rates
in competition with the newly-efficient endowed secondary schools of
their districts. In 1901, in the famous case of Cockerton, it was
held that this was illegal, and it became necessary at once to create by
statute a national system that should control and develop both primary
and secondary education. The school board system, while it had been

348 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

successful in imparting in the great towns a considerable measure of
elementary education to the mass of the poorer children, had had a bad
influence in lowering the standard of secondary education by com-
pelling the strictly secondary schools to come down to the standard
of the higher elementary schools. Higher elementary education at its
best gave the child some smattering of culture but it ended there and
was in no sense a step in the ladder of education. In the rural and
urban districts, moreover, the voluntary schools had more than held
their own. The board schools of the.se districts were often badly
managed and were less efficient in many cases than the voluntary de-
nominational schools, which, despite financial difficulties, increased in
number and efficiency. The fine work done by these schools was con-
sidered to justify in 1897 the creation of a special aid-grant to volun-
tary schools. But even with such help the position of the voluntary
system had become precarious. The high standard of elementary
education, of accommodation and of teachers imposed by the Board of
Education could only with great difficulty be attained with the means
at the disposal of the managers of voluntary schools. The subscribers
increased their subscriptions, but since as rate payers these subscribers
had frequently also to pay a school board for schools competing with
their own schools, it was plain that the limit of subscriptions had been
nearly reached. It was clearly inequitable that a person should pay
to support both a voluntary and a compulsory system, and it was also
evident that both systems suffered in efficiency in consequence.

The time, therefore, had been reached when all forms of education
required coordination and increased state help. The absence of con-
tinuity between the various grades and kinds of education had, by
the year 1902, become a serious national danger. I have noticed
already some aspects of this discontinuity. It is necessary here to
refer to certain other sides of the question. For nearly fifty years
the Science and Art Department of South Kensington had distributed
under the direction of the Education Department — now the Board of
Education — to schools of all kinds a large parliamentary grant in aid
of an elaborate scheme of education set forth by the South Kensington
officials. The school boards for a considerable period used the rates,
quite illegally, for the purpose of teaching science and art in accordance
with the South Kensington scheme in order to earn the grants. This
scheme provided the elementary schools with a kind of secondary
system and thus increased an undesirable competition with the endowed
secondary schools. On the other hand these true secondary schools from
the year 1890 have received in many instances parliamentary help of an-
other character. By an act of that year the residue of certain customs
and excise duties — a very large annual sum* — was directed to be dis-

* Say £1 ,200,000. The Science and Art grants and these duties amount to
more than fl,. 500,000, so that it can hardly be said that secondary education
has, since 1890, been neglected in England.

TEE STORY OF ENGLISH EDUCATION. 349

tribiited to the County Councils throughout the country for the purpose
of encouraging teclmical education. This money was and is awarded
to the secondary schools by way of grants in recognition of successful
results achieved by the school in technical education. These grants
have proved so necessary to the various secondary schools that such
schools have been compelled to start an eihcient system of technical
education in order to earn them. In this respect competition with the
primary schools has done good. It has forced the secondary schools
to find a new source of income beyond endowment and fees and has thus
brought the ancient secondary or grammar school system of England
into relationship with the state. The state has not been slow to recog-
nize the relationship. In addition to. the technical education grants it
now makes special grants to all secondary schools that are prepared to
attain a certain standard of efficiency in certain subjects — scientific
and literary — named by the Board of Education. It is not, however,
difficult to see how confused and conflicting was the whole system.
It was in fact gradually becoming • impossible to differentiate be-
tween primary, higher elementary and secondary education. The
Cockerton case at last, by restricting the board schools to strictly
elementary education, made it necessary for the legislature to review
the whole position. It was evident that the CocTcerton case could not
be allowed to lower the standard of national education; it was
equally evident that a glorified school board system meant the ulti-
mate ruin of all forms of tertiary or university education so far as
the masses were concerned. These aspects of the problem were ob-
vious to all who were not blinded by hatred to the established church
into refusing aid to the voluntary schools, or who were not members
of school boards and believers in the eternal fitness of a higher ele-
mentary cul de sac training.

In order to place national education upon a sound basis it was
necessary that every possible grade of education from the infant classes
of elementary schools to the post-graduate classes of the universities
should form one continuous system, and that there should be no com-
petitive overlapping between its various parts. It was also necessary
that the system should in no way run contrary to the almost universal
national belief that christian religious teaching in some form or an-
other, denominational or undenominational, must take a definite place
in the education of children. The Board of Education act, 1899, to
some extent paved the way for the elaborate national system that is
now, under the act of 1902, in a fair way to become effective. The act
of 1899 established a board of education to take the place both of the
education committee of the Privy Council (knovni as the Education
Department) and the South Kensington Department of Science and
Art. It gave to this new board the power to inspect all secondary

35 o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

schools that desired to be inspected and gave to the county councils
the power to pay for such inspection, thus bringing the councils into
closer connection with the secondary system. The act also provided
for the creation of a consultative committee (consisting as to two
thirds of persons representing the views of universities and other
bodies interested in education) for the purpose of framing a register
of teachers throughout the country of all grades and for the general
purpose of advising the Board of Education on technical educational
matters. This committee is proving a most effective body, and it will
soon be difficult for any school of repute to reject official inspection
and for any schoolmaster of standing to withhold his name from the
official register. The act also gave the Board of Education the capacity
to take over and exercise any powers of the charity commissioners or
of the board of agriculture relating to education. The vast powers
exercised by the charity commissioners over the secondary endowed
schools of the country under the endowed schools act of 1869 and
the amending acts, were vested last August, by virtue of this provision,
in the Board of Education. The result of this step was to make the
Board of Education the supreme authority over both primary and
secondary education and to bring it into touch with the county coun-
cils in relation to all secondary matters. The next obvious step was
to replace the school boards by the county councils (and county
borough councils) and thus make the local administrative authority
an intermediary in the cases of all grades of education between the
schools and the Board of Education. This is the great accomplishment,
from the educational point of view, of the act of 1902. The school
boards in their vain efforts to supply something of the nature of a
secondary education were rapidly making confusion worse confounded.
By the simple expedient of placing the local secondary authority — the
county council — in the place of the school board, the principle of order
and development was at once introduced into the national educational
system. The supporters of the school boards — men who realized the
admirable work that had been done by these boards, but who were unable
to grasp the fact that that work could be more efficiently continued by
bodies that had the interests of secondary as well as primary education
at heart as part of a civic system — opposed the bill with fierce energy,
and they were aided by all those who believed that the new bill was
unduly helping the elementary denominational or voluntary schools.
The government with respect to those schools was in a difficult position.
The owners and managers of the schools claimed as of right assistance
out of local rates on the ground that they were doing work which if
they did not exist would have to be done by new schools built by a
school board at great cost. They, however, refused to alter the de-
nominational character of these schools. They declared that the con-

THE STORY OF ENGLISH EDUCATION. 351

science clause, protecting the religious beliefs of children of other
denominations attending the schools, was sufficient. The government
had, therefore, the alternative of helping these voluntary schools on
terms and thus knitting them forever into the national system, or of
building at a cost of £130,000,000 schools to compete with these schools,
or of buying them compulsorily at a cost of over £50,000,000 and start-
ing them as undenominational schools. Obviously, the only business-
like course was to make terms with the voluntary schools. The bill
was fought in the legislature for a period of nine months, but eventu-
ally passed, retaining the principles contended for by all economists
and educationalists of weight in the country.

I must briefly note the provisions of the act. The first section
enacts that every county council and county borough council and the
borough council of every non-county borough with a population over
10,000 and the district council of every urban district with a popula-
tion over 20,000 shall be the local educational authority for elementary
education, while the county council and the county borough council

m

are the authorities for higher education. In the case of all non-county
boroughs and urban districts the borough or district council may sup-
plement the work of the county council by supplying or aiding the
supply of, within their financial limits, higher education. In the
non-county boroughs with a population of 10,000 and under, and urban
districts with a population of 30,000 and under, the county council, in
addition to its authority over higher education, controls elementary
education. The act goes on to provide that the local educational au-
thority shall 'take such steps as seem to them desirable, after consulta-
tion with the Board of Education, to supply or aid the supply of
education other than elementary, and to promote the general coordina-
tion of all forms of education.' In order to fulfil this laudable pur-
pose the local educational authority is invested with a rating power for
secondary education to enable it to supplement the funds above referred
to as ear-marked for secondary education. County borough councils
can make any necessary rate for secondary education, but county coun-
cils can only make (apart from the consent of the Local Government
Board to a higher rate) a rate of twopence in the pound (threepence
in certain exceptional cases) while the councils of non-county boroughs
and urban districts are able only to make a rate of one penny in the
pound for this purpose. The religious aspect of higher education is
made the subject of special provisions, and a carefully drafted con-
science clause protects all classes of pupils.

Part III. of the act (sections 5-17) deals with elementary educa-
tion. It abolishes school boards and substitutes the local education
authority. This authority, in addition to the power of the old school
boards over schools provided out of the rates, is responsible for and
has the control of all secular education in these denominational schools

352 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

that have not been provided out of the rates and have hitherto been
known as ' voluntary schools. ' In future the rate-provided schools will
be supplied with a body of managers, four of whom will be appointed
by the local education authority and two by the minor local authority
(such as the parish council), in whose area the school is situated.
On the other hand, in the case of the non-provided or 'voluntary
schools,' the managing body will consist of four managers, appointed
as heretofore by the denomination to which the school belongs and
of two managers appointed, as to one by the local educational authority
and as to another by the 'minor local authority,' such as the parish
council of the parish in which the school is situated. Thus, while for
the first time publicly elected persons are included in the managing
bodies of the voluntary schools, yet the private and original or founda-
tion managers still retain the controlling voice in all matters of re-
ligion, so that there can be no possibility of a change in the denomina-
tional character of the school. This was mere justice, since many
of these schools have been Church of England, or Wesleyan, or Eoman
Catholic, or Jewish, as the case may be, for nearly a century. The
local education authority has, however, complete control over secular
education in these schools. The managers must carry out all its
directions as to secular instruction, including any directions with
respect to the number and educational qualifications of the teachers
to be employed for such instruction, and for the dismissal of any
teacher on educational grounds. The local education authority has
power to inspect the school, and its consent is required, in relation to
the appointment and dismissal of teachers; but an appointment by
the managers can only be objected to on educational grounds, while
a teacher can be dismissed without the consent of the local educational
authority, on grounds connected with the giving of religious instruc-
tion in the school. The managers of the voluntary school must pro-
vide the schoolhouse free of any charge and keep it in good repair
subject to fair wear and tear in the course of its use as a public ele-
mentary school. Such wear and tear has to be made good by the
local educational authority. The religious instruction given in a
voluntary school shall be in accordance with the provisions (if any)
of the trust-deed on the subject and shall be under the control of the
managers with an appeal to the superior denominational authority if
such appeal is provided for by the trust deed. Subject as above the
local education authority has to maintain and keep efficient all public
elementary schools within their area which are necessary (whether
'voluntary schools' or rate-provided schools) and has the control of all
expenditure required for that purpose. The provision of new schools, a
different system of government grants — paid, not to the managers, but

THE STORY OF ENGLISH EDUCATION. 353

to the local education authority — and the constitution of education
committees of councils having powers under the act are various further
salient characteristics of this measure to which it is necessary to draw
attention. In the case of the education committees it is to be noticed
that the whole educational administrative work will be done by these
committees which will possess all the educational powers of the council
except that of raising a rate or borrowing money for education purposes.
It is perhaps impossible to exaggerate the importance of this act
of Parliament. Doubtless it has certain defects, but they are defects
inherent in any act that endeavors to reconcile interests that are
apparently in conflict. The political dissenters declared themselves
wronged because rate-aid was given to the voluntary schools without
a corresponding control by the representatives of the rate payers.
Only one third of the managers represent the rate payers in the man-
aging body of a voluntary school, and the fact that the majority of
the managers are still private persons is a source of grievance to a
certain class of liberals. On the other hand the owners of voluntary
schools think themselves aggrieved in the fact that managers, who may
not represent the denomination to which the school belongs, should have
any word as to the religious teaching. These owners think that the
public have the best of the bargain; the public have gained complete
control, through the local education authority, over the secular teaching
in these schools, while the views of the owners and managers are con-
tinually kept before the public by the representatives of the rate
payers or the managing body. All the old privacy is lost.

On the whole, however, a fair bargain has been struck. The
owners of the schools have a guarantee given them that the denomina-
tional character of each school shall be preserved, and they in return
have for most purposes (other than religious) handed over the school
to a body representing the public — the local education authority, i. e.,
the education committee of a publicly elected body. An effort all
through the act is made to do justice to denominational bodies on the
one hand and to secure absolutely efficient and coordinated education
on the other, and on the whole the measure may be regarded as the
great starting point of a new and beneficent educational system. Lon-
don does not come within this scheme, but the metropolis is now being
dealt with on the same lines by a bill 'to extend and adapt the Educa-
tion Act, 1902, to London.' The educational authority for London
will be the London County Council represented by an education com-
mittee composed of members of the council and representatives of the
various London borough councils and of various metropolitan educa-
tional interests. This central educational body will exercise control
over the metropolitan borough councils in their new capacity as man-
agers of all public elementary schools provided by the County Council.
VOL. Lxni. — 23.

354 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

It is proposed that the horough coimcils shall have the power of ap-
pointing and dismissing teachers (though not of fixing their number,
qualifications and salary) and of selecting the sites for any new ele-
mentary schools that the County Council decide to provide. The bill
in these respects may perhaps be altered, and it is possible that members
of the council will form a majority (as they do not in the unamended
bill) on the education committee. In most other respects it is pro-
posed to bring London within the act of last year and therefore under
the final control, for all forms of education, of the Board of Education.
However, little is certain yet except that the London school board
will pass away and with it that competition between primary and
secondary schools which has been the result of one of the less desirable
aspects of the work of a board which has done much good and earnest
work in London since 1870. Of course, none of the London board
schools will cease to exist, nor will one single form of educational
activity disappear. Only the name will be changed and the particular
characteristics of certain schools will be altered. Schools that ought
to be strictly secondary in character will be made secondary, while
schools of a primary type will be compelled to keep to that type, but
will also be dove-tailed into the nearest strictly secondary school.
London will gain immensely by this, though admirers of the London
school board system will feel keenly any reversal of the old and ruinous
policy of forcing higher grade elementary education into competition
with pure secondary education. Gain in efficiency is, however, the
only thing to be considered, and there can be no doubt that the London
school board has outgrown its functional usefulness and may well be
replaced by a body capable of coordinating metropolitan education of
all grades.

When the London bill is passed English education, whether pri-
mary, secondary, technical or tertiary, will be in a highly satisfactory
state as far as machinery is concerned. The putting of this machinery
into smooth motion will then be merely a question of time. When
this is done the future of England may be regarded without pessimism
or distrust. The widest meaning of education itself will gradually
enter into the knowledge of the nation and it will be within the
power of the poorest to reap harvests of incalculable wealth in hidden
lands yet unknown to the masses of the people. Far away lie these
lands, beyond the passionate, the stormy, the fretful, the cruel ocean
of ignorance. All glory and honor will be to the generation that
shall devise fit means of transit across this fearful region. The sea
of ignorance imprisons the human race in a narrow land. Across its
waters the few pass fitfully, fearfully now; but surely the day is not
far distant when the many shall claim in pride and gladness their
birthright of passage.

TEE DECLINING BIRTH BATE. 355

THE DECLIXING BIRTH RATE AND ITS CAUSE.

By FREDERICK A. BUSHEE, Ph.D.,

CLAKK COLLEGE.

TN the May number of The Popular Science Monthly Professor
-*- Thorndike discusses the question of the low birth rate among
college graduates, presenting statistics from New York University,
Middlebury College, and Wesleyan University, which confirm the report
of President Eliot of Harvard University. These statistics show pretty
conclusively that the birth rate among families of college graduates, at
least in the east, is not large enough to keep up their numbers, and the
question at once arises whether this tendency is confined to the intel-
lectual classes or whether it applies to others as well. In either case it
is of the utmost importance to understand the cause of the phenomenon.
Let us consider then, first, the evidence of a low birth rate outside the
circle of college graduates, and, secondly, let us consider the possible
causes of a low birth rate.

The evidence concerning the natural increase of the population in
this country is exceedingly meager. In the first place comparatively
little attention has been given to the question here, because we have
come to think that, though it is a question which France has to wrestle
with, it has nothing to do with a new coimtry like the United States.
Again, owing to the different conditions existing in different districts,
and to the different social conditions in the same district, a solution
of the question would require detailed statistics which are not avail-
able for any large area of the United States. Very fair results may be
obtained, however, by studying the population of a single state or city
along national lines. The results which have already been obtained
by this method in Massachusetts throw considerable light upon the
question of the natural increase of our population.

Mr. Kucz}Tiski, a Washington statistician, has made an exhaustive
study of the statistics of Massachusetts and has concluded that the native
population of Massachusetts is dying out.* His study extends over the
period from 1885 to 1897. He shows, first, that the marriage rate
among the natives is much smaller than among the foreign born for all
ages up to 45. The marriage rate of unmarried males, 15 years of age
and older, is, native born, 47.7; foreign born, 68.9; and for females,
native born, 40, foreign born, 56.8. Secondly, the proportion of per-
* Quarterly Journal of Economics, November, 1901, February, 1902.

356 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

sons married among the natives is much smaller than among the for-
eign born, and the difference is particularly great at the most fruitful
periods of life. Thirdly, the proportion of married women that have
never had children is much greater among the natives than among
the foreign born. It is one fifth among the natives and two fifteenths
among foreigners. Fourthly, the birth rate among married women
of child bearing age is much larger among foreign born. The figures
are 143.47 per mille for natives and 251.76 for foreign born. Finally,
an interesting result for our purpose is that for the period under dis-
cussion, 1885-1897, the marriage rate and the proportion of married
women were decreasing among the natives and increasing among the
foreigners. And the refined birth rates were fairly steady for the
natives, but increasing for the foreign born.

As to the question of whether the native population is actually
keeping up its numbers or not, after showing the paucity of our vital
statistics as compared with those of Berlin, Mr. Kuczynski says, "But
as the tables of fecundity of Berlin show that, with an annual special
birth rate of ten for every hundred women in child-bearing age, in
1891-95, the births were one ninth behind the number necessary to
keep the population of Berlin stationary, it is probable that the native
population of Massachusetts, with a special birth rate of 6.3 births for
every 100 adult women in child bearing age, and a mortality of the
female sex not correspondingly lower than that of Berlin, can not only
not hold its own, but is dying out at a considerable pace. ' '* In studies
which I have made upon the population of Boston by nationalities!
practically the same results were obtained, although there was less
opportunity to make a detailed study of the birth rates. The figures
for Boston indicate that the negroes and the native whites are failing
to keep up their numbers — the former on account of a high death rate
and the latter on account of a low birth rate. On the other hand, all
the foreign born groups show a natural increase, though the rate of
increase varies greatly with the different nationalities. On the whole,
the most recently immigrating nationalities have the highest birth
rates.

The statistics, although somewhat fragmentary, seem to show that
in Massachusetts, and probably also in other sections of the country
having similar social conditions, the older part of the population, rep-
resented roughly by native Americans, is slowly dying out because of
the low birth rate. If this is true the conditions in the older parts of
the United States bear a strong resemblance to those in France, except
that in the latter country the population as a whole fails to increase,
while in this country it is only a section of the population. In the

* Quarterly Journal of Economics, February, 1902, p. 184.
t Publication American Economic Association, May, 1903.

THE DECLINING BIRTH RATE. 357

United States, and even in Massachusetts, the population as a whole
is increasing, but the increase is confined for the most part apparently
to the immigrating classes. Inasmuch as the failure to increase is
confined to only a part of the population in the United States, it is
extremely difficult to ascertain the exact situation by statistical means.
An insidious loss may be going on in a particular direction and still
be undiscovered because of defective mortality statistics.

These statistics put the whole native population of Massachusetts
in the same position as college graduates, and the question accordingly
seems to be one of the upper class or of the older part of the population
and not simply a question of the educated classes.

In the absence of further statistics upon the subject, it will be of
assistance to ascertain, by theoretical law if possible, the causes which
contribute to these suicidal tendencies in the population. Laws of
population have been formulated from similar experiences in other
countries, and among these laws we may find one which will throw
light upon our own situation.

It will not be worth while to review the common theories of popu-
lation and show their application to our present conditions. The
theory of Malthus, or even that of Spencer, will be of littl^ avail, as the
birth rate in the United States is not greatly afEected by physical causes.
And, although some writers have pointed to a possible biological cause,
it is improbable that in a new country like the United States even the
older part of the population could, as a class, be losing its fertility,
when in so many of the older countries the fertility of the population
is still good.

To social causes, primarily, are due the differences in the fecundity
of civilized peoples. Therefore I shall present what may be called a
social law of population. From the nature of the case any law of
population must be exceedingly general, because a great number of
conditions directly or indirectly affect the birth rate, and these second-
ary causes differ in different localities. The law which I am about to
consider explains the situation only in a general way. Some of the
special conditions which affect the birth rate here I shall discuss later
on. This law of population is one formulated by a French student of
demography, Arsene Dumont. In brief M. Dumont's theory is that
population increases inversely with 'social capillarity.' This expressive
phrase is almost self-explanatory. Among progressive peoples a strong
tendency exists for men to improve their condition, and in a democratic
country society yields somewhat to efforts in this line. If competition
is severe it will be necessary for men to make a great effort to raise their
standard of living, or sometimes, even to maintain the accustomed
standard. Population is regulated by the intensity of the effort made.

358 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Of course the check to population resulting from the desire for social
betterment is a purely voluntary one, yet it is a good example of a
social law that men under certain conditions will choose to refrain from
having large families.

In applying this law it must be borne in mind that conditions vary
greatly with different individuals and with different countries. If a
man is able to raise his standard of living without great exertion, as is
usually the case in a new country, no check to population may be ex-
pected. Or, if a man by exceptional abilities is able to maintain a high
standard of living with comparative ease, he will not be influenced by
the same considerations as the average man. If, on the one hand, men
who easily raise their standard of living propagate freely, those who are
unable to change their social position at all also propagate freely. In
a caste system of society, or in an absolute despotism like that of Eussia,
the lower classes propagate blindly because they see no possibility of
rising. No 'social capillarity' exists for them. In other words popu-
lation is not held in check by a social law, but by a physical one. It is
limited by the means of subsistence, according to the Malthusian law.
Even among the lower classes of a great industrial center the same prin-
ciple acts. Unskilled laborers attain the maximum wage at an early
age and increased efforts on their part affect their social condition so
little that they do not feel the social check and therefore propagate
recklessly from hopelessness. A man in the lowest social class has no
social position to lose, and only the best equipped can improve their
condition sufficiently to feel the social restriction on population. To ad-
vise the laboring classes to limit their numbers in order to improve their
condition, as the old economists did, is putting the cart before the
horse. When the economic condition of the lowest industrial class
improves enough to give its members some hope, they will begin to
limit their numbers voluntarily in order further to improve their con-
dition.

If, then, the class that rises easily in the social scale and the class
which does not rise at all propagate freely the social check applies to
that large class which rises, though only with great effort. It would
appear then that in a pure democracy where increased reward always
followed increased effort, the population would regulate itself auto-
matically, because increased population would increase competition and
that would bring about the social check. Its application to some of
our large cities will be readily understood by those who are acquainted
with the social conditions existins: in them. Their enormous increase
of population has increased competition to such an extent that only
the best equipped — as compared with other members of the same class,
not with inferior classes — can easily maintain the standard of living

THE DECLINING BIRTH BATE. 359

set by their own particular classes. Consequently the cares of a family
are deferred. If one enters the lodging houses in the south and west
ends of Boston, for example, one will find a large class of lodgers from
northern New England and from the British Provinces, the majority
of whom are not married and never will be. This class represents a
part of the population which is refraining from marriage in order to
keep up its social position. In the words of M. Dumont, 'social capil-
larity' is so strong that they refrain from marriage. This state of
affairs is unfortunate for the future good of the city. Cities have come
to depend upon fresh blood from the country to reinforce their declin-
ing stock, and there is no reason to believe that former immigrants
from rural sections found it necessary to refrain from marriage as the
present immigrants do. In other words, a change is taking place in
the character of the population of large cities which only the next gen-
eration will realize. Cities of the present time are making use of rural
Americans and also of the children of rural Americans who came to the
city about the middle of the nineteenth century. In the next genera-
tion the proportion of children of rural immigrants will be greatly re-
duced, and the probabilities are that the largest cities will offer small
inducements for the immigration of rural Americans.

With this application of the general law of population I pass to the
discussion of two conditions in the eastern part of the United States
which tend to intensify the action of this law and make the birth rate
in this new country as low as it is in some of the old European coun-
tries. First, the increased competition which naturally results from a
growing population has been augmented by the entrance of women into
industrial pursuits. As women find fewer opportunities for marriage,
they throw themselves into industrial life, and by their increased com-
petition make the possibility of marriage even more remote. As writers
have frequently noted the depression of wages resulting from the com-
petition of women, however, I will pass on to the second phenomenon
which affects the social law of population — that is, immigration. Com-
petition resulting from increased population is much more serious if it
is caused by the incoming of classes on a different social plane. Irish,
Italian, and Jewish immigrants compete indirectly, and frequently
directly with American labor, yet these immigrants live in a different
world and under different conditions from the American laborer.
Most foreigners form a stratum below Americans. Between the lodging
house and the tenement is a wide gap which is not paralleled by an
industrial separation. Americans in lodging houses are not attempt-
ing so much to raise their standard as they are to retain the accus-
tomed standard of their homes and to save themselves from fallinsr
into the social position of the foreign population.

36o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

When Francis Walker was director of the United States Census, he
went so far as to maintain that the population of the country would
have been just as large if there had been no foreign immigration, since
the older American elements would then have multiplied much more
rapidly than they have. This is without doubt an extreme statement,
yet it is true that the multiplication of foreign peoples has seriously
checked the growth of the old American stock. It may be that in the
distant future the mixture of all the European peoples will produce a
race superior to any we have yet seen. It is well to bear in mind, how-
ever, that in forming a race of unknown value, there is being sacrificed
a race of acknowledged superiority in originality and enterprise.

The relative decrease of the native stock is, however, far more
noticeable than its absolute decrease. For example, from the last
statistics available for Boston it appears that the Eussian Jews in-
creased by propagation 25 per cent, between 1890 and 1895, and the
Italians increased 21 per cent, during the same period, while the native
born decreased slightly. And this phenomenal natural increase of the
Italians and the Jews takes on an added significance from the fact that
during the same period of five years the Italians increased 67 per cent,
and the Jews 51 per cent, by immigration.

Foreign immigrants, after being in this country for some time, seem
to be affected in much the same way as the native born. However, the
pressure of competition from recent immigration does not affect them
60 much as it does the greater part of the native born, for a greater
social cleavage exists between the rural Americans and foreign immi-
grants than between the old and new immigrants. Yet the Irish and
the Germans, at least in Boston, have a much smaller birth rate than
the Italians and the Jews, and also than they themselves had in 1850.

Mr. Kuczynski, in his study of Massachusetts, continually contrasts
the statistics for the native born with those for the foreign born, but
there is more than a contrast, there is a causal connection. The rapid
influx of foreigners and their unrestrained increase necessarily affects
the native born. And the evil effects arise from the competition in
industrial pursuits of people of different social standards. If the
immigrants were of the same ideals and standards as the native Amer-
icans, the results would be different. The increased competition would
bring about a lowering of the birth rate, but the restraint would be
mutual to both natives and foreigners. In the present case, however,
where the standards are different the prudential restraint is exercised
only by the group which has a social standard to maintain. Is it not
from a sense of self preservation that castes tend to be formed in a
society consisting of distinct social classes, so that each caste shall have
its separate sphere of employment and competition between castes

TEE DECLINING BIRTH RATE. 361

shall be eliminated as much as possible? Otherwise the upper classes
would tend to be obliterated by the competition of the lower classes.

To sum up, then, we may say that the study of the statistics avail-
able in the light of recent theories of population gives us a reasonable
understanding of the natural increase of the population. Statistics
show that in Massachusetts at least the native population which in-
cludes the upper classes is losing ground. That this loss is due to the
effort necessary to maintain or raise the social position caused by
strong competition is shown by the fact that the marriage rate as well
as the birth rate is low. This competition is caused largely by the
influx of foreigners who tend to compete with the natives, but do not
share with them the dread of lowering the social standard. If the
increased population came wholly from within the state, the population
would tend to regulate itself automatically, but when the increase is
largely imposed upon a state from without, and this foreign element
reproduces itself rapidly it may have a serious influence upon the
native population without being very apparent. The economic question
is by no means the most important one to consider in the problem of
immigration. It is a race question and the birth rate shows the racial
group that is to survive. If, however, it is found that the stratum of
society which has the highest development tends to be blotted out by
the increase of the lower strata, the cause of progress will demand that
the course of natural selection be interfered with by removing the
continual external pressure on the native stock.

362 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

HERTZIAN WAVE WIEELESS TELEGRAPHY. III.

By Dr. J. A. FLEMING, F.R.S.,

PROFESSOR OF ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING, UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON.

WE have to consider in connection with this part of the subject the
dielectric strength of air under different pressures and for dif-
ferent thicknesses. It was shown by Lord Kelvin, in 1860, that the
dielectric strength of very thin layers of air is greater than that of thick
layers.* The electric force, reckoned in volts per centimeter, required
to pierce a thickness of air from two to ten millimeters in thickness, at
atmospheric pressure, may be taken at 30,000 volts per centimeter.
The same force in electrostatic units is represented by the number 100,
since a gradient of 300 volts per centimeter corresponds to a force of
one electrostatic unit. It appears also that for air and other gases,
there is a certain minimum voltage (approximately 400 volts) below
which no discharge takes place, however near the conducting surfaces
may be approximated. In this particular practical application, how-
ever, we are only concerned with spark lengths which are measured in
millimeters or centimeters, lying say between one or two millimeters
and five or six centimeters. Over this range of spark length we shall
not generally be wrong in reckoning the voltage required to produce
a spark between metal balls in air at the ordinary pressure to be given
by the rule :

Disruptive voltage = 3000 X spark gap length in millimeters.

If, however, the air pressure is increased above the normal by inclu-
ding the spark balls in a vessel in which air can be compressed, then
the spark length corresponding to a given potential difference very
rapidly decreases. Mr. F. J. Jervis-Smithf found that by increasing
the air pressure from one atmosphere to two atmospheres round a pair
of spark balls, he reduced the spark length given by a certain voltage
from 2.5 em. to 0.75 cm.

Professor R. A. Fessenden has also made some interesting obser-
vations on the effect of using compressed air round spark gaps. He

* See Proc. Roy. 80c., London, February 23 and April 12, 1860; or reprint
of papers on electrostatics and magnetism, p. 247.

t See Phil. Mag., August, 1902, Vol. IV., p. 224, 6th Series. Mr. Jervis-
Smith has also described an experiment to show how much the use of com-
pressed air round a spark gap is of advantage in working an ordinary Tesla
coil. In liis British specification No. 12,039 of 1896, Mr. Marconi had long
previously mentioned the use of compressed air round the spark gap.

HERTZIAN ^YAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 363

found that if a certain voltage between metal surfaces would yield a
spark four inches in length, at the ordinary pressure of the air, if
the spark balls were enclosed in a cylinder, the air round them com-
pressed at 50 lbs. per square inch, the spark length for the same poten-
tial difference of the balls was only one quarter of an inch, or one
sixteenth of its former value.

The writer has also made experiments with an apparatus designed
to study the effect of compressed air round the spark gap. The
experimental arrangements are as follows: A ten-inch induction coil
has one of its terminals connected to the internal coating of a battery
of Leyden jars. The external coating is connected through the pri-
mary coil of an oscillation transformer with the other secondary ter-
minal of the coil, and these secondary terminals are also connected
to a spark gap consisting of two brass balls enclosed in a glass vessel
into which air can be forced by a pump, the air pressure being meas-
ured by a gauge. The balls in the glass vessel are set at a distance
of about three millimeters apart. The secondary circuit of the oscil-
lation transformer is connected to another pair of spark balls, the
distance of which can be varied.

Suppose we begin with the air in the glass vessel containing the
balls connected to the secondary terminals of the induction coil, which
may be called the secondary balls, at atmospheric pressure, and create
oscillatory discharges in the primary coil of the oscillation trans-
former, we have a spark between the balls, which may be called the
tertiary balls, connected to the secondary terminals of the oscillation
transformer. If the secondary balls are placed, say three millimeters
apart, the air in the glass vessel enclosing them being at the ordinary
atmospheric pressure, then with one particular arrangement of jars
used, a spark twenty-five or twenty-six millimeters long between the
tertiary balls will take place. Suppose then we increase the pressure
of the air round the secondary balls, pumping it up by degrees to 10,
20, 30, 40 and 50 lbs., per square inch, above the atmospheric pressure.
We find that the spark between the tertiary balls will gradually leap
a greater and greater distance, and when the pressure of the air is
50 lbs. per square inch, we can obtain a fifty-millimeter spark between
the tertiary balls, whereas when the air in the glass vessel is at atmos-
pheric pressure, we can only obtain a spark between the tertiary balls
of half that length.

This experiment demonstrates that the effect of compressing the
air round the secondary terminals of the induction coil is to greatly
increase the difference of potential between these balls before the spark
passes. In fact, it requires about double the voltage to force a spark
of the same length through air compressed at 50 lbs. on the square
inch that it does to make a spark of identical length between the

364 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

same balls in air at normal pressure. This shows that there is a very
great advantage in taking the discharge spark in compressed air. A
better effect can be produced by substituting dry gaseous hydrochloric
acid for air at ordinary pressures.

One other incidental advantage is that the noise of the spark is very
much reduced. The continual crackle of the discharge spark of the
induction coil in connection with wireless telegraphy is very annoying
to sensitive ears, but in this manner we can render it perfectly silent.
Professor Fessenden also states that when the spark balls are sur-
rounded by compressed air, and if one of the balls is connected with
a radiator, the compression of the air, although it shortens the spark
gap corresponding to a given voltage, does not in any way increase the
radiation. When, however, the air in the spark ball vessel is com-
pressed to 60 lbs. in the square inch, there is a marked increase in
the effective radiation, and at 80 lbs. per square inch the energy emitted
in the form of waves is nearly three and a half times greater than
at 50 lbs., the potential dift'erence between the balls remaining the
same.

This effect is no doubt connected with the fact that the produc-
tion of a wave, whether in ether or in any other material, is not so
much dependent upon the absolute force applied as upon the sudden-
ness of its application. To translate it into the language of the
electronic theory, we may say that the electron radiates only whilst
it is being accelerated, and that its radiating power, therefore, depends
not so much upon its motion as upon the rate at which its motion is
changing.

The advantage in using compressed air round the spark gap is that
we can increase the effective potential difference between the balls
without rendering the spark non-oscillatory. In air of the ordinary
pressure there is a certain well-defined limit of spark length for each
voltage, beyond which the discharge becomes non-oscillatory, but by
the employment of spark balls in compressed air, we can increase the
potential difference between the balls corresponding to a given dis-
tance apart before a discharge takes place, or employ higher poten-
tials with the same length of spark gap. In addition to this, we have,
perhaps, the production of a more effective radiation, as asserted by
Fessenden, when the air pressure exceeds a certain critical value.

The next element which we have to consider in the transmitting
arrangements is a condenser of some kind for storing the energy which
is radiated at intervals. Where a condenser other than the aerial is
employed for storing the electric energy which is to be radiated by
the aerial, some form of it must be constructed which will withstand
high potentials. As the dielectric for such a condenser, only two
materials seem to be of any practical use, viz., glass and micanite.

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 365

Glass condensers in the form of Leyden jars have been extensively
employed, but they have the disadvantage that they are very bulky in
proportion to their electrical capacity. The instrument maker's quart
Leyden jar has a capacity of about one five hundredth of a microfarad,
but it occupies about 150 cubic inches or more. Professor Braun has
employed in his transmitting arrangements condensers consisting of
small glass tubes like test tubes, lined on the inside and outside with
tinfoil, which are more economical in space. The author has found
that condensers for this purpose are best made of sheet glass about one
eighth or one tenth of an inch in thickness, coated to within one inch
of their edge on both sides with tinfoil, and arranged in a vessel con-
taining resin or linseed oil, like the plates of a storage battery. M,
d'Arsonval has employed micanite, but although this material has a
considerably higher dielectric strength than glass, it is much more
expensive to obtain a given capacity by means of micanite than by
glass, although the bulk of the condenser for a given capacity is less.
To store up a certain amount of electric energy in a condenser, we
require a certain definite volume of dielectric, no matter how we may
arrange it, and the volume required per unit of energy is determined
by the dielectric strength of the material. Thus, for instance, ordinary
sheet glass can not be safely employed with a greater electric force than
is represented by 20,000 volts for one tenth of an inch in thickness, or
say a potential gradient of 160,000 volts per centimeter. This is
equivalent to an electric force of about 500 electrostatic units. This
may be called the safe-working force. The electrostatic capacity of a
condenser formed of two metal surfaces a foot square separated by
glass three millimeters in thickness is between 1/360 and 1/400 of a
microfarad. If this condenser is charged to 30,000 volts, we have
stored up in it half a joule of electric energy, and the volume of the
dielectric is 270 cubic centimeters. Hence to store up in a glass con-
denser electric energy represented by one joule at a pressure of 20,000
volts, we require 500 cubic centimeters of glass, and it will be found
that if we double the pressure and double the thickness of the glass, we
still require the same volume.* Hence in the construction of high
tension condensers to store up a given amount of energy, the economical
problem is how to obtain the greatest energy-storing capacity for the
least money. Glass fulfils this condition better than any other material.
Although some materials may have very high dielectric strength, such
as paper saturated with various oils, or resins, yet they can not be used
for the purpose of making condensers to yield oscillatory discharges,

* This energy storage is at the rate of 44 foot-pounds per cubic foot of
glass. This figure shows what a relatively small amount of energy is capable
of being stored up in the form of electric strain in glass. In the case of an
air condenser, it is only stored at the rate of one foot-pound per cubic foot.

366 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

because the oscillations are damped out of existence too soon by the
dielectric.

In arranging condensers to attain a given capacity, regard has to
be taken of the fact that for a given potential difference there must be
a certain total thickness of dielectric, and that if condensers of equal
size are being arranged in parallel, it adds to their capacity, whilst
joining them in series divides their capacity. If N equal condensers or
Ley den jars have each a capacity represented by C and if they are
joined n in series and m in parallel, the joint capacity of the whole
number is mC/n, where the product mn = N.

Passing on next to the consideration of oscillation transformers of
various kinds — these are appliances of the nature of induction coils
for transforming the current or electromotive force of electrical oscil-
lations in a required ratio. These coils are however destitute of any
iron core, and they generally consist of coils of wire wound on a fiber,
wooden or ebonite frame, and must be immersed in a vat of oil to pre-
serve the necessary insulation. No dry insulation of the nature of
indiarubber or guttapercha will withstand the high pressures that are
brought to bear upon the circuits of an oscillation transformer. In
constructing these transformers, we have to set aside all previous
notions gathered from the design of low frequency iron core trans-
formers. The chief dijfficulty we have to contend against in the con-
struction of an effective oscillation transformer is the inductance of
the primary circuit and the magnetic leakage that takes place. In
other words, the failure of the whole of the flux generated by the
primary circuit to pass through or be linked with the secondary circuit.
Mr. Marconi has employed an excellent form of oscillation transformer,
in the design of which he was guided by a large amount of experience.
In this transformer the two circuits are wound round a square wooden
frame. The primary circuit consists of a number of strands of thick
insulated cable laid on in parallel, so that it consists of only one turn
of a stranded conductor. The secondary circuit consists of a number
of turns, say ten to twenty, of thinner insulated wire laid over the pri-
mary circuit and close to it, so that the transformer has the transforma-
tion ratio of one to ten or one to twenty. In the arrangements devised
and patented by Mr. Marconi, these two circuits, with their respective
capacities in series with them, are tuned to one another, so that the
time-period of each circuit is exactly the same, and without this tuning
the device becomes ineffective as a transformer.* There is no advan-
tage in putting a number of turns on the primary circuit, because such
multiplication simply increases the inductance, and, therefore, dimin-
ishes the primary current in the same ratio which it multiplies the

* See British specification No. 7,777 of 1900 — G. Marconi, ' Improvements
in Apparatus for Wireless Telegraphy.'

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 367

turns, and hence the magnetic field due to the primary circuit remains
the same. Where it is desired to put a number of turns upon a coil,
and yet at the same time keep the inductance down, the writer has
adopted the device of winding a silk or hemp rope well paraffined
between the turns of the circuit, so as to keep them further apart from
one another, and as the inductance depends on the turns per centimeter,
this has the effect of reducing the inductance.

The next and most important element in any transmitting station
is the aerial or radiator, and it was the introduction of this element by
Mr. Marconi which laid the foundation for Hertzian wave telegraphy
as opposed to mere experiments with the Hertzian waves. We may
consider the different varieties of aerial which have been evolved from
the fundamental idea. The simple single Marconi aerial consists of a
bare or insulated wire, generally about 100 or 150 feet in length, sus-
pended from a sprit attached to a tall mast. As these masts have gen-
erally to be erected in exposed positions, considerable care has to be
taken in erecting them with a large margin of strength. To the end
of a sprit is attached an insulator of some kind which may be a simple
ebonite rod, or sometimes a more elaborate arrangement of oil insu-
lators, and to the lower end of this insulator is attached the aerial
wire. As at the top of the aerial we have to deal with potentials
capable sometimes of giving sparks several feet in length, the insulation
of the upper end of the aerial is an important matter.

In the original Marconi system, the lower end of the aerial was
simply attached to one spark ball connected to one terminal of the
induction coil, and the other terminal and spark ball were connected
to the earth. In this arrangement, the aerial acted not only as radia-
tor, but as energy-storing capacity, and as already explained, its radi-
ating power was on that account limited. The earth connection is
an important matter. For long distance work, a good earth is essen-
tial. This earth must be made by embedding a metal plate in the
soil, and many persons are under the impression that the efficiency
of the earth plate depends upon its area, but this is not the fact. It
depends much more upon its shape, and principally upon the amount
of its 'edge.' It has been shown by Professor A. Tanakadate, of
Japan, that if a metal plate of negligible resistance is embedded in
an infinite medium having a resistivity r, the electrical conductance
of this plate is equal to 4;rA times the electrostatic capacity of the
same plate placed in a dielectric of infinite extent. Hence in design-
ing an earth plate, we have to consider not how to give it the utmost
amount of surface, but how to give it the greatest electrostatic capacity,
and for this purpose it is far better to divide a given amount of
metal into long strips radiating out in different directions, rather
than to employ it in the form of one big square or circular plate.

368 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

The importance of the 'good earth' will have been seen from our dis-
cussion on the mode of formation of electric waves. There must be
a perfectly free access for the electrons to pass into and out of the
aerial. Hence if the soil is dry, or badly conductive in the neighbor-
hood, we have to go down to a level at which we get a good moist
earth. In fact, the precautions which have to be taken in making a
good earth for Hertzian wave telegraphy are exactly those which
should be taken in making a good earth for a lightning conductor.

Whilst on the subject of aerials, a word may be said on the locali-
zation of wireless telegraph stations on the Marconi system. For rea-
sons which were explained previously, the transmission of signals is
effected more easily over water than over dry land, and it is hindered
if the soil in the neighborhood of the sending station is a poor con-
ductor. Hence all active Hertzian wave telegraph stations, like all
active volcanoes, are generally found near the sea. In those cases in
which a multiple aerial has to be put up consisting of many wires, one
mast may be insufficient to support the structure, and several masts
arranged in the form of a square or a circle have to be employed.
The illustrated papers have reproduced numerous pictures of the Mar-
coni power stations at Poldhu in Cornwall, Glace Bay in Nova Scotia,
and Cape Cod in the United States. In these stations, after prelim-
inary failures to obtain the necessary structural strength with ordinary
masts, tall lattice girder wooden towers have been built, about 215
feet in height, well stayed against wind pressure, and which so far
have proved themselves capable of withstanding any storm of wind
which has come against them.

An important question in connection with the sending power of
an aerial is that of the relation of its height to the distance covered.
Some time ago Mr. Marconi enunciated a law as the result of his
experiments, connecting these two quantities, which may be called
Marconi's Law. He stated that the height of the aerial to cover a
given distance, other things remaining the same, varies as the square
root of the distance. Let D be the distance and let L be the length
of the aerial, then if both the transmitting and receiving aerial are
the same height, we may say that D varies as L^. This relation may
be theoretically deduced as follows: Any given receiving apparatus
for Hertzian wave telegraphy requires a certain minimum energy to
be imparted to it to make it yield a signal. If the resistance and
the capacity of the receiver is taken as constant, this minimum work-
ing energy is proportional to the square of the electromotive force set
up in the receiving aerial by the impact on it of the electric waves.
This electromotive force varies as the length of the receiving aerial,
and as the magnetic force due to the wave cutting across it, and the
magnetic force varies as the current in the transmitting aerial, and

HERTZIAN M'AYE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 36g

therefore for any given voltage varies as the capacity, and therefore
as the length of the transmitting aerial. If, therefore, the trans-
mitting and receiving aerial have the same length, the minimum
energy varies as the square of the electromotive force in the receiving
aerial, and therefore as the fourth power of the length of either aerial,
since the electromotive force varies as the product of the lengths of
the aerials. Hence when the distance between the aerials is constant,
the minimum working energy varies as the fourth power of the height
of either aerial, but when the lengths of the aerials are constant, the
energy caught up by the receiving aerial must vary inversely as the
square of the distance D between the aerials. Hence if we call e this
minimum working energy, e must vary as 1/D^ when L is constant,
or as L^ when D is constant, and since e is a constant quantity for
any given arrangements of receiver and transmitter, it follows that
when the height of aerial and distance vary, the ratio L*/D- is con-
stant, or, in other words, D- varies as L* or D varies as L^, i. e., dis-
tance varies as the square of the height of the aerial, which is Mar-
coni's Law. The curve therefore connecting height of aerial with
sending distance for given arrangements is a portion of a parabola.

Otherwise, the law may be stated in the form L = a.-[/r), where «
is a numerical coefficient. If L and D are both measured in meters,
then for recent Marconi apparatus as used on ships a = 0.15, roughly.
(See a report on experiments made for the Italian navy 1900-1901,
by Captain Quintino Bonomo — 'Telegrafia senza tili,' Home, 1902.)

This law, however, must not be used without discretion. After Mr.
Marconi had transmitted signals across the British Channel, some
people, forgetting that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, pre-
dicted that aerials a thousand feet in height would be required to
signal across the Atlantic, but Mr. Marconi has made such improve-
ments of late years in the receiving arrangements that he has been
able to receive signals over three thousand miles in 1903, with aerials
only thirty-three per cent, longer than those wdiich, in 1899, he em-
ployed to cover twenty miles across the British Channel.

We turn, in the next place, to the consideration of those devices for
putting more power into the aerial than can be achieved when the
aerial itself is simply employed as the reservoir of energy. Professor
Braun of Strasburg, in 1899, described a method for doing this by
inducino: oscillations in the aerial bv means of an oscillation trans-
former, these oscillations being set up by the discharges from a Leyden
jar or battery of Leyden jars, which formed the reservoir of energy.
The induction coil is employed to produce a rapidly intermittent series
of electrical oscillations in the primary coil of an oscillation trans-
former by the discharge through it of a Leyden jar. Mr. Marconi

VOL. Lxiir. — 24.

37°

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

immensely improved this arrangement, as described by him in a lec-
ture given before the Society of Arts, on May 17, 1901, by syntonizing
the two circuits and making the circuit, consisting of the capacity of
the aerial and the inductance of the secondary circuit of the oscillation
transformer, have the same time-period as the circuit consisting of the
Leyden jars, or energy-storing condenser, and the primary circuit of
the oscillation transformer, and by so doing immensely added to the
power and range of the apparatus.

Starting from these inventions of Braun and Marconi, the author
devised a double transmission system in which the oscillations are
twice transformed before being generated in the aerial, each time with
a multiplication of electromotive force, and a multiplication- of the
number of groups of oscillations per second. This arrangement can
best be understood from the diagram (see Fig. 15).

Fig. 15. Alternating Current Double Transformation Power Plant for Generating
Electric Waves (Fleming), a, alternator; H^H^, choking coil; A', signaling key; 7', step-up
transformer; S-^S^, spark gap; CjCo, condensers; Ti7\, oscillation transformers; ^4, aerial;
E, earth plate.

In this case, a transformer T or transformers, receive alternating
low frequency current from an alternator a, being regulated by passing
through two variable choking coils, H^ and Hn, so as to control it. This
alternating current is transformed up from a potential of two thousand
to twenty, forty or a hundred thousand, and is employed to charge a
large condenser C^, which discharges across a primary spark gap S^
through the primary coil of an oscillation transformer T^. The sec-
ondary circuit of the oscillation transformer is connected to a second
pair of spark balls 8^, which in turn are connected by a secondary con-
denser C2, and the primary circuit of a third transformer To, and the
secondary circuit of this last transformer are inserted between a Marconi
aerial A and the earth E. WTien all these circuits are tuned to reso-
nance by Mr. Marconi's methods, we have an enormously powerful
arrangement for creating electric waves, or rather trains of electric
waves, sent out from the aerial, and the oscillations are controlled and
the signals made by short-circuting one of the choking coils.

Another transmitting arrangement, which involves a slightly dif-
ferent principle, and employs no oscillation transformer, is one duo

HERTZIAN WAVE ]YIHELESS TELEGRAPHY. 371

also to Professor Braim. In this case, a condenser and inductance are
connected in series to the spark balls of an induction coil, and oscilla-
tions are set up in this circuit. Accordingly, there are rapid fluctuations
of potential at one terminal of the condenser. If to this we connect a
long aerial, the length of which has been adjusted to be one quarter
of the length of wave corresponding to the frequency, in other words,
to make it a quarter wave resonator, then powerful oscillations will be
accumulated in this rod. The relation between the height (H) of the
aerial and the frequency, is given by the equation 3 X 10" = 4:7iH,
where n is the frequency of the oscillations and H the height of the
aerial in centimeters. The frequency of the oscillations is determined
by the capacity (C) and inductance (L) of the condenser circuit, and
can be calculated from the formula

5,000,000

V C (in mfds. ) X L {in cms. )

That is, the frequency is obtained by dividing into the number 5,000,-
000, the square root of the product of the capacity in microfarads, and
inductance in centimeters, of the condenser circuit. It will be found,
on applying these rules, that it is impossible to unite together any
aerial of a length obtainable in practise with a condenser circuit of
more than a very moderate capacity. It has-been shown that for an
aerial two hundred feet in height the corresponding resonating fre-
quency is about one and a quarter million.* As we are limited in
the amount to which we can reduce the inductance of a discharge
circuit, probably to something like a thousand centimeters, a simple
calculation shows that the largest capacity we can employ is about
a sixtieth of a microfarad. This capacity, even if charged at 60,000
volts, would only contain thirty joules of energj^, or about 22.5 foot-
pounds, which is a small storage compared to that which can be
achieved when we are employing the above described methods, which
involve the use of an oscillation transformer. In such a case, how-
ever, it is an advantage to employ a spark gap in compressed air,
because we can then raise the voltage to a much higher value than in
air of ordinary pressure without lengthening the spark so much as
to render it non-oscillatory.

When employing methods involving the use of an oscillation trans-
former, it is possible to use multiple aerials having large capacity, and
hence to store up a very large amount of energy in the aerial, which
is liberated at each discharge. The most efEective arrangement is one

* That this number really does represent the order of this oscillation fre-
quency in an aerial has been shown by C. Tissot, Comptes Rendus, 132, p. 763,
March 25, 1901, by photographs taken of the oscillatory spark of a Hertzian
wave telegraphic transmitter. (See Science Abstracts, Vol. IV., Abs. 1518.)
He found frequencies from 0.5 million to 1.6 million.

372 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

in which the radiator draws off gradually a large supply of energy
from a non-radiating circuit, and so sends out a true train of waves,
and not mere impulses, into the ether, and as we shall see later on, it
is only when the radiation takes place in the form of true wave trains
that anything like syntony can he obtained.

There are a number of variants of the above methods of arranging
the radiator and associated energy-storing in circuit. Descriptions of
these arrangements will be found in patents by Mr. Marconi, Professor
Slaby and Count von Arco, Sir Oliver Lodge, Dr. Muirhead, Professor
Popoff, Professor Fessenden and others. In all cases, however, they
are variations of the three simple forms of radiator already described.

Eeturning to the analogy with the air or steam siren suggested at
the commencement of this article, the reader will see, in the light of
the explanations already given, that all parts of the air wave producing
apparatus have their analogues in the electrical radiator as used in
Hertzian wave telegraphy. The object in the one case is to produce
rapid oscillations of air particles in a tube, which result in the produc-
tion of an air wave in external space; in the other case, the arrange-
ment serves to produce oscillations of electrons or electrical particles
in a wire, the movements of which create a disturbance in the ether
called an electrical wave. Comparing together, item by item, it will
be seen, therefore, that the induction coil or transformer used in con-
nection with electric wave apparatus is analogous to the air pump in
the siren plant. In the electrical apparatus, this electron pump is
employed to put an electrical charge into a condenser; in the air wave
apparatus, the air pump is employed to charge an air vessel with high
pressure air. From the electrical condenser the charge is released
in the form of a series of electrical oscillations, and in the air wave
producing appliance, the compressed air is released in the form of
a series of intermittent puffs or blasts. In the electrical wave pro-
ducing apparatus, these electrical oscillations in the condenser circuit
are finally made to produce other oscillations in an air wire or open cir-
cuit, just as the puffs of air finally expend themselves in producing
aerial oscillations in the siren tube. Finally, in the one case we have
a series of air waves and in the other case, a series of electrical waves.
These trains of electric waves or air waves, as the case may be, are
intermitted into long and short groups, in accordance with the signals
of the Morse alphabet, and therefore tlio Hertzian wave transmitter,
in whatever form it may be employed, wlien operated by means of a
Marconi aerial, is in fact an electrical siren a])paratus, the function
of which is to create periodic disturbances in the universal ether of
the same character as those which the siren produces in atmospheric
air.

{To be contintied.)

DISCUSSION AND CORRESPONDENCE.

373

DISCUSSION AND CORRESPONDENCE.

THE BIRTH RATE IN FICTION.

As the question of the size of family
appears to be much discussed just now,
I should like to call attention to the
low birth rate in novels and plays,
which, united as it is with a high
death rate, will inevitably lead to the
rapid extermination of the hero and
heroine. I am under the impression
also that the birth rate is decreasing,
and while families of a respectable size
may be found occasionally in Thack-
eray and Dickens, they scarcely exist
in Meredith, Hardy and James. Al-
though, so far as I am aware, atten-
tion has never been called to the
alarming conditions, their existence
will be recognized readily by readers
of novels and play-goers. It will
suffice to refer to two novels, which I
think are fairly typical — ' Vanity
Fair ' and ' Beauchamp's Career.'

Becky Sharp was an only child, nor
do we hear of uncles or aunts. ' Vanity
Fair ' is a novel without a hero. Sir
Pitt Crawley, twice married, has four
children, his brother five and his sister
none; so there is an average family of
three, just sufficient to maintain that
questionable line. Osborne and Dob-
bin each have two sisters, and we have
again the family required for a sta-
tionary population. The Sedley family
consists of brother and sister. In the
next generation, however, things are
worse. Amelia has two husbands and
two children, Becky one child, Sir Pitt
one and Josh none. This is appar-
ently an average family of 1.83, which

is almost exactly that of the Harvard
graduates, according to President
Eliot.

In ' Beauchamp's Career ' Nevil is
an only child and leaves a child to
survive him; Everard Romfrey, marry-
ing childless Mrs. Culling, has one
child who dies in infancy; his brother
has none; old Mrs. Beauchamp has
none. Austin, Baskelett, Lydiard and
Dr. Shrapnel leave no posterity. Of
the three heroines, Jenny and Cecilia
are only children; Renee is of the
typical French family of two, but has
herself no children. This is obviously
a very bad state of afi'airs — an aver-
age family of one half child and a net
fertility of only 0.43. As these sta-
tistics have been collected in large
measure from a fallible memory, they
may not be exactly correct, and they
may not be entirely representative,
"but I am confident that they would be
substantially confirmed by more ac-
curate and extensive data. They cer-
tainly foretell the rapid extermination
of the population of the novel.

The conditions appear to be still
worse in the drama. It is true that
here the marriage rate is high, and
something may be left to the imagina-
tion. But Hamlet, Macbeth, Othello
and Romeo have no lines of descent,
nor does Lear, though he has three
daughters. In the current play the
woman with a past may occasionally
have a child; she certainly never has
the average family of four to five; but
her extermination is not so deplorable.

C.

374

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

SCIENTIFIC LITERATUEE.

F0RE8TRY.

The people of the country are
rapidly awakening to the immense
economic importance of our forests
and to the dangerous rapidity with
which they are being exterminated.
Germany and other countries have long
maintained strict forestry systems and
schools for foresters; our own re-
sources were so great that there seemed

$254,000 for the present year. Schools
of forestry have been established at
Cornell, Yale and Harvard — we may
be sure that New York state will soon
repent its attitude toward the' school
at Cornell — and there is a general
awakening of interest in the whole
subject.

Under these circumstances a little
book recently issued by Ginn and Com-

'W^-

':',1 — ',^ ••^^J.aiki'w/vo

I :■':'•■ i"

»%lWi!iSij> ivvo.
. " " - - ■^i.'fi'' ' V.

^ffl'ZikA'** N.-M£>

--.. ®

Coniferous foreirfe

Conifers witli n mixturp of hardwoo<li

Conifon Miuitcri'd, pingly in groves or

flmull ImrtiL-s
Hardwood foreetR

Ilurdwoods with a mixture of conifen
llnrdwoods scaltcrcd ; largely scrub oak
BuK lands, prnirii- und df »iTt

^•'

N.DAK. \ V&jpiMp*' ^^
--- 1 k)tris

iowAi:;;S.:.v-::V\

KAN

NEB.

OKLif,.^

Forest Map of the United States.

to be no need of economy. But we are
now told that the forests under present
methods will scarcely last for thirty
years, and there is a general demand
for more knowledge and better man-
agement. In the past few years the
Bureau of Forestry luider the national
government has grown rapidly, the
appropriation for investigation having
increased from $80,000 in 1901 to

pany, entitled ' First Book of Forestry,'
is more deserving of notice than other
works of greater pretensions. The
author, Mr. Filbert Roth, of the
Bureau of Forestry, is an authority
on the subject, and is able to put it in
a simple and interesting form. The
book is just what is needed as a tract,
and it is to be hoped that it will be
widely read.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

375

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

THE BOSTON MEETING OF THE

NATIONAL EDUCATIONAL

ASSOCIATION.

It is usual for each meeting of the
National Educational Association to
show an attendance and to claim a
success surpassing its predecessors,
but the recent Boston meeting estab-
lished a record that has not hitherto
been approached and that will not
soon be challenged. It is said that
there was a registration of thirty
thousand, an assemblage of teachers
larger than the world has hitherto
seen. Boston is no longer without
rival as an intellectual center, but its
preeminence in the history of educa-
tion is maintained, and the intellec-
tual and educational interests of the
city are not submerged and hidden to
such an extent as is the case in New
York, Washington, Philadelphia and
Chicago. It is thus the city which
has the most to attract a great con-
vention of teachers.

The meetings of the National Edu-
cational Association are, in a large
measure, an excursion or picnic, the
interest of the city and the journey
counting for more than the program.
There are few or no sessions in tho
afternoon, not more than half the
members attend the sectional meetings
in the morning, and not more than one
tenth the general evening sessions
after the first day. This is quite as
it should be, for the teachers from all
over the country gain much from
travel, sightseeing and social exchange,
whereas the programs do a good deal
of threshing over of old straw. It is,
however, a great stimulus for these
teachers to see and hear their leaders;
and it was worth going to Boston to
listen to the president of the associa-

tion. President Eliot, of Harvard Uni-
versity, who is without peer as a pre-
siding officer and speaker.

In his presidential address entitled
' The New Definition of the Cultivated
Man,' Dr. Eliot — who, it may be called
to mind, was a professor of chemistry
before he became the greatest college
president and educational leader of
the country — laid stress on the fact
that the scientific method has been the
means of the wonderful widening of
the intellect that has occurred during
the past hundred years and is as neces-
sary for culture as are the humanities ;
but no special language or literature,
such as Latin or Greek, is now essen-

tial.

English

having become incom-

parably the most extensive and various
and the noblest of literatures. After
referring to a work of Zola's^ Dr.
Eliot said:

Contrast this kind of constructive
imagination with the kind which con-
ceived the great wells sunk in the solid
rock below Niagara that contain the
turbines that drive the dynamos, that
generate the electric force that turns
thousands of wheels and lights thou-
sands of lamps over hundreds of square
miles of adjoining territory; or with
tlie kind which conceives the sending
of human thoughts across three thou-
sand miles of stormy sea instantane-
ously on nothing more substantial
than ethereal waves. There is going
to be room in the hearts of twentieth
century men for a high admiration of
these kinds of imagination, as well a&
for that of the poet, artist or drama-
tist. It is one lesson of the nineteenth
century, then, that in every field of
human knowledge the constructive im-
agination finds play — in literature, in
history, in theology, in anthropology
and in the whole field of physical and
biological research. That great cen-
tury has taught us that, on the whole,
the scientific imagination is quite as
productive for human service as the

376

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

literary or poetic imagination. The
imagination of DarAvin or Pasteur, for
example, is as high and productive a
form of imagination as that of Dante,
of Goethe, or even of Shakespeare, if
we regard the human uses which re-
sult from the exercise of imaginative

others took part in the departmental
sections for elementary, secondary and
higher education, science, normal
schools, school administration, phys-
ical education, defective children, In-
dian education, business, art, musiCj

PErSIIENT Chaim.ks av. Ki.iot.

powers, and mean by human uses not
meat and drink, clothes and shelter,
but the satisfaction of mental and
spiritual needs.

Tliere were some three hundred
speakers announced on the official
program, a few of whom addressed
the general evening sessions, while the

libraries, cliild study and kindergarten.
The discussion of tlie teaching of sci-
ence should be of especial interest to
the readers of this journal, but this
is never noteworthy at the meetings
of the association, there being very
few men of science in attendance. It
is unfortunate that this is the ease,

THE PROGEESS OF SCIENCE.

377

as it is of tlie utmost importance for
scientific leaders to familiarize them-
selves with the teaching of science in
the public schools. We ought to
know, for example, why the number of
high school students studying physics
decreased during the past ten years
from twenty-four to eighteen per cent,
wliilc the number studying Latin in-
creased from forty to fifty per cent.

THE PROBLEM OF THE COLLEGE.
The most interesting discussion at
the meeting of the National Educa-
tional Association was one on the
length of the baccalaureate course and
the preparation for the professional
schools, in which Presidents Eliot,
Harper and Butler and Deans West
and Ilering were the official speakers.
It is a most important question. There
are now somewhat over 100,000 stu-
dents in our colleges, universities and
technical schools, and somewhat over
50,000 students in our professional
schools of theology, law and medicine.
In 1901, the last year for which the
records have been published by the
Bureau of Education, there were grad-
uated from the colleges and technical
schools 16,513 students, of whom
11,463 were men and 5,050 were wo-
men. Fifty difTerent kinds of degrees
were given to these graduates; but the
classification of the commissioner of
education is apparently faulty in at-
tributing students of engineering to
the colleges rather than to the profes-
sional schools. The number of regular
academic bachelor degrees conferred
was as follows: A.B., 7,943; B.S ,
3,023; Ph.B., 1,112; B.L., 716. Of
higher degrees the numbers were A.M.,
1,280; M.S., 192; Ph.M., 22; M.L., 12;
Ph.D., 343; Sc.D., 5. From the pro-
fessional schools there were: gradu-
ates in theology, 1,585; in law, 3,306;
in medicine, 5,472; in dentistry,
2,311; in pharmacy, 1,373; in veterin-
ary medicine, 109. The number of
students in theology has remained
practically stationary since 1890;

medical students have increased 73
per cent., and students of law to the
remarkable extent of 202 per cent. In
this period the men attending the col-
leges have increased 68 per cent, and
the women 159 per cent., a relation
which some will find gratifying and
others will regard as ominous. The
large figures do not represent the real
increase in students, as the high
school is now doing in large measure
what was formerly done by the college.
The increase in the number of high

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400.000

350.000

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r

Number of Students in Public and Private
Secondary Schools.

school students, as shown in the ac-
companying chart, is truly remarkable.
Worthy of note is also the fact that
the increase is entirely a matter of the
public secondary schools.

Of the 650,000 students in high,
normal and preparatory schools, the
100,000 in colleges and the 50,000 in
professional schools, the college stu-
dents appear to cause the most diffi-
culty to educators. The relation of
the college to the high school, on the

378

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

one hand, and to the professional
school, on the other, is a problem that
may ultimately be solved by the elim-
ination of the old-fashioned college.
The better high schools overlap the
first two years of the vreaker colleges,
and the last two years of the college
are often given in part to specialized
or professional studies. Only one
medical student in twelve holds a
bachelor's degree. Our college is re-
garded as a distinctly American insti-
tution and is venerated as such. When
there were but few high schools and
when professional schools were private
ventures, the college was the chief fac-
tor in education and culture. It is,
however, now struggling for its exist-
ence, and has become so hybridized and
diversified that there is no typical col-
lege.

The differences of opinion among the
college administrators who took part
in the discussion at Boston were ex-
treme. President Eliot has consist-
ently urged a three-year college course,
beginning at the age of eighteen, con-
sisting of elective studies and required
for the professional schools. Dean
West said that three years might be
quite long enough for electives, but
that we should have a four-year course
composed of 'disciplinary ' studies.
President Harper also favors four
years, but allows a sliding scale.
President Butler prefers a two-year
course for students preparing for the
professions, beginning at the age of
sixteen or seventeen. All the college
officers who spoke at Boston agree,
however, that the college course must
be prerequisite to the professional
schools, at least to the better ones.
None of them seemed to regard it as
possible that the distinction between
' cultural ' and useful studies is arti-
ficial. Certainly none of them sug-
gested that the student should be set
free to do his work, and the bac-
calaureate degree be given him on his
twenty first birtliday.

THE BRITISH ANTARCTIC EX-
PEDITION.

Advices received in England and an-
nounced by the president of the Royal
Geographical Society and others make
it possible to form a reasonably correct
estimate of the work accomplished by
the British Antarctic Expedition and
its present condition. The Morning,
the relief ship under the command of
Captain Colbeck, sighted the Discovery
on Januaiy 23, but owing to the ice
pack was not able to approach nearer
to it than a distance of five miles.
The Morning, having transferred the
stores, left the ice on March 2, when
there was already danger that she
would become shut in. At this time
it was hoped that the Discovery might
be released from the ice, but this evi-
dently proved impossible, as the ship
would have reached New Zealand be-
fore this. We reproduce from the
Journal of the Royal Geographical So-
ciety a sketch showing the position of
the Discovery, the configuration of the
land and the routes taken by the ex-
peditions. It will be seen that the ice
line was considerably further north in
1903 than in 1902, and unless it re-
treats in 1904, the Discovery must be
abandoned. It is of course necessary
under these circumstances to send a
relief expedition again next year, and
efforts are being made to collect money
for this purpose. The government has
been applied to for assistance, and the
premier in the House of Commons re-
cently, while implying that assistance
would be granted, rather severely
blamed the Royal Geographical Society
and the Royal Society for not foresee-
ing this need.

The most dramatic result of the
expedition was reaching the point
furthest south, at latitude 82° 17',
from whicli land could be seen as
far south as 83° 30', with mountain
ranges and peaks as high as 14,000 feet.
The trip was made by Captain Scott,
accompanied by Lieutenant Shackleton

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

379

and Dr. ^YilsoIl, wlio 1 raveled nearly soundings and deep-sea dredgings were
one thoxisaiul miles, di-awing their sleds, made, and nndoubtedly valuable zoo-
after it had been necessary to kill the logical and botanical collections were
dogs owing to lack of food. Lieutenant I obtained.

Sketch showing the Portion of the Discovery in the Antarctic Reuiuns.

Shackleton, who became ill, returned
on the Morning, and is about to pub-
lish an account of the expedition. An-
other expedition headed by Lieutenants
Armitage and Skelton went westward,
climbing a glacier 9,000 feet high, the
ice extending far inland. Other geo-
graphical results of interest were the
discovery that Mts. Erebus and Terror
are on a small island and that Mae-
Murdo Bay is not a bay but a strait.
The remaining scientific work of the
expedition has not been reported on
very fully. Magnetic work was carried
on continuously, some 400 magneto-
grams having been taken; a seismo-
graph was also working regularly;

THE SO-CALLED MOSQUITO DE-
STROYER.

The New York Sun of July 13
printed an article to the effect that the
Public Health and Marine-Hospital
Service had discovered a parasite which
would destroy mosquitoes, and from
the account it appears as if the service
intended to breed these worms in order
to use them as a practical means for
combating the mosquito plague. As
the proposition is one which will doubt-
less attract popular attention, it will
be well to place the exact facts before
our readers.

A comparison of the Sun's account
with the publications of the service

38o

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

shows that the newspaper account is
based directly upon an ai'ticle by Dr.
Stiles which is entitled ' A Parasitic
Roundworm (Agamomermis culi^is) in
American Mosquitoes (Culex sollici-

ferent parts of the world and adds a
new one to the list. This is a round-
worm about half an inch long which
lives in the abdominal cavity. He says :
" At a time when mosquitoes are sub-

Memoriai, to Geuu(;e Stevknson, keukntly erected in the Railway Station at Rome

tans),' and which appeared in 'Bulletin
13,' Hygienic Laboratory, of the service.
In this article Dr. Stiles refers to
several parasitic organisms which have
been described from mosquitoes in dif-

jected to such careful study, because of
the impoi'tant relations they bear to
jiublic health, especially in connection
with malaria, yellow fever, etc., it is
of interest to determine what parasites

THE L'UOGEESS OF SCIENCE.

3«i

nalunilly infest thorn. This determina-
tion has its practical as well as its
scientific value, for it enables us to
eliminate certain non-pat hojrenic para-
sitic organisms from the life cycle of
pathogenic organisms, stages of whicli
juay be found in mosquitoes. It further
has its direct practical bearing in that
the parasites of mosquitoes may multi-
ply to such an extent as to become
important factors in killing the insects,
or at least in rendering them less fer-
tile."

He also refers to a similar Agam-
omermis, which he found in mosquitoes
in Leipzig and which, according to

Paul Belloni du Chaillu, the African Ex-
plorer, WHO DIED ON April 29, liiOo.

Leuckart, seems to have an influence
in decreasing the numbers of mosqui-
toes. Finally Dr. Stiles says : " These
cases represent interesting instances in
nature, where a pest is subject to other
pests which tend to hold the former in
check."

We do not find in the article any
suggestion that the Public Health Ser-
vice is breeding these worms for prac-
tical purposes, as intimated by the
Sun, in order to kill mosquitoes. In
fact, it would take considerable study
to determine whether such a plan
would be practicable. If this parasite

could be bred artificially in sufiicicnt
numbers it is by no means an imprac-
ticable proposition to utilize them to
destroy mosquitoes in regions where
the use of kerosene is dillicult or im-
possible. We do not, however, gather
from the article the impression that
the service projjoses any such jjlan at
present. In fact, we can see technical
difficulties in the way which would
make the method rather expensive, and
it would, at most, be applicable only
under certain conditions. We can not,
therefore, hold out any great hope that
Agamomermis culicis, which the New
York Sun has named the ' mosquito
destroyer,' presents to us at present a
substitute for kerosene and proper
drainage. But we share the view ex-
pressed in the original article that this
represents ' a case of parasitism of
considerable interest ' and that para-
sites of mosquitoes, like parasites of
other animals, ' may multiply to such
an extent as to become important fac-
tors in killing the insects, or at least
in rendering them less fertile.'

RADIUM IN ENGLAND.

That marvelous substance radium,
some account of which was published
in the Popular Science Monthly for
July, 1900, and June, 1903, still at-
tracts the attention of both men of
science and laymen throughout intel-
lectual nations. In London recently
the luminescent property of the rays
issuing from the element was shown to
King Edward and Queen Alexandra, on
the occasion of their visit to the Lon-
don Hospital, and the penetrating
power of the rays was also demon-
strated by the following: A pile of
six pennies was placed over a small
piece of radium and the light emitted
was visible through the coins.

At the Museum of Natural History,
London, the director has arranged a
little exhibition with a view to giving
the public an opportunity of seeing the
material and some of its interesting
properties. Its source is shown in

382

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

specimens of uraninite, or pitchblende,
one from mines in Cornwall, and the
other from Bohemia; as is well kno^vn
to readers of the Monthly, only a few
decigrams of radium can be separated
from a ton of the mineral, and the iso-
lation of the element is difficult, owing
to its chemical affinities with the
metals of the alkaline earths (barium,
strontium and calcium). In contrast
with the velvety black, massive pitch-
blende, are a few decigrams of pure
radium bromide, a white salt resem-
bling exteriorly common salt. ' Near by
is a salt of barium, the crystals of
which are rendered luminous when ex-
posed to the emanations from a radium
compound, even when a pile of copper
coins, or a piece of marble more than
one inch in thickness, is placed between
them. The labels on these specimens
duly explain that these emanations
also act in the dark on photographic
plates, and make the air traversed by
them conductive of electricity.

The exhibition also includes the fol-
lowing: A box blackened inside and
mounted on a stand, the whole re-
sembling somewhat a large photo-
graphic camera, especially since the
open end of the box is screened with
black velvet that might be mistaken
for a focusing cloth. On raising this
screen the visitor sees at the farther
end in letters of light, the word
R-A-D-I-U-M. This word has been
painted with radium bromide on hexag-
onal sulphide of zinc, which becomes
luminous when brought near a com-
pound of radium. Thus the emission
of light by the new element is demon-
strated as effectively, though not so
strikingly as by Sir William Crookes
in his experiments at the conversazione
of the Royal Society, when the scintil-
lations of radium were rendered visible
by means of a blende screen and in-
tensified by the use of a lens of mod-
erate magnifying power. Residents of
London, and visitors to that metropolis,
will enjoy forming practical acquaint-
ance with radium and witli some of its

extraordinary properties that may be
envied by citizens of America.

THE FRANKLIN PAPERS IN THE

LIBRARY OF THE AMERICAN

PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY.

At the meeting of the American
Philosophical Society last spring, Mr.
J. G. Rosengarten gave an account
of some seventy large folio volumes
of Franklin's papers, preserved in the
archives of the society. Franklin left
all his papers to his grandson, William
Temple Franklin, who, after a long in-
terval, published in London and in
Philadelphia six volumes of Franklin's
works. Of course, this represented
but a small part of his papers. Those
used in the preparation of Temple
Franklin's edition are now the prop-
erty of the United States, which has
never yet printed a calendar of them.
Temple Franklin selected from his
grandfather's papers those that he
thought suitable for publication, and
left the rest of them in charge of his
friend, Charles Fox, to whom he be-
queathed them, and Charles Fox, in
turn, after a long lapse of years, pre-
sented them to the American Philo-
sophical Society, in whose custody they
have remained ever since.

They have been roughly classified,
and are bound in a rude and careless
way. Under the present efficient
librarian. Dr. Hays, a calendar is being
made as fast as the limited means at
his disposal will permit, and, when
it is completed, it is hoped that it
will be printed as a useful guide to the
miscellaneous matter collected here.
Sparks, Hale, Ford, Parton, Fisher and
others who have written about Frank-
lin have used them, but even the most
industrious student may well be ap-
palled at the labor required to master
all the contents of these bulky volumes
representing Franklin's long and many-
sided activity.

He kept copies of most of his own
letters and the originals addressed to
him, often indorsing on them the heads

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

383

of his replies. Tliese volumes con-
tain papers from 1735 to 17!)0 — the
first forty four volumes, letters to him;
the forty-fifth, copies of his own let-
ters; the forty-sixth, his correspond-
ence with his wife; the forty-seventh
and forty-eighth, his own letters from
1720 to 1791; the forty-ninth, his sci-
entific and political papers; the fiftieth,
his other writings— notably his Baga-
telles, those short essays which had
such a vogue, and which are still read;
the fifty-first, poetry and verse, his own
and that of others, no doubt selected
by him for use in his publications; the
fifty-second, the Georgia papers — he
was agent for that colony; and the
remaining twenty volumes, all the
multifarious correspondence, other
than official, mostly during his long
stay in France, his various public
offices at home and abroad, his enor-
mous correspondence about appoint-
ments from men of all nationalities,
who wanted to come to America under
his patronage to fight, to settle, to
teach, to introduce their inventions
for every imaginable and unimaginable
purpose.

Both in England and France he kept
all notices of meetings, such as those
of the Royal Society, and other scien-
tific bodies of which he was a member,
invitations, visiting cards, notes, busi-
ness cards, etc., and at home he kept
copies of wills, deeds, powers of at-
torney, bonds, agreements, bills and
drafts, checks, bills of lading, public
accounts and even certified copies of
acts of congress and account books. It
is to be hoped that the preparation and
publication of the calendar showing the
contents of this rich mass of materials
may be completed at no distant day,
certainly by the two hundredth anni-
versary of the birth of Franklin.

THE EDUCATION OF ENGINEERS.
At a recent meeting of the British
Institution of Mechanical Engineers,
Professor W. E. Dalby read a paper on
' The Education of Engineers in

America, Germany and Switzerland.'
According to the report in the London
Times, the author pointed out tliat with
scientific progress, changing methods of
manufacture and the advent of elec-
tricily, there has been scarcely any
change in the recognized methods of
training engineers. At the present
time, however, there is no difficulty in
obtaining scientific instruction of a
high character, and a training in work-
shop practise second to none can be
secured in the factories of this coun-
try. The weak point is the want of
cooperation between the workshops and
the colleges. The author proceeded to
give details of the course of instruc-
tion followed at the Massachusetts In-
stitute of Technology, Boston, U. S. A. ;
at Sibley College, Cornell University;
at the Berlin Technical High School,
and at the Swiss Federal Polytechnic
School at Zurich. There is an essen-
tial difference in the methods of train-
ing in America and Germany.

In America the course of instruction
is very exactly laid down; in Germany
no student is compelled to take any
special course, though, for his con-
venience, definite courses are laid down
in the school calendar. At Zurich the
course is partly prescribed and partly
selected. The American course may be
taken as 3,000 hours, distributed over
four years; the continental course is
4,000 hours, distributed over three
years, independently of laboratory
work. The fourth year is not in-
cluded, as it is cut up by examination
work. In America a large proportion
of the time is devoted to workshop
practise; in Germany and Switzerland
no time at all is thus occupied. The
American courses are more practical
in character and devote a large pro-
portion of the course to the teaching
of handicraft skill. In America a
student finds himself with a dejrree or
diploma at the age of twenty-one. Em-
ployers take him without premium and

3«4

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

pay a wage sufficient for maintenance
straightway, recogni;.ing that his
knowleJge places him in a different
position to ordinary apprentices. In
this way they get highly-trained men
into their works, and by their own ob-
servation soon discover whether the
youth possesses, in addition to intel-
lectual acuteness, the qualities which
o-o to make a successful business man
or a good organizer, and recruit their
staff accordingly. The author sug-
gested the question whether the British
method of training was better or
worse; whether the methods could be
improved in the light of what was be-
ing done abroad. Most people, he said,
wovild consider the methods of Char-
lottenburg and Zurich too academical;
whilst many, though admiring the
American system of workshop instruc-
tion, think it better it should be ob-
tained under the practical conditions
of actual work. A youth who is to
become a leader in the future needs
to know the habits and thoughts of the
men. One thing the author consid-
ered certain — the American, German
or Swiss student starts his college
course with a far better education on
which to build.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS.

Dr. Carl Gegenbauer, the eminent
anatomist, since 1863 professor at
Heidelberg, died on June 15, at the
age of seventy-seven years. — Dr. A. A.
Common, F.R.S., known for his im-
portant researches in astronomy, es-
pecially in connection with reflecting
telescopes, died on June 2, at the age
of sixty-two years.

A COMMITTEE of eminent chemists
has been formed to erect a monument
at Heidelberg in memory of Robert
Bunsen. It is intended that the con-
tributions sliall be international ; they
may be sent to the treasurer, Herr A.
Rodrian, Heidelberg.

The park commissioners of Chicago
have approved the transfer of the
Field Columbian Museum from Jack-
son Park to Grant Park, which is on
the lake front in the center of the
city. It is understood that Mr. Mar-
shall Field has agreed to give $5,000,-
000 for the construction and endow-
ment of the museum. — It is said that
the trustees of the Rush Medical Col-
lege, the medical department of the
University of Chicago, have collected
$1,000,000 for the institution, and that
this assures a gift of $6,000,000 to the
school by Mr. John D. Rockefeller.

THE

POPULAR SCIENCE
MONTHLY.

SEPTEMBEE, 1903.

PALM AND SOLE IMPEESSIONS AND THEIE USE FOR
PURPOSES OF PERSONAL IDENTIFICATION.

By Professor HARRIS HAWTHORNE WILDER,

SMITH COLLEGE.

"TN a former number of this magazine (November, 1902) I gave a
-*- brief account of the epidermic ridges upon the human palmar
and plantar surfaces, and emphasized their great individual difference
and their applicability for use in the identification of individuals, liv-
ing or dead. In the present article I shall endeavor to set forth a
simple method by means of which these individual records may be
formulated and classified and thus be rendered serviceable as a practical
system of personal identification.

Aside from the use of photographs and the more obvious descriptive
methods, which include such attributes as height, weight, color of eyes
and hair, moles, birth and tattoo marks, etc., there are now in use two
distinct scientific systems of identification, that of M. Alphonse Ber-
tillon, based upon bodily measurements, and that of Mr. Francis Gal-
ton, based upon the epidermic ridges of the finger tips.

These two systems are absolutely distinct from one another, al-
though, judging from frequent newspaper notices, they are popularly
confused, with a tendency to ascribe both to Bertillon, in the same
way that electrical inventions are popularly associated with the name
of Edison, or theories of evolution with that of Darwin. Indeed, there
seems to be a common disposition in America to ascribe the idea of the
use of 'thumb-marks' to Mark Twain, who in his 'Puddenhead Wilson'
has undoubtedly done much to call the public attention to the epidermic
ridges of that very restricted area, although, as a consequence of the
story, one continually meets with the notion that the epidermic pattern

VOL. LXIII. — 25.

386 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

of the ball of the thumb (usually considered to be the right one alone)
is individual and distinctive, while those of the remaining fingers, or
the similar markings of the palm are of no importance.

It is of interest also to note that, owing to the common belief in
palmistry, whereby divination is performed by means of the chance
wrinkles caused by the motion of the fingers, these useless features
have assumed so great importance that the far more interesting ridges
appear to be usually ignored or even overlooked entirely, and as for the
ridges of the sole of the foot or the balls of the toes, their very existence
appears to be generally unknown.

Since there seems to be so much popular misinformation upon the
subject of systems of identification, it may not be superfluous to begin
the present discussion with a brief description of each of the two sys-
tems mentioned above, after which will be presented the claims of
the sj'stem based upon palms and soles.

I. The Bertillon system.
The first scientific method for classifying humanity by data fur-
nished by individual bodily peculiarities, or at least the first that be-
came widely adopted, was that devised by M. Alphonse Bertillon, who
in 1880 founded his celebrated system of identification by means of
bodily measurements, 'Identification anthropometrique. ' In this he
applies the principles of anthropometrics, employed hitherto mainly
as ethnological criteria or for use in physical culture, to the identifica-
tion of individuals, using for that purpose only those measurements
which depend on skeletal parts, and which are, therefore, practically
unchanging after adult life is reached. The measurements selected
to form the basis of his system are as follows:

I. Measurements based upon the entire body. [Mesures relevees sur

V ensemble du corps.]
Standing height. [Taille — hauteur de I'homme deiotit.]
Arm reach. [Envergure des bras.]
Sitting height. [Buste — Hauteur de I'homme assis.]

II. Measurements based upon the head. [Mesures relevees sur la tcte.]

Length of head. [Longueur da la tete.]

Breadth of head. [Largueur de la tete.]

Length of right ear. [Longueur de I'oreille droite.]

Breadth of right ear. [Largueur de Vorellle droite.]

III. Measurements based upon the extremities. [Mesures relev4es sur

les membres.]
Length of left foot. [Longueur du pied gauche.]
Length of left middle finger. [Longueur du doigt m4dius gauche.]
Length of left little finger. [Longueur de I'aurieulaire gauche.]
Length of left cubitus. [Longueur de la coud6e gauche.]

i. c., elbow to tip of extended middle finger.

Each of these eleven measurements is subdivided into tlii'ee groups,
small, medium and large [petite moyen, grand] ; in accordance with

PALM AND SOLE IMPRESSIONS. 387

definite though arbitrary limits, themselves the result of much experi-
ence ill measurements, and designed to divide any average set of
measurements into three approximately equal divisions, rather than to
divide equally the range of millimeters between the extremes of a given
measurement. Thus, to quote an example furnished, "the numerical
limits of the 'medium' head-length as used at the Prefecture of Police
in Paris include an interval of but G millimeters (185-190), while
those included under 'large' extend from 191 mm. to the greatest
dimensions possible, an extent of more than three centimeters."*

Now if we were to conceive of each one of these eleven measure-
menfs as varying independently of one another and as being divided
into three subdivisions, the number of possible subdivisions under
which individual anthropometric records could be filed would reach
the large number of 3 to the 11th power, or 177,147, but in practical
use M. Bertillon employs for purposes of identification only a few of
these measurements, which he gives in the work just quoted, together
with an hypothetical application, as follows:

He supposes the case of 90,000 sets of measurements, a number
approximately corresponding to that of the adult male prisoners re-
corded in the Paris prisons up to 1893. Of these the first classifica-
tion is made by means of the length of head, and as the subdivisions,
small, medium and large, are fixed with reference to equality of
division, approximately 30,000 of these records will be placed in each.

Each of these subdivisions is now divided again into three parts,
in accordance with the breadth of head, a division which leaves ap-
proximately 10,000 in each of the nine compartments, i. e., 10,000
individuals whose head length and head breadth fall into the same
categories. The third division, which reduces the number of records
in each of 27 compartments to about 3,300, is based upon the length of
the left middle finger, and the fourth, resulting in 1,100 in each of
the 81 compartments, is based upon the length of the left foot. The
length of the cubitus then follows, which increases the number of com-
partments to 243 (=3^) and the number of individual cases in a
compartment to less than 400. By the addition of the standing height,
the number of compartments is increased to 729 (=3^) and that of
the cases in each compartment to approximately 130, and these num-
bers become respectively 2187 (=3'^) and 42 by the use of measure-
ments taken from the left little finger. These are finally reduced to
small sets of a dozen records each by such criteria as the color of the
eye and the length of the right ear, after which this small number may
be carefully compared for individual measurements.

With some modifications the above system is in official use in most
of the civilized countries of the world, including England, Eussia,

* Bertillon, A. ' Instructions Signal^tiqiies,' 1893. Introduction.

388 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Belgium, Switzerland, the United States and the majority of the
South American republics, but in at least some of these cases the gov-
ernmental acceptance of the system does not mean an extensive prac-
tical use, a condition of affairs especially true in the United States,
where the governmental acceptance means merely an official sanction
and where each state, or even each municipality, may employ its own
methods of recording and registering criminals, quite independently
of its neighbors. In this country the main reliance is placed upon
photographs and descriptions, sent to various police headquarters in
the form of little handbills, and although one sees occasionally among
the descriptive part of these a set of Bertillon measurements (without
further designations), it is very doubtful if in cities of moderate size the
police authorities have any definite idea of their significance, or possess
the necessary instruments for obtaining these measurements and thus
verifying the data furnished. In England the Bertillon system is ex-
tensively employed, although in a somewhat modified form, to which is
appended, at present as a supplementary system, that of Galton, to be
described below. On October 21, 1893, a departmental committee was
appointed by the home secretary, the Hon. H. H. Asquith, to inquire
into the various methods of identification of criminals, and an official
report was presented by them on February 12, 1894, and published as
a Bluebook (C. 7263). The recommendations embodied in this report,
and adopted in full by the English government, were as follows (para-
phrased) :

I. To photograph criminals as at present, the photographs to consist of

both a front and profile view, taken on separate negatives, and not
by means of a mirror, as heretofore.

II. To employ the first five of the Bertillon measurements, as follows, ex-

pressed in millimeters:

1. Length of head.

2. Breadth of head.

3. Length of left middle finger.

4. Length of left forearm.

5. Length of left foot.

III. To take the finger prints by Mr. Galton's method.

IV. To add a brief description including the height in feet and inches, color

of hair, eyes and complexion and distinctive marks, the latter in a
fixed order, beginning with the head, then the hands and arms, then
the body, and lastly the legs and feet.

With regard to that portion of the recommendation which concerns

the Bertillon system the committee gave its unqualified approval to

the use of the first five categories as given above, but felt that the

further subdivisions (height, length of little finger and color of eyes)

were rather unsatisfactory. As stated in the report :

The length of the little finger is closely correlated with the length of the
middle finger; in most cases where the one is long, the other is long also.
The heiglit again is a very unsatisfactory measurement; it is subject to varia-

PALM AND SOLE IMPRESSIONS. 389

tion in the same person, and it nmy ho attended by trickery on the part of the
person measured. By the Metropolitan rolice a margin for error of two inclies
in each direction is allowed in classifying cases by height. Even with the
greater accuracy of the French measurement a considerable margin has to be
given. The accurate description of the color of the eye is still more difficult.
The seven colors taken by M. Bcrtillon can be discriminated only by persons
having much practical experience, and even then many doubtful and transi-
tional cases must occur.

For the 'primary classification/ that based on the first five Bertillon
measurements, a complete outfit, such as would be necessary at an
important registration station, would consist of 343 drawers, corre-
sponding to the 5tli power of 3, the number of possibilities involved.

The arrangement of this index register will be the same as M. Bertillon's,
a cabinet of drawers first divided vertically into three divisions according to
length of head, and horizontally according to width of head. The nine sections
thus formed will be divided vertically according to length of finger and hori-
zontally according to length of forearm, and again vertically according to length
of foot. There will be 243 drawers, each containing one class of cards. The
figures which are to determine the ' long,' ' medium ' and ' short ' of the several
classes might be borrowed in the first instance from M. Bertillon, but in that
case on account of racial differences they would have ultimately to be altered in
order to keep the classes equal in size. It would be best, therefore, that the
measurements taken in this country by Mr. Galton and by the Anthropological
Institute should be utilized and correct figures for England fixed from the
outset.

The above quotation from the English report is given in full mainly
for the purpose of showing the great disadvantage to the entire system,
which results from racial difEerences in bodily proportions, a fact which
will necessitate either one of two alternatives, both bad; that of using
special figures for each country or of having very unequal subdivisions
in certain cases. This is a decided barrier to the internationalizing
of the system and must necessarily be reckoned as a serious defect.

Without meaning to seem ungracious to a system the advantage of
which over all previous methods has been universally recognized, and
one the scientific principles of which reflect so much credit upon the
deviser, it may be well, in closing this brief account, to enumerate the
defects of the Bertillon system, some of which are, indeed, incident to
any system which human ingenuity can devise, and the most of which
have been foreseen, aclmowledged and corrected so far as possible by
M. Bertillon himself.

1. The limitation of the system to the period of adult life.

2. The necessary disparities between the same measurements taken
at different times by different mensurators, or indeed by the same one
(percentage of error).

3. For the purpose of an equal classification, the necessity of as-
signing independent limits to the records kept by each nation.

4. The greater amount of time consumed in making a set of meas-

390 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

urements and in recording and classifying the same, as compared with
the printing and reading required by either the Galton system or by
the one advocated in the present paper. A careful test of this has not
yet been made, but when we consider the number of single acts involved
in the making of the records required by each system, the conclusion
is obvious. In identifying an individual by means of a previous record,
the Bertillon system demands a complete remeasurement, while by the
palm and sole system a mere glance at a single palm is often sufficient
to establish the identity or the reverse. Ordinarily the difference of
time may not be great, but in the stress of modern competition a
slight disadvantage in this particular may be regarded as a relative
defect.

5. A more serious defect, wliich is also brought out by comparison,
is that the certainty of a Bertillon determination is not absolute, while
that of a system which involves either the finger tips or any other con-
siderable portion of the epidermic ridges of hand or foot is beyond
question. This has been thoroughly proved statistically by Galton and
morphologically and embryologically by a series of recent investiga-
tions in my laboratory.* The proof afforded by the study of duplicate
or 'identical' twins, where the resemblance, though gi'eater than it can
be in any other two persons, is still not absolute, affords farther evi-
dence of the same.f Galton says that a proved identity of finger
prints "far transcends in trustworthiness any other evidence from any
number of ordinary anthropometric data. By itself it is amply suffi-
cient to convict. Bertillonage {i. e., the system of Bertillon) can
rarely supply more than grounds for very strong suspicion ; the method
of finger prints affords certainty. "J

Although in the original system devised liy him Bertillon confined
his attention mainly to anthropometric measurements and rejected all
use of epidermic marking of hand or foot as impracticable§ in his
capacity as chief of the Bureau of Identification and with the evident

* A report of these investigations will shortly be published. See note, p. 396.

t See Am. Journal of Avat., Vol. 1, No. 4, November, 1902.

f 'Finger Prints,' Macmillan. 1892, pp. 107-108.

§ "Ainsi la solution du problfeme de I'identilication judiciaire consistait
moins dans la recherche de nouveaux elements caracteristiques de I'individualit^
que dans la decouverte d'un moyen de classification. Certes, je ne conteste
pas, ]>our no pnrler que du procode chinois, que les arabesques filigran^es que
pre.sente repidcnue de la face antciieurc du pouce ne soiont a la fois fixes chez
le meme sujet et extraordinairement variables d"un sujct a \m autre; et que
chaque individu ne poss&de la une espfece de sceau original et hien personnel.
INlalhoureuscnient il est tout aussi indeniable, nialgri? les reclicrchcs ingcnieuses
poursuivics par M. Francis Galton, en Anglcterre, que ces dessins ne presentent
pas par eux-meme des ^I6raents de variabilit6 assez tranches pour servir de
base a un icpcrtoire de plusieurs centaincs de niille cas." Bertillon. ' Instruc-
tions Signal^tiqucs,' IS!):^, Iiili'dduclion.

PALM AND SOLE IMPRESSIONS. 391

desire of bringing his work to the highest degree of efficiency, he has
recently adopted a part of Galton's system, and places the impressions
of certain of the finger-tips upon his identification-cards.

Unfortunately, I can not ascertain the exact date at which this
adoption of Galton's system was made, but upon a fac-simile card,
shown in a recent popular article on Bertillon's system (Leslie's
Weekly, April 16, 1903), which is dated August, 1901, spaces appear
below the words 'Pouce, Index, Medius, Annulaire' and are plainly
intended for the reception of the corresponding finger-prints. Within
a few weeks of the present writing there have appeared in various
newspapers (e. g., Boston Herald) accounts of the employment in
the State Prison at Auburn, K. Y., of imprints both of the fingers and
of the entire palm, but I am unable to ascertain anything definite con-
cerning the manner in which these prints are to be used. Mr. John
]Sr. Ross, the chief of the Bertillon department of the above-named
prison, has kindly given me what information he can concerning the
matter, but writes that it is 'an entirely new departure' and that
'directions as to its application have not yet been received by the
Bertillon operators of the different penal institutions' (June 29, 1903).
I am thus unable to say whether M. Bertillon has in mind the incor-
poration of any part of my system with those of himself and Mr.
Galton, but I have furnished him with reprints of my two previous
papers on the subject and have sent him also numerous manuscript
notes and samj^le prints, which together present the essential points
of the system as given in this paper.*

Should this system of mine be found of value and permanently
incorporated with the others, the 'Bertillon' system known in actual
practice will be, like most other inventions of real value, a composite
resulting from the independent investigations of several indi\a duals
working from different standpoints, and should be carefully distin-
guished from the real Bertillon system as described by him in his
published work, and outlined above.

* M. Bertillon's reply to the sending of my first paper is as follows:

Paris, le 12 Janvier 1903.
Monsieur.

J'ai pris grand interet il la lecture de votre etnde sur les lignes papillaires
du pied et de la main, et je vous prie de recevoir tons mes remerciments pour
I'obligeance que vous avez eue a m'adresser cette publication.

Conformement a votre desir, je vous transmets un examplaire de I'lntroduc-
tion de I'ouvrage qui j'ai fait paraitre en 1893 sous le titre de "Instructions
Signaletiques." I'editeur en est Mon. Durand, Rue Oberkampf No. 80 a Paris.

Veuillez agrier, Monsieur, I'expression de mes sentiments les plus distingues.

Le Chef du Service de I'ldentification

A. Bertillon.
Monsieur H. Wilder a Northampton.

392 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

II. The Galton system.

In the popular mind, as attested by numerous works of fiction and
by newspaper articles, the main use of the patterns of the finger tips
is to aid a detective in identifying a criminal by means of the marks
which his fingers have left upon the objects which he had handled;
but, as a matter of fact, although such a proceeding is certainly pos-
sible, Galton seems never to have suggested such sensational aid to
detective work. Both the Bertillon and the Galton systems are rather
methods of describing and registering a man, whether a criminal or
not, by certain physical peculiarities and in such a way that he or his
body may be identified at any future time; and both involve two pro-
cedures, (1) that of taking certain individual records, and (2) that of
classifying and arranging them so that they may be easily found when
occasion requires. The Galton system is based upon imprints of the
epidermic patterns found upon the balls of the thumbs and fingers, and
Mr. Galton, although by no means the first to employ such means for
the identification of individuals, is the first to attempt a careful and
scientific system by which these data may be described, registered and
classified.

The use of such prints has been sporadically employed in both
ancient and modern times, and seems to have long been in use among
the Chinese, but data concerning the official workings of this vast and
ancient empire are difficult of access to Europeans, and it is likely, as
in so many other claims, that the facts when found will be disappoint-
ing when compared with the reports concerning them. Galton himself
was first led to the study of finger prints by his friend Sir William
Herschel* who, when ' Collector ' or chief administrator of the Hooghly
district in Bengal, added to the signatures of the natives upon all official
documents the imprint of the index and middle fingers of their right
hands, taken by means of the ink employed for his office stamp.

Galton, indeed, says of his friend that 'if the use of finger prints
ever becomes of genuine importance, Sir William Herschel must be
regarded as the first who devised a feasible method for regular use and
afterwards officially adopted it, ' but it must also be remembered by the
one who writes the final history of this system that it was Galton who
devised the method by which such prints could be described and classi-
fied, and thus become of practical value.

The Galton system of personal identification by means of finger
prints rests upon two necessary principles, both of which have been
established by him beyond refutation: —

I. The absolutely individual character of the markings.

II. Their permanence throughout life.

* In Indian Service 1853-1878.

PALM AND SOLE IMPRESSIONS. 393

The records employed are the printed impressions of the ten digits
placed in a definite order upon a card, and the separate cards are placed
on file by means of a classification wholly dependent upon the indi-
vidual patterns.

Of those latter there are three types, the arch, the loop and the
whorl, designated in descriptive formulae by their initial letters. A, L
and W (hence the name of 'the alw system' by which Galton has
designated it). Of these the loop, which may turn to either the radial
or the ulnar side of the hand, is for some purposes farther subdivided
into radial and ulnar loops designated respectively as E and TJ. The
patterns are definite in their nature; transitions between them are of
rare occurrence and these are nearly always referable to one type or
the other. This system of 'ALW,' with the occasional subdivisions
of the E and TJ, forms what Galton designates the 'Primary Classifi-
cation/ and the finger tip records of any number of individuals are
arranged in accordance with a preconceived order. Although he has
made several experiments in this, in his final method (1895) the sets
are first arranged in four divisions (AEUW) in accordance with the
type of pattern found upon the right index finger. This is followed
by (small) letters designating the patterns upon the middle and ring
fingers of the same hand, using 1 instead of r and u for all looped
patterns. This will be seen to subdivide each of the first four divisions
into 9 or will divide an entire set into 36, as follows:

Aaa

Raa

Uaa

Waa

Aal

Ral

Ual

Wal

Aaw

Raw

Uaw

Waw

Ala

Rla

Ula

Wla

All

Rll

Ull

Wll

Alw

Rlw

Ulw

Wlw

Awa

Rwa

Uwa

Wwa

Awl

Rwl

Uwl

Wwl

Aww

Rww

Uww

Www

If, now, the prints in each of these 36 divisions be farther subdi-
vided in accordance with the same three fingers of the left hand, each
subdivision consisting likewise of 36 compartments, the entire collec-
tion will be divided into 36^ or 1,296. The thumb and little finger
of the right hand which show 9 possible combinations, will subdivide
each of the 1,296 compartments and, in like manner, the patterns of
the thumb and little finger of the left hand will give another sub-
division of 9, so that the number of possible compartments or sub-
divisions into which a set of prints may be arranged by means of this
primary classification alone is 1,296 X 9 X 9 or 104,976; and since
the various combinations with a few exceptions occur with about the
same frequency, the number of separate prints in a collection of five

394 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

hundred thousand which it would be necessary to look over carefully
in comparing with a certain definite case would average about five.

The data necessary for this latter comparison are abundantly fur-
nished by the details of the individual ridges, termed by Galton the
'minutiae/ and the farther description and subdivision of the records
by means of these he terms the 'Secondary classification.' These and
other useful details are appended to the formulge given above by means
of 'descriptive suffixes/ arbitrarily selected and described in a table,
a copy of which must, of course, be always at hand, at least until it
be thoroughly committed to memory by the clerk in charge of the
records. The nature of these suffixes and of the details which they
describe may be learned from the following examples, taken at random
from Galton 's table :

g. The core to the whorl is very large.

o. The core of tlie whorl is a detached ring.

X. Interpretation questionable; the pattern is peculiar.

t Scar left by a cut.

The implied suggestion of 'x' brings up a question which probably
occurs to the reader at about this time, namely, whether a pattern is
ever of a mixed type, or half way between two, thus giving a chance
for a difference of interpretation and a consequent embarassment in
finding the case from the formula. This certainly occurs occasionally,
but Galton has well disposed of the difficulty by comparing it to the
doubt experienced when consulting a city directory for a Scotch name
beginning with ' Mac, ' variously written, either in full or as Mc or M ',
and classed differently by various lexicographers. In both cases the
investigator, failing to find what he desires in one place, looks in an-
other, and neither here nor there is the difficulty a serious one.

Each finger tip record is placed on a card measuring 12 x 5 inches,
and contains, when complete, rolled impressions of the ten digits, a set
of 'dab' impressions of the four fingers of each hand (as duplicates
for comparison) and, at the right hand upper corner, the formula.
In Scotland Yard a folded paper is used instead of a card, and the
arrangement of the prints differs somewhat from the above.

Concerning the practical adoption of the Galton system at present,
it is hard to get details, but the recommendation of the English com-
mittee in 1894 has been referred to, and it seems that since that time
the method has come into quite general use in England. It is of
course impossible to devise a method which in every detail will be per-
fect from the start, and as Mr. Galton is continually at work upon his
system, the improvements suggested both by him and by those prac-
tically engaged in the work can not fail to modify details until it is
brought to the highest degree of efficiency.

PALM AND SOLE nfl'HESSIONS. 395

111. Tlic jiiiliii (iiid .sole .syslfiii.
The method which it is tlie purpose of this paper to advocate and
briefly exphiin is closely allied to that of Mr. Galton and is, in fact,
an extension of his system to the -palmar and flantar surfaces, which
are covered with the same sort of ridges as are the finger tips and in
■wliich the variation is greater and the details larger and more ohvious.
A moment's inspection of a human hand and foot will show that the
entire ventral surface of each, including that of the digits, is covered
by a peculiar sort of skin, very different from that found elsewhere,
and that along the sides of the palm and the digits, and just above
the sole upon the foot, there are definite lines of separation between
them and the normal skin, which in the hand corresponds in general
position to the seam in a glove which unites the upper and under sur-
faces. This palmar and plantar skin differs from that of the rest of
the body in many ways. It is absolutely hairless and at no time
during embryonic life shows indication of either hairs or hair fol-
licles. It consequently has no power of forming goose-flesh when
chilled, although the back of the hand and the surface of the forearm,
in the immediate vicinity of the palm, are favorite places for the dis-
play of this phenomenon. It is also very slightly, or not at all, pig-
mented as is readily seen by inspection of the palms and soles of a
negro, and consequently does not tan or freckle, a distinction often
made very obvious by a comparison of the back of the hand with the
palm. The most obvious character, however, and the one which
directly concerns both Galton 's system and the one advocated here, is
that of the small but distinct epidermic ridges, which cover the surfaces
in question. These may be said to run in a general way parallel to one
another and diagonally across the palm or sole, although in certain
regions their direction is altered and at more or less definite places
they form curiously disposed patterns, usually in the form of loops or
spirals. With a moderate lens these ridges give the skin an appearance
much like that of corduroy and there may be seen running along the
middle of each ridge a row of minute indentations or pores, at about
equal distance from one another, the orifices of the perspiratory glands.
Running over and across these ridges in directions which bear no rela-
tion to them are the wrinkles or ruga, more abundant in the hand than
in the foot, and caused by the various motions of the digits and of the
other movable parts of the member. Those seem at first especially
obvious and interfere more or less with the study of the ridges, but a
little practice will enable one to ignore them altogether. In printed
impressions, which are used for purpose of study far more than are the
actual surfaces, most of these are pressed out of existence while the
remainder appear merely as narrow white streaks which do not affect
the investigation (see Figs. 1 and 2).

396 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

These ridges and their peculiar disposal are an inheritance to us
from our arboreal ancestors, and appear to be formed in the oldest pri-
mates by the coalescence of single units which arrange themselves in
rows.* Whether or not this phylogenetic or racial stage is now passed
through in each human embryo in accordance with the law of biogenesis-
has not as yet been shown, but it is certain that the ridges are seen
fully formed and in their adult condition in a four-months' embryo,
and that no change can afterwards take place in any detail.

As these surfaces are thus individually variant and as their condi-
tion is absolutely permanent throughout life, they offer the best possible
criteria for a system of individual records, especially since they may
be so easily recorded by means of printed impressions. All these point&
have been shown in a practical way by Mr. Galton, who has taken as
the basis of his system the markings that cover the balls of the fingers,,
his 'finger-tips.' The present paper considers the remainder of the
ridged surfaces and is thus seen to be an extension of the Galtonian
system to a 7iew territory. Wliether ultimately the universal personal
records, which will surely become a necessity in the near future, will
be based upon a part or the whole of these surfaces is of no real moment^
and it is with the idea of being of genuine assistance to Mr. Galton and
without any attempt at rivalry that I offer in the following pages a
method of recording identity by means of palms and soles.

M. Bertillon has said that there are not lacking individually variant
parts of the body capable of use for purposes of identification, but that
what is needed is some system of recording and classifying these dif-
ferences, so that an individual case can be easily found. The system
proposed here will, I think, fulfil this demand, and it will be seen that
each human being is as well marked and labeled as though he were-
tattooed with an individual name and number, the interpretation and
manner of cataloguing these devices being the only part not furnished
by nature.

The method of printing a palm or sole is a very simple one, and
although there are many little details which will occur to one who doe&
much of this work, the essentials are the same in all cases. The outfit
for printing consists of a tube of mimeograph ink, a rubber roller such
as is used in amateur photograph}^, and unruled paper of the required
size. An inking surface is prepared by pinning a sheet of paper to a

* This and other morphological points of which I shall make use in this
article are from an unpublished paper upon the morphology of the subject, by
an associate in my department, Miss Inez L. Whipple. At my suggestion Miss
Whipple has undertaken the comparison of the human conditions of palm and
sole with those of the lower primates and other mammals, and has studied also
the ontogenetic development of the parts in man and other forms. Tliis work,
which is of great value in the present connection, will be published in full
in a short time.

PALM AND SOLE IMPREISSIONS. 397

board or table^ placing upon it a little of the ink, and then rolling it
down with the roller until the paper is coated with a uniform thin
layer of ink. The best results are obtained when this is thin enough
to appear of a dull green ^color rather than black, and the usual diffi-
culty lies rather in using too much than too little ink. The hand or
foot to be printed is then laid upon the inked surface, pressed a little,
especially at the places which are naturally raised above the paper, and
then removed and laid in the same way upon a clean sheet of paper,
pressing the parts as in the first instance. Care must be taken not to
slip the hand or foot sideways at any time, as this would blur the lines ;
a similar condition may be caused by too great pressure, and thus when
the feet are taken the subject should be seated, allowing the foot to be
manipulated by a second operator. The inking surface should be
freshly rolled before each new impression, and when a number are
taken at one time, a little ink must be occasionally added and rolled
down. If mimeograph ink is not available, ordinary printer's ink will
do almost as well, and both sorts may be readily removed from the skin
by the use of a little turpentine or benzine, or even by soap and warm
water.

After a collection of imprints has been made, the next procedure is
the interpretation, that is, the tracing out of certain definite lines
which mark the course of the ridges and define the patterns. As the
palm presents simpler conditions than does the sole and is much the
best for purposes of instruction, we will begin with a good average print
like that given in Fig. 1, using a sharp-pointed pencil, and, when neces-
sary, a reading glass of low power. At the base of each of the four
fingers there will be seen a triangular area composed of transverse
ridges, so intruded into the palm that it parts for some little distance
the ridges which belong more definitely to the palm itself. These are
the four digital areas, and at their apices are found points from which
the ridges radiate in three directions, two bounding digital areas and
one traversing more or less of the palm. These four points or triradii
(equivalent to Galton's 'deltas') are the starting points of the system
and may be termed the four digital triradii, numbered 1-4, beginning
at the inner or thumb side. The lines bounding the digital areas art3
the eigM digital lines, numbered from 1-8, and the four other lines
which proceed from the triradii and cross the palm are the four main
lines. These latter, designated by the letters A-D, are of primary
importance and furnish by their course the first or 'primary formulce
by which the palms are classified. These lines are established by fol-
lowing the direction of the ridges to whatever point they may lead, and
are best traced along a certain definite ridge, although, in places where
a ridge that is being followed breaks or forks, the line should be con-
tinued by means of an adjacent ridge, or by taking the general direc- /^^^^^i

398

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

tion indicated by several ridges. When the four main lines are traced,
search should be made for a fifth triradius, the carpal, usually occur-
ring in or near the middle of the palm just above the wrist, and its
lines should be followed in the same way as in the other cases. The
two short lines running downward to the wrist are the carpal lines and
define the carpal area, and the longer one which curves about the base
of the thumb is the thenar. A carpal triradius is not always present,
but in some cases its place is taken by what may be termed a ' parting, '
or a place where the ridges which run from the palm to the wrist divide

i'

"^^^^^im^^

Fig. 1. Print of Left Palm [Collection No. 20ti], not Interpreted.

into two groups, one half of which diverge toward the inner, while the
other half diverge toward the outer side (see Fig. 4, a and h). When
the interpretation is complete the palm impressions will resemble Fig.
2 (compare with Fig. 1).

If, now, similar impressions are made of a half dozen palms, a great
individual difference in the course of the main lines will be at once
apparent. They will curve in different directions, sustain various rela-
tions with regard to one another and terminate at different points
along the margin of the palm. Although occasionally two palms will
show the same general course of tlic main lines, there are, on the other
hand, a large lumilu'r of distinct eases, nnd this system may well serve

PALM AND SOLE IMPRESSIONS.

399

for a primary classification, or one wliicli will divide individual records
into a large number of sets, as described above in the case of the other
two systems. In the former article in this magazine, I suggested this
hy applying names to the various areas marked off by the lines of inter-
pretation, and proposed a set of descriptive formulae based upon these
areas to be used in designating the course of the lines. / noiu wish to
suhsiitute for this a numerical system, the presentation of which in

'^^*^'

Fig. 2. Same as Fig. 1, covered by Lines of Interpretation. Note slight differences in
the wrinkles in Figs. 1 and 2, although taken of the same palm at the same time.

the form of a hey explains itself (Fig. 3). In this, each triradius and
intermediate area is furnished with a number, the latter being desig-
nated by the odd, and the former by the even, numbers, and the course
of a given main line may he simply and accurately described by giving
the number corresponding to the point at which it terminates. To the
extensive outer border where the use of a single number would be often
indefinite, three numbers are assigned, 3, 4 and 5, although where com-
plete accuracy is not needed the symbol 0 (for open) may be used,
signifying merely that a given line passes out at some point along the
free margin between the outer carpal line and the outer digital one of
the little finger. Of these three numbers, 4 is used to designate a

400

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

pattern only, which occasionally occurs in this region, and which, when
present, defines the territory below it as 3 and that above it as 5. A
line entering it and returning along its lower side would be designated
as 4/3 (Fig. 4:, d), one emerging above as 4/5 and one that becomes
involved in the pattern and does not emerge is simply 4.

When a pattern is not present
in this region, 3 may signify ap-
proximately the lower third of
the entire outer margin, and 5
the remainder.

In the majority of cases a
main line will terminate in one
of three ways, it will either
(1) open freely along the outer
margin; (2) cut through an in-
terspace between fingers or (3)
it may fuse with another main
line, forming a loop. In this
latter case each of the two lines
involved may be considered as
terminating in the triradius of
origin of the other and be described by the corresponding number.
Aside from these three possibilities, there is an occasional fourth
one produced by the presence of what may be designated ^ lower iri-
radii.' So" far as has actually been observed (in above 600 hands)
these may occur in but two places, as designated in the diagram (Fig.
3) by inverted Is in tbe 2d and 4th of the digital interspaces (count-
ing that between the thumb and the first finger as the 1st), but
there is morphological ground for expecting one also in a correspond-
ing position in the 3d interspace. When a main line terminates
in one of these triradii it should be designated by a 1, with an ex-

FiG. 3. Diagram of a Left Palm, showing
the designations to be used in making the de-
scriptive formulae. Compare with Fig. 7.

11

ponent signifying the space to which the J. belongs ; thus 1 '^ or ±
as the case may be. In addition to these, pattern triradii may occur
in connection with the thenar and hypothenar patterns, and of these
the second, 1^'^, comes into occasional relation with line A.

Having now a method by which the course of the four main lines
may be designated by means of a sequence of four figures, let us illus-
trate this by a few cases taken at random, and represented by the
tracings given in Fig. 4.

For these the main line formulae will be as follows:

(a) 5.7.9.11.

(6) 5.5.9. 9.

(c) 2.7.8. 11.

(d) fG.9.10.

PALM AND SOLE IMPRESSIONS.

401

In these the third line of (c) is designated by 8, the number for its
point of origin, since it exhibits a course not unusual for it, but never
found in tlio other lines, that of running down into a loop and not
emerging, so that it can not be said to have a point of termination.
In order to obtain formula? enough to work with, we may add to the
above that of tlio cxaniplo (Figs. 1 and 2) 2.5.7.9; also those formulae
designating the I'our j)alms figured in Fig. 6 of the ])revious article,
viz: (a) 5.5.5.7; (b) 3.5.6.8; (c)|.G.7.10; (d) 5.8.10.11.

Fig. 4. Tracings of Four Left Palms, showing various line formula. («) 11.9. 7.5 fCol-
lection No. 109] ; (b) 9.9.5.5 [Collection No. 323] ; (c) 31.8.7.2 [Collection No. 30] ; (d) 10.9.6. J [Col-
lection No. 32]. In (a) there is a parting in place of the carpal Irirtidius; in (b) there is a
well-developed thenar pattern ; in (c) line Cis very short and runs into a loop where it ends
abruptly ; in (d) the third lower triradius is present, assisting in the formation of a pattern.

To arrange these or any number of formulae in definite order it will
be necessary only to make the first subdivision in accordance with the
first designation (i. e., that of line A) and so on with each designation
in succession, employing the usual numerical sequence. A fraction
may be marked by its numerator alone, since the denominator is noth-
ing more than an added specification or descriptive mark, and the sign
L may take precedence of all, ranking before the figure 1. By this
means the nine formulse referred to above would be arranged as follows :

VOL.

2.5.7.9.

2.7.8.9.

3.5.6.8.

LXIIL— 26.

4.6.7.10.

f.e.g.io.

5.5.5.7 .

5.5.99. .
5.7. 9.11.
5.8.10.11.

402

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Although, as given in all of the above illustrations, the natural
order of sequence in the four designations of each formula is from the
line A to line D, it happens that of the four, A is the most uncertain
in its interpretation, and is the only one concerning the designation
of which differences of opinion would be likely to occur. It is unfor-
tunate to begin with this especial one and thus be liable to be put on
the wrong track at the outset, and it appears to be better to reverse
each formula, beginning with line D. and ending with A. This
would lead to a rearrangement, not only of each formula which would
be simply reversed, but also of the order of sequence of the whole, so
that the nine formula used above would become rearranged as follows :

7.5.5.5.

9.8.7.2.

10. 9.6.|

8.6.5.3.

9.9.5.5.

11. 9.7.5

9.7.5.2.

10.7.6.|.

11.10.8.5

in which a given formula would be as easily found as in the other
order, with the advantage of having the uncertain designation in the
fourth place instead of in the first.

Of course it can not be known, at least as yet, what is the total
number of main line formulce which occur in the human hand, but in
this regard the following table will be of interest, which gives in the
regular order of sequence the formulae of the hands of 100 American
female college students, 100 rights and 100 lefts, and shows the number
of times each formula occurs in each hand.

Table I.

Formulse.

L.
1

R.
1

Formulffi.

L.

R.

6

Formulae.

L.

R.

4

Formulse.

L.

R.

±3. 7.5.5

8.6.5.5

2

10. 7.6.5

3

11. 8.7.2

1

2

J.3. 8.7.5

1

0

8.7.6.5

0

1

10. 8.6.3

0

1

11. 8.7.3

1

0

J-*. 9.5.5

1

1

9.7.5.11

1

0 1

10. 8.6.5

1

o

111. 8.7.4

0

2

•f^. 9.7.5
■"-3.10.8.11

0

1

9.7.5.1

1

0 1

10. 9.6.2

1

0

11. 8.7.5

4

3

0

1

9.7.5.2

3

1 :

10. 9.6.3

1

0

111. 8.9.5

0

1

7.J.3 .5.4

0

1

9.7.5.3

3

2 1

10. 9.6.4

1

1

11. 9.7.±H

1

1

7.5.3.2

1

0

9.7.5.4

0

4

10. 9.6.5

2

2

!ll. 9.7.1'

1

0

7.5.5.2

2

0

9.7.5.5

5

11

i 10.10.6.5

0

1

11. 9.7.3

2

1

7.5.5.3

6

1

9.8.5.3

4

1

10.10.8.5

0

1

11. 9.7.4

2

0

7.5.5.4

1

1

9.8.5.4

1

0

11. 7.5.3

0

11. 9.7.5

4

22

7.5.5.5

2

2

9.8.5.5

2

2

11. 7.5.5

0

11.10.8.1'

0

1

7.9.5.3

1

0

9.8.7.5

0

1

< 11. 7.7.1

0

11.10.8.4

1

0

7.9.5.5

0

1

9.9.5.3

1

0

11. 7.7.2

0

11.10.8.5

1

4

7.9.5.11

1

0

9.9.5.5

2

2

11. 7.7.3

1

11.11.8.5

0

1

8.6.5.2

2

0

10.7.6.2

5

0

11. 7.7.4

0

8.6.5.3

9

4

10.7.6.4

1

0

11. 7.7.5

8

4

By this it will be seen that the total number of formulae represented
in the 200 hands is Gl, that there are 48 separate formulae in the left
hands and but 38 in the right. Of the 48 left hand formulse 23 do
not occur in the right, and of the 38 right hand formulas 13 are not
found in the left, 25 being common to both. The commonest formula

PALM ASD SOLE IMPRESSIONS.

403

for the left hand is iS.6.5.3., which occurs in 9 per cent, of the cases,
while for the right hands the commonest formula is 11.9.7.5., occur-
ring in 22 per cent, of the cases. The records from so small a number
of cases can not be conclusive, but it would seem both by the number
of formulge represented and by the smaller percentage of occurrence
of the commonest formula that the left hand is much more variant.

From this table there mav be also calculated the amount of latitude
allowed in the positions assumed by each line and the percentage of
occurrence of each terminus of each, the results of which are given for
convenience in a separate table, as follows:

Table II.

Terminus.

Line D.

Line C.

Line B.

Line A.

L.

R.

Both.

L.

R.

Both.

L.

R.

Both.

L.

1
2

2
16
30

8
40

1

R.

1
1

0
3

11
9

74

1

Both.

V
1-

1

2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11

3

14
13
23
15
32

4

6
11
24
12
43

7

20
24
47
27
75

i

12
13
37
15
21
2

1

~t

29
15
32

8

1

1

16
23
66
30
53
10
1

1

53

15

29

2

0

0

41

12
38

8

1

1

94
27
67
10

1

2
3

2

19

41

17

114

2

It will be seen by this that the commonest position for line D is
11 (between the index and middle fingers), a position which occurs in
75 out of 200. Similarly the commonest position for line C is 7 ; for
line B, 5; and for line A also 5; but, curiously enough, the com-
monest actual formula is not 11.7.5.5., the combination of these. This
table also shows that line D may oscillate in its position from the inter-
space between the ring and little fingers to that between the middle
finger and the index; that line C swings between an open position and
the same limit as that of line D, and so on.

In the emplo}Tnent of these line formulge as a primary classifica-
tion it seems advisable for several reasons to employ that of the left
hand first, which will be seen to divide a series into between 40 and
50 compartments, and since the right hands appear to vary independ-
ently or nearly so, the addition of the line formulse of those would
subdivide each of the 40 or 50 into about the same number of lesser
compartments, or in all approximately 45^ or 2,025.

That is, if the hand-prints of a city of 100,000 inhabitants were
arranged in accordance with the line classification alone, there would
be needed over two thousand compartments, with, theoretically, about

404 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

50 in a compartment. As practically worked out, the distribution of
these prints in compartments would be an unequal one, and while cer-
tain of the compartments would have but a single representative, or be
even empty, some of the others would have a much larger number than
fifty, possibly even several hundred.

But the line formulae are but a primary classification and do not
by any means exhaust the resources of these very varying parts. As a
secondary classification, for the farther subdivision of the palms, to be
appended to the first and employed whenever expedient, the use of a
'pattern formula may be suggested. This is based upon the irregular
occurrence of patterns such as occur normally in the simian hand and
appear sporadically upon various localities of the human palm.

If we count as a pattern each place where there is a definite loop,
whorl or noticeable disturbance of the usual even course of the ridges,
although by doing so we violate certain of the underlying morphological
principles as shown by the comparison with other mammals, we may
expect to find any or all of five patterns, located as described in the
previous article and corresponding roughly to the divisions into which
the palm is divided by the lines of interpretation, viz., one thenar, one
hypothenar and three interdigitals {palmar of the previous paper).
Of these the thenar, of rare occurrence among people of the white race,
is morphologically composed of the vestiges of two, a genuine thenar
and the interdigital which corresponds to the interval between the
thumb and index; the three interdigitals lie below the three intervals
between the fingers from the index to the minimus ; and the hypothenar
appears upon the large eminence of the same name which forms the
outer boundary of the palm.

A pattern formula will thus need five places, one for each of the five
patterns in a prearranged order, and, again adopting the principle of
placing in the first position a very obvious one, about which there is
no doubt, the order suggested may be, liypothenar, thenar, first, second
and third interdigital. When any one of these is present, it may be
designated by an abbreviation, such as a capital H for hypothenar,
Th (or better, the Greek d) for the thenar, and 1, 3 and 3 respectively
for the others. When absent, 0 may fill the position, and when there
is merely a rudiment, a small r may be added to the 0 as an exponent.
Thus a few representative pattern formula" would be the following,
iaken from actual cases:

H.0'.1.2.3 0 00.0.3

H. 0.0.2 3. 0.0.1.2.3.

H. 0.0.0.3. 0.0.0.2.3.

H. 0 0.0.0 0. 0.0.2.0.

0.0.0.2.0. 0.0.0.0.3.
0.0 0 2.0.

IWLM AM) SOL/'J /MJ'RESSJONS.

405

Tlic order of ;ll•^;lll,^■^'lll(■lll I'oi' r;icli posilioii woulil 1)(> naturally to
consider the signs of the |iatterns as ])recedL'nt to zero, an ai'rangement
which it will l)e noticed, has been followed in the above list. A rudi-
ment, like CTalton's descriptive suthxes, is disregarded in the arrange-
ment, and counts like other zeroes.

Fig. 5. Print of a Right Sole [Collection No. 112] showing a High Degree of Com-
plexity, and presenUng ditticuUies In formulation. There are two lower tnradii, probably the
first and second, in which D and i? [IV and II] terminate respectively: the triradius of Une
C[=III] is beyond the limit of the print and its location is in part conjectural ; the second
and fourth digital lines curve downward across the palm.

Morphologically the same pattern, i. e., one in a given position,
may differ considerably in regard to its mode of formation, the pres-
ence or absence of ' pattern triradii ' or those concerned in its structure,
the shape of the pattern itself, its degree of completeness and so on,
and all these attributes may be easily added by means of a series of
easily devised descriptive signs, like the 'descriptive suffixes' of Galton,
and used as exponents, having, like the exponent r, no influence upon

4o6

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

the arrangement of the formulse, but simply completing the description.
Should a third classification be necessary, the presence, position or
absence of the carpal triradius would furnish one, and for a fourth
subdivision a counting of certain of the ridges, like those between the
digital triradii as Galton does in his finger-tip system, might be sug-
gested. In the last instance, where the decision of a definite case rests
upon the identity of a certain individual, actual prints taken from his
palms should be compared with the set in the collection which most
closely corresponds in the formulae to them, and the decision should
be reached by the study of the minutis, although there could hardly
he a mathematical chance of a comparison going as far as that unless
it was a case of actual identity *

Fig. 6. Tracings of Three Left Soles, showing various relations of digital and main
lines, (o) Lines ^, £ and Z) are open ; line Cls recurved and opens at 9 ; the third digital line
is recurved around a pattern : the first and second digital areas are confluent ; there is a single
lower triradius [Collection No. 156]. (b) Lines A and B are open ; line C is recurved ; line D
terminates in a lower triradius (the third ?) ; the digital lines are all normal and the digital tri-
radii are distinct ; there are two lower triradii [Collection No. 86]. (c) Lines ^, CandZ)are
open ; line B is recurved around a pattern and fuses with one of its own digital lines ; the digi-
tal lines are in general much modified and the digital areas are all confluent ; there is but one
lower triradius, the first [Collection No. 59].

The previous pages have treated of the hands alone as though they
were the only possibility of the system, but the soles of the feet exhibit
fully as great a diversity in the course of their ridges, and their use in
addition to that of the hands would furnish so complete a means of
subdividing a collection of prints that the secondary classification, i. e.,
that which concerns the patterns and the carpal area, would hardly be
necessary except to complete a description. The feet as well as the
hands possess four main lines originating from the digital triradii, and
as their formulae are nearly as variant as are the others, the subdivisions
rendered possible by the use of all four members are well-nigh infinite
in number (see Figs. 5 and 6).

* Consult in this connection my comparison of identical twins, which are
in all probability nearer alike in the palm and .sole markings than are any
other two Imnuni beings, and wliicli nevertheless dill'er to a noticeable degree
in llic iiiinutii. Aiiicr. Jour. <if A mil., Vol. I., No. 4. 1902.

PALM AND SOLE IMPRESSIONS. 407

Thus if, as shown above, a set of formulae would be divided into
upwards of 50 divisions by using the left hand alone, and if each of
these would be farther subdivided by adding the formulae of the righi;
hand, producing 2,500 divisions in all, the addition of the left foot to
these might increase the number to 2,500 X 50, or 125,000, and these
would become 7,250,000 by the use of the right foot, or enough to
characterize every citizen in a large state or small country, employing
merely the primary classification. It must be remembered, however,
that these are theoretical figures and that the actual combinations of
lines may not be as great, nor would the various kinds be as regularly
distributed; yet enough has been shown to prove that the number of
separate actual combinations of the line formulae alone, if both the
hands and feet are employed, would be very great.

In a sole print the characteristic features are mainly distributed
along the ball of the foot, anterior to the hollow of the arch, and while
in a general way they are similar to those of the hand, there are also
numerous important differences, some of which will be seen in Fig. 5,
a print which represents a more complex condition than is usually seen,
and in the tracings given in Fig. 6. The four main lines of the sole,
although arising from digital triradii, usually curve towards the inner
instead of the outer side, and when open, are apt to converge at the
inner margin almost or quite to the point of fusion. There is also
almost always upon the thenar region or ball of the great toe a con-
spicuous pattern, which may be termed the hallucal pattern. This
possesses one or two, and possibly three triradii, of which the upper one
is the proper digital triradius of the great toe, usually unrepresented
in the hand ; while there is often a second one upon the extreme inner
margin, sometimes shown only by rolling the foot a little during print-
ing. The hallucal pattern shows much variation and is easily divisible
into a series of types, which well serve the purpose of a secondary classi-
fication. Lower triradii are of far more frequent occurrence than in
the hand, and are often located so near one another through the con-
vergence of the interdigital areas that it is difficult or impossible to
attribute them to any one of them.

Probably the greatest barrier to the formulation of sole conditions
in the same way as in the case of the palms lies in the position of the
digital triradii, which are apt to be situated in the hollow beneath the
toes and thus beyond the margin of a print — a condition especially apt
to occur in the case of the third one, i. e., that at the base of the fourth
toe ; again, the relationships of the triradii are often complicated by the
fusion of two or more digital areas with one another and the consequent
displacement of the digital lines, which may simply pass one another
upon the digital areas or curve downwards over the ball of the foot as

4o8

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

is the case with the second and fourth digital lines in the print given
here (Fig. 5).

These difficulties, especially that of the extra-limital position of
the digital triradii, certainly prove a barrier towards the application
of the same system as in the palm; yet, with some adjustment to con-
ditions, this would still seem to be feasible. A diagram assio-ninsf

numerical designations to the dif-
ferent terminal regions is given
here (Fig. 7) which may be com-
pared with the similar one refer-
ring to the jmlm (Fig. 3).

A more detailed account of the
sole formulation is not within the
space limit of the present article,
but enough has been given to sug-
gest how this may be accomplished.
I would especially emphasize the
practicability of the use of the hal-
Incal pattern, perhaps even in a
])rimary classification, which recom-
mends itself by its large size, its
conspicuous character, and its ready
divisibility into definite types.

Lastl}^, there remains only a
short discussion of the means of
recording and filing away prints,
the amount of space they would
occu^jy and their consequent feasi-
bility as a means of recording all
citizens, as advocated in the previ-
ous article. The prints themselves
should he taken upon smooth but

Fig. 7. Diagram of a Left Sole, showing not glazed Unruled paper of a suit-
the desigaations to be used in making the ^j^^^^^^ ^^6 of about 35 X 21.5 Cm.
descriptive formuliB. Compare with I'lg. 3. '

(14x81/2 inches) for the hands,
and one of 35x28 cm. (14x11 inches) for the feet. Upon each of
these the respective prints should be arranged in the natural order, that
is, the left upon the left side, etc. There is enough blank paper left
in such a piece to record any details necessary about the person; the
name, date of birth, nationality, and even the Bertillon measurements.
As in the Galton system the formulse may be written at one end,
most conveniently the left, so that an especial case coulrl be found by
turning over a pile of papers as in selecting a page in a book; or else

i'ALM AM) ISULE IMPRESSIONS. 409

vdv]\ set of prints may be siiiiitly iiuiiihcrcd, and plaeed consecutively
in shallow drawers, with 50-lOU in a drawer, while the classification
may be made by means of a card catalogue, which would contain a
numbered card for every individual, arranged in accordance with the
system just described. I have arranged my own print collection upon
this latter system, the prints being numbered and arranged consecu-
tively in the order taken, while the corresponding cards are classified
in accordance with the formulse, those of the left hands taken first,
and subdivided by those of the right.

As for the space required for a collection. If the prints are filed
in shallow drawers or slides holding 50 sets each, a collection of 100,000
sets could be accommodated in 2,000 drawers; and allowing a frontage
of lGx3 inches for each drawer with its surroundings, these would
make a cabinet 6 feet high and composed of 56 perpendicular stacks
which together would occupy a wall length of 75 feet. An 18-drawer
card index with a capacity of more than 20,000 3 x 5-inch cards, as
taken from a recent catalogue of office furniture, is 44 inches wide and
14 in height, and the five necessary to accompany the collection in
question would form a single stack 6 feet high and 44 inches wide,
which will add approximately four feet to the seventy-five given above.
Thus a room having 80 feet of wall, linear measure, or a smaller one
with a double stack running through the center, would be amply suffi-
cient for the entire collection, properly arranged.

This calculation appears to answer in the affirmative the question
of the practicality of keeping palm and sole records of all citizens as
advocated in my previous article. M. Bertillon has pointed out the
numerous cases in civil life in which one's identity is in peril, and
looks forward to a future in which some record, based upon physical
characters, will be made of every citizen, but the trouble and incon-
venience attending his own system of measurements and the fact that
they are applicable during adult life alone, would leave them hardly to
be considered for such a purpose.

The palm and sole system, which I originally presented as an ex-
tension of the system of Mr. Galton, appears to supply the need in this
respect, as the records are easily taken, unchanged from birth to death,
quickly compared, either with the hands and feet themselves or with
other prints, and capable of brief characterization and of accurate
classification by means of simple formulae, to all of which may be
added, as their most important advantage, that of absolute certainty,
while the Bertillon measurements afford no more than a strong prob-
ability.

Prints could be taken in each township or municipality, and filed
away in any convenient spot, perhaps the court house of each county

4IO POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

seat. They could be taken in connection with the school registration,
either when first entering, or better yet at the age of twelve to fifteen.
There can be no question as to legal right in compelling such records,
since there is no serious objection to compulsory vaccination, a far
more serious operation, and one incurring a slight indisposition and a
permanent change in the system, the nature of which is as yet unknown.

Similar records could be taken by the various civil and religious
institutions in which the identity of an individual is apt to be called
in question. Banks could require an imprint of the left palm upon
the inside cover of bank-books; business men could issue checks with
a fac-simile engraving of the palm of their own left hand covering the
face; insurance companies could keep a palm and sole list of their
clients; the Geary law would be rendered a certainty if the certificate
issued to each Chinaman bore, besides the photograph, a single palm
print, and churches could file away palm and sole prints with their
baptismal records.

In the words of Bertillon, the founder of anthropometric identifi-
cation: "La constitution de la personnalite ph5'sique et de I'indeniable
identite des individus arrives a I'age adulte repond, dans la societe
moderne, aux besoins les plus reels, aux services les plus varies. . . .
En un mot, fixer la personnalite humaine, donner a chaque etre humain
une identite, une individualite certaine, durable, invariable, toujours
reconnaissable et facilement demontrable, tel semble I'objet le plus
large de la methode nouvelle. "*

* ' Instructions signaletiques,' 1893, Introd., p. Ixxxiii.

ESTHETIC EMOTION. 411

SOME OF THE EXTRA-ARTISTIC ELEMENTS OF
ESTHETIC EMOTION.

By JOHN COTTON DANA,

FREE PUBLIC LIBRARY,
NEWARK, N. J.

MY work in a library has brought me in contact with the art in-
terests of a gTeat many people. Most of these people have
been of the average, well-to-do, clerical, commercial and professional
classes in this country. Representatives of women's clubs and of art
classes of all kinds have been common among them. Many had
traveled or were making studies preparatory to visits to art centers
abroad. The modern public library thinks the promotion of interest in
art in its community is a proper part of its work. With this in view
it buys expensive books on art and photographs of paintings, sculpture,
iirchitecture and other things in the field of art. The library's close
connection with the schools also makes it easy for the librarian to
keep in touch with their work in drawing, design and general art in-
struction. I have had unusually favorable opportunities to learn about
the art interests and the esthetic perceptions of that very interesting
class of American women, the public school teachers. From them and
from supervisors of drawing in the schools I have learned something of
the interests of children in pictures and of their capacity for esthetic
cultivation. The libraries I have been connected with have made
great use in the schools of illustrations and decorations found in cer-
tain periodicals; not only of pictures from art journals, but also of
material published, not for its art interest, but for its illustrative in-
terest. For students of design, collections have been made of head-
and tail-pieces and initials, from many sources. Designs for wood
■carving, embroidery, iron work and the like have been gathered and
arranged. Illustrations have been collected — sometimes by the chil-
xiren themselves — and arranged by artists, by subjects, by methods of
reproduction and by media used in the original. Collections have been
made for story-telling purposes, and to illustrate history, geography
and nature-study. Reproductions of famous paintings, sculptures and
huildings have been gathered and classified. I speak of this by way
of introduction; to explain my interest in the subject of art; and to
give grounds for presuming to speak upon it. The collecting of these
pictures, the purchase of art books and the encouraging their use have
"naturally brought me into close touch with the very representative

412 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

group of Americans who patronize the free public library. I believe
I know something about their way of looking at the subject of art; and
that I know, consequently, how art is regarded by about 99 per cent,
of the fairly well-to-do and moderately rich in this country. My inter-
est in the subject, enhanced by the opportunities I have mentioned,
has naturally led me to take note of art in the American home, and
of the light it throws on the art knowledge and esthetic sensitiveness
of the American jjeople. My observations in this direction have con-
firmed me in the conclusions, herein noted, to which my work in the
library had led me.

Most discussions of esthetics ignore certain common, every-day
feelings which seem to be important factors in the appeal which works
of art make on our attention. I have here tried to describe the nature
and origin of some of these feelings, and to show that they are among
the most universal and the simplest elements of esthetic emotion. I
call them extra-artistic elements, because by the professional artist
they are not considered to lie within the artistic field.

The physiological factors in esthetics are, in a certain sense, more
fundamental than the familiar feelings I discuss in this essay. They
go to the very bottom of the pleasurable sensations which the sight
of certain objects gives us. But we do not \'et understand them. A
spot of color probably gives pleasure — under proper conditions — even
to the most uncultivated observer. Savages and even some of the lower
animals have this much of esthetic feeling. Meaningless arrangements
of several colors probably give greater pleasure to some, even of the
entirely untrained, than does the single spot of one color. Flat design
in black and white, quite without suggestion of any kind, arouses
agreeable sensations in some, but probably only in a few of those who
have never given thought to the subject. That is, pictures, considered
simply as fiat, colored designs with no regard whatever to what they
portray, may produce an agreeable physiological effect on some of those
who see them. This direct physiological effect is, as I have said, little
understood. It sometimes, perhaps commonly, forms a part of the
group of pleasurable feelings which picture-gazing evokes. It is funda-
mental to be sure; but with nearly all observers it is of slight im-
portance in comparison with the mass of agreeable sensations whose
nature and genesis I have outlined below.

Most of us first note a picture which we know is popularly ad-
mitted to be a work of art with a pleasure which comes of being in
the fashion. It is the custom to enjoy it. We like to know and feel
that we are following the custom. We find it easy to say, as all others
do, iliat it is pretty and aitractive: and so saying we get the pleasure
of conformity; of 1)ciiig in the mode. This kind of ]iicture-enjoyment
lies upon the surface, is easy to acquire and comes iiatn rally io nil of

ESTIIET/C EMOTION. 413

us; and any picture which has once gained wide repute, tliereby gains
popuhir esteem, gives much pleasure, and seems to serve a proper pur-
pose by virtue simply of being in tiie fashion, even though it have
little to commend it to the wise critic. The word fashion carries often
an implication of censure. Such censure is not intended in this case.
To wish to see what others have seen is natural and proper. The mis-
take would lie in assuming that this kind of pleasure from picture-
gazing is not present with all of us, and is not a proper element in
esthetic emotion.

To see old friends again after a time of separation always gives us
pleasure. The emotions which go with the act of recognition are so
generally agreeable that we greet with considerable warmth of feeling
even those old acquaintances we have never much cared for if we meet
them after long separation or at a distance from the scenes where
we once knew them. This recognition-element among the factors of
pleasurable emotion lies at the bottom of much of our joy in the
familiar quotation, of our admiration for the classic in literature and
the familiar in art. A picture often spoken of, often alluded to in
print, seen occasionally, even in the simplest or crudest reproduction,
is at once recognized, and at once gives us the pleasure of recognition,
when seen again. This manner of picture-appreciation lies, of course,
close to the pleasures of memory, to the indulgence of habit, and to the
complacence of conservatism; just as the pleasures aroused by the pic-
ture which it is the fashion to admire lie close to the self-satisfaction
born of conformity to the prevailing moral code. These fashionably-
born and habit-bred emotions form a large part, a very large part, of
the delight we find in picture-gazing. Art galleries are full of people
who gain little from their visits there beyond these simple and familiar
emotions. Yet in the discussion of esthetics they are commonly almost
ignored. The origins of the feelings which are aroused by works of
art are assumed to be complex, peculiar and quite remote from every-
day life; whereas the most dominant of them lie close at hand, in con-
formity and habit. In the field of literature we see this truth very
clearly illustrated. The classics of one's native tongue are chiefly
enjoyed because they are familiar. Often, probably commonly, they
have a power to move us which is due to their content, or to our knowl-
edge of the peculiar circumstances under which they were produced,
or to their relation to a widespread creed, or to the personality of their
writers, or to the influence of their promoters or expositors, or to their
particular aptness of phrase, or to the peculiar sensitiveness of a few
of their many readers to the spell wrought by special arrangements of
words. But, once having become imbedded in the popular mind, once
having become the accustomed reading of a generation or two, they
hold their power very largely through the fact that they are easily

414 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

recognized, are habitual visitors, and arouse often the joy of recogni-
tion. The St. James version of the Bible is perhaps an example of the
best possible use of the English of its time. But of this we cannot be
sure. As a book it has long been popular — on other grounds than those
of style. Being popular it molded our forms of expression for genera-
tions. All our speech harks back to it. To read it is to catch in every
phrase a pleasing echo of the language of our own time, and this re-
gardless of the agreeable familiarity of thought and incident. We
recognize it, and delight in it. If circumstance had cast that version
into a different form we should, no doubt, admire it none the less; and
our language would be different from what it now is, perhaps better.

Allied to both fashion and recognition as an element in esthetics is
curiosity; not the inquiring curiosity of the seeker, but the passing
curiosity which we take in uncommon things. The picture much
talked about — this is the one we wish to see. Having seen it the
emotional tension is relaxed, and we have an agreeable sense of satis-
faction. Near to this and perhaps part of it is the pleasure given by
the sight of a picture which is rare or ancient or high in price, or one
which was made with much labor or with unusual technical skill. The
patch-work quilt of a thousand pieces made by a woman of seventy-
five without the use of glasses, this gives great pleasure to its observers.
It is a curio. To most observers it is looked at with a pleasure of
like origin to that with which they gaze upon a painting by an old
master. I am not condemning this form of emotion. I am simply
setting it down where it belongs as forming a part in many cases of
the pleasure of picture-gazing, as a part of esthetic emotion. Much of
the furnishing of the homes of people of wealth and cultivation — being
rare, costly and representative of great labor and much technical skill
— gives to its owners a pleasure of like origin with that imparted by
the crazy quilt.

Kinship in knowledge is a bond of friendship. The beginning of
sympathy is like-mindedness. We cannot care much for those we do
not know; we know those who know the things that are known by iis.
Meeting in a distant land one alien to us in every way, but familiar
with the same home scenes, a friend of friends of ours, we have for
him at once a touch of sympathy, and find pleasure in oiir me 'ing.
So, if we look upon a picture in company with others who are witii us
in our enjoyment — even when, as is most often the case, the enjoy-
ment is born of fashion, habit and curiosity — ^we have a sense of com-
panionship with them, a pleasurable feeling born of a common interest,
which we ascribe as to its origin to the picture itself. In fact, the
picture, as a work of art, is not the cause of our enjoyment at all.
A tigbt-rope walker or a sacred relic would serve as well; perhaps
better in many cases. We simply have widened and increased our

ESTHETIC EMOTION. 415

sympathies through the acquisition of a new point of contact with our
fellows.

Almost all pictures tell a story. Those which seem not to do so at
first sight are usually found to be full of meaning on second look ; and
a very large proportion of all the pictures most commonly seen, those
m the illustrated journals, are intended almost solely as aids to narra-
tion. Stories are dear to us all. We are eager to hear them, to read
them, and especially to see them. One that is told by a picture, and so
is flashed upon the mind in a glance of the eye, adds to other possible
excellencies those of brevity and surprise. In a picture we look usually
first for what it tells — that it gives us, in a flash, a bit of life from a
new point of view, seen in a different light, touched with humor, pathos
or other sentiment — this is commendation enough. A portrait is to
most a story picture. It tells more about the person portrayed than
many pages of biography, and interests chiefly by what it tells.

■ It is usual to decry this story-telling element in pictures. Mr.
John C. Van Dyke, for example, in his book on 'Art for Art's sake'
speaks of 'The Angelus' as having a 'literary interest crowded into it
to the detriment of pictorial effect.' We can not see in the picture,
he says, 'the sound of the bells of the Angelus coming on the evening
air, from the distant church-spire.' 'We must go to the catalogue to
find the meaning of those two peasants standing with bowed heads in
a potato field. ' And he says, that, ' two thousand years hence, with the
ringing of church-bells abandoned and forgotten fifteen hundred years
before, we would not comprehend and appreciate the picture as we now
do a Parthenon marble.' Mr. Van Dyke forgets that the Parthenon
marble itself also tells a story; and that it is because we know the
story well, because Greece and its religion, its social life and its art
are familiar that we comprehend and appreciate at once even a frag-
ment of that country's creations. The fragment arouses our recogni-
tion-pleasure, and most strongly. It appeals to us also by what it
tells of the past; it tells it easily because we are full of a knowledge
which makes us fit to receive it. Suppose Greece and her temples for-
gotten, a Parthenon marble would be beautiful still, probably, but it
would be no more easily comprehended and appreciated than would
'the Angelus' if church-bells had passed out of human memory. All
pictures are illustrative; all are story-telling in a measure. It is
inevitable that they should be so. They can not, as Mr. Van Dyke
seems to wish to have them do, ' show deep love of nature per se, inde-
pendent of human association.' The question of illustrative intent is
entirely one of degree. Nor is there any rule whereby one can say how
much of this element a picture should contain. There it is; there it
must be. It is good, and we may rejoice that it adds its force to that
of the other factors in the delights of picture-gazing.

4i6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

To the stor}^ element in pictures as a cause of our enjoyment of them
we must add another element closely allied to it, that of history. The
historical picture is always a story picture; but it usually tells to an
observer more than a mere story. If we are ourselves already familiar
with the incident depicted, we gain from looking at the picture the
recognition-pleasure already noted. If we are not familiar with it we
take pleasure in adding to our historical knowledge the particular inci-
dent set forth in the picture. That is, in looking at historical pictures
we either pride ourselves on a recognition which assures us that we
are so far well-informed, or we please ourselves by adding to the sum
of our knowledge.

Knowledge of the life of an artist, of his peculiarities, of striking
incidents in his career, of the country and the time in which he lived
— this knowledge adds much to the pleasure gained from pictures. A
glance at one, if it is recognized as by an artist of whom the observer
already has some knowledge, gives first the pleasure of identification
cr naming — not different from that which one has who can name on
sight a distant mountain peak — and next, through association the
pleasure of recalling, even though vaguely, facts in the artist's life.
Much of the pleasure won from pictures lies in this identification-
emotion.

The pleasures thus far noted as derived from pictures are not de-
rived from pictures only. We get the same enjoyment from looking
at scenes upon the stage, at photographs of nature, at nature herself,
at incidents in real life about us and from poetry, story and literature
in general. This is equivalent to saying, and the saying is a true one,
that most' of the enjoyment of pictures is due to effects not at all asso-
ciated with or flowing from 'art' as that word is generally used by
artists. The artist himself, however, is by no means free from the
influence of the factors already enumerated. From time to time, in
his development as an artist, he has undoubtedly tried to free himself
from what seemed to him the embarrassing limitations of the habit,
fonned in youth, of getting from pictures pleasures born of fashion,
curiosity, sympathy and story. He never succeeds in doing this. He
sees all pictures as he does all art — as I have said in discussing the
presence of the story element in all art — through the medium of his
own past experiences and of his own character. He sees them first as
an animal, as a social being, as a person fashioned by the age and
country in which he lives. As an artist, however, as a person skilled
in his calling, the things that usually most interest him are technique,
design, color, light and shade, line, and manner of laying the paint on
the canvas. It has probably always been the fashion for artists them-
selves to speak rather scornfully of the interests aroused by and the
pleasure taken in pictures from the point of view of the story or of

ESTHETIC EMOTION. 417

the other elements ah-eady mentioned, and to think of them as lyiug
outside the field of art proper. But the artists who are of the broader
view readily admit the importance in painting of these extra-artistic
features. From the point of view of craft, of technical skill in paint-
ing, these matters of line, and color, and light and shade, and arrange-
ment, and method of applying paint, all are of great importance. But
only with the craftsman who is unduly interested in the question of
skill do these purely artistic matters seem of greater importance than
the factors of enjoyment already mentioned.

If I have been right in this analysis of the pleasures gained from
pictures, we may describe the picture-gazing of the average person
somewhat as follows : He likes the color ; he likes to look because others
look; he likes to look because he enjoys seeing an old friend; because
he has the habit of looking; because he enjoys seeing the curious; be-
cause he enjoys the sympathy with his fellows which comes from enjoy-
ing the same objects with them; because he enjoys the story of the pic-
ture; because the picture renews for liim an incident in history; because
considered simply as a design the picture is to his thinking well made
and he finds agreeable the relation of its lines and its colors and their
arrangement, their harmonies and their contrasts; and because, having
skill as a painter, or knowing of that skill, he is interested in the man-
ner in which the artist in question laid on his paint.

These remarks on some of the simpler elements of esthetic emotion
as shown in picture-gazing may seem commonplace, may seem too
obvious to be worth the saying. But the obvious and the commonplace
— these very often escape us. They are particularly ready to do so
when we speak of beauty, art and esthetics. In this field words are
very often merely counters, not real coin. All of us have our pleasur-
able emotions when we look upon beautiful things, else why do we call
them beautiful? And the very words in which we speak of things of
beauty seem themselves to have a power to move us ; and we ascribe to
them meanings when in fact they are often only meaningless echoes,
faint, but still able to stir our emotions.

Beauty as a factor in the pleasures of picture-gazing, this I have not
named. Yet the whole discussion is concerning it. For, if a picture,
or any other object gives us the pleasure described it must possess the
subtle quality of beauty. That quality itself cannot be described.
\\Tien we see a beautiful thing we know it. What more can be said?
If experts, who are careful observers of the things which people say
they find beautiful, if experts in esthetics say the beauty of a certain
object is of the better kind, their statement is worthy of attention. It
is difficult to say of beauty and the critics more than this.

VOL. Lxm. — 27.

4i8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

KAEL LAMPRECHT AND KULTURGESCHICHTE.

By Peofessoe WM. E. DODD,
kandolph-macon college.

DUEIjSTG the last ten years a fierce war of words has been waged
in Germany concerning the nature and scope of history. It is
known as the 'Kam^Df um die Kulturgeschichte ' and almost every his-
torical scholar in the Empire has been forced to take either the one
side or the other. This 'Kampf which seems to mean so much for
history and its writing began in 1893 with the appearance of the first
volume of 'Deutsche Geschichte' by Karl Lamprecht, professor of his-
tory in the University of Leipzig. Leipzig and Berlin have been the
centers of the opposing forces, and seldom has a learned controversy
been conducted with so much animus. The question at issue is : Is
history a science or an art? Lam.precht boldly asserts that it is a
science, while his opponents maintain that it is and must always
remain an art. The adlierents of Lamprecht have been dubbed 'Lam-
prechtianer, ' while the enemies of the new movement call themselves
Mungrankianer. ' It will thus be seen that the name and fame of the
great Eanke have been enlisted on the conservative side of the dis-
pute.

American scholars have troubled themselves but little about a con-
test both sides of which are supported by so much of truth. In fact
little has been said or written in this country about Lamprecht or Del-
briick, the leading champion of the Ranke school. Only one article
and one review have come to the attention of the writer; the article
appeared in the American Historical Review, of April, 1898, the re-
view in the same publication of July, 1903. Yet the word 'Kultur-
geschichte' — Lamprecht 's slogan — is not unfamiliar to most of us, and
quite often in addresses and papers on history and its teaching the
principles laid down in the works of the Leipzig professor are given
no little prominence. In some quarters, however, the unconscious
Ranke influence has found expression in slurs on the claims of 'Ivultur-
geschichte' — history as a science, as Lamprecht insists. Still it is
safe to say that the ideas advanced by the new school of German histo-
rians find a more general acceptance in our country than in any other,
and this without our knowing just how it comes about. The cause of
it is, perhaps, the reasonableness of the tenets of the Lamprecht school,
the practical cast of mind of American scholars and our comparative
freedom from the trammels of tradition and class prejudice.

EARL LAMPBECUT AND KULTURGESCHICIITE. 419

Karl Lampreclit was born near Wittenberg in 1856; received his
earlier training at Pforta, the celebrated Prinzenschule, and won his
Doctor's degree from the University of Leipzig in 1879. The student
was father of the scholar ; liis thesis was of such extraordinary charac-
ter that the department of history to whose head it was offered refused
to accept it. So the present head of the same department was com-
pelled to take his degree as a political economist. Young Lamprecht
was scarce hopeful of entering upon the professorial career, so scant
were his means and so expensive it was and now is in Germany to
become an instructor in a university. He engaged himself to teach in
a private family in Koln, but while employed in this capacity he unex-
pectedly attracted the attention of a wealthy burgher of that city
named Mevissen, who supplied him with the means of entering the
University of Bonn as a docent — usually the first step to a professor-
ship. Lamprecht 's initial work, the investigation of the condition
of the peasantry of the Ehineland at all stages of German history,
brought him into disagreement with most of his seniors in the univer-
sity faculty. He continued his studies in this direction, however, with-
out interruption until he had founded The West German Magazine of
History and Art, the 'Society for the Advancement of Ehenish His-
tory' and had laid the foundations for his famous 'Deutsche Ge-
schichte' in his first important work, 'Economic and Social Conditions
in Germany during the Middle Ages,' in four volumes. All this was
done during the years of 1880 to 1886 and while he was only a docent
— an activity which bespoke the astonishing energy of the present pro-
fessor. A year or two after the appearance of 'Social and Economic
Conditions in the Middle Ages' Lamprecht was called to Marburg as
ordentlicher professor, very much to the surprise of the wiseacres, who
had opposed him at every turn at Bonn. In 1890, when only thirty-
six years of age, he was made full professor of history at Leipzig, where
he has been the directing spirit in the faculty of modern liistory ever
since; his co-workers and assistants in this department number about
a dozen and his students each semester average 350 to 400; in the
historical seminars there are from ninety to one hundred men taking
special training in Kulturgeschichte. These students come from all
parts of the civilized world. It is not difficult then to understand what
an immense influence Lamprecht is exercising on the present genera-
tion of historical students. Such is, briefly, the lifework of the man
who has excited so much opposition in Germany. Let us examine more
closely the main features of the new history and its methods.

Lamprecht divides all knowledge into two classes : the one depend-
ent on mechanics, the other on psychology, Naturwissenschaften and
Geisteswissenschaften. History is a science — a Geisteswissenschaft —
dependent on psychology. It deals with the acts of men just as bot-

420 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

any, for example, deals with the manifestations of plant life. In
neither ease can we determine the nature of the inner, the motive-
essence. The difference in the two sciences, however, consists in the
fact that the historian deals with the activities of men and peoples
long since passed beyond the reach of his personal knowledge. He
relies upon more or less accurately attested depositions given by con-
temporaries or by the persons themselves, while the botanist, having
the object of his investigations before him in most instances, is relieved
of the task of rehabilitating extinct existences or species. The histo-
rian reconstructs the social and political characters of the past, mas-
ters the different intellectual movements, and then places each in its
proper relative position, according to the most exacting methods of
judgments and interpretations. The rules of accepting and rejecting
evidence, of interpreting and classifying great historic events and ten-
dencies which guide the historian in his reconstruction of the past
entitle him to the rank of a scientist. The naturalist places a given
animal in a certain class because of certain outward manifestations —
the expression of the inner unlvnown forces; the historian places the
historic character, whether statesman or peasant, in a certain class, by
reason of the same kind of manifestations. In both instances the sci-
entist is dealing with unknown quantities; but in both the outward
activities are observed, interpreted, classified and made the basis of
future judgments.

Following such a method of investigation one is prepared to appre-
ciate, if not to accept, the second claim Lamprecht has put forward,
viz., that history has not so much to do with great personages of the
past as with the currents of thought, feeling or passion which produced
those personages. He looks upon social, political and industrial lead-
ers as exponents of popular or economic movements and deals with
them as such in his writing. This relegates the kings and ministers
of the present and past to quite insignificant positions and places the
masses of the people in the forefront — a method not a little distasteful
to the crowned heads of Europe.

Our new historian goes still further in his readjustment of his-
torical method. Every people has gone through a certain more or less
well-defined series of stages of evolution, e. g., the Germans have passed
through the following : symbolism, or the earlier and medieval history
of the race ; individualism, modern times to the French revolution ; the
age of the subjective soul-activity, or the nineteenth century to Wag-
ner and Darwin, who introduce the present age of excitement and ner-
vosity, if such a word may be used. It is the soul-life, das Seelenlehen,
of the people which determines the direction of national life, and this
soul-activity is to be understood only as one fully comprehends the
every-day life of the peasant, the artisan and the trader. This ncces-

KARL LAMPRECHT AND KULTURGESCHICHTE. 421

sitates a minute study of the hitherto neglected records of town and
country life, the contracts, deeds, marriage bonds, parish lists, folk-
lore and song, in fact everything down to the names of villages and
the houses of the Bauern. Nothing has escaped Lamprecht's atten-
tion ; and the results of twenty years of such investigation are recorded
in his 'Deutsche Geschichte' (in six volumes) already mentioned.
The 'common man,' Avho Alexander v. Humboldt had declared in 1809
could never be anything but a minute particle of the material of his-
tory, becomes with the Leipzig historian a guiding force in society, the
very corner-stone of the building.

According to this method 'the making of history' which the poli-
ticians so often conceive to be their role in life is a very misleading
term. History is not made, but it unfolds itself as a resultant of the
thousand and one forces of which our leaders are but the humble ex-
ponents. The great influences which give a* people their character
and determine the direction of their development arise from climatic
and geographical conditions, race antecedents and the reaction on these
of economic forces, which forces are themselves in large measure the
resultants of the above-mentioned conditions. Economic advantage
and industrial aptitude determine the character of a people, not the
will of leaders or leading classes.

To be sure this is not altogether a new view of history. Voltaire,
suggestive in so many lines of thought, boldly proclaimed such to be
the true historical method. Buckle spent twenty years in the attempt
to elevate history to the rank of a science, and certainly succeeded in
calling attention to the neglected influences in 'history-making'; but
not in relegating governments to the positions of social machines, not
in dethroning the long-worshipped heroes and martyrs of the past.
Moreover, Buckle's work was in no way so intensive as that of the
German Eulturliistoriker, and what Buckle attempted for English his-
tory, Karl Biedermann accomplished for Germany in his monumental
' History of German Civilization in the Eighteenth Century. ' Bieder-
mann was one of those liberal thinkers whose dream for the Vaterland
was so rudely disturbed by the all-conquering Bismarck spirit in the
early seventies. The influence of both Buckle and Biedermann was
swallowed up by the idea- and hero-worship of Eanke and his follow-
ers. And this tendency was in full harmony with the prevailing polit-
ical opinions. The same influence is found in England in the w^orks
of Freeman and Gardiner and Stubbs.

The appearance of the 'Deutsche Geschichte' was a challenge for
opposition of which its author must have been conscious. German
history writing, since 1860, as has been suggested, has been a constant
imitation of the great Berlin professor, Eanke. And to understand

^■-

42 2 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

the Kampf um die Kulturgescliiclite it is necessary first to review
briefly the Eanke method.

Leopold von Eanke 's first great service to accurate scholarship was
his practical discovery of the Venetian relation. From this time on
he was a most tireless student of European archives; his books are all
most faithful interpretations of the contents of these store houses of
history. From the time of the appearance of his 'Eonian Popes' and
the 'German History in the Time of the Eef ormation, ' 1834 to 1847,
a sort of ideology has prevailed in almost all historical writing not
only in Europe, but in our own country. With Eanke great ideas not
dissimilar to those of Plato's philosophical system furnished the motif
according to which all his work was done. These ideas were the state,
the church, the reformation, the counter reformation, etc. The indi-
vidual had but to adjust himself to the greater almost God-given idea
of the time; he was not the author of the idea or one of the makers
of movements, as Lamprecht would have him. In truth Eanke 's his-
tory deals almost exclusively with politics and political heroes, repre-
sentatives of certain ideas. This idealism was a part of the prevailing
philosophy, an application in history of Fichte and Hegel and Schell-
ing in philosophy. Now the followers of Eanke, instead of adding to
and broadening the Eanke method as times changed and new ^Yeltan-
schauungen took the place of the older idealism, considered themselves
fortunate if the world called them successful imitators and pupils.
Great works they produced, indeed, such, for example, as Curtius'
'Greece,' Trietschke's 'Germany in the Nineteenth Century' and
Mommsen 's ' Eonian History ' ; but they were all of essentially the same
nature — page after page of accurate history bridged up on tiers of
learned notes. A statement of Eanke or of Mommsen is capable of
mathematical demonstration. Aside from those greater Eanlcianer,
who are all dead except Mommsen, we have a whole brood of Jungran-
Jcianer, writing biographies, Staatengeschichte and theses on isolated
ideas. These fill to-day the majority of German professor- and docent-
ships; and history in their hands has reached a scientific accuracy never
dreamed of by Gibbon or Niebuhr.

Looked at from one point of view, one would have expected these
students and writers to endorse heartily Lamprecht 's claim that his-
tory is a science. All their efforts, since Eanke 's latter years at any
rate, had been directed toward that goal; but the author of the new
'Deutsche Geschichte' took them off their feet by cutting asunder all
connection between history and its supposed 'makers,' princes and
heroes, by putting first and above all the great masses of the peoi)le
and by making havoc with the Eanke tradition. Instead of seeking
the sources of historical information in the greater or smaller Euro-
pean state archives, Lamprecht had diligently studied the Stadt and

KARL LAMPRECIIT AND KULTURGESCIIICIITE. 423

Dorf records, the very store accounts of the people. What could have
been more revolutionary? In addition to this, history embraces, ac-
cording to the new comer, all phases of intellectual and physical activ-
ity, and not, as the Rankiancr believe, only the political side of things.
This was not only a sharp reflection on the older school, but a second
very practical, if unspoken, declaration that the aristocratic portion of
the country should occupy relatively only a few of the pages of history.

Still another cause for complaint of Lamprecht's 'history as a
science' is to be found in the latter 's approval of the work of the
Eankianer as a basis for KuUurgeschi elite, for a true Weltgeschichie
which was declared to be a necessary result of the new method. The
idea that Eanke and Mommsen had been preparing the way for still
greater historians was distasteful enough to the Berlin professors — the
wearers of the Eanke mantle. Another of Lamprecht's disagreeable
claims is that a full and complete list of authorities may be omitted
and that the historian's page need not always be securely underpinned
Avith double columns of notes and references. The text itself should
embrace the results of the works of individual scholars who have pre-
ceded him, should show that the author has compassed the whole field
and garnered the fruits of others, but he is not necessarily required to
give the names of all the sowers. ' Too many compilations of this kind
we have already,' says the Leipzig professor.

Again, Lamprecht's history is based on Darwinism, i. e., it views
every element of our present culture world as a result of evolution.
Now every follower of Eanke believes in the correctness of Darwin's
principal conclusions, and a history which applied these conclusions
would have met with their approval but for the fact that it appeared
as a sort of criticism of themselves. Emerson's saying that we dis-
trust our own best thoughts until another gives them expression might
fitly apply here if he had but added 'but we are usually angered at the
one who announces them if they prove popular.' Schopenhauer's pro-
test against idealism, his violent destructiveness, seriously affected the
Weltanschauung of Eanke historians; then came the Englishman's
revolutionary teaching completely superseding the traditional German
philosophy, but all to no effect so far as hi story- writing was concerned.
Lamprecht believes the theory of evolution has ceased to be a theory,
that it is really the basis of modern thought, and consequently he holds
that history must be rewritten, if it is to meet the demands of the
time. His 'Deutsche Geschichte' reestablishes the connection between
history and philosophy.

A work of such revolutionary character must necessarily meet vio-
lent opposition rather than fair criticism. The question which the
unbiased student of history asks is : Does the book satisfy the demands
of history while answering the requirements of philosophy? Del-

424 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

briick, Lenz and Biilow, all of the strictest Eanke sect, answer this
question in the negative, and in support of their position they have
successfully shown that numerous errors of detail have been made, that
in many instances Lamprecht has used the writings of his predecessors
without making the customary acknowledgment. Errors of detail in
such a work covering, as it does, two thousand years of German his-
tory, are to be expected, and they are, if not too serious, readily excusa-
ble. This seems to be the case with the 'Deutsche Geschichte' even if
we accept all that the Berlin critics claim. The second objection, the
use of the writings of his predecessors vdthout making the usual ac-
knowledgments, is not so easily explained away unless one admits Lam-
precht's theory, referred to above, that a historical writing of any
pretension should embody the best works of the past and interpret them
to the reader in the forms of present-day thought, and that it is not
incumbent on the historian to give his authority for ever}'thing he
states. Admitting this, Lamprecht 's book meets every requirement of
historical criticism and at the same time advances history-writing a
long step forward.

One thing is evident, the Eankianer have of late years carried their
methods to great extremes, to such extremes that many American stu-
dents have manifested a disposition to revolt. And their position in
Germany is still more untenable. A new man and a new method were
needed; Lamprecht met the demand. On the other hand, a better
style, a more attractive form of histor5^-writing has long been the
prayer of the general public. Ko one denies that Lamprecht is master
of a brilliant style; he is not surpassed in the use of idiomatic German
by the celebrated v. Treitschke himself, perhaps the best stylist of the
Eanke school.

On the whole, Lamprecht has done a notable work. He has gath-
ered about him more students of history than any other teacher in
Europe; he has called into serious question the prevailing methods of
studying and writing history; he has given us a book which is exceed-
ingly interesting, which does not seriously violate the rules of the best
criticism ; and finally, he has almost convinced us that history is a
science.

i'ULSE AND RIITTIIM. 425

PULSE AND EHYTliar.

By MARY UALLOCK,

PHILADELPHIA, PA.

THE close connection between pulse and rhythm has been specu-
lated upon since the fourth century before Christ. Herophile,
Avicenna, Savonarola, Saxon, Fernel and Samuel Hafen-Kefferus have
successively conjectured that the rhythmic phenomenon of pulse is in
some way responsible for our sense of ' beat.' The speculation w^as
fascinating. It could not become convincing without the help of
data capable of being furnished only by very recently invented instru-
ments and by recently accumulated knowledge.

A sense of rhythm, probably due to instinct, is found well developed
low down in the animal series.* This fact is significant when one
considers that the theory usually advanced and accepted is that physical
activities of a regularly recurrent nature have created this sense in
man. The beat of the pestle used by primitive man to crush grain, the
blows of the flail, the rhythm of the quern and the spinning wheel,
the rock of the cradle, and in short the entire series of industries
where a regular beat or reciprocal motion suggests alternate action have
been put forward as the probable origin of the dance, musical and
verbal rhythm, and at length of the beat of music, f

Tempting as is this theory which associates the origin of rhythm
with the development of ordered human activity, a rhythmic sound,
call or cry is first found coexistent with the first complete circulatory
system, heart with valves and blood vessels. This first appears in the
insect family and there too, in the saltoria of the orthoptera (com-
monly known as crickets, grasshoppers and locusts) appears this con-
junction of hearing, ability to call or stridulate, a nervous system and
valvular heart. The common existence of these phenomena does not
prove that the beat of the rudimentary insect heart led to rhythm, but
it suggests, at least, that this combination has been subjectively fruit-
ful of recurrent sound as a form of sexual and probably of pleasurable
activitv.

Mr. S. H. Scudder has put down the songs of these little creatures in
musical notation,! giving them after careful consideration the attribute
of rhythm. Unfortunately the circulatory system of the insect world

* ' Descent of Man,' Darwin, D. Appleton & Co., p. 566.

t ' Rliythmus nnd Arbeit.' Karl Biicher, passim.

J 'The Songs of the Grasshoppers,' Am. Nat., Vol. II., p. 113.

42 6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

has scarcely been investigated. As a curiosity, yet as a possible venture,
a parallelism may be suggested between the stridulations of a cricket,
which have been counted as occurring at the rate of between two and
three chirps per second* and the number of pulse waves peculiar to
very active insects or one hundred and fifty closures of the heart valves
in one minute.t

Inspecting in a very cursory manner the higher phylums of the
animal kingdom, the authority of numerous investigators can be given
for the perfect rhythmic quality of bird songs. The writer can vouch
for it that the cackle of one guinea hen during an entire summer went
with clock-like regularity at the rate of eighty-eight to ninety-two
cackles per minute. The faster cackling being a laughably accurate
sign of the growing excitement attendant on the laying of an egg,
said by the owner to occur at about eleven o'clock every morning.

The scientific study of rhythm, so far as man is concerned, has
been approached almost wholly from the side of its conjunction with
literature. Looked at from that side, it is not strange that the testi-
mony could never be mathematically exact and emphatic. The only data
which are of sufficient accuracy to prove that the rhjiihmic phenomena
of pulse first impressed on our consciousness that which can accurately
be called rhvthm, are to be found in the metronomic denotations «f
musical compositions. It is there and there only that the brain has
been able systematically to externalize the rhythm most natural to it
with a sense of method and order approximating instrumental exacti-
tude and capable of an exact expression and measure in number. These
furnish only a trace, but a trace sufficient when one keeps in mind
the havoc that conscious intellect can always play with things strictly
natural.

While making a bibliographical search for anything treating of this
musical side of the subject, one suggestive title only was found. It was
under 'pulse' in the Larousse Encyclopedia and covered the subject to
a degree alarming to a new and anxious investigator. It 'Nouvelle
methode facile et curieuse pour connaitre le pouls par les notes de la
musique. ' (New method, easy and curious for gauging the pulse bv
musical notes.) Frangois Nicolas Marquet, Nanc}', 1747. ^Vhen
found, the quaint little book proved lamentably insufficient. In its
time there was neither metronome nor sphygmograph.

In the introduction to this little treatise which in its day seems to

have created quite a stir — 'amateurs in search of novelties bought it for

fun, and kept it by good taste,' M. Marquet naively tries to disarm

his critics by saying that he already seemed to hear them object: 'it is

certainly a very bizarre matter this learning to know the pulse by

musical notes,' adding, 'one could answer them, it is not more strange

*~'~Proc. Boston Soc. Nat. Hist., October 2371867.'

t'A Text-book of Entomology,' Packard, Macraillan, 1898, p. 401.

PULSE AND lUlYTIIM. 427

to paint the pulse with notes than to paint the sound of music with
those same notes; to paint numbers with figures, and finally to paint
words with letters.' In this way the good doctor confounds throughout
the treatise the idea that music notes and measures could make a very
good sign-board on which to denote exactly where a morbid pulse
fails of being normal, and his discovery that a minute of his time was
usually placed at the same rhythmic rate per minute as accompanies
a normal pulse, which pulse, for want of a better chronometer than
the long hand of a clock, he places at one beat per second.

This little work, imperfect as it is, and in spite of all its limita-
tions, renders clear, tangible and visible the failure, already men-
tioned, made by those who thus far have occupied themselves with the
question, to give consideration to the statistics furnished by musical
compositions through their metronomic denotations. Even the ear
aided by the metronome and the pulse recorded by the sphygmograph
need to prove the influence of the latter on the former, the unconscious
record made in musical composition of the recolleotion by the mind
from an indefinite number of beats per second of a certain stated num-
ber, which repeats itself in one form of union after another by different
composers at different periods and in different lands.

The material from which statistics can be drawn is so unlimited
that, for want of space, two examples only will be considered, the
first dealing with the metronomic markings of the Beethoven Sonatas
and the second with popular music.

Out of forty-three metronomic markings, taken straight through
from the beginning of the first volume of the Beethoven Sonatas — the
four standard editions as a working basis — nineteen are set to a rhythm
of seventy-two and seventy-six beats to a minute, a rate exactly that of
the average normal, healthy, adult human pulse; a pulse given by the
best authorities as lying between seventy and seventy-five pulsations
in the same time. According to fuller statistics, the physical pulse,
varied by the time of day and the effect of meals, ranges from a little
below sixty to a little over eighty. Within this limit all the rhythmic
markings of these sonatas lie. Three standing at fifty-six and fifty-
eight beats per minute, contrary to expectation, belonging to fast move-
ments undoubtedly marked slower on account of the difficulty the
fingers would experience in performing the notes as fast as the imagi-
nation would direct. The average of the entire one hundred and forty-
seven markings given by the four editors. Von Biilow, Steingraber,
Kohler and Germer, was sixty-four and four tenths rhythmic beats per
minute. The one sonata marked by Beethoven himself bearing the
figures 69, 80, 92, 76, 72 for the different movements. Allegro, Vivace,
Adagio, Largo, Allegro risoluto.

428

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

If with the eye fixed on the second-hand of a watch or a clock the
long meter doxology be sung, every one of the equally accented notes
entering simultaneously with the tick of each consecutive second, it will
become at once apparent that the melody is delivered at a rhythmic
rate of sixty beats to the minute. Should one in the same breath hum
Yankee-doodle, sounding each of its accented notes, at the same rate,
it will be found that these two melodies, standing at the extremes of
the sublime and the ridiculous, the one in character slow, the other fast,
the first combining the utmost dignity and breadth, the second ludi-
crously vapid and thoughtless, are both set to precisely the same length
of rh3'thmic time by the clock. In the same manner the adagios,
allegros, prestos of the great master's sonatas unfold to pretty much
the same span of a passing moment. In his sonata 'Les Adieux,' op.
81, the adagio or slow movement and the allegro or fast movement are
both set to one rhythmic unit to the second. The impression of slow-
ness or rapidity in the music is due rather to the character of the con-
text and the number of notes to be played in the divisions within the
minute than to the actual clock time it takes to perform the rhythmic
unit.

Seventeen letters were addressed to as many band-masters asking
them for the 'beat' usually used in their conducting. The answers
invariably brought 'from 64 to 72 rhythmic beats per minute,' that
being probably the time to which countless soldiers had found it most
convenient and agreeable to march. Those wishing to investigate on
their own account will find it interesting to clutch at their pulse,
whenever a whistling street boy passes, and even a jangling hotel piano
might in the same connection have sometimes a 'reason for being.'
]\Iore often than accident warrants, it will be found that these also
'with nature's heart in tune' were 'concerting harmonies,'

Metronoiiiic Markings pek Rhythm of the Different Movements of

Twelve Beethoven Sonatas.

(m'

(M'

i-H

eo

,

o

o

o

o

!z;

CO

(m'

CO

!2;

^

CO

•

CO

05

CO

o

I-H

<M

(M

t^

r-H

o

U5

t-

t^

r- 1

(M

(M

to

m

OQ

(M

CO

tn

m

rsi

CO

m

.

,

3

3

3

,

.

S

3

3

3

Oh

ei.

Oi

O*

Ph

&i

Pi

o.

O,

Ph

P<

P(

O

o

O

O

o

o

O

O

O

O

o

o

«t

^

^

.X

»>

*t

^

^

^

b3

<A

<A

cs3

«

eS

cS

rt

ri

03

rt

-4J

-u

-M

-|J

-tJ

-|J

-M

.4^

•4^

-4J

ej

o3

eS

c3

<A

<A

cS

eS

rt

rt

<A

ci

a

fl

a

C3

C

R

A

C

c

a

3

3

o

O

o

o

O

O

o

o

o

o

O

O

CO

xn

CQ

w

OQ

QQ

m

OQ

m

M

m

m

56

76

66

72

76

60

56

76

76

72

72

69

80

66

72

58

80

76

92

66

58

63

56

80

72

76

60

63

72

76

80

76

76

69

72

92

56

58

52

76

60

76

72

PULSE AND RHYTHM. 429

The foregoing examples, although following the pulse in their ex-
actness, are still for scientific purposes not quite what may be desired.
The heart's action varies. So do musical tempi. Both are disturbed
by the slightest exciting or nervous influences. Still the track, though
faint at times, sometimes quite effaced by conscious effort, is there;
corroborated through a hundred different channels. One distinguished
psychologist* finds that a subject could repeat simple intervals with-
out accent with greatest exactness when these intervals lay between
0.4 and 0.7 seconds. It takes but a simple problem in arithmetic to
see that this agrees with from 75 to 86 rhythmic beats per minute, or
the region of pulsation common to the human pulse. Another f on
conducting a series of experiments on rhythm, 'the first and most
important object of which was to determine what the mind did with a
series of simple auditory impressions in which there was absolutely
no change of intensity, pitch, quality or tone interval,' finds that the
pulse seemed at times to impose a grouping in which the clicks coming
nearest to the time of the heart beats were accented.

To Professor BoltonJ must be given the credit of having success-
fully found the means by which rhythm can be permanently differ-
entiated from time in music. He says this general principle, arrived
at by the same experiments, may be stated: "The conception of a
rhythm demands a perfectly regular sequence of impressions within
the limits of one second and one hundredth of a second. When a
longer interval was introduced into the series, the impressions coming
between the long intervals fell together into a group but they did not
form an organic unity. There was no pleasure in such a rhythm.
Something seemed to be looked for in this longer interval which was
wanting. ' ' Why ?

No matter how slowly one sound follows another, time, as under-
stood in music, can still be a characteristic of the sequence. A clock
may strike this minute and not again for an hour, but time is still
being measured. A rhythm, however, can be said to exist only when
sounds succeed each other so as to fall within the same limited horizon
of attention. This differentiation has not to this day been clearly
made by authors of musical encyclopedias and dictionaries, they having
been satisfied with considering rhythm as simply similar in music to
meter in verse.

Bearing these statements in mind, it seems improbable that the
mere physical activities and industries of primitive peoples, such as
cradle-rocking, spinning and grinding should have been so constantly
of one rhythm as to impress accidentally a beat of such uniform
variation, extending within fifteen pulsations difference a minute

* ' The Psychology of Rhythm,' Am. Journ. of Psychol., January, 1902.
t American Journ. Psychol., Vol. VI., No. 2.
t Ibid.

430 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

(from 65 to 80) on nearly all musical compositions, nor must it be
forgotten, as has been said before, that it is these compositions which
furnish the only means by which the human brain could, thanks to the
metronome, so accurately and sub-consciously give record to the rhythm
most natural to it. This rhythm for physical as well as psychological
reasons must, it is submitted, in all probability have been suggested,
coordinated and regulated by the phenomenon of pulse. The first and
patent objection to this theory will be that we have no conscious cog-
nizance of the arterial beat within us. The objection is however fully
met by the well-known law that, 'one unvarying action on the senses
fails to give any perception whatever.' For familiar examples, we
have no conscious sensory impressions from the whirling of the earth,
the weight of the air or the weight of our bodies. Yet, inevitably,
the recurrent arterial beat, must have left its record and impress on
the unconscious and subliminal brain, guiding and determining the
conscious and audible expressions. Nor is it without its supporting
proof that where the insect's heart beat is 150 to the minute, the
insect 's chirp runs to the same speed ; and where the human heart beat
is 60 to 85 to the minute, human musical rhythm runs within the same
limits.

Mr. Fiske says, in his 'Outlines of Cosmic Philosophy,' not only
must all motions be rhythmical, but 'every rhythm, great or small,
must end in some redistribution, be it general or local, of matter and
motion.' It is not probable that a dainty rhythmic wave of color ex-
ternal in character would make its impression on the brain, and the
latter in turn remain unaffected by a — relatively speaking — thumping
cataract of a pulse impulse. Some disturbance of the brain tissue must
occur from this vibration, reaching in course the very portion allotted
to music. The basilar artery, the brain's basic artery, feeds the
chorda tympani by a direct channel, whereas the rest of the cranial
tract is fed by ramifications of its ramifications. The stronger surging
is therefore directed against the auditory tract. It may be urged that
in that case the brain would know but one rhythm. It might be so
were it not that 'the whole cerebral and central nervous organism
seems a happy adjustment of fixity of habit not too fixed, and suscepti-
bility not too susceptible. '*

"Perception of time duration is always a process and never a state
— for us to perceive five seconds, something must durate five seconds,
for us to perceive a year some definite sensation would have to durate
a year."f

On these principles, imagining a composer seated quietly at his
desk in the act of composition, is it not feasible to suppose that sub-

* Herbert Nichols, Journ. of Psychol., Vol. VI., p. 60.
t Ibid.

PULSE AND IIEYTIIM. 431

consciously to himself, and for want of a more intimately sympathetic
conductor, a ijliysical metronome was within him deflecting his rhythm
to its standard? Contrary to the other arts, music has its birth and
being entirely from within the human brain, and from within has
been impressed a beat of far more rapid rate than the ictus of the re-
current industries already cited on its musical product. The sug-
gestions all this calls forth are of course unlimited. To one we may
give our fancy free rein. Mr. James Huneker in his exhaustive sum-
ming up of Chopin's music states that master's favorite metronome
sign to be 88 to the minute. As 'people with considerable sensibility
of mind and disposition have generally a quicker pulse than those
with such mental qualification as resolution and steadiness of temper,'
could one consider that the ailing Chopin's pulse helped his rhythmic
tendency to 88, while the resolute steady Beethoven's was normal?

The arm of knowledge is long; it needs no yardstick with which to
measure the stars. Can it feel the pulse of those who have long since
crossed the boundaries that separate this world from the next?

432 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

THEOEIES OF SLEEP.

By PERCY G. STILES,

UNIVERSITY AND BELLEVUE HOSPITAL MEDICAL COLLEGE.

"TT is not easy to define the condition of sleep in terms that will
-*- not admit of many exceptions. We readily recognize the states
of rest and activity, but where the element of consciousness must be
considered we are at once upon uncertain ground. If we think of
sleep as an unconscious state, sharply contrasted with waking, we do
well to limit our use of the word to the case of man and the most
intelligent animals. Sleep in this sense is only to be associated with
highly developed nervous systems and its final explanation is to be
sought in events taking place in the brain.

Various writers upon the subject of sleep have turned their atten-
tion to quite different aspects of the matter. Some have undertaken
to show why there is the need of sleep and why the tendency to sleep
comes on at the close of each day. These writers have dealt with
general or systemic causes. Others have concerned themselves with
the cause of the unconscious — or dreaming — state in which the sleeper
lies. They have endeavored to suggest intimate and local causes.
Since the several theories are thus distinct in their application they
are not necessarily mutually exclusive.

Broadly speaking we feel sure that the need of sleep follows from
general or local fatigue. During waking hours the decomposition
processes of the body doubtless rise above the life-long mean, and
sooner or later there must be a ceonpensatory fall below the average.
The adaptation of the race to alternating light and darkness has made
this rhythmic rise and fall to coincide with day and night — though
less rigidly under the artificial conditions of civilized life than in
more primitive times. ^

Fatigue at bottom is a chemical phenomenon, and so the theories
of the first class are chemical. When a muscle has been stimulated
until it exhibits the well-known signs of fatigue, there are two possible
inferences — either this means an exhaustion of fuel substances or an
accumulation of poisonous waste. Analogous views have been sup-
ported in regard to the chemical changes that lead to sleep. We have
had an exhaustion theory advanced by Pfiliger and an accumulation
theory offered by Preyer.

THEORIES OF SLEEP. 433

Pfliiger's theory has little experimental evidence in its favor. We
know that a bloodless muscle may be subjected to a vacuum and made
to part with its free oxygen, but that it is still capable of doing much
work and of giving off carbon dioxide. In other words, oxidation
may take place in the absence of free oxj'gen. Of course there is but
one reasonable explanation, namely, that there is a store of the ele-
ment in loose chemical combination. This store in the cells is spoken
of as ' intra-molecular ' oxygen, and its amount may be supposed to
vary between rather wide limits. Pfliiger pointed out that during the
day, the katabolic processes being above the average, this hoard might
be reduced until the lack of it should lead to the depression of func-
tional activity and the suspension of consciousness characteristic of
sleep.

Perhaps no one will maintain that this theory is adequate by itself.
If there were nothing but intra-molecular oxygen to be considered,
we should expect that a day of idleness would leave one fresh and
bright at bed-time and that severe exercise for half a day might make
a long sleep a pressing necessity. Pfliiger's idea seems to explain
more readil}^ the sensation of being tired than that of being sleepy,
which is so often quite independent of the other.

The alternative theory is to the effect that the waste-products of
metabolism are not fully and promptly removed as they are formed
during the day's activities, but gradually clog and poison the system
until torpor is induced. The lactic acid produced in muscular con-
tractions is held responsible for a great part of this toxic process.
Acidity of the blood produces coma, and whatever reduces its normal
alkalinity might be expected to favor sleep. Many objections to this
theory suggest themselves. It does not explain why many people are
at their best late in the day, nor why the onset of sleep is relatively
sudden, nor why we are sleepy in the height of digestion when the
blood is most alkaline. It is perhaps less easy to assail it if we sup-
pose that the waste-products in question are not at large in the blood
but have accumulated in certain cells, especially of the nervous system.
In this case we need not assume a large quantity of these narcotic
poisons, but only a peculiar distribution, and we can see why mental
work is quite as fatiguing as physical work.

The transition from wakefulness to sleep seems rather abrupt, but
is not instantaneous. Motor control is generally lost before sensation,
and most people agree that of the avenues of communication with the
world without, hearing is the last to be closed. This order of events
is reversed in waking, when the alarm-clock or the unwelcome call is
heard for an appreciable time before the eyes can be opened or a
definite sense of one's situation realized. The sinking into sleep is

VOL. LXIII. — 28.

434 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

favored by the removal of all that may excite either the attention or
the reflexes. Darkness, quiet, bodily comfort and mental serenity are
therefore sought. Sleep may be prevented by any of the contrary
conditions — light, noise, pain or anxiety. When it is necessary to
contend against drowsiness, one instinctively seeks objects for atten-
tion or sensory stimulation, such as may be secured by taking a
slightly uncomfortable position. Evidently sleep presupposes a release
of the brain from many stimuli and may be warded off by seeing to
it that no such release is granted. There is on record the case of an
unfortunate boy who had no cutaneous sensibility, was blind in one
eye and deaf in one ear. His mentality was of a low order. To cause
him to sleep it was only necessary to cover the serviceable eye and
ear for a few moments. Here the waking condition was clearly de-
pendent on an unceasing flow of sensory impulses into the brain. A
person of higher intelligence, similarly afflicted, would doubtless sleep
much less readil}', for trains of thought might keep him awake in
default of external stimuli.

The approach of sleep is accompanied by distinct vascular changes.
The blood stream is shifting its bed. A most imperious summons to
sleep comes from the dryness of the eyes, the sign, probably, of a
lessened blood-flow through the tear glands. At the same time the
temperature of the skin rises, possibly excepting that of the extremi-
ties. There is evidence then of a dilatation of the cutaneous vessels
as sleep comes on, and the final passage into unconsciousness is accom-
panied by a considerable further dilatation. These vascular changes
have been nicely gauged by what is known as the plethysmographic
method, where the subject lay with one hand and forearm fixed in a
glass cylinder filled with water. An increase of blood in the arm
displaced water from the cylinder and a delicate recording apparatus
showed how this dilatation came on with sleep and passed oS with
waking. An account of such experiments, of more than technical
interest, is that contributed by Dr. W. H. Howell to The Journal of
Experimental Medicine (Vol. II.).

It is generally inferred that the cutaneous dilatation at once re-
duces the general blood-pressure and the quantity of blood flowing
through the brain, by diverting a large share to the skin. The lower-
ing of pressure has been demonstrated by Brush and Fayerweather ;
the fact that there is anemia of the brain during sleep has been estab-
lished by direct observation. An English physiologist. Hill, has been
led to believe that the dilatation of blood-vessels that relieves the brain
in sleep is not limited to the skin, but shared by the arteries of the
digestive tract. That this is so is difficult to prove, but it is suggestive
that a heavy meal is followed by a long sleep in the case of the lower
animals and often with us by a hard struggle with drowsiness.

THEORIES OF SLEEP. 435

Cerebral anemia may be merely a concomitant of sleep, but it has
frequently been held to be its immediate cause, the cells having pre-
viously been fatigued and suffered a lowering of functional capacity
which has made them increasingly susceptible to depressing influences.
This is the basis of Howell's theory. He has suggested that the
exhaustion of the vaso-motor center is what induces sleep. We know
that this center is in tonic activity, sending out impulses which hold
the blood-vessels in a state of constriction greater than is natural for
them. This tonic activity can only mean constant metabolism in the
cells of the center. Furthermore the center is subject to the play of
afferent impulses from all parts of the body. It is reflexly spurred
to action by every sensory impression through eye or ear. It is called
to respond in an appropriate manner to every change of posture or
other muscular movement. It does not escape the effects of psychic
processes, emotional states. Nothing is more natural than to suppose
that the nerve cells of the center become fatigued by this unceasing
activity. After the hours that we habitually number in a period of
waking it responds less and less readily to the demands made upon it.
It begins to lose its grip, so to speak, on the superficial and perhaps
the splanchnic vessels. The blood supply to the brain tends to become
less and the pressure in its arteries to be reduced. The subjective
consequence is drowsiness. If it is resisted by fixing the attention or
by exercise, the center rallies temporarily under the spurring, contract-
ing the vessels and turning the tide of blood back into the brain. But
the anemia soon returns, and the drowsiness becomes more compelling.
When the person lies down, a flood of sensory impulses that have been
pouring in from the contracting muscles is suddenly checked. The
eyes are closed and the stream of visual impulses ceases. With the
withdrawal of this reflex stimulation and the acquiescence of the will
the center relaxes still further its hold upon the cutaneous vessels,
the blood-flow in the brain becomes more reduced, and unconsciousness
comes on. During sleep the vaso-motor center is responsive to stimuli
from without as the plethysmographic experiments show. A sufficient
stimulus produces waking, and seems to operate by turning back into
the brain a sufficient quantity of blood displaced from the contracting
vessels of the skin. Such a stimulus must be a strong one in the flrst
hour or two of sleep, but later a much weaker one will answer. Sev-
eral physiologists have tested the depth of sleep at different hours of
the night, judging of it by the height from which a weight must be
dropped that the sound of its fall shall arouse the sleeper. All have
agreed that the greatest depth of sleep is reached as early as the second
hour. According to one writer it becomes steadily more shallow from
that time until the end. Others have observed a second, minor deep-

436 • POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

ening toward morning. Many people will agree that their own sensa-
tions seem to imply such a second period of comparatively profound
sleep.

What we call natural waking in the morning is usually due to
some stimulus from without — light or sound — which would not have
roused one from the deep sleep of midnight. But the stimulus may
come from within, as from the state of certain organs or, curiously
enough, from the previous resolution to wake at a certain time, which
often operates with something of the compulsion of a hypnotic sug-
gestion. Howell supposes that during sleep the nerve-cells of the
vaso-motor center are gradually restored to prime condition and hour
by hour become more irritable. So it is easier and easier as time
passes to induce the vascular changes that involve waking. Moreover,
the recuperated center resumes something of its normal tonic activity
before consciousness returns, and so the final step is taken with none
of that sense of violence that accompanies a sudden waking from
sound sleep. The border-line is likely to be crossed and recrossed
several times before the waking state is well established. When one
is fairly roused mental activity and the pouring in of sensory impulses
keep him from further napping.

Now what peculiar condition can be conceived to exist in the
brain during the period of anemia and unconsciousness? What mi-
croscopical changes may be supposed to mark the transition from
wakefulness to sleep? Oddly enough, the two hypotheses which are
extant are quite opposite in character. The first, which has attracted
the greater notice, is that of Duval. He has suggested that conscious-
ness depends on the contact of cell-processes in the brain whereby
effects are propagated from neurone to neurone. If sensory impulses
are to alter consciousness, there must be a pathway for their passage.
If a single synapse on the course of such a pathway is rendered im-
passable, the message from the sense-organ is lost from conscious life.
If every sensory path is interrupted at any point between the periphery
and the cortex, there must be insensibility as to the outside world and
the state of the body. If all motor paths are likewise broken, there
can be no voluntary action. If, in the third place, the association
paths are also severed, there can be no synthetical processes of thought,
no ideation. In short, the brain must lose its individuality by the
breaking of connections between its structural elements. If we could
suppose that every synapse in the central nervous system might be
snapped, and impassable gaps opened between the cells wherever one
had been wont to influence another, there must be an end of conscious-
ness, for, in utter isolation, these cells could no longer combine their
activities into one whole such as forms the physical basis of psychic

THEORIES OF SLEEP. 437

life. A much more local disruption of connection, limited perhaps
to the cortex, might bo sufficient to explain the subjective condition
in sleep. At any rate, Duval's view is that the cortical cells are
capable of retracting or extending their processes so as to sever and
resume their relation with neighboring elements. Experimental evi-
dence in support of this theory is naturally slight. Wiedersheim has
described amceboid movements on the part of cells in the nervous sys-
tem of a small transparent crab. Of course it is only in such lower
forms that the living cells can readily be brought under the micro-
scope. Duval himself suddenly beheaded dogs that were awake and
others in anaesthesia and made histological preparations from the
brains. He believed he could distinguish the sleeping brain by the
more contracted and isolated appearance of its cells.

The second histological theory of sleep, which has been said to be
quite opposed to the first, is that of the Italian neurologist, Lugaro.
Both demand the capability of amoeboid movement on the part of the
cells. But while Duval supposes that in sleep the cells have broken
their contacts, Lugaro supposes that they have made new contacts with
great freedom. At first thought this view seems unreasonable. A
multiplicity of contacts and added pathways in the brain might be
supposed to imply a richer and keener consciousness. But this would
be true only to a certain point. When the indiscriminate combination
had gone a step further mental confusion might be expected, then
fantastic associations and a meaningless mosaic of memories — prac-
tically a state of dreaming. Let the cells commingle their impulses
still more freely and consciousness will be lost, for the diffusion of
energy in the brain will result in a lessened intensity of flow in the
principal channels. If each cell scatters its communications in every
possible direction no definite effect in consciousness is to be looked for.
According to Duval, the cells which are affected in sleep can not dis-
charge; according to Lugaro, they may do so, but the resulting im-
pulses are utterly dissipated in a maze of by-ways. Waking, accord-
ing to Duval, is the resumption of intercourse among these cells;
according to Lugaro, it is the restriction of intercourse to habitual
and purposeful channels.

There is no reason why we may not be eclectic in regard to these
two points of view. It may be that many paths are interrupted in
sleep, while others are opened. In the hypnotic state it is clear that
many paths are blocked, including those by which the will of the sub-
ject habitually asserts itself, while others, especially those making
connections between the auditory and motor areas, transmit impulses
with extraordinary efficiency. This condition is explicable if we sup-
pose that certain synapses are broken, as Duval imagines, and that

438 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

the tide of nervous impulses pours with intensified energy through the
narrowed outlets remaining — an idea borrowed from Lugaro. If we
consider that a man is most thoroughly awake when his attention is
most rigidly concentrated, when he is a 'man of one idea/ we shall
perhaps incline toward Lugaro 's conception of sleep, which is cer-
tainly as far as possible removed from this mental fixedness. Hyp-
nosis is accompanied by cerebral congestion and natural sleep by
anemia. There is accordingly a strong temptation to suppose that
the cell-changes in the two states are opposite in their nature, that
in hypnosis the retraction of the dendrites is characteristic and in
natural sleep their extension. The sluggish condition of the mind
under suggestion as compared with its fanciful fiights in dreaming
falls happily in line with this view. But such speculation is pre-
mature.

It was said at the outset that the several theories of sleep are not
all mutually exclusive. It is possible to go beyond this statement,
for we may assign a place to each of those mentioned without incon-
sistency. We may suppose in the first place that the alternation of
day and night through the ages has impressed its rhythm upon the
race, so that it is hard for the individual to break from the habitual
course in which activity is associated with light and rest with dark-
ness. In other words, the amount of the metabolism tends to keep
above a mean for some hours and then to fall below it. The excess
of destructive processes over those which are recuperative during the
waking hours results in general and local fatigue, a condition into
which may enter both the depletion of intra-molecular oxygen and the
accumulation of toxic waste-products. While this progressive loss of
condition affects the body as a whole, the nervous system is subject to
its own peculiar drains. It is very probably the hard-worked vaso-
motor center which proves to be the vulnerable spot. With its release
of the blood-vessels in certain areas from its reenforeing influence
comes the cerebral anemia. Then, we may suppose, the nerve-cells
become less active than in the brain which has its full supply of blood,
that they cease to send impulses over the usual routes, either because
gaps have opened or because such impulses as do arise are permitted
to stray and be scattered, producing no effect in consciousness or one
which is quite bizarre and meaningless.

Such an outline as this is a composite scheme in which the con-
ditions emphasized by Pfliiger and Preyer are given recognition as
fundamental causes of sleep, Howell's idea is accepted as explaining
well its onset, its varying depth and the awakening, while the pictures
sketched by Duval and Lugaro arc combined to represent the intimate
state of the slumbering brain.

HERTZIAN ^YAVE ]Y I RE LESS TELEGRAPHY. 439

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. IV.

By Dr. J. A. FLEMING, F.R.S.,

PROFESSOR OF ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING IN THE UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON.

WE have to consider in the next place the arrangements of the
receiving station and the various forms of receivers that have
been devised for effecting telegraphy by Hertzian waves. Just as the
transmitting station consists essentially of two parts, viz., a part for
creating electrical oscillations and a part for throwing out or radiating
electric waves, so the receiving station appliances may be divided into
two portions; the function of one being to catch up a portion of the
energy of the passing wave, and that of the other to make a record or
intelligible signal in some manner in the form of an audible or visible
sign.

Accordingly, there must be at the receiving station an arrangement
called a receiving aerial, which in general takes the form of a long
vertical wire or wires, similar in form to the transmitting aerial.
There is, however, a distinct difference in the function of the trans-
mitting aerial and the receiving aerial. The function of the first is
effective radiation, and for this purpose the aerial must have associated
with it a store of energy to be released as wave energy ; but the function
of the receiving aerial is to be the seat of an electromotive force which
is created by the electric force and the magnetic force of the incident
electric wave.

In tracing out the mode of operation of the transmitting aerial, it
was pointed out that the electric waves emitted consisted of alterna-
tions of electric force in a direction which is perpendicular to the sur-
face of the earth, and magnetic force parallel to the surface of the
earth. These two quantities, the electric force and the magnetic force,
are called the wave vectors, and they both lie in a plane perpendicular
to the direction in which the wave is traveling and at right angles to
one another, the electric force being perpendicular to the surface of
the earth. In optical language, the wave sent out by the aerial would
be called a plane polarized wave, the plane of polarization being
parallel to the magnetic force. Hence, if at any point in the path of
the wave we erect a vertical conductor, as the wave passes over it, it is
cut transversely by the magnetic force of the wave and longitudinally
by the electric force. Both of these operations result in the creation
of an alternating electro-motive force in the receiving aerial wire.

440 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

As in all other cases of oscillatory motion, the principle of resonance
may here be brought into play to increase immensely the amplitude of
the current oscillations thereby set up in the receiving aerial. As
already explained, any vertical insulated wire placed with its lower end
near the earth has capacity with respect to the earth, and it has also
inductance, the value of these factors depending on its shape and
height. Accordingly, it has a natural electrical time-period of its own,
and if the periodic electromotive impulses which are set up in it by the
passage of the waves over it agree in period with its own natural
time-period, then the amplitude of the current vibrations in it may
become enormously greater than when there is a disagreement between
these two periods. Before concluding these articles we shall return
to this subject of electric resonance and syntony, and discuss it with
reference to what is called the tuning of Hertzian wave stations.
Meanwhile, it may be said that for the sake of obtaining, at any rate
in an approximate degree, this coincidence of time-period, it is gen-
erally usual to make the receiving aerial as far as possible identical
with the transmitting aerial. If the receiving aerial is not insulated,
but is connected to the earth at its lower end through the primary coil
of an oscillation transformer, we can still set up in it electrical oscilla-
tions by the impact on it of an electric wave of proper period; and if
the oscillation transformer is properly constructed we can draw from
its secondary circuit electric oscillations in a similar period.

One problem in connection with the design of a receiving aerial is
that of increasing its effective length and capacity, so as to increase
correspondingly the electromotive force or current oscillations in it.
It is clear that if we put a number of receiving wires in parallel so that
each one of them is operated upon by the wave separately, although we
can increase in this way the magnitude of the alternating current
which can be drawn off from the aerial, we cannot increase the electro-
motive force in it except by increasing the actual height of the wires.
Unfortunately, there is a limit to the height of the receiving aerial.
It has to be suspended, like the transmitting aerial, from a mast or
tower, and the engineering problem of constructing such a permanent
supporting structure higher than, say, two hundred feet, is a diffi-
cult one.

Since any one station has to send as well as receive, it is usual to
make one and the same aerial wire or wires do double duty. It is
switched over from the transmitting to the receiving apparatus, as
required. This, however, is a concession to convenience and cost. In
some respects it would be better to have two separate aerials at each
station, the one of the best form for sending, and the other of the
best form for receiving.

In Mr. Marconi's early arrangements, the so-called coherer or

HERTZIAN \YAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 441

sensitive wave-detecting appliance, to be described more in detail
presently, was inserted between the base of the insulated receiving
aerial and the earth, but it was subsequently found by him to be a
great improvement to act upon the receiving device, not directly by
the electromotive force set up in the aerial, but by the induced electro-
motive force of a special form of step-up oscillation transformer he
calls a 'jigger,' the primary circuit of which was inserted in between
the receiving aerial and the earth plate, and the secondary circuit was
connected to the sensitive organ of the telegraphic receiving arrange-
ments.* A suggestion to employ transformed oscillations in affecting
a coherer, had also been described in a patent specification by Sir Oliver
Lodge, in 1897, but the essence of success in the use of this device is
not merely the employment of a transformer, but of a transformer
constructed specially to transform electrical oscillations.

Turning then to the consideration of the relation existing between
the transmitting and receiving aerials, we note that in their simplest
form these consist of two similar tall rods of metal placed upright,
with their feet in good connection with the earth at two places. We
may think of them as two identical lightning conductors, well earthed
at the bottom, and supported by non-conducting masts or towers.
These rods must be in good connection with the earth, and therefore
with it form, as it were, one conductor. If, as usual, these aerials are
separated by the sea, the intermediate portion of this circuit is an elec-
trolyte. The operations which take place when a signal is sent are as
follows :

At the transmitting station, we set up in the transmitting aerial
electric oscillations, of which the frequency may be of the order of a
million, i. e., the oscillations as long as they last are at the rate of a
million a second. Each spark discharge at the transmitter results,
however, only in the jDroduction of a train of a dozen or two oscillations,
and these trains succeed each other at a rate depending upon the
transmitting arrangements used. Each oscillation in the transmitting
aerial is accompanied by the detachment from it of semi-loops of elec-
tric strain, as already explained. The alterations of electric strain
directed perpendicularly to the earth, and of the associated magnetic
force parallel to the earth, constitute an electric wave in the ether,
just as the alternations of pressure and motion of air molecules con-
stitute an air wave. Associated with these physical actions above

* Tlie term ' jigger ' is one of those slang terms Avhicli contrive to effect
a permanent attachment to various arts and crafts. Similarly, the word
' booster ' is now used for a step-up or voltage-raising transformer or dynamo,
inserted in series with an electric supply main. The word ' boost ' is a slang
term signifying to raise or lift up. ' To give a real good boost ' is an ex-
pression for lending a helping hand. The term ' jigger,' in the same manner,
is an adaptation of seaman's term for hoisting tackle or lift.

442 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

ground, there is a propagation through the earth of electric action,
which may consist in a motion or atomic exchange of electrons. Each
change or movement of a semiloop of electric strain above ground has
its equivalent below ground in inter-atomic exchanges or movements of
the electrons, on which the ends of these semi-loops of electric strain
terminate. The earth must play therefore a very important part in
so-called 'wireless telegraphy,' and we might almost say the earth
does as much as the ether in its production.

The function of the receiving aerial is to bring about a union be-
tween these two operations above and below ground. WHien the electric
waves fall upon it, they give rise to electromotive force in the receiv-
ing aerial, and therefore produce oscillations in it which, in fact, are
electric currents flowing into and out of the receiving aerial. We may
say that the transmitting aerial, the receiving aerial and the earth
form one gigantic Hertz oscillator. In one part of this system, electric
oscillations of a certain period are set up by the discharge of a con-
denser and are propagated to the other part. In the earth, there is a
propagation of electric oscillations ; in the space above and between the
aerials, there is a propagation of electric waves. The receiving aerial
feels therefore what is happening at the distant aerial and can be made
to record it.*

We have next to consider the question of the wave detecting devices
which enable us to appreciate and record the impact of a wave or wave
train against the aerial. At the very outset it will be necessary to coin
a new word to apply generally to these appliances. Most readers are
probably familiar with the term 'coherer,' which was applied by Sir
Oliver Lodge, in the first instance, to an electric wave-detecting device
of one particular kind, viz., that in which a metal point was lightly
pressed against another metal surface and caused to stick to it when an
electric wave fell upon it. As our knowledge increased, it was found
that there were many cases in which the effect of the electric radiation
was to cause a severance and not a coherence, and hence such clumsy
phrases as 'anticoherer' and 'self-decohering coherer' have come into
use. Moreover, we have now many kinds of electric wave detectors
based on quite different physical principles. At the risk of incurring
reprobation for adding to scientific nomenclature, the author ventures
to think that the time has arrived when a simple and inclusive term
will be found useful to describe all the devices, whatever their nature,
which are employed for detecting the presence of an electric wave. For
this purpose the term Tcumascope, from the Greek y-o:ia (a wave),
is suggested. The scientific study of waves has already been called

* The * earth ' itself probably only conducts electrolyticallv. All such
materials as sand, clay, chalk, etc., and most surface soils are fairly good
insulators when very dry, but conduct in virtue of moisture present in them.

HERTZIAN ^VAYE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 443

Tcumatology , and in view of our familiarity with such terms as micro-
scope, electroscope and liygroscope, tliere does not seem to be any objec-
tion to enlarging our vocabulary by calling a wave-detecting appliance
a Jcumascope. We are then able to look at the subject broadly and to
classify kumascopes of different kinds.

We may, in the first place, arrange them according to the principle
on which they act. Thus, we may have electric, magnetic, thermal,
chemical and physiological operations involved; and finally, we may
divide them into those which are self-restoring, in the sense that after
the passage or action of a wave upon them they return to their original
sensitive condition; and those which are non-restoring, in that they
must be subjected to some treatment to bring them back again to a
condition in which they are fit to respond again to the action of a
wave.

We have no space to refer to the whole of the steps of discovery
which led up to the invention of all the various forms of the modern
electric kumascope or wave detector. Suffice it to say that the re-
searches of Hertz in 1887 threw a flood of light upon many previously
obscure phenomena, and enabled us to see that an electric spark, and
especially an oscillatory spark, creates a disturbance in the ether,
which has a resemblance in nature to the expanding ripples produced
by a stone hurled into water. Scientific investigation then returned
with fresh interest to previously incomprehensible effects, and a new
meaning was read into many old observations. Again and again it had
been noticed that loose metallic contacts, loose aggregations of metallic
filings or fragments, had a mysterious way of altering their con-
ductivity under the action of electric sparks, lightning discharges and
high electromotive forces.

As far back as 1852, Mr. Varley had noticed that masses of
powdered metals had a very small conductivity, which increased in a
remarkable way during thunderstorms;* and in 1866, C. and S. A.
Varley patented a device for protecting telegraphic instruments from
lightning, which consisted of a small box of powdered carbon in which
were buried two nearly touching metal points, and they stated that
'powdered conducting matter offers a great resistance to a current of
moderate tension, but offers but little resistance to currents of high
tension.'!

We then pass over a long interval and find that the next published
account of similar observations was due to Professor T. Calzecchi-
Onesti, who described in an Italian journal, II Nuovo Cimento (see
Vol. 16, p. 58, and Vol. 17, p. 38), in 1884 and 1885 his observations
on the decrease in resistance of metal powders when the spark from an

* The Electrician, Vol. XL., p. 86 (Leader).

f British Pateyit Specification, C. and S. A. Varley, No. 165, 1866.

444 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

induction coil was sent through them.'* These observations did not
attract much attention until Professor E. Branly, of Paris, in 1890
and 1891, repeated them on an extended scale and with great varia-
tions, making the important observation that an electric spark at a
distance had a similar effect in increasing the conductivity of metallic
powders. t Branly, however, noticed that in some cases of conductors
in powder, such as the peroxide of lead or antimony, the effect of the
spark was to cause a decrease of conductivity.

To Professor E. Branly imquestionably belongs the honor of giving
to science a new weapon in the shape of a tube containing metallic
filings or powder rather loosely packed between metal plugs, and of
showing that when the pressure on the powder was adjusted such a tube
may be a conductor of very high resistance, but that the electrical con-
ductivity is enormously increased if an electric spark is made in its
neighborhood. He also proved that the same effect occurred in the case
of two slightly oxidized steel or copper wires laid across one another
with light pressure, and that this loose or imperfect contact was ex-
traordinarily sensitive to an electric spark, dropping in resistance from
thousands of ohms to a few ohms when a spark was made many
yards away.

It is curious to notice how long some important researches take to
become generally known. Branly 's work did not attract much atten-
tion in England until 1892, when Dr. Dawson Turner described his
own repetition of Branly 's experiments with the metallic filings tube,
at a meeting of the British Association in Edinburgh. In the dis-
cussion which followed. Professor George Forbes made an important
remark. He asked whether it was possible that the decrease in resist-
ance could be brought about by Hertz waves. J

This question shows that even in 1893 the idea that the effect of
the spark on the Branly tube was really due to Hertzian waves was only
just beginning to arise. The following year, however, Mr. W. B. Croft
repeated Branly 's experiment with copper filings before the Physical
Society of London, and entitled his short paper 'Electric Radiation on
Copper Filings. '§ He exhibited a tube containing copper filings loosely
held between two copper plugs and joined in series with a galva-
nometer and cell. The effect of an electric spark at a distance, in
causing increase of conductivity, was shown, and the return of the
tube to its non-conducting state when tapped was also noticed.

* See also Journal dc Physique, Vol. V., p. 573, 1886.

t See Compfes Rendm, Vol. CXI., p. 785; Vol. CXII., p. 112, 1891; or
La Lumiere Electrique, Vol. XL., pp. 301, 506, 1891; or The Electrician, Vol.
XXVII., 1891, pp. 221, 448.

I See The Electrician, Vol. XXIX., 1892, pp. 397 and 432.

§Mr. W. B. Croft, Proc. Phijs. Soc, Vol. XII., p. 421. Report of meeting
on October 27, 1893.

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 445

In the discussion which followed the reading of this paper, Pro-
fessor ]\Iinchin described the effects of electric radiation on his im-
pulsion cells. He followed up this by reading a paper to the Physical
Society on November 24, 1893, on the action of Hertzian radiation on
films containing metallic powders, and expressed the opinion that the
change in resistance of the Branly tube was due to electric radiation.*

Thus, at the end of 1893, a few physicists clearly recognized that a
new means had been given to us for detecting those invisible ether
waves, the chief properties of which Hertz had unraveled with sur-
passing skill six years before, by means of a detecter consisting of a
ring of wire having a small spark gap in it.

In June, 1894, Sir Oliver Lodge delivered a discourse at the Eoyal
Institution, entitled 'The Work of Hertz,' and at this lecture use was
made of the Branly tube as a Hertz wave detecter. The chief object
of the lecture was to describe the properties of Hertzian waves and their
reflection, absorption and transmission, and many brilliant quasi-
optical experiments were exhibited. Although a Branly tube, or im-
perfect metallic contact, then named by him a coherer, was employed by
Sir Oliver Lodge to detect an electric wave generated in another room,
there was no mention in this lecture of any use of the instrument for
telegraphic purposes, f

As we are here concerned only with the applications in telegraphy,
we shall not spend any more time discussing the purely scientific work
done with laboratory forms of this wave detector.

Without attempting to touch the very delicate question as to the
precise point at which laboratory research passed into technical applica-
tion, we shall briefly describe the forms of kumascope which have been
devised with special reference to Hertzian wave telegraphic work. A
very exact classification is at present impossible, but we may say that
telegraphic kumascopes may be roughly divided into six classes. The
first class includes all those that depend for their action on the ' coherer
principle' or the reduction of the resistance of a metallic microphone
by the action of electromotive force. As they depend upon an im-
perfect contact, they may be called contact humascopes. This class is
furthermore subdivided into the self-restoring and the non-self-restor-
ing varieties. The second class comprises the magnetic kumascopes

* See Professor Minchin, Proc. Phys. Soc, November 24, 1893; or The
Electrician, Vol. XXXII., 1893, p. 123. See also Professor Minehin, Phil. Mag.,
January, 1894, Vol. 37, p. 90, ' On the Action of Electromagnetic Radiation on
Films containing Metallic Powders.'

t This lecture was afterwards published as a book, the first edition bearing
the same title as the lecture, viz., ' Tlie Work of Hertz and Some of his Suc-
cessors.' In the second edition, published in 1898, an appendix was added (p.
59) containing 'The History of the Coherer Principle,' and the original title
of the work had prefixed to it, ' Signalling without Wires.'

446 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

which depend upon the action of an electrical oscillation as a magnetiz-
ing or demagnetizing agency. The third class comprises the electro-
lytic resjponderSj in which the action of electric oscillations either pro-
motes or destroys the results of electrolysis. The fourth class consists
of the electrothermal detectors, in which the power of an electrical
oscillation as a high frequency electric current to heat a conductor is
utilized. The fifth class comprises the electromagnetic or electro-
dynamic instruments, which are virtually very sensitive alternating
current ammeters, adapted for immensely high frequency. The sixth
class must be made to contain all those which cannot be well fitted at
present into any of the others, such as the sensitive responder of
Schafer, the action of which is not very clearly made out.

We may proceed briefly to describe the construction of the principal
forms of kumascope coming under the above headings. In the first
place, let us consider those which are commonly called the 'coherers'
or, as the writer prefers to call them, the contact Jcumascopes. The
simplest of these is the crossed needle or single contact, which origi-
nated with Professor E. Branly.* The pressure of the point of a steel
needle against an aluminium plate was subsequently found by Sir
Oliver Lodge to be a very sensitive arrangement when so adjusted that
a single cell sends little or no current through the contact, f When an
electric wave passes over it, good conducting contact ensues. The point
is, in fact, welded to the plate, and can only be detached by giving the
plate or needle a light shock or vibration. A variation of the above
form is a pair of crossed needles, one resting on the other.

Professor Branly found, in 1891, that if a pair of slightly oxidized
copper wires rest across one another the contact resistance may fall
from 8,000 to 7 ohms by the impact of an electric wave. He has
recently devised a tripod arrangement, in which a light metal stool
with three slightly oxidized legs stands on a polished plate of steel.
The contact points must be oxidized, but not too heavily, and the stool
makes a bad electrical contact until a wave falls upon it. f The
decoherence is effected by giving the stool a tilt by means of an
electromagnet.

These single or multiple point kumascopes labor under the disad-
vantage that only a very small current can be passed through the
variable contact when used as a relay arrangement, without welding
them together so much that a considerable mechanical shock is required
to break the contact and reset the trap.

* See The Electrician, Vol. XXVII., 1891, p. 222. E. Branly, 'Variations
of Conductivity under Electrical Influence.'

t See The Electrician, Vol. XL., p. 90. Sir Oliver Lodge, ' The HLstory of
the Coherer Principle.'

X See Professor E. Branly, ' A Sensitive Coherer,' Comptes Rendus, Vol.
CXXXIV., p. 1187, 1902; or Science Abstracts, Vol. V., p. 852, 1902.

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 447

The logical development of the single contact is therefore the
infinite number of contacts existing in the tube of metallic filings,
which has been the form of kumascope most used for many years. In
its typical form it consists of a tube of insulating material with
metallic plugs at each end, and between them a mass of metallic
powder, filings, borings, granules or small spheres, lightly touching
one another. Imperfect contact must be arranged by light pressure,
and in the majority of cases the resistance is very large until an
electric wave falls upon the tube, when it drops suddenly to a small
value and remains there until the tube is given a slight shake or the
granules disturbed in any way, when the resistance suddenly rises
again. This type of responder is a non-restoring kumascope, and re-
quires the continual operation of some external agency to keep it in a
condition in which it is receptive or sensitive to electric waves.

Much discussion and considerable research have taken place in con-
nection with the action and improvement of these metallic powder
kumascopes. As regards materials, the magnetic metals, nickel, iron
and cobalt, in the order named, appear to give the best results. The
noble metals, gold, silver and platinum, are too sensitive, and the very
oxidizable metals too insensitive, for telegraphic work, but an admix-
, ture may be advantageously made.

Omitting the intermediate developments of invention, it may be
said that Mr. Marconi was the first to recognize that to secure great
sensibility in an electric wave detecter of this type the following con-
ditions must be fulfilled: An exceedingly small mass of metallic
filings must be placed in a very narrow gap between two plugs, the
whole being contained in a vessel which is wholly or partly exhausted
of its air, Mr. Marconi devoted himself with great success to the
development of this instrument, and in a very short time succeeded
in transforming it from an uncertain laboratory appliance, capable of
yielding results only in very skilled hands, into an instrument certain
and simple in its operations as' an ordinary telegraphic relay. He did
this, partly by reducing its size, and partly by a most judicious selec-
tion of materials for its construction. As made at present, the Mar-
coni metallic filings tube consists of a small glass tube, the interior
diameter of which is not much more than one eighth of an inch, which
has in it two silver plugs which are beveled off obliquely. These are
placed opposite to each other so as to form a wedge-shaped gap, about
a millimeter in width at the bottom and two, or at most three, milli-
meters in width at the top (see Fig. 1). The silver plugs exactly fill
the aperture of the tube, and are connected to platinum wires sealed
through the glass. The tube has a lateral glass tube fused into it, by
which the exhaustion is made, which is afterwards sealed off, and this
tube projects on the side of the wider portion of the gap between the

448 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

silver plugs. The sensitive material consists of a mixture of metallic
filings, five per cent, silver and ninety-five per cent, nickel, being care-
fully mixed and sifted to a certain standard fineness. In the manu-
facture of these tubes, great care is taken
to make them as far as possible absolutely
identical. Each tube when finished is ex-
hausted, but not to a very high vacuum.
The tube so finished is attached to a bone
holder, by which it can be held in a hori-
FiG. 1. MARCONI SENSITIVE ^^^^.^j positiou. The obJect of beveling off

Tube ok Metallic Filings Kum- ^ _ '' =

AscopE. pp, silver plugs; TT, the j^lugs in the Marconi tube is to enable
platinum wires; F, nickel and ^j^^ gensitiveness of the tube to be varied by

Sliver filings. ••

turning it round, so that the small quantity
of filings lie in between a wider or narrower part of the gap.*

Other ways of adjusting the quantity of the filings to the width of
the gap have been devised. Sometimes one of the plugs is made
movable. In other cases, such as the tubes devised by M. Blondel and
Sir Oliver Lodge, there is a pocket in the glass receptacle to hold square
filings, from which more or less can be shaken into the gap.

An interesting question, which we have not time to discuss in full,
is the cause of the initial coherence of the metallic filings in a Branly
tube. It does not seem to be a simple welding action due to heat, and
it certainly takes place with a difference of potential, which is very far
indeed below that which we know is required to produce a spark. On
the other hand, it seems to be proved that in a Branly tube, when acted
upon by electric waves, chains of metallic particles are produced. The
effect is not peculiar to electric waves. It can be accomplished by the
application of any high electromotive force. Thus, Branly found that
coherence may be produced by the application of an electromotive force
of twenty or thirty volts, ojDerating through a very high water re-
sistance and thus precluding the passage of any but an excessively
small current. Again, the coherence seems to take place in some cases
when metallic particles are immersed in a liquid, or even in a solid,
insulator. Professor Branly has therefore preferred to speak of masses
of metallic granules as radio-conductors, and Professor Bose has divided
substances into positive and negative, according as the operation of
electromotive force is to increase the coherence of the particles or to
decrease it.

It has been asserted that for every particular Branly tul)e, there is
a critical electromotive force, in the neighborhood of two or three volts,
which causes the tube to break down and pass instantly from a non-

* This device of making the inter-electrode gap in a tubular filings coherer
wedge-shaped has been patented again and again by various inventors. See
German patent No. 116,113, Class 21a, 1900. It has also been claimed by M.
Tissot.

HERTZIAN ^YAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 449

conductive to a conductive condition, and that this critical electro-
motive force may become a measure of the utility of the tube for tele-
graphic purposes. Thus, C. Kinsley (Physical Review, Vol. XII., p.
177, 1901) has made measurements of this supposed critical potential
for different 'coherers,' and subsequently tested the same as receivers
at a wireless telegraph station of the U. S. A. Signal Corps. The
average of twenty-four experiments gave in one case 2.2 volts as the
breaking down potential of one of these coherers or Branly tubes, 3.8
volts for a second and 5.5 volts for the third. These same instru-
ments, tested as telegraphic kumascopes, showed that thfe first of the
three was most sensitive.

On the other hand, W. H. Eccles (Electrician, Vol. XLVII., pp.
682 and 715, 1901) has made experiments with Marconi nickel-silver
sensitive tubes, using a liquid potentiometer made with copper sulphate,
to apply the potential so that infinitesimal spark contacts might be
avoided and the changes in potential made without any abruptness.
He states that if the coherer tube is continuously tapped, say at the
rate of fifty vibrations per second, whilst at the same time an increas-
ing potential is applied to its terminals and the current passing through
it measured on a galvanometer, there is no abrupt change in current
at any point. He found that when the current and voltage were plotted
against each other, a regular curve was obtained, which after a time
becomes linear. A decided change occurs in the conductivity of the
mass of metallic filings when treated in this manner at voltages lower
than the critical voltage obtained by previous methods. He ascer-
tained that there was a complete correspondence between the sensitive-
ness of the tubes used as telegraphic instruments and the form of the
characteristic curve of current and voltage drawn by the above de-
scribed method.

In the same manner, K. E. Guthe and A. Trowbridge (Physical
Review, Vol. II., p. 22, 1900) investigated the action of a simple ball
coherer formed of half a dozen steel, lead or phosphor-bronze balls in
slight contact. They measured the current i passing through the
series under the action of a difference of potential v between the ends,
and found a relation which could be expressed in the form

v=V (l — e"')

where V and Jc are constants.

The current through this ball coherer is therefore a logarithmic
function of the potential difference between its ends, of the form

i^ « log (v — V)

and exhibits no discontinuity.

The inference was drawn that the 'resistance' is due to films of
VOL. Lxm. — 29.

45° POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

water adhering to the metallic particles through which electrolytic
action occurs,

A good metallic filings tube for use as a receiver in Hertzian wave
telegraphy should exhibit a constancy of action and should cohere and
decohere^ to use the common terms, sharply, at the smallest possible
tap. It should not have a current passed through it by the external
cell of more than a fraction of a milliampere, or else it becomes
wounded and unsensitive.

The investigations which have already taken place seem to show
pretty clearly that the agency causing the masses of filings to pass
from a non-conductive to a conductive condition is electromotive force,
and that therefore it is the electromotive force set up in the aerial by
the incident waves which is the effective agent in causing the change
in the metallic filings tube, when this is used as a telegraphic kuma-
scope. This transformation of the tube from a non-conductor to a con-
ductor is made to act as a circuit-closer, completing the circuit, by
means of which a single cell of a local battery is made to send current
through an ordinary telegraph relay, and so by the aid of a second
battery operate a telegraphic printer or recorder of any kind. Hence,
it is clear that after one impact, the metallic filings tube has to be
brought back to its non-conductive condition, and this may be achieved
in several ways. (1) By the administration of carefully regulated
taps or shocks or by rotating the tube on its axis; (2) by the aid of
an alternating current; (3) in those cases where filings of magnetic
metals are employed, by magnetism.

The decoherence by taps was discovered by Branly,* and Popoff,
following the example of Sir Oliver Lodge, employed an electric bell
arrangement for this purpose, f

Mr. Marconi, in his original receiving instruments, placed an elec-
tromagnet under the coherer tube with a vibrating armature like an
electric bell. J This armature carries a small hammer or tapper, which,
when set in action, hits the tube on the under side, and various
adjusting screws are arranged for regulating exactly the force and
amplitude of the blows. This tapper is actuated by the same current
as the Morse printer, or other telegraphic recorder, so that when the
signal is received and the metallic filings tube passes into the con-
ductive condition and closes the relay circuit, this latter in turn closes
the circuit of the Morse printer or other recorder, and, at the same
time, a current passes through the electromagnet of the tapper and
the tube is tapped back. This sequence of operations requires a certain

* See The Electrician, Vol. XXVII., 1891, p. 448.

t Journal of The Russian Physical and Chemical Society, Vol. XXVIII. j
division of physics. Part I., January, 1896.

t See Brit. Patent Specification, No. 12,039, June 2, 189G.

HERTZIAN ^yAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 451

time which limits the speed of receiving. The tapper has to be so
arranged that it is possible to receive and to record not only the dot
but a dash on the Morse system. The dash is really a series of closely
adjacent dots, which run together in virtue of the inertia and induct-
ance of the dill'erent parts of the whole receiving apparatus. Tlic
adjustment has so to be made that, whilst the dash is being recorded
and a continuous tapping is kept up, yet, nevertheless, the continued
electromotive force in the aerial, due to the continually arriving trains
of waves, is able to act against the tapping and to keep the filings in
the tube in the conductive condition. Hence, the successful operation
of the arrangement requires attention to a number of adjustments, but
these are not more difficult, or even as difficult, as those involved in
the use of many telegraphic receivers employed in ordinary telegraphy
with wires.

Mr. Marconi also introduced devices for j^reventing the sparks at
the contacts of the electromagnetic hammer from directly affecting
the tube, and also to prevent the electric oscillations which are set up
in the aerial from being partly shunted through other circuits than that
of the sensitive tube. We pass on to notice the remaining devices for
restoring the metallic filings tube to a condition of sensitiveness or
receptiveness.

A method for doing this by alternating currents is due to Mr. S.
G. Brown.* The pole pieces of the coherer tube are made of iron, and
they are enveloped in magnetizing coils traversed by an alternating
electric current. Between these pole pieces is placed a small quantity
of nickel or iron filings, and under the action of the electromotive
force, due to an electric wave acting on them, may be made to cohere
in the usual fashion; but the moment that the wave ceases, the alter-
nating magnetism of the electrodes causes the filings to drop apart or
decohere. In place of the alternating current, Mr. Brown finds that
a revolving permanent magnet can be used to produce the alternating
magnetization of the pole pieces of the sensitive tube or coherer.

The third method of causing the decoherence of the filings is that
due to T. Tommasina. He found that when a Branly tube is made
with filings of a magnetic metal, such as iron, nickel and cobalt, the
decoherence of the filings can be produced by means of an electro-
magnet placed in a suitable position under the tube.f The explana-
tion of this fact seems to be that, when an electric wave falls upon
the tube or when any other source of electromotive force acts upon it,
chains of metallic particles are formed, stretching from one electrode

* British Patent Specilication, No. 19,710 of 1899.

■f Comptcs Rendus, Vol. CXXVIII., p. 1225, 1889; Science Abstracts, Vol.
II., p. 521.

452 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

to the other. Tommasina contends that he has proved the existence of

these chains of particles by experiments made with iron filings; and

E. Malagoli,*in referring to Tommasina 's assertion, states that it can

be witnessed in the case of brass filings placed between two plates of

metal and immersed in vaseline oil, when a difference of potential is

made between the plates.

T. Sundorphf says he has confirmed Tommasina 's discovery of the

formation of these chains of metallic particles in the coherer. The

filings do not all cling together, but certain chains are formed which

afford a conducting path for the current subsequently passed through

the coherer from an external source. Accordingly, Tommasina 's

method of causing decoherence in the case of filings of magnetic metals

is to pull them apart by an external magnetic field; and he stated that

decoherence can be effected more easily and regularly in this way than

by tapping. Whilst on this point, it may be mentioned that C. TissotJ

says that he has found that the sensitiveness of a coherer formed of

nickel and iron filings can be increased by placing it in the magnetic

field, the lines of which are parallel to the axis of the tube. According

to MM. A. Blondel and G. Dobkevitch, this is merely the result of an

increased coherence of the particles.

{To be continued.)

* II Nuovo Cimento, Vol. X., p. 279, 1899.

fWied. Ann., Vol. LXVIII., p. 594, 1899; Science Abstracts, Vol. II., p.
757.

XComptes Rendus, Vol. CXXX., p. 902, 1900; Science Abstracts, Vol. III.,
p. 615.

MOSQUITOES AXD THEIR EXTERMINATION. 453

MOSQUITOES AND SUGGESTIONS FOR THEIR
EXTERMINATION.*

By WILLIAM LYMAN UNDERWOOD,

LECTURER IN THE MASSACHUSETTS INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGV.

nnHE statement has been frequently made of late that there is no
-*- more reason why we should suffer from mosquitoes than there
is that we should allow rats and mice to continually annoy us, and
this statement is in a measure true. Rats and mice are to a great
extent effectively held in check; for we have become accustomed to
them and their habits, and we know how to deal with them. Were it
not for the fact that a constant warfare is being waged against them,
they would soon overrun our houses and make life unbearable.

In order to fight the mosquitoes successfully it is important that
every one should take an interest in the popular uprising against this
insect pest. And now that it is known that, besides being a nuisance,
mosquitoes may be a menace to the health of the community, it is
equally necessary that every one should become familiar with all that
pertains to their life history so that the war against them may be
successfully and intelligently carried on. Notwithstanding all that
has been written on the subject of mosquitoes, during the last year or
two, the majority of people still know but little about them.

It is the purpose of this article to state, in as simple a manner a?
possible, the facts that are now known regarding mosquitoes and how
to deal with these pests, and it is hoped that this information may
help to secure a more general cooperation in the work of mosquito
extermination.

Few people realize that there are a great many different kinds of
mosquitoes. Some three hundred species have already been described,
and here in the United States we have about fifty species, belonging
to nine different genera. The most common of these genera in the
northern states are Anopheles, the malarial, and Culex, the ordinary,
mosquito. Of the former there are two species and of the latter at
least fifteen.

Only these two genera and the methods for their extermination will
be especially considered, and as these methods may also be successfully
applied to the other kinds of mosquitoes, no detailed description of
the others need be given.

* Illustrated with photographs from life by the author. The article and
the photographs are copyrighted.

454 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

It is commonly and quite naturally thought that mosquitoes breed
in wet grass, as they are often seen to rise from it in clouds \yhen dis-
turbed, j^articularly in the early morning and evening. They have not
bred there, however, but have merely sought the shelter of the grass
where they can be protected from the wind. The moisture of the dew
upon the grass also furnishes an attraction for them and they always
prefer damp rather than dry places.

Another popular theory is that mosquitoes will l^reed 07ili/ in foul
or stagnant water. This is also a mistaken idea though they often do
breed in such water, not because it is impure or stagnant, however,
but because these places are usually quiet and here the female can
deposit her eggs undisturbed.

It is commonly supposed that mosquitoes do not breed in salt water,
but the recent 'Mosquito Investigations' of Professor John B. Smith,
of ISTew Jersey, which were published in the New Jersey Agricultural
College Experiment Station Eeport of Kovember, 1902, show that the
larvge of Culex sollicitanSj the 'Salt marsh mosquito,' not only prefer
salt or brackish water, but are seldom found in pools where the water
i,< strictly fresh, and, contrary to the usual custom, this mosquito lays
its eggs upon the soil of marsh or meadow land. There the eggs
remain until the advent of an unusually high tide. Then after a few
hours when the water has covered them, the infant larvae make their
appearance.

It is very generally believed that mosquitoes bite but once and then
die. This is sometimes so; but, unless they are killed in the act of
biting, they usually live to bite again. The female mosquito (for it
is only the female that attacks human beings) bites many times. It
is owing to this fact that Anopheles is able to convey the germs of
malarial fever from person to 2:)erson. When biting any one who is
afflicted with malaria, the insect drawls in with the l)lood the germs
of the disease, which it afterwards carries on into the blood of another
victim. The vast majority of mosquitoes never get human blood for
food. In its absence they live upon the blood of birds and other
animals, and when these are not to be found, upon the juices of young
and tender plants.

It is not known just how long mosquitoes can live, but their
average life is much longer than is ordinarily supposed. Thousands
of them live through winter hibernating or asleep in dark places in
barns or house cellars. In sparsely settled localities, where they can
not find such places for shelter, they live through the winter in hollow
trees, in caves and holes under upturned trees; and, even though the
temperature may fall far below freezing, they arc not winter-killed,
liiit on Uu' a])proach of warm weather become active again. Mosqui-

MOSQUITOES AND THEIR EXTERMINATION. 455

toes are frequently seen flying about in the woods before the snow has
wholly left the ground.

Mosquitoes can not develop or come to maturity without water in
which to live during the first weeks of their 'wiggler' existence.

H.

Fig. 1. Mosquito ' Wigglers '— L arv.e and Pup.e— i\ the Water. Life size.

A mosquito's life is divided into four stages — the egg, the larva,
the pupa and the adult insect. In the larval and pupal stages, mosqui-
toes are more commonly known as 'wigglers' (see Fig. 1). Both

Fig. 2. Mosquito ' Wigglers' iLarv.e) in the Water. Anopheles Larva to the Right,
Calex Larva to the Left. Three times larger than life.

Anopheles, the malarial, and Culex, the common, mosquito larvge are
present in this picture. Mosquito 'wigglers' may frequently be found
in rain-water barrels in as large numbers as are seen in this photo-
graph. The female mosquito lays from one hundred and fifty to four

456

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

hundred eggs upon the surface of some quiet water, and in a day or
two these eggs develop into the larval or second stage (see Fig. 2).
It will be noticed that Culex hangs with its head down, and from
its tail upward to the surface of the water extends a small tube.
Through this tube it breathes. Anopheles rests just beneath and par-
allel to the surface of the water, and its breathing tube is much shorter

than that of Culex. These resting
positions are quite different, and
each is characteristic of its kind.
Except when disturbed. Anopheles
is generally to be found at the sur-
face, breathing and feeding in this
position. Culex, on the other hand,
comes to the surface only occasion-
ally to breathe. It stays below the
water for the greater part of the
time, and is often found feeding
from the bottom.
At the end of a few days the larvae change into the pupal or third
stage (see Fig. 3). To the left is seen the larval skin out of which
this pupa has just come. The difference between Culex and Anopheles
in this, the final stage of 'wiggler' existence, is very slight. Both now

Fig. 3. A Pupa, the Third Stage in a
Mosquito's Life. Three times as large
as life.

Fig. 4. An Adult Mosquito ( A/iophelcs) TRAtOivoiiynsG ikom a I^ui'A and coming out of

THE Water. Three times as large as life.

live at the surface of the water, and they breathe through two funnel-
shaped tubes situated one on each side of the thorax, or 'head.' Unless
disturbed, they remain motionless in this position at the surface until
the time comes when, as adult mosquitoes, they leave the water (see
Fig. 4). This is the critical period of a mosquito's life; for, should

MOSQUITOES AND THEIR EXTERMINATION. 457

the surface of the water be disturbed at this time, the insect would be
upset and drowned. It takes about seven minutes from the time when
the skin along the back of the pupa begins to split until the full-
grown mosquito comes forth and in a few minutes is ready to fly
away. A mosquito never grows any larger after this change.

The length of time required to pass from the egg to the adult
insect varies from ten days to three weeks, according to the tempera-
ture. Warm weather hastens their development, while low tempera-
ture checks it. The 'wigglers' of some species of mosquitoes live
through the coldest weather of our northern winters unharmed, ready,
when the first warm days of spring have come, to complete their natural
changes.

Mosquitoes' eggs are so very small that ordinarily they remain
unnoticed, but nearly every one who lives in the country is familiar
with the little 'wigglers' that are often seen squirming up and down
in rain-water barrels. Few people know that these little fellows are
connected in any way with mosquitoes, but it is a very easy matter to
prove that they are. Let any one who doubts this fact dip up a few in
a glass jar or tumbler and place them in the house, where they can be
frequently looked at. Seeing is believing; and after a full-grown
mosquito has once been seen to come forth from a pupa (which is the
last stage of the 'wiggler'), there can not any longer be any question
as to what these 'wigglers' really are.

Most of the mosquitoes that annoy us are bred near by, often,
though unknown to us, in our own dooryards. Any water that is
accessible to mosquitoes and wdiose surface is undisturbed by winds or
rapid currents furnishes a breeding-place for them, and 'wigglers'
may often be found in water standing in old tin cans or bottles, in
rain-water barrels, in pools in the rocks, in roof or street gutters that
are not properly drained, in cesspools or in catch-basins, in fact, in
any place that will hold water for a week or two, no matter how small
the quantity, even if only a few teaspoonfuls.

Since we know that without water mosquitoes in their first stages
can not exist, it naturally follows that all standing water should be
done away with or treated in such a manner that 'wigglers' can noi
live in it nor mosquitoes get to it to lay their eggs. To this end all
cans, bottles and every discarded utensil that will hold water should
be removed. All stagnant pools, where it is possible to do so, should
be drained or filled up. Cisterns, rain-water barrels and cesspools
should be screened or otherwise covered to prevent the adult insects
from having access to them. Where it is not practicable to fill, drain,
or screen the places that are suitable for mosquitoes to breed in, the
surface of the water may be covered with kerosene oil. This oil,
when spread over the water, prevents the 'wigglers' from getting air

458

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

when they come to the surface to breathe, and so kills them (see Figs.
5 and 6).

In Fig. 5 a 'wiggler' is seen trying to get air, vainly thrusting its
breathing tube up into the film of kerosene.

Pig. 5. Thkee Times Larger than Life.

In Fig. 6 the upj^er Sviggler' is grasping its breathing tube in its
mouth, apparently trying to pull off the small particles of kerosene

Fig. G. Three Times Larger than Life.

Avith which the tube has been clogged. The 'wiggiers' upon the bot-
tom have been suffocated and have given up the fight.

An ounce (two tablespoonfuls) of kerosene will spread over fifteen
square feet of water surface, forming a film thick enough to kill all

MOSQUITOES AXD TlIEfT! EXTERMINATION. 459

the 'wiggiors' that arc beneath it. Kerosene of a cheap quality, known
as high test light fuel oil, is preferable for this purpose. It can usually
be bought at eight cents a gallon. If oil of this quality is not avail-
able, ordinary kerosene will answer the purpose. It should be applied
as often as once in iwo weeks, for by that time the previous applica-

FiG. 7. Anopheles punctipennis (Female). Three times larger than life.

tion will have evaporated. A sufficient quantity should be used, in
the proportions named, to cover completely any place that may need
treatment.

Any one who is ill with malaria or yellow fever should be carefully
protected from mosquitoes, for, should a person be bitten by an Ano-
pheles, the malarial mosquito or Stegomyia fasciata, the yellow^ fever
mosquito, at this time, there would be great danger that the insects
might fly away and bite some one else and thus spread these diseases.
Screens for both doors and windows form the best protection against
mosquitoes at all times; but it often happens that the insects get into
our houses, even though they are thoroughly screened, generally through
.some door or window that has l)een left open by mistake, or they may
gain an entrance l^y coming down an unused chimney if the flue is
■allowed to remain open during the summer time. A house or a room
may be cleared of mosquitoes by burning j)yrethrum powder and allow-
ing the smoke, which is not at all offensive to most people, thoroughly

460

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

to fill the room that is under treatment. This smoke kills or so stupe-
fies the insects that they will not bite. Pyrethrum powder is a prep-
aration of the plant Pyrethrum roseum, and is sometimes sold as Per-
sian Insect Powder or Dalmation Powder; it can be bought at any
drug store for about thirty-five cents a pound. It is a very fine, light
powder; and an ounce of it will go a long way, making a large volume
of smoke. A pyrethrum smudge or smoke may be started by covering
a live coal, taken from the kitchen stove, with the powder, first placing
the coal upon a small shovel, so that it may be moved about conveniently
without danger of setting anything on fire. The pyrethrum will

Fig. 8. Profile ov Anopheles punc.tipennis Fig. 9. Profile of a f'uiex Mosquito (Fe-
(Female). Three times larger than life. Show- male). Three times larger than life,
ing the characteristic resting position of this
mosquito.

quickly begin to smoulder and give off a dense smoke. All that is now
necessary is to add from time to time a pinch of the powder as occa-
sion requires, merely keeping the smouldering ashes covered so that
they will give off a smoke. People are frequently annoyed and some-
times driven into their houses on summer evenings by the persistent
attacks of mosquitoes. On such occasions, pyrethrum powder can
often be used to advantage; and the smoke from a small quantity of
the powder kept smouldering upon the piazza will drive away most,
if not all, of the pests, thus making it possible to enjoy an evening
out doors in comfort, when otherwise life would be unbearable except
behind the protection of screens.

The Anopheles, or malarial mosquitoes, though not very common
(see Figs. 7 and 8), are breeding quite abundantly in many parts of
this country; and by referring to the accompanying photographs, par-
ticularly the ones in profile, it will be seen that there is quite a differ-
ence between the malarial and the common, or Culex, mosquitoes.

MOSQUITOES AND THEIR EXTERMINATION. 461

^

r

^

Fig. 10. Profile of a Malf,
Culez Mosquito. Three times
larger than life.

They may easily be distinguished from the common or Culex family
of mosquitoes by the spots upon their wings, and also l)y the position
which they take when at rest (see Fig. 8).

Notice the angle at which the insect shown in Fig. 8 stands out
from the wall. Compare this with Fig. 9. It will also be seen that

the proboscis, or 'stinger,' and the body of
Anopheles form a straight line, while the
Culex is rather humpbacked. The other
Anopheles, maculipennis, does not stand out
from the wall at quite such an angle as does
punctipennis; but like the latter its pro-
boscis and body form a straight line, and
the angle formed by the insect when at rest
is much greater than that of the Culex.

Notice how different is the resting posi-
tion of the mosquito in Fig. 9 from that of
Anopheles in Fig. 8.

The male mosquito (see Fig. 10) never
bites. He may be easily distinguished by
his large and feathered antennge and palpi, which are very much more
prominent than those of the female.

There is another mosquito, Stegomyia fasciata, which in form and
habits closely resembles Culex, in which genus, until quite recently,
it was classed. Stegomyia fasciata is the yellow fever mosquito, and
it only inhabits the warmer portions of this country. It is common
in most of our southern states and is seldom seen north of the Caro-
linas. It is easily distinguished from other mosquitoes by the con-
spicuous silvery white stripes upon its thorax and abdomen, and by the
white bands upon its legs.

Fortunately for mankind, nature herself provides many energetic
workers who are constantly doing their part towards holding in check
these insect pests. Foremost among these natural enemies are many
of the insectivorous birds, which daily destroy many thousands of
mosquitoes. The swallows, the fly-catchers, the night hawks and the
whip-poor-wills, all are insect exterminators, whose good work in this
connection is seldom taken into account. The bat is also an efficient
mosquito hunter; so too are the dragon flies which frequent the shores
of ponds and pools where mosquitoes breed.

Besides these enemies of the adult mosquito, which may properly
be called their 'foes of the air,' mosquitoes have other adversaries
which destroy them in their early stages. These may be termed their
'foes of the water.'

It often happens that we can find no 'wigglers' in small ponds in
which we would naturally expect to find mosquitoes breeding. In

462

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

such jDonds the presence of fish may account for the absence of mos-
quitoes. Tlieir larvae furnisli food for many species of our smaller
tishes, and by them myriads of mosquitoes are annually destroyed.
Goldfish are particularly fond of mosquito 'wigglers,' and the pair of
fish in the illustration (see Fig. 11) were seen to eat ninety-eight
Svigglers' in four minutes. Goldfish will live and multiply in almost
any small and shallow pond in tliis vicinity, where the water is warm.
They are perfectly hardy and will thrive just as well and perhaps
better in staonant water than thev will in fresh.

/

BBMfMaai^KailB

.^

M

(

!}>

1' lu. li. < lOLiJi- isii Katinu Mosulito Larv.k. Life size These two fish were seen to eat ninety-
eight ' wigglers ' in four minutes. They always fed upon mosquito iMrva; when they
could get them in preference to prepared goldfish food.

The 'top minnow/ the waeh, the sunfish or 'jmnii^kin seed' and
even the sluggish horn pout all play an important part in reducing
the numbers of mosquito 'wigglers.' Besides the fishes, there are
other 'foes of the water' that prey upon mosquito larvae. Many of the
predatory water bugs feed upon them. Professor J. B. Smith, in the
report previously referred to, says that "among these predatory insects
which abound in shallow permanent bodies of water wherever there is
vegetation, the water boatman {Corisa and Notonecta), the water
striders or 'skate bugs' (Hydroliatidse) and the water scorpions (Ne-

MOSQUITOES AND THEIR EXTERMINATION. 463

pidse, Belostomatida?) deserve mention." lie also speaks of the
'water tiger,' the larva of llic hirgo water beetle (Dytiscus), and tells
of its ability to clear Culex larvae from pools of water.

In this connection a brief description of a newly discovered mos-
quito,* to which has been given the name Eucoretlira underwoodi,
should be of interest, since it has been found that their larvae devour
the wigglers of other mosquitoes, and imlike other mosquitoes, the
adult female insect does not bite. As the proboscis of this insect is
so formed that it can not puncture the skin, it should not perhaps be
called a true mosquito, though it has been classed as one, since it
belongs to the family Culicidte.

The larvae of this insect were found by the author on January 27.
1903, in the Maine woods in the eastern section of Penobscot County,
and were discovered in a spring of water from which a crew of lumber-

FiG. 12. Larva Eucurelhra underwoudi. Dorsal View.

men were getting their water supply. A few days later, other larvae
of the same species were found in a similar spring about eight miles
distant, though in this case, as the spring was not in use, its surface
was covered with a coating of ice an inch thick. The temperature of
the water at the bottom (it was about two feet deep) was 43° F.

At first sight this larva would be taken for an Anopheles of extra-
ordinary size, as it is of the same general shape, and when the water was
cleared of ice, it lay just beneath and parallel to the surface, breathing
through a short respiratory siphon, as is characteristic of the larvae of
Anopheles. In this spring a barrel had been sunk and in the fifty
gallons, or thereabouts, of water which it contained there were twenty-
five larvae. They were all of about the same size — 13 to 14 mm. long

* Under the title * A New Mosquito ' a description of this mosquito ap-
peared in Science, August 7, New Series, Vol. XVIII., No. 449.

464

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

Fig.

13 Last Segment of
Larva Profile.

— and almost black in color. All were secured and taken into camp

for further investigation.

Close observation of the larvae showed that besides being much

larger (12-14 mm. long instead of 5-7 mm.) they differed in many

other particulars from the larvae of Anopheles (see Fig. 12). In pro-
portion to the rest of its body^ its head is
larger than the head of Anopheles. It does
not turn its head upside down when feed-
ing as does Anopheles. Its mandibles are
strikingly large and powerful and are prom-
inently toothed. It lacks the frontal tufts
or brushes which are conspicuously present
in Anopheles, and its antennae, which extend
directly forward parallel with the sides of
the head, are much longer and more slen-
der, and are tipped each with three hairs
of equal size. The thorax is broadly ellip-
tical and is much wider in comparison with

its abdominal segments than is the thorax of Anopheles. The sides of

the thorax and the abdominal segments- bear fanshaped tufts of hairs,

not plumosed as in Anopheles. The tufts on the last segments, both

dorsal and ventral (see Fig. 13), are more profuse in Eucorethra than

in Anopheles, especially the ventral tuft which in Eucorethra occupies

nearly the whole segment. Only two anal papilla are present, while

Anopheles has four.

A few days before the author returned to Boston, several larvae died

and three changed to pupae. The pupa resembles that of Culex (see

Fig. 14) rather than of. Anopheles and its respiratory siphons are of

the same shape as those of Culex.

When stretched out at full length,

the pupa measures ten mm.

On reaching home, the new

wigglers, eighteen in number,

were put into a quart jar which

was placed near a window where

it would receive the sunlight for

two hours each morning. The

temperature of the water now

averaged about 70° F., and with

this change the larvae developed

a new trait — they began to eat

each other up. The act was

witnessed on several occasions.

The larva would grasp its adver-

FiG. 14. Pupa Eucorethra under woodi.
Original Drawing.

MOSQUITOES AND THEIR EXTERMINATION. 465

sary just forward of the respiratory siphon with its powerful mouth
parts, and working the tail in first it would gradually swallow its
victim, shaking it now and then as a terrier would shake a rat.

After losing many of the insects in this way, those that re-
mained were separated, and each individual was placed in a small
bottle by itself. Eventually, 1 succeeded in rearing a number of

Fig. 15. E'lcorcthrii uiuleriuoodi. Coyuii.i.ETT MS. ORIGINAL Bkawing.

males and females. The pupal stage of this insect varies from five
days and nine hours to six days and ten hours. The adult (see Fig.
15) resembles Anopheles in having maculated or spotted wings, but is
much larger and measures eleven millimeters in length. Its mouth
parts, however, are not adapted for biting. A full description of the
imago is soon to be recorded by Mr. D. W. Coquillett, of the National
Museum, by whom the name above mentioned was given.

VOL. LXIII.^ — 30.

466 POPULAR ^SCIENCE MOyTIILY.

During a visit to Maine in June, a large number of larvge of Euco-
rethra were taken from the spring where the barrel had been sunk.
It was noticeable that larvae of other kinds of mosquitoes were absent,
although the adults were very numerous in the immediate vicinity.

The absence of other mosquito larvae was accounted for when later
it was discovered that the larva3 of Eucorethra fed upon the larvae of
other mosquitoes, eating them apparently with great relish. On sev-
eral occasions fourteen Eucorethra larvae ate, during the night, sixty
Culex larvffi out of the seventy that had been placed in the water with
them. When eating the larvae of mosquitoes smaller than themselves,
the victim is caught, shaken violently a few times, and swallowed in a
few seconds in very much the same way that a pickerel would catch
and swallow a smaller fish.

As yet no experiments have been made to see if this new species
will devour the larvae of Anopheles as readily as they will those of
Culex. Whether or not this species will thrive in the climate of
southern New England is as yet uncertain, but experiments are now
being carried on to determine this point.

Although myriads of mosquitoes are destroyed by the natural ene-
mies which have been mentioned, mail should ,be the most destructive
foe of these insects. There is no doubt that the mosquito pest may
be very largely abated by the employment of scientific methods for
causing its destruction in the early stages of its development.

While it is the duty of boards of health !to recognize mosquitoes as
active agencies for the dissemination of certain diseases and to take
such measures as are possible for their extermination, the work can
never be effectively done until the people of each community are fully
informed in regard to the life history of the mosquito so that all may
cooperate intelligently to secure its destruction.

SHORTER ARTICLES AND CORRESPONDENCE. 467

SHOKTEK AUTilLES AX D L'UJMIESi'UXDE.XCE.

THE ASCEXDIXG OBELISK OF THE
MONTAGNE PELEE.

The extraordinary shaft, of rock
(lava) shown in the illustration now
transfixes the newly-constructed cone

this .year, rose still 180 feet higlier, is
being and has been pushed up bodily,
the lava solidifying before leaving the
interior of the volcano. During the
four days immediately preceding June

of Pelee, and towers above it ujjward \ 17, as determined ly M. Guinoiseau, a

Obelisk of Pelee. (Photograph by Angelo Heilprin, from the crater-rim of Pel6e, June

13, 1903 (flevalion, 4,100 leetj.

of 800 feet, giving to the volcano a , member of the French Scientific Corn-
height of 5,020 feet, instead of 4,250 I mission in Martinique, the lift or as-
(or 4,400) feet, which it had prior cent was nearly 21 feet, but at an
to the erudition of May 8, 1902. This ; earlier day the movement was much
unique structure which, on May 31 of more rapid. The obelisk, which meas-

468

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

ures 300-350 feet across at the base is
slightly curved in the direction of
Saint Pierre ; the eastern face is smooth
and grooved, showing well the marks
of attrition against the encasing wall
of rock which lined its channel of exit.
On the west and southwest it is
' cavernous ' and slaggy, having the im-
press of successive eruptions which
have blown its parts asunder. On the
night of June 12, immediately preced-
ing my ascent, the southwest base was
intensely luminous, shining out bright
red Avith the lava that was being
forced into it. A few days later, a
thin vapor pennant was seen to issue
from the absolute apex. Basal erup-
tions were taking place almost con-
tinuously.

Angelo Heilprin.

PROFESSOR SEALER ON ANIMAL
INTELLIGENCE.

■ To THE Editor: Permit me to call
your attention to an article by Pro-
fessor N. S. Shaler in the July issue
of Harper's Monthly under the caption
' Plant and Animal Intelligence.' This
article contains so many glaring inac-
curacies and misinterpretations of the
views of Huxley, the monistic philos-
ophers and those whom he terms ' men
of the extreme Darwinian school ' that
in the interest of scientific truth — of
which your journal has always been
such a valuable exponent — some action
on your part to correct the evil effect of
these errors would be both timely and
consistent. Now, I am not posing as
a champion of monistic philosophy,
but the public should not be misled
with respect to what monism really
means, nor should the broad-minded
Huxley, the enemy of dogma, whether in
science or leligion, be held responsible
for views not only foreign to his be-
liefs, but incompatible with his habits
of thought.

Professor Shaler asserts that Huxley
was the originator of the theory of
animal automatism. One is tempted
to believe that the learned professor

has had no time to peruse Huxley's
monograph on the subject, but has
jumped at the conclusion that the title
signifies a belief in that theory in its
narrowest sense. The great name of
Descartes, the real originator of the
theory, is not even mentioned, and
Professor Shaler seems to be ignorant
of the fact that Huxley's interesting
monograph is merely a critical anal-
ysis of Descartes's thesis, leading to
the inevitable conclusion that the
great seventeenth century philosopher's
views on the subject were untenable,
although in part justified by his mar-
velously prophetic insight into the
truths of modern psychology and physi-
ology.

The following extracts from Huxley's
monograph show very clearly his
thought on these subjects:

But though I do not think that Descnrtes'
hypothesis can be positively refuted, I am not
disposed to accept it. The doctrine of contin-
uity is too well established for it to be permis-
sible to me to suppose that any complex
natural phenomenon comes into existence
suddenly, and without being preceded by
simpler modifications; and very strong argu-
ments would be needed to prove that such
complex phenomena as those of consciousness,
first make their appearance in man. . . . We
know, further, that the lower animals possess,
though less developed, that part of the brain
which we have every reason to believe to be
the organ of consciousness in man ; and as, in
other cases, function and organ are propor-
tional, so we have a right to conclude it is with
the brain ; and that the brutes, though they
may not possess our intensity ol consciousness,
and though, from the absence of language,
they can have no trains of thoughts, but only
trains of feelings, yet have a consciousness
which, more or less distinctly, foreshadows
our own.

It is true that Huxley, in another
part of his essay, offers the postulate
that man, and other higher organisms,
are conscious automata, but this is
very different from believing, as Pro-
fessor Shaler asserts he did, ' that mind
was a peculiarity of man, the lower
animals being essentially automata, all
their apparent intelligence being due to
mere reflex action essentially compar-
able with mechanical movements such

SHORTER ARTICLES AND CORRESPONDENCE. 469

as those of sensitive instruments — witli
no intelligence whatever in the action.'

Now, while the word automaton, in
the literal sense, may be olFensive as
applied to man, coupled wilh the word
'conscious' it merely signitu^s a nega-
tion of the doctrine of free will or un-
caused action. In other words, Huxley
suggests that the state of consciousness
preceding any so-called voluntary act
is merely a part of the mechanism of
that act, and not its cause, the cause
being found in immediate external
stimvili and molecular conditions, the
result of the accumulated effects of
more remote external stimuli incident
during both individual and ancestral
existence, and forming links in a long
chain of causation whicn is finally lost
in the infinite and absolute cause of all
things.

Professor Shaler laboriously seeks to
prove by Huxley's own familiar argu-
ments the analogy between the psychic
life of animals and that of man. It
is really amusing to find Huxley, the
author of ' Man's Place in Natui'e ' and
always a believer in the continuity of
organic life, credited with doctrines
actually subversive of his most cher-
ished theories.

The philosophers of the extreme
* Darwinian ' and monistic schools
would be astonished and shocked, I
am sure, to learn that they have com-
mitted philosophical ' hari kari ' by
regarding an elephant as an automa-
ton. Surely the formation of species
by the almost inconceivably slow and
gradual process described by Darwin
is incompatible with any theory calling
for the sudden appearance of conscious
man. Such a theory might be held
more consistently by De Vries or others
who question the validity of Darwin's
generalizations and ask us to believe in
the sudden ' mutation ' of species.

One is loath to believe Professor
Shaler serious in his statement that
the monists have sought to establish
their conception of the universe by
exploiting a distinctly dualistic theory.

Ernst Haeckcl, wlio may I)e cited as a
type of the extreme monistic school,
asserts his belief that consciousness in
the true sense of the word is present in
all organisms having a centralized
nervous system; furthermore, Haeckel
invites us to the study of the ' sublime
monism of Spinoza,' which, after all,
is the very pantheism which Professor
Shaler says has never held an im-
portant place in occidental philosophy.

It is not a far cry from Spinoza's
self-existent universal svibstance, of
which consciousness is only a mode,
or Schelling's ' world soul ' composed
of the union of a positive and negative
principle to Spencer's ' unknowable
absolute.' In Spinoza and Schelling
we have the pantheism of the East
purified and shorn of its allegory and
imagery. In Spencer we have the es-
sentially modern, scientific arrange-
ment of the data of our consciousness
leading to conclusions only faintly
adumbrated in the hazy speculations
of a priori philosophers.

It has become the fashion lately in
certain quarters to disparage the work
of that splendid band of truth seekers
who created modern science, not only
by what they contributed in exact
knowledge, but by the inspiration they
afforded others and the impetus they
gave to rational methods of research
and speculation. Doubtless the gen-
eralizations of the great evolutionists
will be modified by advancing knowl-
edge, but I am confident that far into
the future the pathway blazed by these
men through the wilderness of ignor-
ance, tradition and error will always
be found leading towards truth, though
possibly at times through tortuous
ways. Hero worship and the weight of
authority should not be permitted to
stay the march of progress, but the
cause of science is not best served by
reading into the works of the great
men of the past views which they
would have been the first to repudiate.

EuG. L. FiSK.

New York.

470

POPULAR SCIEXCE MONTHLY

SCIENTIFIC LITEEATUEE.

THE COLLECTED PAPERS OF
ROWLAND AND FITZGERALD.

We liad occasion to note recently the
severe losses of mathematical pliysics

and. Gibbs in the United States were
given time for a full life's work, but
Rowland and FitzGterald were prema-
turelv cut down, each at the a^e of

llKNKV A. KoWI.ANI).

in the dcallis of those to whom this
most fun(huiiental of the sciences is
deeply indebted. Stokes in England

about lilty years. Tlie Johns Hopkins
University has recently published the
' Physical Papers ' of Rowland, edited

SCIENTIFIC LITERATURE.

471

by a committee of which Professor
Ames was the responsible member, and
the Dublin University Press has pub-
lished the 'Scientific Writings' of
FitzGcrald, edited by Dr. Joseph Lar-
mor. These memorial volumes should
be in the hands of many who are not
physicists by profession. It is true
that some of the papers contain mathe-
matical formulas and technical state-
ments not comprehensible to those
without special training. But each
volume also includes a number of mas-
terly addresses revealing the progress

teur in character, incidental to more
absorbing activities; and Kumford's
work can scarcely be credited to Amer-
ica. Henry's investigations were also
fundamental, but they were in large
measure fragmentary and unpublished.
jNIayer's ingenious experiments can
scarcely be regarded as of great im-
portance. Rowland may thus be re-
garded as the greatest experimental
physicist that America has produced.
He himself attributed our lack of
productivity in pure physics to the
counter attraction of invention and

Professor Rowland's Dividing Engine.

of physical science, and the researches
give an excellent introduction to the
fundamental concepts of modern phys-
ics. They show science in the making
in a way that is in many respects
more attractive than a systematic
treatise.

Rowland was by common consent the
leading experimental physicist of his
generation in this country. In one of
his addresses he could only mention
four American physicists of note — |
Franklin, Rumford, Henry and ]Mayer.
Fundamental as the work of Franklin
and Rumford proved to be in the his-
tory of science, it was in a way ama-

money-making ; and in one of his ad-
dresses spoke very bitterly of the uni-
versity professor who prostituted his
chair to such uses. It is, however, not
clear Avhy a group of able inventors
and experts should not lead to pure
science as well as away from it. Row-
land himself patented important inven-
tions, as his application of alternating
currents to rapid telegraphy, and acted
as expert for engineering enterprises,
as the electrical development at Ni-
agara Falls.

Rowland's researches fall into three
main groups — magnetism and elec-
tricity,- heat and light — and in each

472

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

he made contributions of great im-
portance. His early work on magnetic
permeability attracted the attention of
Maxwell, and his subsequent research
on the magnetic effect of moving elec-
trostatic charges was fully appreciated
by Helmholtz, in whose laboratory it
was carried out. Sixty-three papers

absolute wave-lengths were also the
results of long-continued and careful
detailed work, but they were made pos-
sible by the important work on screws,
tne construction of the famous dividing
engine, and the great discovery of the
use of a concave grating.

Rowland was fortunate in being

Geo. F. FlTZCiERAI.D.

on magnetism and electricity are in-
cluded in the memorial volume. The
research on the mechanical equivalent
of heat was somewhat routine in char-
acter, determining with the most pains-
taking accuracy one of the most im-
portant physical constants. Tlie pho-
tographic map of the normal solar
spectrum and the determination of

called to the Johns Hopkins University
at its organization, where for the first
time in America the value of original
research was fully appreciated and op-
portunity for research freely granted,
and the university was fortunate and
wise in calling a man who added so
greatly to its ropulation and influence.
It is told of Rowland that when, in a

SCIENTIFIC LITERATURE.

473

suit over the value of his services, he
was asked who was the greatest living
pliysicist, ho replied that he was. On
being askea afterwards if this did not
seem rather egotistical, he answered:
' I had to tell the trutn, I was testify- i
ing under oath.' His personality was
attractive to those who knew him well
and understood his supreme absorption
in his own work. To others he doubt-
less seemed self-centered, somewhat
unsympathetic and undemonstrative.
FitzGerald appears to have had ex-
actly the opposite characteristics.
Physiognomy is extremely illusive, but
the portraits here given seem to indi-
cate the individualities of the two men.
FitzGerald was unselfish and self-sac-
rificing almost to a fault. Dr. Menden-
hall tells us in his commemorative
address that Rowland did not know
even approximately how many students
he had, and on being asked what he
would do with them, replied: 'Do with
them? — I shall neglect them.' But he
adds : ' To be neglected by Rowland
was often, indeed, more stimulating
and inspiring than the closest personal
supervision of men lacking his genius
and magnetic fervor.' FitzGerald sac-
rificed his research work to teaching,
to administration ' and to helping
others ; he was always ready to give
his ideas to students and to his friends.
He took no interest in questions of
priority and scientific credit. Rowland

spoke of ' professors degrading their
chairs by the pursuit of applied sci-
ence.' FitzGerald said that it was a
small matter whether the human race
got to know about the ether now or
litty years hence, but that it was a
vital matter that present scientific
ignorance should not continue for a
generation.

FitzGerald tended to devote himself
more and more to humaa affairs, giv-
ing much time to the Irish Education
Board and visiting this country to
observe our schools ; but the memorial
volume containing his collected papers
shows that he did contribute greatly
to our knowledge of the ether. He was
almost the first to appreciate fully
Maxwell's work and to carry it for-
ward, his memoir ' On the Electro-
magnetism of the Reflection and Re-
fraction of Light,' presented before the
Royal Society in 1888, being accepted
as a classic. Many of his other papers
contain important contributions and
suggestions, and the addresses should
be of interest to all those who are able
to appreciate the great forwai'd ad-
vance in our views on the nature of
electricity and the constitution of
matter. It may be noted as of inci-
dental interest that FitzGerald did not
go to school as a boy; his father was
an eminent bishop, and his mother a
sister of the mathematical physicist.
Professor Johnstone Stoney.

John Ericsson.

POITLMI SCIENCE MO XT JILT

475

THE PROGKESS OF SCIENCE.

JOffiY ERICSSON.

The centenary of the birth of John
Ericsson was celebrated on August 1
by the unveiling of a statue in the
Battery, New York City. A bronze
statue by Mr. Jonathan S. Hartley
had for ten years stood near the Cus-
tom House, but the sculptor wished to
improve it, and at his own expense
made a new statue, in wliich the same
metal was used. By the courtesy of
Mr. Hartley, we reproduce a photo-
graph of the model as it stood in his
studio. The ceremonies connected with
the imveiling of the statue were elab-
orate, the army and navy being repre-
sented, and the Swedish-American So-
cieties taking a prominent part. Mayor
Low accepted the statue for the city
and Colonel W. C. Church, author of
the life of Ericsson, made an address.
Both speakers naturally referred to the
building of the Monitor and its destruc-
tion of the confederate ironclad Mer-
rimac on March 9, 1862. It will be
remembered that on the preceding day
the Merrimac had destroyed the Cum-
ierland and the Congress, and was
about to disperse the rest of the gov-
ernment's wooden fleet, when the Mon-
itor, which had been l)uilt by Erics-
son in New York in one hundred days,
altered the course of events and per-
haps the whole result of the civil war,
for if the federal government had had
no fleet, European intervention would
have been likely. Shortly after Erics-
son came to the United States in 1839,
he built the Princeton for the United
States Na\'y, the first vessel having the
propelling machinery below the water
line, and this vessel set the model for
all subsequent naval construction.
Ericsson is consequently remembered

largely in connection with the develop-
ment of ships of war. to which he made
the most important contributions.
His other gi-eat scientific inventions,
however, should not be forgotten, es-
pecially the screw propeller, which
while originally designed for warships
has become one of the greatest factors
in steam navigation. Europe was long
sceptical as to the possibility of the
propeller, it being claimed that a ves-
sel would not steer when power was
applied at the stern, even after many
vessels were being successfully navi-
gated in the United States.

Ericsson began his inventions when
a boy in Sweden, and at the age of
twenty-two constructed a condensing
flame engine of ten horse power. In
1828, when twenty-five years of age,
he made the first application to navi-
gation of the principle of condensing
steam and returning water to the
boiler. In 1829, when twenty-six years
old, he built the steam carriage,
Xovcify, which competed with George
Stevenson's for the Liverpool and Man-
chester railway prize. It surpassed all
competitors, including Stevenson's
Rocket, in lightness and speed, attain-
ing the remarkable speed of thirty
miles an hour. At this period and a
little later he made numerous impor-
tant inventions, including the tubular
steam boiler with artificial draught and
the caloric heat engine. He also made
some important instruments for scien-
tific work, including the self-registering
deep-sea lead, a pyrometer and a
hydrostatic gauge. Ericsson must be
regarded as one of those who made the
nineteenth century before all else an
era of the applications of science.

476

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

THE MASSACHUSETTS INSTITUTE
OF TECHNOLOGY.

A MOVEMENT is now in progress to
establish a great school of technology
in connection with the University of
London. Through the efforts of Lord
Rosebury, chancellor of the university,
a sum of $2,500,000 has been sub-
scribed for buildings and land. The
London County Council has agreed to
contribute $100,000 a year for main-
tenance on condition that the govern-
ment and other municipalities take part
in the movement. In all the discussions

great expense. The institute has re-
cently obtained powers from the legis-
lature to sell its present site should it
wish to do so, it having originally been
a condition that it forever be preserved
from sale. This permission was not
obtained without a considerable amount
of opposition, and the parallel bill on
behalf of the Society of Natural His-
tory has not been passed. There still
appears, however, to be some opposition
to the change. Mr. Henry A. Phillips
contributed to the last number of The
Technology Revieio a plan for develop-

Proposkd Plan for the Enlakgememt of the Mass.^chisei'is Institlte of TtcHNOLociY.

in regard to the establishment of this
school of technology, reference has been
made to the fact that Germany and
America are in advance of Great Brit-
ain in their provision for technical
education, and of all our schools, the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology
is the most noteworthy.

The institute is at present seriously
considering the desirability of obtain-
ing a now site. The land on which its
buildings now stand having become
part of the business quarter of the city,
land adequate for the needs of the
institute could only be purchased at

ing the institute on its present site,
as shown in the accompanying figure.
The buildings now occupied by the in-
stitute are the Rogers, the Walker, the
Engineering and the Pierce buildings.
It is estimated that the land required
for the development here sketched
would be $1,800,000, according to the
assessed valuation, whereas the removal
of the institute would require the sacri-
fice of buildings worth perhaps $1,-
000,000.

The Institute of Technology has this
year made on its educational side an
important advance in establishing a

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

477

graduate school of cnjjiiioerin<^ research
incliulinij' two research laboratories, one
for physical chemistry under the charge
of Professor A. A. Noyes and one for
sanitary engineering under the' charge
of Professor Wm. T. Sedgwick. The
former is to occupy one of the new
buildings now being erected beyond the
Pierce building, and will consist
mainly of a series of small laboratories,
with special rooms for weighing, plio-
tography, glass-blowing, pure water dis-
tillation, etc. There will be next year
nine or ten research assistants and as-
sociates working under the direction of
the professors of the institute, and
every facility will be given to advanced
students wishing to carry on research
work. The Sanitary Research Labo-
ratory and Sewage Experiment Sta-
tion has leased a building on the line
of the largest main sewer, in which
have been fitted up laboratories for
chemical and bacteriological work, in-
cluding a tank and filter house.

Tlie institute has lecentlv lost bv

JOHX B. HEXCK.

JonV D. RUNKLE.

death two of the original members of
its faculty, whose portraits are here
given. Professor John B. Henck was
professor of civil engineering from
I8G0 to 1881. During this period he
devoted himself largely to the work of
teaching, but at this time and pre-
viously he also carried forward engi-
jieering works, the most important
probably being the filling in and im-
provement of the Back Bay district of
Boston. His ' Field Book for Railway
Engineers,' published in 1854, and sub-
sequently revised, passing through
many editions, is a standard work.
After retiring from his chair at the in-
stitute. Professor Henck settled in Cali-
fornia and spent his life in retire-
ment, dying early in the present year
at the age of eighty-eight years. Pro-
fessor John D. Runkle was professor of
mathematics at the institute from
18G5 until last year, when he was
made professor emeritus. During this
long period he was closely identified
with the development of the institute,
being always one of the leading mem-
bers of the faculty and for a time presi-

478

POrrLAR SCIEXCE MONTHLY

dent. Before he occupied this chair, he
was eirgaged in the work of the Nautical
Almanac, and founded The Mathemat-
ical Monthly in 1859. He took a
prominent part in introducing manual
training, not only in the institute, but
also in the schools of the country.

SUMMER LABORATORIES AND

SCHOOLS.

Education in America owes much to

Louis Agassiz, and one of its greatest

debts is the summer school of natural

history established by him on the

natural a long vacation both in schools
and colleges. But it seems to be no
longer the case that college students
commonly spend the long vacation in
a profitable manner, and it has been
discovered that teachers have in their
holidays great opportunity for study
and culture. The conditions have led
to a complex and rather heterogeneous
provision for education and research
during the summer months. We have
the Chautauqua movement, based
mainly on religious interests, in which
manv denominations under one name

.^»vxa3tttV^j^ ^ ^#tv.

BlILDINCIS of TliE MARINE BIOLOGICAL LaBOKATOKY, V\ OODS HOLE.

island of Penikese in 1873, the year
before his death. The school did not
long survive its founder, but it may
be regarded as tlie beginning of the
summer schools and laboi'atories which
now play such an important part in
the educational and scientific life of
tlie country. Our college sessions have
followed the precedent of Oxford and
Cambridge in allowing long summer
holidays. Formerly many of the stu-
dents worked on the farm or otherwise
during the summer montlis, and the
heat of the season seemed to make

I or another have taken part. The
school on Martha's Vineyard repre-
sented an extension of the teachers' in-
stitute, leading the way to tlie uni-
versity summer schools. There have
been schools for agriculture, for modern
languages, for philosophy and of other
kinds. But the two movements now
the most wide-reaching and likely to
be the most permanent are the labo-
ratories of biology and the summer
sessions of the universities.

There are obvious reasons for pursu-
ing the study of botany and zoology

THE rnoURESS OF SCIENCE.

479

during tlio sniiinier season and hy tlic
seaside or sonic inland water. Thus
can the needed material be obtained at
the right time, and the collecting and
exploring unite in tlic best possible
manner study wilh healthful recreation.
The general spirit of the laboratories
is excellent; research is carried forward
side by side with instruction, so that
the dividing line is almost obliterated;
there is a friendly spirit of cooperation
and rivalry; things are known at first
hand rather than darkly through books
and lectures; the standard of living
is simple; the follies and worse not
uncommon in the colleges are lacking
to a noticeable degree.

The Marine Biological Laboratory at
Woods Hole may be regarded as the
lineal descendant of Agassiz's school at
Penikese, of which it has well main-
tained the traditions. The equipment
has always been modest, as is shown by
the accompanying photograph of the
buildings, and perhaps this has not
been a serious disadvantage. It is,
however, hoped that sooner or later
a fireproof building, which may be kept
open in winter as in summer, will be
erected. There are each year at Woods
Hole between fifty and one hundred in-
vestigators carrying on original re-
search, and about an equal number of
students, many of whom become investi-
gators. The Carnegie Institution has
wisely decided not to acquire the labo-
ratory, but is supporting it by contrib-
uting $10,000 for twenty tables, and
the laboratory is thus on a secure
financial basis without loss of the in-
dependence and spirit of cooperation
which have accomjJlished so much in
the past. While the Woods Hole labo-
ratory remains our chief center of
biological research, rivaled only by
Naples, other laboratories have been
established along the Atlantic and
Pacific coasts, at the Bahamas and on
inland waters. Expeditions and camps
of a temporary character should be
mentioned in connection with the sum-
mer schools of natural history; prac-

tically all the geologists of the country
are now in the field, and in many cases
the parties consist of expert investiga-
tors accompanied liy those who assist
and learn.

The summer schools of the univer-
sities have not yet found their per-
manent basis, but there is no question
as to the direction of their development
and of the importance of the move-
ment. A summer school once estab-
lished is seldom abandoned and nearly
always shows an increase in size and
an improvement in quality from year
to year. There ai'e this summer over
a thousand students at Harvard and at
Columbia, and nearly twice as many
at Tennessee. The students are largely
teachers, but there are others of ma-
ture age, who wish to imjirove them-
selves. Then there are some regular
students of the institutions — on the
one hand, those so much interested in
their work that they do not wish to
lose the summer and, on the other hand,
a few who need to ' make up conditions.'
The instructing staff is also hetero-
geneous, there being usually some
eminent lecturers and a good many
young assistants. Chicago set the ex-
ample of continuing its terms through
the year, though in attempting to ad-
just its summer quarter to the needs
of teachers, it has abandoned its orig-
inal plan. We expect to see the uni-
versity year ultimately divided into
four quarters, with perhaps two weeks'
vacation between each. The work of
the summer term will be as ' regular '
as any other, but as there will be fewer
students an opportunity will be af-
forded to provide a special summer
school for teachers. There are over
300,000 teachers in the country. It
would be well if all schools would pay
them a certain salary and in addition
provide for their attendance at a sum-
mer school.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS.
We regret to record the death of
Professor W. C. Knight, professor of

48o

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

geology and mining engineering in the
University of Wyoming, and of Mr.
William Earl Dodge, a merchant,
known for his interest in educational
and scientific institutions.

The University of London has con-
ferred honorary degrees for the first
time, the degrees of Doctor of Laws
being given to the Prince of Wales,
of Doctor of Music to the Princess of
Wales and of Doctor of Science to
Lord Kelvin and Lord Lister. It is
said that the degree was offered to
Mr. Herbert Spencer, but declined by
him. — The Honorable Arthur Balfour,
the British premier, has accepted the
presidency of the British Association
for the meeting to be held in Cam-
bridge in 1904. — Sir W. Ramsay has
been elected president of the Society
of Chemical Industry. The society has
decided to meet next year in New York
City.

Db. W J McGee has recently re-
signed his jjosition in the Bureau of
American Ethnology to take charge of
the Department of Anthropology and
Ethnology of the Louisiana Purchase
Exposition. — Mr. Bailey Willis has
accepted the position of leader of the
Carnegie Geological Expedition to
China, which has as its object the in-
vestigation of the Cambrian of that
country.

The Desert Laboratory, being erected
by an appropriation from the Carnegie
Institution at Tucson, Arizona, is ex-
pected to be ready for occupancy on
September 1, when Dr. W. A. Cannon,
now assistant in the laboratory of the
New York Botanical Garden, will be-
come resident investigator.

The sixth International Congress of
Psychology, which was to have met in
Rome in the autumn of 1904, will be
postponed to the spring of 1905 to

avoid conflict with the sixth Interna-
tional Congress of Physiology which
meets at Brussels in the autumn of
1904.

Mr. Carnegie's gift of $1,000,000 to
the four national engineering societies
and the Engineers' Club for a building
has been accepted at a meeting of the
representatives of the five organiza-
tions, and plans have been made for a
joint committee consisting of three
members from each organization. This
committee will prepare plans for a
building to be erected on Thirty-ninth
Street. Efforts are being made to secure
funds for the purchase of the land, and
a number of subscriptions have been
received by the American Institute of
Electrical Engineers, including $5,000
from Dr. Elihu Thomson and the West-
inghouse Electrical Company, $2,000
from Mr. Frank S. Sprague and $1,000
with a contingent $1,500 from Mr.
J. G. White.

Chapters of the university scientific
society of the Sigma Xi have recently
been established at the Chicago and
Michigan Universities. Chapters of
this society are now maintained at the
following universities: Cornell, V. A.
Moore, president; Union, 0. H. Land-
retli, president; Kansas, F. H. Snow,
president; Rensselaer, W. P. Mason,
president; Yale, J. P. Tracy, president;
Brown, W. W. Bailey, president; Ne-
braska, L. Bruner, president; Minne-
sota, J. J. Flather, president; Iowa,
T. H. McBride, president; Ohio, W, R.
Lazenby, president; Pennsylvania, E.
F. Smith, president; Stanford, V. L.
Kellogg, president; California, C. L.
Cory, president; Columbia, J. F. Kemp,
president; Chicago, H. H. Donaldson,
president; Michigan, J. P. McMurrich,
president.

/

THE

POPULAR SCIENCE

MONTHLY.

OOTOBEE, 1903.

THE DECORATIVE ART OF THE NORTH AMERICAN

INDIANS.

By Professor FRANZ BOAS,

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

THE extended investigations on primitive decorative art which have
been made during the last twenty years have clearly shown that
almost everywhere the decorative designs used by primitive man do
not serve purely esthetic ends, but that they suggest to his mind
certain definite concepts. They are not only decorations, but sym-
bols of definite ideas.

Much has been written on this subject ; and for a time the opinion
prevailed that wherever an ornament is explained as a representation
of a certain object, its origin has been in a realistic representation of
that object, and that it has gradually assumed a more and more con-
ventionalized form, which often has developed into a purely geometrical
motive.* On the other hand, Cushing and Holmes have pointed out
the important influence of material and technique in the evolution of
design, and, following Semper, have called attention to the frequent
transfer of designs developed in one technique to another. Thus,
according to Semper, forms developed in wood architecture were
imitated in stone, and Cushing and Holmes showed that textile de-
signs are imitated on pottery.

The origin of certain designs from technical forms is now recog-
nized as an important factor, and it must therefore be assumed that
in many cases the interpretation has been read into the design. The
existence of this tendency has recently been pointed out by H.

*See A. C. Haddon. 'Evolution in Art.'

VOL. LXIII. 31.

482

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Fici. la Eskimo in Oudinaky Dkess.

DECOUATIVE AL'T OF THE IMJIANS.

483

Schurtz* and by Professor A. D. F. Hamlin, f who has treated in a
series of essays the evohijion of decorative motives.

In speaking of the process of conventionalization or degeneration
of realistic motives, Professor Hamlin says: "Indeed, this degenera-
tion may reasonably be accepted as suggesting that the geometric
forms which it approaches were already in habitual nse when it be-
gan, and that the direction of the degeneration was determined by a

<.

Fig. 16. Shamanistic Coat of Eskimo.

preexisting habit or ' expectancy ' (as Dr. Colley March calls it) of
geometric form acquired in skenomorphic decoration " J (i. e., in a
form developed from technical motives). At another place § he
says: "After having undergone in its own home such series of modi-
fications, the motive becomes known to the artists of some race or

* H. Schurtz, ' Urgeschichte der Kultur,' p. 540.
t The American Architect and Building News, 1898.
tliid., p. 93.
§ Ibid., p. 35.

484 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

civilization through the agency either of commerce or of conquest.
It is carried across seas and lands, and in new hands receives still
another dress in combinations still more incongruous with its orig-
inal significance. It is no longer a symbol, but an arbitrary orna-
ment, wholly conventional, modified to suit the taste and the arts of
the foreigners who have adopted it. In many cases it undergoes modi-
fication in two or more directions, resulting in divergent developments,
which in time produce as many distinct motives — cousins, as it were,
of each other — each of which runs its own course independently of the
others. This phenomenon we may call ' divergence.' A common
cause of divergence is the tendency to assimilate a borrowed motive
to some indigenous and familiar form, usually a natural object, thus
setting up a new method of treatment quite foreign to the origin of
the motive."

I intend to show in the following pages that the same processes,
which Professor Hamlin traces by historical evidence in the art of the
civilized peoples of the old world, have occurred among the primitive
tribes of North America.*

Before taking up this subject, I wish to call attention to a peculiar
difference between the decorative style applied in ceremonial objects
and that employed in articles of every-day use. We find a considerable
number of cases which demonstrate the fact that, on the whole, the
decoration of ceremonial objects is much more realistic than that of
ordinary objects. Thus we find the garments for ceremonial dances
of the Arapaho covered with pictographic representations of animals,
their sacred pipe covered with human and other forms, while their
painted blankets for ordinary wear are generally adorned with geo-
metrical designs. Among the Thompson Indians ceremonial blan-
kets are also covered with pictographic designs, while ordinary wearing-
apparel and basketry are decorated with very simple geometrical
motives. On the stem of a shaman's pipe we find a series of picto-
^raphs, while an ordinary pipe shows geometric forms. Even among
the eastern Eskimo, whose decorative art, on the whole, is very rudi-
mentary, a shamanistic coat has been found which has a number of
realistic motives, while the ordinary dress of the same tribe shows no
trace of such decoration (Fig. 1). Perhaps the most striking ex-
amples of this kind are the woven designs of the Huichol Indians of

* The examples and illustrations here represented are taken, unless other-
wise stated, from specimens in the American Museum of Natural History. The
information and material used were collected by Dr. lloland B. Dixon, Pro-
fessor Livingston Farrand, Dr. A. L. Kroeber, Dr. Berthold Laufcr. Dr. Carl
Lumholtz, Mr. H. H. St. Clair, Mr. James Teit and Dr. Clark Wissler, all of
whom have contributed to the systematic study of decorative art undertaken
by ihe museum.

DECORATIVE ART OF THE INDIANS.

485

Mexico. All their ceremonial weavings are covered with more or
less realistic designs, while all their ordinary wearing-apparel pre-
sents geometrical motives. In fact, the style of the two is so different
that it hardly seems to belong to the same tribe (Fig. 2). The same
phenomenon may be observed outside of America, as is demonstrated by
the difference in style between the shaman's coat and the ordinary
coat of the Gold of the Amur River (Fig. 3). We may perhaps recog-
nize the same tendency in the style of decoration of modern dwelling-
rooms and in that of public buildings. The designs on the stained
glass of house-windows are usually arranged in geometrical forms;
those of churches represent pictures. The wall decorations of houses
are wall papers of more or less geometrical character; those of halls de-
voted to public uses are generally adorned with symbolic pictures.

Fig. 2. Woven Designs of the Huichol Indians. (After Dr. Carl Lumholtz.)

This difference in the treatment of ceremonial and common objects
shows clearly that the reason for the conventionalization of motives
can not be solely a technical one, for if so, it would act in one case
as well as in the other. In ceremonial objects the ideas represented
are more important than the decorative effect, and it is intelligible
that the resistance to conventionalism may be strong; although in
some cases the very sacredness of the idea represented might induce the
artist to obscure his meaning intentionally, in order to keep the signifi-
cance of the design from profane eyes. It may, therefore, be assumed
that, if a tendencv to conventionalization exists, it will manifest itself

486

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

differentl}', even among the same tribe, according to the preponderance
of the decorative or descriptive value of the design.

On the other hand, the general prevalence of symbolic significance
in ordinary decoration shows that this is an important aspect of
decorative art, and a tendencv to retain the realistic form might l^e

expected, provided its origin were
from realistic forms. If, therefore,
the whole decorative art of some
tribes shows no trace of realism,
it may well be doubted whether
their ordinary decorative designs
were originally realistic.

The history of decorative design
can best be investigated by analy-
zing the styles of form and inter-
pretation prevailing over a limited
area. If the style of art were en-
tirely indigenous in a given tribe,
and developed either from conven-
tionalization of realistic designs or
from the elaboration of technical
motives, we should expect to find a
different style and different motives
in each tribe. The general customs
and beliefs might be expected to
determine the subjects chosen for
decoration, or the ideas that
are read into the technical de-
signs.

As a matter of fact, the native
art of North America shows a very
different state of affairs. All over
the Great Plains and in a large
portion of the western plateaus an art is found which, notwithstanding
local peculiarities, is of a uniform type. It is characterized by the
application of colored triangles and quadrangles in both painting and
embroidery in a manner which is found in no other part of the world.
The slight diiferences of styles which occur are well exemplified in
the style of painted rawhide l)ags or envelopes, the so-called ' par-
fleches.' Mr. St. Clair has observed that the Arapaho are in the
habit of laying on the colors rather delicately, in areas of moderate
size, and of following out a general arrangement of their motives
in stripes; that the Shoshone, on the other hand, like large areas of

Fig. 3a. Ordinary Coat of the Gold
OF THE Amur River. (After Dr. Berthold
Laufer.)

DECORATIVE Ah'T OF THE INDIANS.

487

solid colors, borflorcil hy licnw blue bands, and an arrangement in
which a centi-al licld is sot off rather prominently from the rest of the
design (Fig. 4). This difference is so marked that it is easy to tell
a Shoshone parfiechc that has found its way to the Arapaho from par-

FiG. 36. Coat of a Shaman of the Gold of the Amur River.

fleches of Arapaho manufacture. In other cases the most character-
istic difference consists in the place on the parfleche to which the de-
sign is applied. The x\rapaho and the Shoshone never decorate the
sides of a bag, only its flaps, while the tribes of Idaho and Montana
always decorate the sides. Another peculiarity of Arapaho parfleche-

488

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

painting, as compared to that of the Shoshone, is the predilection for
two right-angled triangles standing on the same line, their right
angles facing each other— a motive of common occurrence all over the
southern part of the Plains and in the southwestern territories; while
the Shoshone generally place these triangles with facing acute angles.

Arapaho. Shoshone.

Fig. 4. Painted Rawhide Bags. (After A. L. Kroeber and H. H. St. Clair.)

A detailed study of the art brings out many minor differences of this
sort, although the general type is very uniform.

Certain types of designs are so much alike that they might belong
to one tribe as well as to another. A series of moccasins of the Shoshone,
Sioux and Arapaho (Fig. 5) will serve as a good example. The
characteristic forms of all of these are a cross on the uppers, con-

DECOBATIVE ART OF THE INDIANS.

489

nectecl with a bar on ilio instep, from which arise at each end two
bliort lines. These di'siuiis are so complex that evidently they must
have bad a common orii^in. Tt is of ijreat importance to note tbat
nevertheless the explanations given by the various tribes arc quite
different. The design is interpreted by the Arapaho as the morning
star; the bar on the instep, as the horizon; the short lines, as the
twinkling of the star. To the mind of the Sioux the design conveys
the idea of feathers, when ap])lied to a Avoman's moccasin; when
found on a man's moccasin, it syml^olizes the sacred shield suspended
from tont-pnlos. The identical design was explained bv the Shoshone

A li C

Fig. 5. Moccasins; A. Shoshone; B- Sioux; C. Sioux and Akapaho.

US signifying the sun (the circle) and its rays; but also the thunder-
bird, the cross-arms of the cross evidently being the wings; the part
nearest the toe, the tail, and the upper part, the neck with two
strongly conventionalized heads attached. If these are the ideas con-
veyed by this design to the weavers, it is clear that they must have
developed after the invention or introduction of the design; that the
design is primary, the idea secondary, and that the idea has nothing
to do with the historical development of the design itself.

It may be well to give a few additional examples of such similarity
of design and difference of symbolism. One of the typical designs

49°

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

of this area is a cross to the ends of which deepl}^ notched squares are
attached (Fig. G). Dr. Kroeber* received the following explanation
of this design from an Arapaho : the diamond in the center represents
a person; the four forked ornaments surrounding it are buffalo hoofs

or tracks. Dr. Wissler found the
design on a pair of woman's leg-
gings of the Sioux. In this case the
diamond-shaped center of the de-
sign represents the breast of a tur-
tle; the green lines forming the
cross indicate the four points of
the compass ; the forked ornaments
s^anbolize forks of trees struck by
hailstones, which are indicated by
small white rectangles. Mr. St.
Clair came across the same design
among the Shoshone, where it was
found on a cowhide bag. The
central diamond was interpreted
as the sun and clouds; the notched
designs were explained as moun-
tain-sheep hoofs. There is a cer-
tain similarity in this case between
the explanations given by the Arap-
aho and those of the Shoshone,
while the Sioux connect ideas of
a different type with the design.

Such differences of interpreta-
tion are also found on painted de-
signs. The Shoshone sometimes
imagine they see a battle scene in
the squares and triangles of their
parfleche designs. The square in
the center of Fig. 7 was explained to Mr. St. Glair as an enclosure
in which the enemy was kept by a besieging party, represented by the
marginal squares. The narrow central line is the trail by which the
enemy made good his escape. Many others represent geographical fea-
tures, such as mountains and valleys. Such geographical ideas are
represented on some Arapaho parfleches, while others exhibit a more
complex sym1)olic significance. Battle scenes, however, are not found
in interpretations given by the Arapaho.

* A. L. Kroober, ' The Arapaho,' Bulletin American Museum of Natural
nisi or;/. Vol. XVITT.

Fig. 6. Legging with Beau Embroidery.

DEL'URATLVE ART OF THE INDIANS.

491

The similarity of complex designs, combined with dissimilarity
of interpretation, justifies a comparison of simpler forms. These
might be believed to have originated independently; hut the same-
ness of the complex forms proves that their component elements must
have had a comnu^n origin, or at least have been assimilated by
the same forms. One of tiie striking examples of this Idnd is the

cross. Among the Arapaho it

signifies almost invariably the
morning star. To the mind of
the Shoshone it conveys the
idea of barter. The Sioux
recognizes in it a man slain
in battle and lying flat on
the ground with arms out-
stretched. The Thompson Ind-
ians of British Columbia rec-
ognize in it the crossing trails
at which sacrifices are made.
The simple straight red
lines with which skin bags are
decorated are another good
example. A specimen was
collected by Dr. Kroeber
among the Arapaho (Figs.
8a and 8b) in which he ex-
plains the stripes on the

beaded design on the narrow sides and on the flaps of the bag
as camp-trails; the shorter transverse stripes intersecting these longi-
tudinal lines, as ravines, that is, camping-places. On the front of the
bag the horizontal lines of quill-work, which resemble the lines on
buffalo-robes, are paths. Bunches of feathers on these lines repre-
sent bufEalo-meat hung up to dry. Adjoining the bead-work are
small tin cylinders with tufts of red hair; these represent pendants
or rattles on tents. 1li\ St. Clair obtained the following explanation
of a Shoshone bag of almost identical design : The porcupine-quill
work on the front of the bag represents horse-trails. The red horse-
hair tassels at each side are horses stolen by people of one village from
those of another, the villages being represented by the bead- work at
the sides of the bag. The bead-work on the flap represents the owners
of the horses indicated by the horse-hair tassels on the flap. Among
the Sioux the same design is used in the puberty ceremonial, and
symbolizes the path of life.

It must not be believed that the interpretation of a certain motive,
or even of a complex figure when used by the members of one tribe,

Fig. 7. Shoshone Parfleche Design.

492

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

Fig. &a. Skin Bag of the Arapaho. (After A. L. Kroeber.)

is always the same. As a matter of fact, the number of ideas ex-
pressed by it is often quite varied. We find, for instance, the obtuse
triangle with enclosed rectangle (Fig. 4) explained by the Arapaho

as the mythic cave from which
the buffalo issued, as cattle-tracks,
as a mountain, cloud, brush hut
and tent; an acute triangle, with
small triangles attached to its
base, as a bird-tail, frog, tent and
bear-foot.

Nevertheless the explanations
given by various tribes show pe-
culiar characteristics in which
they differ from those of other
tribes. The explanations possess
no less a style of their own than
the art itself. Triangles are ex-
plained as tents by all the tribes,
and mountains or hills form a
prominent feature of their de-
scriptions; but among the three
tribes mentioned only the Sioux
see wounds, battle scenes with
moving masses of men, horses, the
pursuit of enemies, the flight of
Fig. 86. Side ok Arapaho Bag. arrows, in their Conventional de-

DECORATIVE ART OF THE INDIANS.

493

signs; only the Shoslione see in tliom pictures of forts and stones piled
np in memory of battles; only the Arapaho recognize in them prayers
for life directed to the morning star.

We find, therefore, that in this area the same style of art is widely
distributed, while the stylo of explanation (lifTtM's materially among
its various tribes.

It may be worth wdiile to review briefly the distribution of the
style of art here discussed. On the whole, it is confined to the Plains
Indians, west of the eastern wooded area. It would seem that it has
been carried into the plateau region rather recently, where, however.

1'*^.

M

Exa

1

^

/tN

-^rf^ J

Fig. 9. Decorative Motives of the Pueblo
Indians. (After Dr. W. F. Fewkes.*)

Fig. 10 Woven Bag of the \ez Perces.

it has affected almost all the tribes east of the Cascade Eange and of the
Sierra Nevada. We find the acute triangle with small supporting
triangles, and the obtuse triangle with enclosed rectangle, in the char-
acteristic arrangement of the parfieches, on a bag of the Nez Perces
(Fig. 10) collected by Dr. Livingston Farrand. At first glance, the art
of the Pueblos seems quite different from the one that we are discussing
here; but I believe that an intimate association of the two may be
traced. The old pottery described by Dr. Fewkes, for instance, shows
a number of the peculiar triangle and square motives which are so
characteristic of the art of the Indians of the Plains. The same tri-
angle wdth supporting lines, the same triangle with the enclosed
square (Fig. 10), is found here. It seems very plain to my mind that
the transfer of this art from pottery to embroidery and painting on
flat surfaces has brought about the introduction of the triangular

* From specimens in the U. S. National Museum.

494 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

and rectangular forms which are the prime characteristic of this type
of art.

In the |)rehistoric art of the northern plateaus, in California, on
the I^orth Pacific coast, in the Mackenzie Basin, in the wooded area
of the Atlantic coast, we find styles of art which differ from the
art of the Plains, and which have much less in common with Pueblo
art. Therefore I am inclined to consider the art of the Plains Indians
in many of its traits as developed from the art of the Pueblos. I
think the sjeneral facts of the culture of these tribes are fairlv in
accord with this notion, since it would seem that the complex social
and religious rites of the southwest gradually become simpler and
less definite as we proceed nortliAvard. If this opinion regarding the
origin of the art of the Plains is correct, we are led to the conclusion
that the tent with its pegs is the same form in origin as the rain-
clouds of the Pueblos, so that the scope of interpretations of the
same form is still more enlarged. Under these conditions, we must
conclude that the interpretation is probably secondary throughout, and
has become associated with the form which was obtained by borrowing.
With this we are brought face to face with the skeuomorphic origin
of the triangular design from basketry motives, which has been so
much discussed of recent years.

The so-called ' quail-tip ' design of California is another example
of the continuous distribution of a motive over a wide area, the oc-
currence of which in the outlying districts must be due to borrowing.
The characteristic feature of this design, which occurs in the basketry
of California and Oregon, is a vertical line, suddenly turning outward
at its end. This motive occurs on both twined and coiled basketry, and
with many explanations.* In some combinations it is explained as the
lizard's foot (Fig. 11, a, h), in others as the pine cone or the moun-
tain (Fig. 11, c). The gradual distribution of this motive over a
wide area can best be proved in this case by a comparison with the
distril)ution of tlie technique in which it is applied. The design
occurs all over central and northern California. On Columbia Eiver
it is found on the Klickitat baskets. These are of tlie peculiar imbri-
cated basketry which is made from this point on, northward. While
the designs on imbricated basketry found in British Columbia are of
fi peculiar character, the Klickitat baskets of the same make (Fig. 11,
(/) have the typical California designs which also occur on the twined
bags of this district (Fig. 11, e).

Thus we find, not only that the distribution of interpretations and
that of motives do not coincide, Ijut also that the distribution of tech-
nique does not agree with that of motives. I think we can also demon-

* Roland B. Dixon, * Basketry Designs of the Indians of Northern Cali-
fornia,' BiiUctin American Museum of Nafiinil Jlislori/, Vol. XVII., pp. 2 flf.

DECORATIVE ART OF THE INDIANS.

495

strato that the limits of styles of interpretation in some cases overlap
the limits of styles of art. We liave seen that on tlic Plains the stvle
of art covers a wider area than the style of interpretation. It would
seem that in other regions tlie reverse is the case. For instance, the
style of art of the Xootka tribes differs very much from that of the

Fig. H. Baskets from the Pacific Coast, a, b, Pit River California : c, Maidu,
California ; d, Klickitat, Washington ; e, Nez Perces, Idaho, (a, b and c alter Dr. Ro-
land B. Dixon.)

Kwakiutl. Although both apply animal motives, the Nootka use
very little surface decoration consisting of combinations of charac-
teristic curved lines, which play an important part in Kwakiutl art.,
and which serve to symbolize various parts of the body. ISTootka art is
more realistic and at the same time cruder than Kwakiutl art. The
ideas expressed in the art of both tribes, however, are practically the
same. In the southwest we find that the culture of the Pueblos has

496

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

deeply influenced the neighboring Athapascan and Sonoran tribes,
while at the same time the decoration of their basketry bears a close
relation to that of Californian basketry. Although I do not know the
interpretations of designs given by the Apache, Pima and Navajo, it
seems probable that they have been influenced by the ideas current
among the Pueblos. Among the Pueblos themselves — and in these I
include the tribes of northern Mexico, such as the Huichol — there are
well-marked local styles of technique and of decoration, and a general

^<^^!-^:S

b d

Fig. 12. Tlingit Baskets. (Specimens in the possession of G. T. Emmons.)

similarity of interpretation. I think the marked prevalence of geo-
graphical interpretations found among the Salish tribes of British
Columbia, the Shoshone and the Arapaho is another instance of distri-
bution of a style of interjiretation over an area including divers styles
•of art.

In a few cases it seems almost self-evident, from a consideration
of the interpretations themselves, that they can not have developed
from realistic forms. The multiplicity of Arapaho explanations for
the triangles which I mentioned before suggest this. According to
G. T. Emmons,* the zigzag and the closely allied meander in Tlingit
basketry have a variety of meanings. The zigzag may represent the

* ' The Basketry of the Tlingit,' Memoirs American Museum of Natural
History,' Vol. III., pp. 263 ff.

DECORATIVE ART OF TUE INDIANS. 497

tail of the land-otter (Fig. 12, a), the hood of the raven (Fig. 12, h),
the butterfly (Fig. 12, c), or, when given a rectangular form (Fig. 12,
d), waves and floating objects. It is evident, in view of the data here
discussed, that these must be different interpretations of motives of
similar origin.

We conclude from all this that the explanation of designs is
secondary almost throughout and due to a late association of ideas
and forms, and that as a rule a gradual transition from realistic
motives to geometric forms did not take place. The two groups of
])henomena — interpretation and style — appear to be independent. We
may say that it is a general law that designs are considered significant.
Diflierent tribes may interpret the same style by distinct groups of
ideas. On the other hand, certain groups of ideas may be spread over
tribes whose decorative art follows different styles, so that the same
ideas are expressed by different styles of art.

We may express this fact also by saying that the history of the
artistic development of a people, and the style that they have developed
at any given time, predetermine the method by which they express their
ideas in decorative art; and that the type of ideas that a people is
accustomed to express by means of decorative art predetermines the
explanation that will be given to a new design. It would therefore
seem that there are certain typical associations between ideas and
forms which become established, and which are used for artistic ex-
pression. The idea which a design expresses at the present time is
not necessarily a clew to its history. It seems probable that idea and
style exist independently, and influence each other constantly.

For the present it remains an open question, why the tendency to
form associations between certain ideas and decorative motives is so
strong among all primitive people. The tendency is evidently similar
to that observed among children who enjoy interpreting simple forms
as objects to which the form has a slight resemblance; and this,
in turn, may bear some relation to the peculiar character of realism
in primitive art, to which I believe Von den Steinen* was the first to
draw attention. The primitive artist does not attempt to draw what
he sees, but merely combines what are to his mind the characteristic
features of an object, without regard to their actual space relation in
the visual image. For this reason he may also be more ready than we
are to consider some characteristic feature as symbolic of an object,
and thus associate forms and objects in ways that seem to us un-
expected.

It may be worth while to mention one general point of view that
is suggested by our remarks. The explanations of decorative design

* ' Unter den Natur-volkern Central-Brasiliens,' pp. 250 fl".
VOL. I.XIII. — 32.

498 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

given by the native suggest that to his mind the form of the design
is a result of attempts to represent by means of decorative art a certain
idea. We have seen that this can not be the true history of the design,
but that it probably originated in an entirely different manner.
What is true in the case of decorative art is true of other ethnic
phenomena. The historical explanation of customs given by the native
is generally a result of speculation, not by any means a true historical
explanation. The mythical explanation of rites and customs is sel-
dom of historical value, but is generally due to associations formed
in the course of events, while the early history of myths and rite must
be looked for in entirely different causes, and interpreted by different
methods. Native explanations of laws, of the origin of the form
of society, must have developed in the same manner, and therefore
can not give any clew in regard to historical events, while the associa-
tion of ideas of which they are the expression furnishes most valuable
psychological material.

ANIMAL LIFE. 499

HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS OF ANIMAL LIFE.

By Professou HERBERT OSBORN, V

OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY. %.«■•

"^^r 0 matter what particular theory he may hold as to the origin and
-^^ distribution of life over this globe of ours, the thoughtful nat-
uralist or the thoughtful student in any sphere of research, if he stops
to question at all, must ponder with deepest interest the problems con-
nected with the wide dispersal of animal life and its adaptations to
most diverse conditions. From darkest depths of abyssal ocean to
lofty mountain peak, life abounds and even the high regions of ether-
eal air are traversed by one or another of the organisms which repre-
sent the great aggregate of animal life.

It is true that these limits, viewed from a certain standpoint, are
very narrow, for a moment's consideration will reveal the fact that life
on this sphere now, as in all time past, is confined to a comparatively
thin stratum at its surface. From the deepest habitable reaches of
ocean to the highest point attainable by bird (a few miles, indeed, of
vertical elevation) is a slight range in the radius of the earth, and the
densely populated stratum of land and sea — the stratum actually capa-
ble of supporting life continuously is, in reality, limited to a very few
feet — an exceedingly thin layer on a gigantic ball. One almost trem-
bles at the thought of how narrow the habitable limits and how slight
a change in conditions of atmospheric or other physical environment
might extinguish the vital spark which has characterized mother earth
through untold stretches of years. Consider a moment how little below
the surface any animal can live, how slightly above it is existence pos-
sible.

But my purpose here is to touch upon some of the routes of devel-
opment of the shifting forms of animal life which have drifted hither
and thither over sea and land in the great struggle for perpetuity and
expansion.

This effort we can clearly see in the movement taking place under
our own eyes, and, more largely, within historic times, as evidenced
by the host of animals introduced and spread in the new world from
the old, the displacement or extinction of certain forms and perhaps
most emphatically in man himself, the dominant animal of the pres-
ent age, whose struggle has now become not so much a struggle with
other species as a struggle for dominance of race over race, or nation

500 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

over nation. Glancing backward, however, over that long and varied
line of animal life shown to us in fossil forms — their history incon-
testably preserved for us direct from the hand of creation, we must
readjust our vision, enlarge our horizon to grasp the significance of the
origin, distribution, adaptation and survival of life. Life is here —
life has been a feature of this old earth's history through countless
ages. Whence came it, what have been the paths it has followed in
its development and adaptation to the varied conditions of earth, sea,
land and air? It would be presumption too gross to admit of tolera-
tion to assume to fully discuss so extensive a problem within the lim-
its of a magazine article, but an effort will be made to point out in a
rapid survey some of the factors that seem to have been effective in
the peopling of the earth.

First, we should observe the conditions that have existed and that
had to be met in the growth of organic beings — for we should not for-
get that life has had to adjust itself to conditions that existed prior
to its appearance, since the conditions have not been modified to accom-
modate its needs.

Stretches of water and great reaches of land and the atmosphere
furnish the basis upon which organisms must act, and either water or
air, the medium that must serve them for many of their most vital func-
tions. Glancing over the opportunities for survival of life in a deli-
cate, simple condition, we can hardly fail to recognize the water as the
most natural element for primal life-forms. Indeed, I think no nat-
uralist will hesitate to consider water or, at least, an extremely moist
location as the necessary condition for the beginning of life. More-
over, any serious consideration of the question must force the convic-
tion that life-forms in other less favorable locations must have reached
such location by gradual modification and adaptation. For instance,
we can hardly conceive of the peopling of an arid desert-region with
forms such as lizards, snakes, horned toads, scorpions, beetles, etc.,
except by the gradual encroachment upon desert area from adjacent
territory by animals which were able to adapt themselves to desert con-
ditions. Or, to put it in another form, the change to desert conditions
in previously watered area must be accompanied by the driving out or
extinction of all animals unable to adjust theruselves to the new condi-
tions. Assuming, then, a primary aquatic habitat for animal life, it
becomes of interest to inquire both as to the most probable point of
origin and as to the direction of adaptations.

While some naturalists argue for a pelagic origin of the simplest
organisms, others hold to the idea of an origin near the shore, but in
either case we have evident lines of travel from siich a point to occupy
the surrounding space. Thus from a near shore location life might
work itself shoreward, adapting itself to the variable conditions of ebb

ANIMAL LIFE. 5°!

and flow of water and exposing itself to such variations of conditions
as might lead to fresh-water existence — to life on the land and thence
to air, and, on the other hand, a dispersal on the surface to pelagic life.
Again from shore-life or the original near-shore location, there might
be a contingent working into deeper seas, and still further to occupa-
tion of abyssal depths. Transfers from surface to sea bottom, and the
reverse, seem probable, in fact certain, for some groups and movements
of terrestrial groups of animals into water must certainly have taken
place. The peopling of all habitable corners of the earth then has
been a process of continual pushing out from original centers, a con-
stant, if unconscious, effort of animal life as a whole to occupy all
available space, to crowd the energy of vital force to the end of every
open channel, to follow every thoroughfare and explore every by-path
that might lead to nook or corner in the universe that could give sup-
port in any fashion. But seldom has any form of life started alone
on its travels, and hence the crowding for place, the 'pussy wants a
corner' need, the eternal jostling to get and keep that corner and its
opportunities, the 'struggle for existence' that has been the dominant
principle of life from the dawn of its creation. Clearly those forms
most successful in adaptation to new conditions must be those that
win in the race and which soonest give rise to a higher and more com-
plex form of existence. Whether life began in a single organism the
parent form for all the mighty train that followed until now, or
whether numerous organisms started independently, we can hardly
doubt that all were equally simple, and similar courses of modification
must have affected all. Moreover, in every case, we are warranted in
assuming that for all higher types of animals there was a probably
common ancestral form, and distribution over the earth must have been
accomplished from an initial center by succeeding generations. Fur-
ther, that for each particular subordinate group, family, genus or spe-
cies that now has extended distribution, we must assume dispersal from
the original home of the ancestral form.

First, then, we had only aquatic life, and this element may have
been densely peopled before an effort was made to move ashore or to
seek dry land. All geological evidence shows enormous development
of aquatic life in early times, but obviously such forms were most likely
to be preserved. Land life may have been forced by the drying up of
stretches of water as well as voluntary migration. But what an impor-
tant change that from aquatic to terrestrial life — from water-breathing
to air-breathing ! What possibilities of expansion, growth and occupa-
tion in the new, untrodden sphere, in the valleys and hills of earth and
in the invigorating supply of air ! Up this highway have come not a
few of the great groups of animals. Some of the simplest protozoans
even discovered the track, and worms of various kinds have crawled to

502 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

wider or sometimes to narrower possibilities. Mollusks took advantage
of the path, and many of them have reached even to life arboreal, while
some, apparently disheartened or diverted by seductive opportunities,
have gone back to water, still retaining, however, their air-breathing
organs to prove the roundabout course of their travels.

The ancestral forms of insects doubtless followed the same broad
way, but so remote are these ancestors that we may best consider the
insects as primitively air-breathing. Some indeed are now aquatic,
but still air-breathers, and I doubt not have taken to aquatic life as a
fairly modern accomplishment. Vertebrates, however, give us the
greatest advance, for from the gilled fish, and early amphibian, to bird
or mammal is a long and striking course. If any branch of animals
is to be thought of as having had its origin on land rather than in
water, it must be the insects, that is, the immediate ancestral form to
all the groups of insects. Following back their ancestral line still
further we should doubtless reach an aquatic animal, but one not to
be recognized as in any degree insect-like in character.

But life in the open air has not confined itself to particular places
or conditions. The pressure to occupy each niche of available terri-
tory is as strong here as in the water. Here too we may trace certain
w^ell-worn paths — paths that have been common to more than one group
of animals and traveled independently by each. Let us mention some
— subterranean, aquatic, terrestrial, arboreal, aerial. How many forms
in hosts of different groups have buried themselves more or less com-
pletely in mother earth and there found, or made for themselves, all
the necessary conditions for successful life. Earthworms, crustaceans,
insects too numerous to mention, mollusks and, among vertebrates,
frogs, snakes, lizards, turtles, birds, moles, beavers, gophers, ground-
hogs, badgers, etc. This for the general trend, many of these, how-
ever, taking peculiar and tortuous by-paths to reach the end desired.
From terrestrial back to aquatic life has been so frequent a course that
we can hardly call the road exceptional. So many insects of different
groups have become aquatic in either adult or larval life that it was
long held that the insects in general were derived from these aquatic
groups. None, I think it safe to say, has had such an immediate
ancestry, while aquatic beetles, bugs, caterpillars and even dragonflies,
caddicefiies, etc., have, I firmly believe, gradually assumed aquatic
habits as descendants of forms that lived on land.

We can easily believe that frogs advanced from an aquatic to a
terrestrial condition, because we can actually see the process in the indi-
vidual history of each, but there is reason to believe that even among
certain batrachians aquatic life becomes more habitual and succeeds a
terrestrial stage. Even the frog himself becomes decidedly aquatic in
his old age, and for reptiles, while Ave often think of them as aquatic,

ANIMAL LIFE. 503

especially such forms as the alligator and crocodile and the ancient
marine saurians, in reality we should think of them as primarily land-
inhabiting animals, some of which have gradually taken to aquatic life
aud in the course of time become more and more confined to a watery
sphere. Aquatic turtles show this most decidedly, an extreme being
found in the soft-shelled turtle, which is not only a constant resident
in water, but has become possessed of special organs for respiration in
water, so that air-breathing is scarcely necessary. Birds that live in
the water have taken the same convenient highway, and many of them
have traveled it from the time of their toothed ancestors down to the
present. Penguins have gone so far along this road that their wings
can no longer serve for flight, while loons and grebes and auks are on
the way. Gulls, albatrosses and petrels may go far out o'er billowy
wave hundreds of miles from land. Ducks and geese and swans have
struck the trail, and snipe, stork and heron, crane and flamingo have
rolled up their trousers and are wading in. Even the flsh-hawk, the
osprey and the eagle find it worth while to look beneath the wave.

The aquatic habits of the beaver furnish a most remarkable exam-
ple of this, and if we could trace his acquisition of this habit from the
time when he must have been an ordinary terrestrial rodent with
neither a paddle-tail nor a web foot, we should certainly find an inter-
esting career. The musk-rat has not gone so far and can not reach
the same goal, as he has flattened his tail in the wrong direction.

The whale — that giant of the seas — largest of mammals and indeed
of all animals, has out-traveled all his relatives in reaching out into
the great ocean, but we can not possibly conceive the whale to have
come from any other source or to have other ancestor than a land-
inhabiting mammal. We get glimpses of the mile posts he has passed
in the structures shown by the manatee, the walrus, the sea lions and
others. Not that these constitute in any sense his ancestral line, for
that was far back in time and so far largely a lost history. But along
such stages we must believe his ancestors to have passed. The manatee
in its way is as strictly aquatic as the whale but hugs the shore or rivei-
mouths.

The hippopotamus is well on the way, and I would digress here to
call attention to the remarkable similarity in adaptation of the sense
organs of this animal to those of the alligator and crocodile. Note
that the eyes, ears and nostrils are almost exactly in the same plane
and so situated that they may all be above the surface of the water,
while practically no part of the head or body may be visible, an admira-
ble adjustment to avoid detection from foes or for protection against
flies, mosquitoes, etc. Seals, walruses, sea lions, sea otters and, in less
degree, the polar bear, the common otter and mink, all show aquatic
habit fixed or growing, and even the small boy at his favorite swim-

504 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

ming hole presents a tendency to fall into the well-worn path that leads
down to amphibious quarters.

On the broad highway of terrestrial life the eifort and adaptation
has been to develop speed, strength, protective coverings, colors, etc.,
and here has been the widest and strongest struggle for supremacy
that the world has witnessed. The contest for domination between the
giants of old ocean— of sharks and devil-fishes, and saurians and
whales, pales into insignificance compared with the battle waged be-
tween the huge terrestrial reptiles, birds, elephants, mastodons, horses,
lions and man which has raged on terra firnia. From this have come
perfection of speed to one — power and energy to another, but, above
all, intelligence and the dominance of brain. Out of this highway, too,
run numerous and devious by-paths, the following of which furnishes
us with a host of strange and fanciful creations — adaptations to ex-
tremes of heat and cold, moisture and dryness, latitude and altitude,
plain and forest.

But, not content with solid earth, animal life finds its way upward
into vegetation of various kinds and particularly in tree growth, reaches
adaptations which become so fixed that life elsewhere would be an
impossibility. This is especially marked in the great tangle of tropical
forests. In these the animal life of the tree tops assumes a most pro-
nounced character, which can scarcely be appreciated by one familiar
only with lesser forests of temperate regions. Pictures fail to show the
real density, for pictures must show the breaks and gaps to show at
all. But perhaps the most dominant thought in the presence of such
forest life is the superabundance of life, life everywhere, under every
scrap of loose bark, every tuft of grass, on branch, and twig and leaf.
In my despair of giving an adequate idea of this tropical tangle, I turn
to an article in Harper's Magazine by Lafcadio Hearn on a midsum-
mer trip to the West Indies, in which he quotes from DeKafz :

When your eyes grow weary — if it is indeed possible for them to weary
of contemplating the exterior of these tremendous woods, try to penetrate a
little way into their interior. What an inextricable chaos it is! The sands of
the sea are not more closely pressed together than the trees are here — some
straight, some curved, some upright, some toppling, falling, or leaning against
one another, or heaped high upon each other. Climbing lianas, which cross from
one tree to the other, like ropes passing from mast to mast, help to fill up the
gaps in this treillage; and parasites — not timid parasites like ivy or moss, but
parasites that are grafted upon trees — dominate the primitive trunk, overwhelm
them, usurp the place of their foliage and fall back upon the soil forming
factitious weeping willows. You do not find here as in the great forests of the
north, the eternal monotony of beech and fir; this is the kingdom of infinite
variety — species, the most diverse, elbow each other, interlace, strangle each
other and down them. All ranks and orders are confounded as in a human
mob.

ANIMAL LIFE. 505

As for the soil it is needless to think of looking at it; it lies as far below
us as the bottom of the sea; it disappeared ever so long ago, under the heaping
of debris, under a sort of manure tliat has been acounmlating there since crea-
tion; you sink into it as into slime; you walk upon petrified trunks in a dust
that has no name. Here indeed it is that one can get some comprehension of
what vegetable decrepitude signifies; a lurid light — as wan at noon as the light
of the moon at midnight, confounds forms and lends them a vague and fantastic
aspect; a mephitic humidity exhales from all parts; an odor of death prevails;
and a calm which is not silence (for the ear fancies it can hear the great
movements of composition and decomposition perpetually going on within)
tends to inspire you with the old mysterious horror which the ancients felt in
the primitive forests of Germany and Gaul.

Hearn adds :

But the sense of awe inspired by the view of a tropical forest is unutterably
greater than any mystical fear which any wooded wilderness of the north could
ever have inspired. The very brilliancy of these colors — that seem preternatural
to northern eyes — is terrifying; but the vastness of the mile-broad and mile-high
masses of frondage, their impenetrability, the violet blackness of the few rare
apertures in their perpendicular facades where mountain torrents break through
to the sun, and their enormous murmurs, made up of a million crawling, creeping,
crumbling sounds — all combine to produce the conception of a creative force that
appalls. Man feels here like an insect, fears like an insect ever on the alert
for merciless enemies. To enter these green abysses without a guide were mad-
ness; even with the best of guides it is perilous. Nature is dangerous here;
the powers that build here are also the powers that putrefy. Here life and
death are perpetually interchanging office in the never-ceasing transformation
of force, melting down and reshaping living substances simultaneously within
the same awful crucible. There are trees distilling venom; there are plants
that have fangs; there are perfumes that affect the brain; there are cold green
creepers whose touch consumes the flesh like fire, while in all the recesses and
the shadows is a swarming of unfamiliar life, beautiful or hideous, insect,
reptile, bird, interwarring, drowning, devouring, preying. Strange spiders
of burning colors, immense lizards, scaribs cuirassed in all tints of metal,
humming-birds plumaged in all splendor of jeweled radiance, flies that flash like
fire, centipedes of gigantic growth. And the lord of all these, the despot of
these vast domains is the terrible Fer de lance. . . .

Here, then, is "unlimited food, abundant moisture, warmth and light,
and no wonder animal life has grown apace, multiplied and modified
its form — and adapted itself to forest conditions.

Along this forest route come certain strange, peculiar molluscs,
which far from the native haunts of their allies have succeeded in
establishing themselves in apparently successful occupation against
more active forms. Insects, unnumbered, occupying every part from
solid wood of the tree heart to outermost bark or leaf, a few fishes even
leave their water haunts for temporary quarters up a tree, and frogs
are here to stay, while snakes, lizards, chameleons, are at home await-
ing callers. To birds the trees become a most natural harbor and home
to rest, to nest, to eat and die. Ungainly sloths, helpless elsewhere,

5o6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

are at home in the tree tops; and squirrels, opossums, coons, bears,
cats, monkeys, apes, and sometimes man, find up among the branches
of a tree the situation that meets pleasure or necessity.

Launching out into the air, the most difficult path to take, most
hazardous and most perilous, but attempted by many different kinds of
animals, is another highway. Some faint suggestion of an effort to
utilize the air in locomotion is shown by the wind-blown Portuguese
man-of-war, and more fully by the aeronautic spider who launches his
balloon of silk for aerial flight, but no real success as traveler of the
air is found until we reach the group of insects, where wings — true
aerial organs of locomotion — become a conspicuous characteristic of
the group. How well they have succeeded is testified by the fact that
such locomotion has been in vogue with them since early paleozoic
time, and, considering their size, the speed and endurance exhibited in
air is equaled by no other kind of animal.

The flying-fish, driven from its native element by pursuing foe to
temporary elevation in the air, is a strange abortive attempt to reach
this goal, but it has taken too direct a course ever to succeed. It
should have first become an air-breathing land animal before at-
tempting the soaring act. The frogs and lizards with expanded feet
for floating on the air are poor apologies for flying animals, but given
time might reach that goal were not the field so fully occupied by more
dominant forms. The ancient flying reptiles, known only by their fos-
sils, reached a high degree of efficiency, if we may judge by the expanse
of wing they show. In their time they were doubtless the dominant
types of the air, but they left no legacy to later forms, for the wings
of modern groups are formed on different plans and must have been
developed de novo or regardless of the reptilian type.

So now we reach the birds — the truest, most perfect of aerial forms,
the animals which, with natural organs, have come nearest to annihila-
ting time and space — whose skill in traversing the trackless regions of
aerial waste has been the constant envy of man, from early time down
to Darius Green, Maxim and Langley and a host of modern inventors.
*0 had I wings' in various refrains has been the lament of man till
we may expect ere long that the want will be practically supplied.
Some birds indeed do not seem to appreciate this gift and have sacri-
ficed these organs to adapt themselves to water or to a speedy gait on
land, but flight is the dominant mode of locomotion for the group.
Some of the mammals, aside from man, have attempted to follow the
lead of the birds and the bats have succeeded so well that they are
practically cut off from all other modes of locomotion, while flying
phalangers, flying squirrels, and others attest the effort in various
groups to adopt this rapid though liazardous kind of locomotion.

ANTMAL LIFE. S^l

Special Adaptatiojis.

Along such general lines, such open roads as these, animal life has
progressed, and without such limitations as to prevent further progress
or adaptations to new conditions. But I wish now particularly to call
attention to certain adaptations that result in a definite limitation of
the animal, a fitness to special conditions and a fitness so complete that
existence under other conditions is impossible, or to put it still more
broadly, a return adaptation is probably impossible. Such lines of
adaptation may be looked upon as by-paths or blind alleys sought out by
certain forms as presenting easier conditions for existence or into which
feeble species may be crowded by the force of stronger ones. Places
where certain shifts provide adequate chance for survival, albeit on a
lowly plane.

Such by-paths are innumerable — almost as the nooks and crannies
into which organisms may crowd — and to catalogue them would be to
survey a large field of zoology. They are especially interesting and
instructive as showing in most emphatic manner the factors that have
been operative in modifying structure and attesting the general fact
of evolution. The animals that are sedentary, domestic, subterranean,
parasitic ; the inhabitants of caves, deserts, manufactured products, oil,
vinegar, hot springs, snow and ice, on islands, under bark, in deep
sea, are illustrations of such erratic departures from normal habits.
While we can review but few, these few may serve to illustrate the
principles involved and some may be grouped under general heads.

Perhaps the least departure from normal, free-living conditions is
presented by those animals which assume a sedentary habit. This may
range all the way from a temporary anchorage in mud or on a rock
to permanent attachment with most fundamental changes in form and
structure of the organism. It is exhibited in some degree by almost
every group of animals, and were it not that its tendency is toward
limitation and restriction of powers we might look upon it as one of
the main avenues of development. For minute forms the attached bell
animalcules, stentors, etc., are good examples, and in sponges we find
this habit of fixture a constant feature and associated with marked
inferiority in symmetry and activity. Hydroids, and especially corals,
show it strongly developed, though the former often present free liv-
ing stages alternately with the fixed. Some worms and mollusks have
assumed the role and it was the rule with echinoderms in early time,
though modern forms have largely broken away from it, not, however,
until their whole symmetry had been impressed by the results of their
position. The barnacles among Crustacea have gone farthest in this
direction, and their symmetry and structure have been so strongly influ-
enced that it is not strange that earlier naturalists failed to suspect

5o8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

their true relationsliip. Mollusks, like the oyster, have also been much
modified by fixation, and among insects the remarkable scale insects
present extreme results in this direction. It is not mere chance that
the oyster and the oyster shell bark louse have similar shape. They
have both been modified, quite independently and in different locations,
by the same controlling factors working on a sedentary organism.
]\Iany other insects in one stage or another illustrate this phase, but
space forbids their mention.

Tunicates have traveled this road and thereby lost the rich inheri-
tance that was theirs had they cultivated their backbone instead of
allowing it to pass into 'innocuous desuetude.' Even among verte-
brates we see some tendency to adopt the tied-up plan, for among the
fishes the lampreys attach themselves to other fishes, the remours to
the belly of the shark, the sea horse temporarily fastens to branches
of coral by wrapping around them his flexible tail, the flounder rests
almost fixedly at certain points, but throughout the group there is
practically no permanent fixity with the degeneration it entails. It
will be seen by those familiar with the forms cited that the mere fact
of an animal having become habitually attached in a certain place
and having lost its power of free movement has greatly affected its
structure and future possibilities. It has bettered its chances for sur-
vival, but it has sacrificed all hope of progressive development. I
believe it is quite safe to say that no high type of animal life can be
referred in its origin to a sedentary ancestry.

Another frequent by-path is that of parasitism, and, indeed, so
common is this mode of life, so prevalent in some degree or other
among animals of almost every branch, that it would appear to be one
of the easiest roads to travel. But this road leads inevitably to restric-
tion of freedom and limitation of sphere — often to degeneration of
some portion of the organism. Its ultimate end is extreme limitation
and probable extinction. Protozoans, coelenterates, worms in great
numbers, crustaceans, insects, mollusks and even some remarkable ver-
tebrates have followed this road, and in every case where the habit has
gone to any great extent it would seem impossible for them to retrace
the route. Wherever the parasite has become limited to a single host
or to alternate hosts, destruction of the host form means death to the
parasite, and extinction of the host would mean extinction of the
parasite. Loss of wings in formerly winged forms, loss of eyes and
other organs of sense, loss of nervous system, loss of motion, loss of
digestive organ even, in extreme cases, are the penalty they pay.
' Sans eyes, sans ears, sans nose, sans mouth, sans everything, ' but actual
necessities of existence and reproduction.

At first thought it may not seem so strange that wastes of desert
land should present no small degree of living activity, but if we notice

ANIMAL LIFE. 509

the conditions more carefully, we shall see that we must provide not
only for the survival of the individual, but for succeeding generations
of individuals, and, when we take into account the special adaptations
that become necessary to permit of the development of eggs and the
early stages of the different forms, it will be seen that the problem
becomes much more difficult. As already hinted we can scarcely con-
ceive of life originating under such unfavorable conditions, but must
think of it as having gradually extended its range from adjacent, more
habitable regions. We can see, too, that the special adaptation in this
direction distinctly unfits the animal for a return to a more humid
condition and, if its desert conditions were withdrawn, the probability
is that it would succumb to the pressure of more active forms of life.
In fact we may gather that desert forms have reached such situations
as an effort to escape from the more rigid contest in regions more
densely habited.

Many tribes of men have thus pushed out into arid territory, adjust-
ing themselves as well as possible to the conditions, but always with a
struggle against these special conditions that can be scarcely less severe
than the struggle against stronger individuals or races that have
attempted their subjugation or extermination.

Aquatic forms we may expect to be absent and still some such
aquatic forms as may develop very rapidly in temporary pools of water
and are otherwise adapted to long periods of desiccation have solved
this problem. Birds and insects may by their ready locomotion easily
take to temporary quarters under desert conditions, and some of them
become fixed inhabitants, but usually with some degree of subterranean
habit to protect themselves from the severity of the sun's rays, thus
burrowing owls and many subterranean or nocturnal insects are charac-
teristic of desert life. Burrowing squirrels, prairie dogs, snakes, liz-
ards, etc., all follow the same line.

Another distinct line of adaptation is shown in the animal life
inhabiting caves, a fauna so characteristic and so strikingly similar in
different parts of the earth, though common origin is out of the ques-
tion. Such life might be looked upon as an extreme of subterranean
forms living near the surface of the ground, but there are different
conditions to be met, and the results are in many cases widely differ-
ent. Loss of eyes would seem to be the most frequent and, indeed,
almost the first effect of such adaptation, and this modification alone
would practically preclude such animals from ever attaining a suc-
cessful hold upon ordinary conditions. Return to conditions of light
would expose them mercilessly to the attacks of animals with ordinary
organs of vision. Blind fishes, blind insects, blind crustaceans, all
attest to the controlling influence of environment, and whether the ani-
mals found in these locations have come there by choice to secure cer-

5IO POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

tain favorable attractive conditions, to escape more dominant forms
outside, or simply by chance, from being carried in streams of water
into these subterranean cavities, the result has been the same for all,
and their return to the struggle carried on by their ancestors out of
the question. They are distinct species modified and adapted to this
particular environment where survival is possible, but opportunity for
progressive evolution too limited to permit of advance.

Along the path of protective devices, mimicry, adaptive coloration,
form and habit have traveled a host of different forms — flies that look
like bumblebees and thereby gain entrance to their nests to provide
extra food for their larvae; butterflies that look like leaves of trees;
leaf insects (phasmids) so like the leaves they live upon as to be invisi-
ble to foes ; bugs that look like ants ; scale insects that look like excres-
cences on the bark of the trees they infest; edible species that have
taken form and color of inedible species; toads that look like lumps
of earth; frogs that look like green scum or leaf at water side; snakes
and lizards in great numbers that resemble the soil on which they live;
birds that so closely imitate the colors of earth, foliage or irregulari-
ties of bark as to escape observation — in fact, an unending train in
varying degrees, furnishing a most fascinating field for study.

Among aquatic animals we have fishes that hug close to the bottom
and acquire color and pattern which admirably protect them, and the
flounder has even gone to such an extreme in this direction as to have
one of its eyes transferred from its normal position to the opposite side
of the head. Skates and rays have the same flattening, but retain their
normal position. Other fishes resemble rocks and so perfectly as to be
practically invisible. Others, like sea horses, resemble parts of sea
weed, streaming in the currents of water or branches of coral to which
they cling. Mollusks and crustaceans adopt this plan to make them-
selves inconspicuous, and the different devices shown would fill a
volume. Perhaps no stranger combination is presented than in the
little crab which makes its home in a mollusk shell, but not content
with this protection conspires with a sea anemone to take root upon its
house top and add the variety of its structure to the deception. A
queer sight these anemones, nodding here and there as borne by a hidden
crab.

Most animals aside from man have been content to let electricity
alone, and we are inclined to think the use of this magical force in
nature of very recent origin. However, some of the aquatic animals,
at least, and these forms that must have had their origin in the long,
long ago of geological time, have brought to their use this elusive force
and present in the structure of their organs for the generation of elec-
tricity some quite remarkable parallels to the electric apparatus of
human invention. In such lines we have the torpedo, a broad, flat.

ANIMAL LIFE. 51 ^

peculiarly spotted form common to the Mediterranean and adjacent
seas capable of liberating a charge that will shock man and must be
destructive to hosts of smaller animals, upon which it is doubtless used
as a means of offense and defense; in the electric siluroid of Africa,
which in different structure possesses the same power in greater force,
and still more pronouncedly in the electric eel of South America, the
shock from which is sufficient to paralyze a horse. What strange com-
bination of circumstances has conspired to develop such a power in
these animals? Evidently some condition common to their several
environments, as it must have originated independently in each of the
examples cited. The difference in position and structure, though all
are modified from muscular tissue, is such that no common origin can
be assigned to the structure in the different forms.

In the adaptations to deep sea life we have one of the greatest
extremes and, since we have here one of the most remarkable series of
animals and moreover one which until recent years has been unknown
to science, it will not be amiss to give it more than passing notice. In
the greater depths of the ocean we have conditions rivaling those of
caves in the absolute exclusion of light, but very different in the
medium and in the enormous pressures to which the animals are here
subjected — pressures so great that when deep sea animals are brought
TO the surface there is an expansion of all the soft parts, an extrusion
of the eyes, stomach, etc., producing most monstrous looking forms.
But the passage from moderate depths to deeper and deeper points and,
finally, to the abysses of mid-ocean are gradual, and we can conceive
a gradual pushing off to deeper and deeper points till enormous depths
are reached. Even yet, however, it is believed that the deepest reaches
are uninhabited and uninhabitable, the lowest points from which life
forms have been secured being far above the extreme depths that are
knovni.

The wonderful discoveries of the 'Challenger,' 'Albatross,' 'Blake'
and other deep-sea explorations, adding a new chapter in science and
whole new groups of animals hitherto unsuspected, are yet so fresh in
the minds of those interested in such matters that they may well serve
my purpose in illustrating those special adaptations reached by animals
that have pushed into apparently inhospitable regions. The passage
in this case has, however, been slow. We need assume no sudden
change of physical conditions tending to produce modifications of struc-
ture, but practically unaltered physical conditions and a simply crowded
condition of life forms in regions already occupied, as the main factor
in pushing into this hinterland of habitable zones. Here as in caves
we should expect the loss of light to result in the loss of eyes, but this
is not always the case, for in some of these grotesque denizens of the
deep instead of the loss of eyes we find the development of marvelous

512 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

phosphorescent organs which serve as a lamp to light the pathway of
these strange creatures in their strange surroundings. Such adapta-
tions can hardly be conceived as possible, save with the very gradual
shifting from lighter to darker regions through the lapse of thousands
and thousands of years.

In modern times, since man's domination began, another factor has
appeared, and its influence in modifying animal forms and structure
has been one of the most potent and striking for such as have fallen
within its scope. While man's effort has been largely to exterminate
the lower forms of life, especially those inimical to his interest, he has
utilized others for his service, and in the process of domestication we
may see compressed into brief time such changes as under natural con-
ditions would have occupied untold years, if, indeed, they would ever
have been possible, since many of these changes unfit the forms for sur-
vival under natural conditions. So potent this factor that the immor-
tal Darwin used its results as furnishing some of the most conclusive
testimony for the theory of natural selection, believing that what could
be accomplished in brief time by artificial, or human, selection could
be accomplished in greater time by natural selection.

To see the power of this factor we may compare the various breeds
of cattle and refer all to the primitive form from which we have abso-
lute historic evidence that they were derived. The breeds of horses are
equally striking, as the immense draft horse, the Shetland pony, the
thoroughbred racer and the Arabian with hosts of special strains will
attest. So, too, with dogs, cats and fowls. The pigeon which fur-
nished Darwin with so much evidence since the native rock pigeon, the
extreme breeds of fantails, carriers, etc., can be seen side by side and
their relationship unquestionably fixed. Now I wish particularly to
call attention to the fact that many of these domesticated forms, as a
result of their domestication, have been unfitted for life in other
spheres, and if dropped from the fostering care of man would almost
certainly suffer rapid extermination, those surviving being the ones
that had been least affected by the process of domestication. A modern
hog would stand a poor show, but the southern razor-back doubtless
would survive, for a considerable period at least, without man's assist-
ance. Here then is a by-path opened in very recent time and into
which certain animals have been driven by man, seldom of their own
choice, if ever, the confines of which have profoundly modified many
and behind them the gates have been closed never to be opened again.

Pushing away from the congenial temperatures of equatorial and
temperate regions, life ventures into the inhospitable frozen zones of
the polar regions, and by adaptation to such clime invades the most
forbidding sphere. Earth's 'warm embrace' is here a 'cold reception,'
but hosts of birds, mammals, fishes and insects have become established

ANIMAL LIFE. 5^3

and would doubtless suffer extinction in other apparently more con-
genial regions. Such is evidenced by the fact that certain formerly
arctic forms have secured survival or at least a postponement of extinc-
tion in low latitudes by ascending mountain peaks or ranges, the as-,
sumption being that such forms were pushed southward during glacial
periods and that some instead of retreating with the glacier took advan-
tage of high latitudes to secure similar conditions. But while adapta-
tions to the rigorous conditions of high latitudes must mean great
hardihood, it also means small chance for progress in other lines and
we do not look for progressive development in such situations. The
Esquimaux and Laps will hardly produce Gladstones, Blaines, Leo
XIII. 's, Bismarcks or Grants. But while extreme cold is unfavorable
to life, extreme heat is equally so, and the limits in this direction arc
perhaps even more strictly marked.

Nevertheless, we find aquatic animals that have adapted themselves
to life in hot springs, numerous forms living in water of 100° F., while
some forms occurring in hot springs of the famous Yellowstone region
exist in temperatures which, except to those especially adapted, would
be destructive. On the barren slopes and crests of mountains the con-
ditions for supporting life are also very severe, especially where alti-
tudes are such as to leave all forest growth below or to reach into the
regions of perpetual snow and ice. Still such inhospitable quarters are
sought out by many animals and various small mammals, many birds
and insects may be found keeping up the struggle against the bounda-
ries to life's outskirts.

Another most interesting phase of adaptation is to be noted in the
community life exhibited by ants, bees, termites and some other groups.
The community habit has resulted in the development of various castes,
some of which have assumed the full duty of reproduction, others fitted
only for the labors or defense of the colony. In some cases slavery
follows this division of labor, the members of other colonies or other
species being kept in captivity and utilized in carrying on the duties
of the colony except of course that of reproduction. In some species
we are assured this has gone so far and the slave-making species has
become so dependent on the slaves that without them they will die of
starvation. Community life then is an extreme specialization offering
many advantages, but at the same time entailing certain limitations,
cutting off the individual from any possibility of independent existence
and the colony from survival, except imder the conditions that have
been established with the community life. Eeturn to primitive isolated
life is manifestly impossible.

These constitute some of the most striking by-paths into which life
forms have been diverted either from choice or necessity, but barely a

VOL. LXUI. — 33.

514 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

hint of the multitudinous minor lines of adaptation, the following of
which results in limitation.

Such forms of insects, crustaceans, worms, etc., as have taken to liv-
ing under bark and wood and become so flattened as conveniently to
slip between the wood and bark in crevices scarcely permitting the
passage of a sheet of paper — mollusks which bore into piles or some
into solid rock — barnacles that fasten to ships and thus reach all
climes — insects that thrive in such unnatural food material as tobacco,
insect powder; or larvae that live in brine vats, wine vats, or, perhaps
most extreme, in crude petroleum. Vinegar eels in vinegar and hosts
of forms that subsist upon hams, bacon, flour, meal and other prepared
foods, boots, shoes and other leather goods, and furs show the readiness
with which new habits are acquired. But these habits are not so easily
broken, and it is doubtful if the cheese maggot, having taken up its
particular dietary furnished by man, could return to the food of its
ancestors before cheeses were made.

I have spoken in places of the choice of animals for a particular
sphere as if this were a conscious element, and I do not care to dispute
those who maintain some such element as operative in the mutations
of animal life. But, conscious or unconscious, it appears to me that
the animal, even in a lowly sphere, has the power to choose in some
degree or other the direction of its activity, to put itself in certain
environments, and while not selecting certain changes of structure by
the mere fact of selecting such environment, submits itself to inevitable
changes which that environment must perforce produce. Thus, an
animal may not elect to become flattened in body, but selecting narrow
quarters in which flattening is necessary or advantageous this change
is sure to follow.

The ancestors of snakes may not have determined upon eliminating
legs from their anatomy, but by choice of habitat where legs were in
the way these organs were gradually reduced and lost. But by no
process of electing locations where legs are helpful can we expect the
animal to restore the organ thus sacrificed. The fly that mimics a bee
may never in its ancestral line have started out to make itself resemble
a bee, but it may have chosen such relation to bee life that a similarity
became distinctly advantageous or even necessary, and then natural
selection could clearly come into operation to produce the mimicry.
The ancestral whale had no glimmer of thought of launching into ma-
rine life, to trade his feet for paddles and flukes, when he first by virtue
of some advantage found entrance to water desirable, but once the way
was entered, selection and environment conspired to carry his descend-
ants further and further along a path which knows no backward steps.

What fearful consequences attend these unconscious selections !
Shall it be persistence or progress, mere survival or advancement — the

ANIMAL LIFE. 515

fctarting on a downward path to extinction or an upward path to dom-
ination, a wanton sacrifice of rich legacies of structure or improvement
of such as may be possessed?

While adaptations and progressive modifications have been the rule,
there are a few striking exceptions, and we can not assert that preserva-
tion of a particular plane of development is impossible. Picture the
little lamp shell, Lingula, living on unaltered from age to age, its fos-
sils being found away back in the earliest Paleozoic time and in sub-
sequent ages up to the present day — so much for staying at home and
attending strictly to its own business. True no change — no progress —
but as an example of the staying qualities nothing can be more striking.

Concluding, then, we may look in wide view at life as originating in
most favorable conditions of moisture and temperature ; as pushing out
to occupy all favorable environments, and then, from the congestion of
life in such places, as pushing out to extremes in various directions and,
ultimately, by a process inherent in life itself, constantly but imcon-
sciously striving to occupy every available niche having the remotest
possible opportunities for the support of organic beings. The animal
choosing its environment and the environment reacting to modify the
structure of the animal.

But this pushing has been along different lines and some of these
involve no such radical change of form or habit as to restrict the ani-
mal to a special environment. In such broad highways progressive
evolution is still possible, and we may expect future modification,
advancement, adaptation, the height to which advancement is possible
depending on how fully the animal may preserve its general varied
structure while reaching such perfection of organs as to enable it to
dominate the forms with which it must compete for mastery.

Where the road narrows and the animal in traversing it is obliged
to sacrifice some portion of its structure and to adopt some restriction
of habit the result is a limitation which must ultimately mean a bar to
all progressive evolution in the acceptance of a particular limited sphere
within which it may survive, but to leave which means extinction.
Adaptation to sedentary life, parasitism, desert, cave, deep sea, polar
frigidity or extreme heat is to shut the door of progress and give over
to mere survival.

We may be tempted to moralize a little, for a moment's thought
assures us that man himself is, like other animals, subject to these
inevitable laws, and that retrogression, degeneration, decay and exter-
mination are as possible to him or to certain of his races as to any
other form of life, but this subject widens into the great new field of
sociology — one of the latest, richest and most important of the
branches of biology.

5i6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

THE COERELATION BETWEEN MENTAL AND MORAL

QUALITIES.

By FREDERICK ADAMS WOODS. M.D..

MASSACHUSETTS INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY.

TN the present article I projDose to present for tlie first time, so far
-^ as I know, some figures proving a perfect correlation between
mental and moral qualities. In addition, I have some data showing,
not the birth rate, but what is more to the point, the number of chil-
dren who have reached adult age, born to ten different groups of
parents, arranged according to their moral qualities. Both series of
facts taken together give us an insight into the progress of the purely
intellectual faculties. They show how the mental level in each genera-
tion may be raised by no other force than natural selection.

The complete acceptance of the theory of the ' survival of the fittest '
as an explanation of evolution has had for one of its greatest bugbears
the disbelief that such a force could of itself be sufficient to explain
improvement in the higher human traits. In the lower forms of animal
life the advantages of intelligence in the struggle for existence are
evident. Cunning and strength mean better sustenance or surer escape
from natural enemies. But how can such brute forces as these be of
determining significance among individuals of the human species, espe-
cially during the latter ages in which man has risen above barbarism?
That man has evolved is admitted, that he will continue on the
upward road is generally believed, but how is an unsolved problem.

For those who believe in the inheritance of acquired characteristics,
the accumulated effects of education and superior outward advantages
are the forces on which the present has been built and on which the
future is to rely. For those who doubt or deny the old Lamarckian
principles, and we believe an increasing number of naturalists belong
to this school, no such easy explanation is at hand. Some writers con-
sider that acquired characteristics are probably not directly inherited
through the physiology of the hereditary mechanism, but that the
accumulated culture of each generation creates a new environment
which in each generation becomes the bequest handed on to the next.
In this way institutions, scientific improvement and traditions go on
from century to century in their work of building up the race. It is
difficult to see how men really and essentially improved or superior in
natural endowments could ever be produced through the working of
such a process, even in an aeon of time. And, indeed, it is denied that

MENTAL AND MORAL QUALITIES. 517

human nature has at heart changed or ever will change. To the minds
of some, civilization is but a gloss and a veneer, politeness and kindli-
ness are maintained while everything runs smoothly, but let danger or
necessity arise, and they say man is again thrown back on his brute
passions.

For a discussion of the question, 'Is the mean standard of faculty
rising?' and the citations from various authors who consider that it is
not (Buckle, Bellamy, Eitchie, Gladstone, Benjamin Kidd, et al.),
see Lloyd Morgan, 'Habit and Instinct,' where he himself states in
his closing paragraph : ' ' Natural selection becomes more and more sub-
ordinate in the social evolution of civilized mankind; and it would
seem probable with this waning of the influence of natural selection
there has been a diminution also of human faculty." Alfred Eussel
Wallace writes:* "In one of my latest conversations with Darwin he
expressed himself very gloomily on the future of humanity, on the
ground that in our modern civilization natural selection had no play,
and the fittest did not survive." Wallace himself insists that there
are forces to be counted on for the amelioration of the race, one of
which is the process of elimination 'by which vice, violence and reck-
lessness so often bring about the early destruction of those addicted to
them.' But it is much more difficult at first sight to see how purely
intellectual qualities are to be enhanced through any process of natural
selection going on at the present day. Nevertheless, if a mental and a
moral correlation can be shown to be a reality the difficulty is overcome.

The following figures, which prove that the morally superior are
also the more endowed mentally, were drawn from records of the
characteristics of European royalty. They include the entire number
who formed the basis of a study of heredity which appeared in The
Popular Science Monthly, August, 1902, to April, 1903. These
were arranged to the best of the writer's ability, and in consultation
with John Fiske and other historians, in ten grades for intellect and
ten grades for morality. The latter term is used in its widest mean-
ing and under this head are included all the qualities which may count
as virtues. Amiability and kindliness are included, so that only those
who have received praise for many good qualities can appear in the
higher grades. The highest grade (10) is for those only who have
.been known as altruists, or reformers, or have devoted their lives to
charity or other noble aims for the welfare of their country.

It has been the aim of the writer to take only the opinions of others,
following the biographical dictionaries and standard histories as far as
possible. If a personal equation may have unconsciously influenced
the grading, it can have no possible effect on the results of the present
article, because the grading was made with a view to the study of in-

* ' Studies Scientific and Social,' London, 1900, Vol. 1, p. 509.

Si8

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

heritance, without the least idea of carrying forward the present re-
search. It had always been a matter of grave doubt in my own mind
whether the exceptionally gifted of earth were better or worse than the
ordinary run of mankind. Examples like Napoleon, Bacon, Byron
and Catherine II. of Eussia come to mind, and then we all have a feel-
ing that the very good are perhaps a little simple-minded, and besides,
according to tradition, they 'die young.' This pessimistic view of
things is, however, not borne out by the facts.

On looking over the number of individuals in each grade one sees
that nearly a half of all concerned fall in the two middle grades (5)
and (6). This exemplifies what is known as 'the law of deviation
from an average,' and means that when a large number of measure-
ments are taken of any biological characteristic and graded in a nimier-
ical series, they will fall so that proportionally more lie in the grades
approaching the mean and less and less as the measurements show
extreme variation. On this view, then, in any homogeneous group of
persons, fools are as rare as geniuses, and may differ much from the
mean ; but the great mass of humanity are such that in any given char-
acteristic, one is much like another. The social scale is not to be con-
ceived of as a pyramid in which the favored few are represented at the
apex, and the masses below, more and more numerous as we descend
the scale; but rather as a figure like a Rugby football with the masses
occupying the medium zone. Actual paupers are as rare as the very
rich. In the tables below we see the frequency in each of the ten
grades for moral qualities, the males and females having been studied
separately.

Females.

Grades.
Frequency.

(1)

7

(2)
8

(3)
18

(4)
24

(5)
60

(6)
42

(7)
28

(8)
23

(9)
16

(10)
6

= 232

Males.

Grades.
Frequency.

(1)
9

(2)
19

(3)
36

(4)
49

(5)
73

(6)
51

(7)
47

(8)
44

(9)
25

(10)
12

= 365

Space will not permit printing an entire list of 597 names or giving
bibliographical references. Such details will be included in a work on
the general subject of heredity in royalty which I hope will appear
shortly. The three upper and three lower grades are, however, given
below, and since the results of study of the extreme ends determine
largely the conclusion obtained, the majority who lie close to mediocrity
may just as well be given less attention.

It is, of course, difficult, indeed impossible, for any one to arrange
people according to their reputed virtues in a perfectly satisfactory
manner. It is, however, not as difficult as it might at first sight seem,
especially if one remembers that by far tlie majority are to be in the

MENTAL AND MORAL QUALITIES. 519

mediocre grades aud the presence of some little vice or a reasonable
array of good qualities are not to place a man in an extreme grade in
either direction. In the case of the women the standard proved to be
such that it was necessary, in order to make things balance, to place
all excellent, quiet and negative characters in a grade as low as (5) and
reserve the upper grades for those only who have had a special reputa-
tion for devoting their time to some form of altruism. Those who are
familiar with history and court memoires may see how far the grading
suits their particular approval, and most who read the list carefully
will doubtless object to characters here and there; but I am sure that
much of this will be found due to some personal bias, and an acquaint-
ance with all the characters would result in a scheme not very different
from the present. It is to be remembered that they are not arranged
by the writer from a vague idea of their worth drawn from reading
accounts of their lives, but are graded purely on a basis of the adjec-
tives used in describing their traits by the best authorities, several
different sources of information having been used for verification. In
any case errors would be likely to balance.

The three lowest grades have been reserved for the distinctly vicious,
those described as debauched, depraved, licentious, dissipated, cruel or
extremely unprincipled. In the three upper grades we find such de-
scriptions as 'Adored by the people as a saint,'* 'Gave herself up
entirely to works of piety and charity, 'f 'Heroic virtues and rare abne-
gations,'J 'By his well-known devotion to the best interests of the
country he secured the confidence and esteem of all classes, '§ 'Eespect
and veneration which the Eussians entertained for his character, ' ||

In the list following, the persons within each grade are given in
the alphabetical order of the country or family name, which is fol-
lowed by the christian name. When the family name is omitted, it
is the same as the preceding. The numbers in brackets which stand
before the names are the intellectual grades in each case, and those
following, without brackets, refer to the total number of children who
reached adult years.

Thus (10) Anhalt, Catherine II., Empress of Eussia, 1; means
that she was by birth of the House of Anhalt, that she stands in grade
(1) for virtues, grade (10) for mental qualities and that she left one
adult child. The averages at the bottom are indicated in the same
way. Illegitimate children are also included in the number.

In regard to the variability of the two sexes one sees that the con-

* Christine, dan. of Victor Emanuel I. of Savoy, and first wife of
Ferdinand of Sicily.

t Anne, de Mancini, wife of Amand, Prince of Conty.
t Pedro II. of Portugal and Brazil, 1825-1891.
§ Leopold I. of Belgium.
II Feodor I. Eomanhof.

520 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

elusion to be drawn is that the males are the more variable. The fe-
males fall less often in the extreme grades, which agrees with the gen-
erally accepted view. Karl Pearson has, however, doubted the greater

variability of the male.*

Females.

Grade {1).
(10) Anhalt, Catherine II., Empress of Russia, 1; (8) Orleans, Elizabeth,
dau. Philip (Regent), 0; (5) Marie, dau. Philip (Regent), 0; (3) Russia,
Elizabeth, dau. Peter the Great, 0; (1) Saxony, Anne, second wife Wm. the
Silent, 2; (6) Spain, Marie Louisa, wife Charles IV., 6; (4) Queen Urraca,
1; (5.28) Average 1.43.

Grade (2).

(5) Brunswick, Caroline, wife George IV. of Eng., 0; (5) Portugal,

Isabella, dau. Don John, married John II. Castile, 1; (5) Mary, dau. Alfonso

IV., 1; (3) Russia, Anne, 1G94-1740, 0; (5) Savoy, Joanna, dau. Charles

Amadeus, 1; (6) Spain, Carlotta, d. 1830, dau. Charles IV., 6; (5) Isabella

II., b. 1830, 6; (6) Maria Christina, married Ferdinand VII., 2; (5.00)

Average 2.13.

Grade {3).

(7) Austria, Caroline, Queen of Naples, d. 1814, 7; (5) Maria Louisa,
married Napoleon; (5) Bourbon, Elizabeth, dau. Louis XV., 3; (6) Bruns-
wick, Caroline, married George IV. of England, 1; (7) Elizabeth Christine,
married Frederick William II. of Prussia, 1; (8) Juliana, Queen of Denmark,
1; (4) Conde, Henrietta, dau. Louis III., 0; (5) Louise, dau. Louis III., 2;
(4) Marie, dau. Louis III., 0; (5) Conty, Louise, dau. Amand, 2; (5) Medici,
Marie, wife Henry IV. of France, 2; (5) Orleans, Charlotte, dau. Philip
(Regent), 5; (5) Portugal, Anne, dau. John VI.; (3) Russia, Catherine, wife
Peter the Great, 2 ; ( 8 ) Spain, Joan Henriquez, wife John II. of Aragon, 1 ;

(6) Louise Carlotta, b. 1804, dau. Francis of the Two Cicilies, 7; (8) Theresa,

dau. Alfonso I. Castile, 3; (5) Sweden, Cecilia, dau. Gustavus Wasa, 3,

(5.66) Average 2.50.

Grade (8).
(5) Bourbon, Louise de Blois, dau. Louis XIV., 7; (5) Louise, dau. Duke
de Penthifevere, 4; (10) Margaret of Navarre, grandmother of Henry IV. of
France, 1; (5) Brandenburg, Anne, Queen of Denmark, 2; (9) Bruns\vick,
Anne, dau. Saxe-Weimar (patron of Goethe, etc.), 2; (6) Elizabeth, married
Charles VI. of Austria, 2 ; ( 7 ) Coligny, Louise, wife William the Silent, 1 ;

(7) Cond4, Louise Adelaide, 0; (4) Denmark, Caroline, dau. Frederick VI.;
(4) Hanover, Caroline Elizabeth, dau. George II., 0; (6) Montmorency,
Charlotte, married Conde, 3; (5) Plantagenet, Philippa, Queen of Portugal,
6; (5) Portugal, Elenor, Queen of John II., 1; (4) Marie Isabelle, dau. of
John VI., 0; (6) Matilda, dau. Sancho I., 0; (9) Prussia, Amelia, sister of
Frederick the Great, 0; (7) Russia, Anne, dau. Peter the Great, 0; (6) Savoy,
Maria, Queen of Philip V. of Spain, 2; (8) Saxe-Meiningen, Louise Dorothea,
'the German Minerva,' 3; (8) Spain, Isabella, dau. Philip II., 0; (8) Marie,
wife of Sancho IV., 6; (5) Spain, Marie Amelia, wife Louis Philippe, King

of the French, 8; (7) Sancha, Queen of Ferdinand I., 5; (6.35) Average

2.41.

* Conf . ' Variation in Man and Woman,' by Haveloek Ellis, Popular Sci-
ence Monthly, January, 1903, Vol. LXII., No. 3.

MENTAL AND MORAL QUALITIES. 521

Grade (9).

(5) Austria, Elizabeth, dau. Maximilian II., 0; (5) Margaret, dau.
Maximilian II., 0; (9) Maria Theresa (the great queen), 10; (9) Bourbon,
Jeanne d'Albret, dau. Henry of Navarre, 2; (8) Brandenburg, Caroline, Queen
of George II. of England, 7; (6) Brunswick, Charlotte, Czarina of Russia, 2;

(4) Elizabeth, wife Frederick the Great, 0; (6) Denmark, Charlotte Amelia,
dau. Frederick IV., 0; (9) Hanau, Amalie Landgriifin von Hessen, 4; (8)
Hanover, Sophia Charlotte, Queen of Frederick I. of Prussia, 1; (5) Hesse,
Charlotte Amelia, Queen of Christian V. of Denmark, 3; (5) Mecklenburg,
Charlotte, Queen of George III. of England, 13; (8) Prussia, Charlotte, sister
Frederick the Great and Duchess of Brunswick, 8; (8) Russia, Natalia, dau.
of Alexy, 0; (8) Spain, Berengaria (famous queen), 5; (7) Stolberg, Juliana,
mother William the Silent, 11; (6.88) Average 4.13.

Grade (10).

(6) Hanover, Queen Victoria, 8; (5) Mancini, Anne, wife of Amand Prince
of Conty, 2; (10) Prussia, Louisa Ulrica, Queen of Sweden and sister Fred-
erick the Great, 4; (5) Savoy, .Christine, dau. Victor Emanuel I., 1; (10)
Spain, Isabella of Castile, 4; (8) Saint Elizabeth, Queen of Diniz I. of
Portugal, 2; (7.33) Average 3.50.

Males.

Grade (1) .

(1) Brunswick, Ivan, s. Anton Ulric, 0; (3) Cond4, Charles de Charlois,
s. Louis III., 0; (2) Denmark, Christian VII., 2; (5) Farnese, Ranuccio, 1569-
1622, 6; (1) Portvigal, Alfonso VI., 0; (2) Spain, Don Carlos, s. Philip II.,
0; (6) Peter the Cruel, 6; (1) Philip, s. Charles IIL, 0; (2) Russia, Alexy,
s. Peter the Great, 1 ; (2.56) Average 1.88.

Grade (2),

(2) Bourbon, Gaston d'Orleans, s. of Henry IV., 3; (3) Louis XV., King
of France, 6; (2) Hanover, Frederick Henry, b. of George III., 0; (4) George
IV., King of Great Britian, 1; (4) Maillfi, Urbain, 1597-1650, 2; (8) Medici,
Cosimo the Great, 5; (4) Francesco, 1541-1587, 4; (2) Portugal, Cardinal
Henrique, s. Emanuel I., 0; (4) Don Miguel, s. John VI., 7; (8) Russia, Con-
stantine, s. Paul I., 0; (3) Paul I., s. Catherine II., 9; (2) Spain, Don
Balthazar, s. Philip IV., 0; (1) Charles II., 0; (2) Ferdinand, Duke of
Parma, 1751-1802, 4; (5) Ferdinand IL of the Two Sicilies, 7; (3) Francis
L of the Two Sicilies, 12; (3) Henry IV. of Castile, 0; (5) Philip IL, 4; (5)
Philip IV., 4; (3.68) Average 3.58.

Grade [3).

(7) Austria, Francis IV., Duke of Modena, 4; (6) Francis V., Duke of
Modena, 0; (5) Rudolph IL, Emperor, 0; (2) Bourbon, Charles Duke of Berry,
s. Louis the Dauphin, 0; (3) Louis XIIL, King of France, 2; (4) Brandenburg,
Charles William, d. 1712, 1; (7) Conde, Henry Jules, s. the Great Cond6, 4;
(7) Hanover, Ernst August, father of George I., 6; (3) Frederick Duke of
York, s. George IIL, 0; (3) Frederick Prince of Wales, s. George IL, 0;

(3) George IL, King of Great Britain, 7; (6) W^illiara Augustus, s. of George
IL, 0; (5) Mecklenburg, Charles Leopold, married Empress of Russia, 1; (4)
Orleans, Louis Philippe (Egalite), 4; (8) Philip (Regent), 9; (7) Alfonso
IIL, 6; (7) Alfonso IV. the Brave, 2; (3) Ferdinand, s. Peter the Rigorous,
2; (3) John IIL, 2; (7) Prussia, Frederick William L, 10; (9) Russia,

522 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Peter the Great, 3 ; ( 2 ) Peter III., 1 ; ( 7 ) Saxony, Augustus I. the Strong,
2; (8) Spain, Charles V., Emperor of Austria, 5; (6) Ferdinand IV. of
Castile, 2; (2) Ferdinand I. of the Two Sicilies, 7; (2) Ferdinand VII., King
1784-1833, 2; (2) Francis II. of the Two Sicilies, 1; (6) Henrique, 1823-1870,
s. Francis de Paula, 5; (6) Henry II. (Transtamare), 1333-1379, 9; (8) James
I. of Aragon (the Conqueror), 5; (3) John I. of Castile, 2; (7) John II. of
Aragon, 4; (4) Louis, s. of Philip V. and Marie, 0; (7) Sancho IV. of Castile,
8; (6) Sweden, John HI. 2; (5.14) Average 3.44.

Grade (8).

(6) Anhalt, Charles William, 1652-1718, 2; (7) Austria, Maximilian II.,
8; (6) Bourbon, Duke of Burgundy, grandson Louis XIV., 1; (5) Louis XVI.,
1; (6) Louis Jean de Penthifevre, 2; (5) Brunswick, Anton Ulric, 1714-
75, 5; (3) Charles, 1713-80, 8; (7) Ernest Ludwig, 1718-88, 0; (7) Ferd-
inand Albert I., 6; (7) Frederick August, 1740-1805, 0; (9) Coligny, Gaspard
(the great admiral) ; (7) Conde, Louis Joseph, 2; (8) Denmark, Christian
IV., 3; (5) Frederick VI., 2; (5) Farnese, Ranuccio II., 2; (4) Hanover, Duke
of Kent, s. George III., 1; (7) Hesse, Philip the Magnanimous, 15; (5)
Mecklenburg, Adolphus, 1738-94, 0; (5) Carl Ludwig, 1708-1752, 6; (8)
Medici, Ferdinand I., 4; (4) Nassau, William IV., 2; (7) William IL (King),
4; (7) Frederick William, b. 1797, 2; (9) Orange, Maurice (celebrated gen-
eral), 2; (7) William the Elder, father William the Silent, 12; (9) William
III., King of Great Britain, 0; Orleans, Antoine Montpensier, brother Louis
Philippe, 0; (6) Poland, Ladislaus, s. Casimier, 2; (7) Portugal, Edward I.,
6; (8) Henry of Burgundy, d. 1114, 4; (10) John L "the Great," 8; (8) John
IL, 2; (5) Joseph, s. John IL, 4; (7) Louis, s. Emanuel, 1; (7) Sancho L,
8; (6) Sancho IL, 0; (4) Savoy, Charles; (6) Saxe-Coburg, Frederick IL, 9;
(5) Saxe-Gotha, Frederick IV., 0; (7) Saxe-Meiningen, Anton Ulric, 5; (9)
Saxony, Maurice (celebrated Elector), 1; (8) Spain, Ferdinand I., 5; (7)
Sancho III., 1; (6.57) Average 3.72.

Grade (9).

(9) Austria, Charles (commander against Napoleon), 6; (5) Ferdinand
I., d. 1564, 13; (6) Ferdinand III., 6; (5) Leopold L, 6; (5) Brandenburg,
Christian Frederick, d. 1806, 0; (7) Brunswick, Ferdinand, 1721-92 (General),
0; (8) William Adolphus, 1745-70 (author), 0; (8) Conty, Francis, b. 1664
(elected King of Poland), 3; (4) Hanover, Adolphus, s. George III., 3; (4)
George III., 13; (7) Lorraine, Leopold, father Francis I. of Austria, 5; (6)
Mecklenburg, Adolphus Frederick I., 12; (7) Montmorency, Henry IL, 0; (8)
Nassau, Frederick, b. 1774, 0; (6) Orange, John, Brother William the Silent,
16; (5) Portugal, Don Fernando, s. John L, 0; (9) Henry the Navigator, 0;

(5) Prussia, Frederick William (late Emperor), 7; (9) Henry, brother
Frederick the Great, 0; (7) Russia, Alexy, father of Peter the Great, 6; (7)
Russia, Michael Feodorvitch, 1596-1645, 3; (5) Saxe-Coburg, Franz F. Anton,
7; (5) Saxe-Gotha, August, s. Frederick III., 0; (6) Ernest IL, b. 1818, 0;
(10) Sweden, Gustavus Wasa, d. 1559, 6; (6.44) Average 4.48.

Grade (10).

(7) Coligony, Odct, 1515-1571, 0; (10) Orange, William the Silent, 13;

(6) Portugal, Pedro II. of Brazil, 2; (7) Pedro V., king, born Saxe-Gotha, 0;

(7) Russia, Feodor, the first Romanhof, 1550-1633, 1; Saxe-Coburg, Albert
(consort of Victoria), 8; (6) Saxe-Gotha, August, d. 1772, 9; (7) Ernest the
Pious, 9; (8) Ernest II. (the astronomer), 2; (5) Frederick III., d. 1772, 4;

MENTAL AND MORAL QUALITIES.

52;

(7) Leopold I. of Belgium, 3; (10) Sweden, Gustavus Adolphua, 2;

(7.3) Average 4.09.

Analyzing all the grades, we find that the higher grades for virtues
possess a higher average of mental capacity and that this is almost
perfect for both the male and female groups taken separately. An
average of the two makes a curve that leaves practically nothing to be
desired. There is every reason to believe that if the total were great
enough the correlation would be perfect.

Females.

Grades.

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

Correlation averages.

5.28

5.00

5.66

5.79

5.20

5.64

5.96

6.35 6.88

7.33

;Males.

Grades.

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

Correlation averages.

2.56

3.68

5.14

5.24

5.30

5.73

5.79

6.57

6.44

7.33

Both Sexes. (Averaged.)

Grades.

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

Correlation averages.

3.92

4.34

5.40

5.51 5.25

5.69

5.88

6.46

6.66

7.33

The average number of children who reached adult (21) years born
to each grade is seen below to give figures representing a less smooth
curve. This is probably due to an insufficiency in the total number,
though I feel that this can not be dogmatically asserted.

Females.

Grades,

1 2

3

4

5

6

7 8

9

10

Av. No. of adult children.

1.43 2.13

■ •

2.50 2.44

3.07

3.64

3.08

2.41 4.13

3.50

Males.

Grades.

1 2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

Av. No. of adult children.

1.88] 3.58

• 1

3.44

2.41

3.58

3.46

3.04

3.72

4.48

4.09

Both Sexes. ( Averaged. )

Grades.

1 2

3

4

5 6

7

8

9

10

Av. No. of adult children.

1.66 2.86

2.97

2.43

3.33 3.55

3.06

3.07

4.31

3.80

Such figures drawn from royalty, in regard to the fertility of dif-
ferent grades, can have, of course, but a slight bearing on the question
of race suicide agitated at the present time. They do, however, show
that, imhampered by restraint, as is fair to suppose has been the case

524 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

among royalty where large families are always desired, maximum fer-
tility does on the whole run hand in hand with general superiority.
Nearly all the figures which have been heretofore compiled upon the
question deal only with the number born and not with the number
reaching adult years and are consequently of absolutely no significance.
It is a well-known biological principle that the lower the species the
greater the number of offspring, but among the different members of
any social scale, our foreign immigrants for instance, very likely it
would be found on close inquiry that, inter se, the relatively superior
are the ones who are parents of the greater number of children whom
they are successful in bringing to mature years. There are many
reasons, both medical and economic, why the children of the more
vicious and depraved should die in the greater numbers. This, in the
long run, must raise the moral average, and as mental qualities are
correlated with the moral, the intellectual level must at the same time
be raised.

Besides these problems touching upon natural selection there is
another question upon which I wish to say a few words. I refer to
the opinion so generally entertained regarding the psychological effect
of the inheritance of great financial wealth. Wallace in his 'Studies
Scientific and Social,' Vol. II., p. 519, in a paragraph headed 'Heredi-
tary Wealth Bad for its Recipients,' writes:

There is yet another consideration which leads to the same conclusion as
to the evil of hereditary or unearned wealth — its injurious effects to those who
receive it, and through them to the whole community. It is only the strongest
and most evenly balanced natures that can pass unscathed through the ordeal
of knowing that enormous wealth is to be theirs on the death of a parent or
relative. The worst vices of our rotten civilization are fostered by this class
of prodigals, surrounded by a crowd of gamblers and other parasites who assist
in their debaucheries and seek every opportunity of obtaining a share of the
plunder. Tliis class of evils is too well known and comes too frequently and
too prominently before the public to need dwelling upon here; but it serves to
complete the proof of the evil effects of private inheritance, and to demonstrate
in a practical way the need for the adoption of the just principle of equality
of opportunity.

That instances of this sort do come too frequently before the public
I do not deny. The vices of the aristocracy are always made the
most of by the polychrome daily press, but if Mr. Wallace or any one
else has any data to show that vices among the rich are proportionally
more frequent than among people in general, I have never seen such
a proof. It is an assertion entirely unwarranted by any facts. It is
merely a popular fallacy which will probably be entirely abandoned as
soon as sociology has properly collected data bearing on modern life.
In the first place, it is unlikely on a priori grounds. Wealth, like most
things in life, is essentially relative. To the young man who is to
inherit a few thousand dollars, if he belongs in the middle classes, the

MENTAL AND MORAL QUALITIES. 525

amount seems as much as the same number of millions to one
whose friends all have as much. There are plenty of temptations
within the reach of all classes of society and many demoralizing amuse-
ments come cheap. Besides, if this view of the evil effects of great
wealth were true, royalty, who are among the richest of the world's
favored few, should make a poor showing from the general standpoint
of morality. Although we may think at first sight that this is the case,
I have been able to show in some former articles in this magazine that
the bad characters practically always come as close relations of others of
the same stamp, and due to heredity with perhaps some influence from
environment. They can not at any rate be explained on the ground of
riches, as here all are rich. Furthermore, royalty does not make a bad
showing when taken as a great group. From the intellectual side they
are distinctly above the average and this six hundred contains more great
names than probably any other collection of related people that could be
gathered together, certainly more than the general run of Europeans.
Even the greatest leaders among them were born in all cases to extremely
high positions. An idea of their moral standard may best be gained
by looking at their mean or (5) and (6) grades. Among the more
modern and best known in these grades are the late Humbert, King
of Italy, William I., Emperor of Germany, Frederick William IV. of
Prussia, Louis Philippe and Francis Prince de Joinville, his son;
doubtless men with faults, but at the same time men with certain
decidedly praiseworthy traits and in most instances men who led active
lives.

Wallace relies much on sexual selection to play an important part
in the future, as a causative force in human evolution, and has written
some good arguments to this effect. Eoyal matches, as is well known,
are largely determined by reasons of state policy. Nevertheless, even
here, in a class of society where any force of sexual selection must be
relatively at its lowest, we see the largest number of children on the
average belonging to the higher grades. There is also a pretty definite
elimination of the worst.

Conclusions. — There is a very distinct correlation in royalty be-
tween mental and moral qualities. If this is true among them, there
is no reason why it should not be true in every class of mankind.
Among society in general it is easy to see how the vicious and depraved
are more likely to be eliminated than the domestic and unselfish.
Arguments, then, which prove that an improvement is going on in the
general morality of any class or race must at the same time prove an
increase in the standard of mental faculty. The probability is that
forces of natural selection are at work, the value of which we know
little of as yet, such that setting aside all influences of environment,
whether we will or not, the natural quality of humanity must progress.

526 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

COOPERATION, COERCION, COMPETITION.

By Professor LINDLEY M. KEASBEY,
bryn mawk college.

T TNDER the title, 'Cooperation, Coercion, Competition,' I propose
^-^ to consider the three characteristic systems of industrial organ-
ization. Having set forth in a few words what appear to me to be the
determining factors of industrial organization, in the first part of my
paper I shall endeavor to show that the three systems of association
have succeeded each other historically in the order named, that in
primitive times, before the appropriation of natural resources, the co-
operative system prevailed, that during the proprietary period which
followed, when natural resources were appropriated but before the insti-
tution of exchange, the cooperative system became subservient to the
coercive system, and that with the rise of the commercial era resulting
from the development of exchange, the coercive system was superseded
by the competitive system. In the second part of my paper I intend
to draw attention to certain tendencies which appear to me to point
toward a reversal of the original order of evolution. Having shown
why the competitive system was necessarily a transitional form, I shall
indicate how it is now being superseded by the coercive system, and
in conclusion I shall endeavor to demonstrate that the ultimate out-
come must be the reestablishment of the original cooperative system.

My main proposition is that industrial organization is determined
by two factors : first, by the character of the social surplus, and second,
by the monopolization of the sources thereof. Instead of stopping to
prove this proposition I shall proceed at once with the historical survey,
hoping that in the course of such survey the requisite proof will be
forthcoming.

During the earliest days of human development, when people lived
in what political philosophers have called the natural state, the surplus
was derived from fishing, hunting, nut-gathering, berry-picking and
root-culture. In this savage, or so-called natural state, the character
of the surplus was such as sometimes to call simply for sexual associa-
tion of labor and sometimes to require personal association of labor.
To cite a few examples: for shore-fishing, river-fishing and forest-
hunting, nut-gathering, berry-picking and primitive root-culture, sexual
association of labor was sufficient, and we find the peoples pursuing
these occupations organized accordingly along domestic lines. On the

COOPERATION, COERCION, COMPETITION. 527

other hand, sea-fishing and plain-hunting to be successful had to be
carried on by clans or cooperating companies of virile males — manly-
men, as they were called — and as root-culture advanced from the orig-
inal essartage methods to the more complicated plantation system, the
association of the women and womanly-men was found essential. As
far as these latter cases were concerned, therefore, the character of the
surplus required personal association of labor and in this way the co-
operative system was originally established.

Wliether the character of the surplus was such as to require sexual
or personal association of labor, in the natural state, the sources of the
surplus were far too widespread to admit of monopolization. True,
the spawning grounds of fish might be closed in to some extent, but for
the most part, fishing, hunting and primitive agricultural opportunities
were too far dispersed to be monopolized by any one party within the
community to the exclusion of others. As a result, access to the sur-
plus source was not restricted to any particular class. Where the char-
acter of the surplus was such as to require only sexual association of
labor, there each family had immediate access to the surplus source
and the individual members were dependent upon the domestic group
for their livelihood. Where the character of the surplus was such as
to require personal association of labor, there the cooperating company
had immediate access to the surplus source and the individual members
were dependent upon the clan for their livelihood. But though in both
cases individuals were dependent upon the group to which they be-
longed, still no one set of individuals was dependent upon another set
of individuals for their livelihood. In short, the fact that the surplus
source could not be controlled precluded the possibility of coercion and
left the cooperative system supreme in the natural state.

During the proprietary period which succeeded the natural state the
surplus was derived primarily from cattle-raising and agriculture. For
the development of the pastoral surplus personal association was neces-
sary for the defense of the flock and for the occupation and defense
of pasture lands, with the result that we find the manly-men of pastoral
peoples organized like the hunters of the plain into military companies
under a competent chief. For the development of the agricultural sur-
plus personal association of labor was not everywhere necessary. In
the temperate zone, where the extensive system of agriculture was most
profitable, the land could best be cleared and cultivated by individual
families. In the subtropical zone, however, agricultural opportunities
were confined to certain favored localities, such as oases, river valleys
or lakesides, where irrigation and hoe and spade culture were necessary.
These conditions called for intensive agriculture and this in turn neces-
sitated the associated labor of men, women and even children. In sum-
marizing, therefore, we may say that during the proprietary period the

528 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

character of the surplus was such as to call for cooperation among pas-
toral peoples and intensive agriculturists, while among extensive agri-
culturists the familial or domestic system was found sufficient.

The sources of the pastoral surplus might be monopolized to a con-
siderable extent, since herds of domesticated animals were not goods
freely reproducible by labor alone. A single individual or a company
of cooperating individuals might by labor alone bring down the wild
beasts of the forest and plain, but they could not secure a herd of
domesticated animals in this way. Herds and flocks were products of
generation and their possession was accordingl}^ confined to the com-
paratively few who had inherited such stocks from their ancestors.
These proprietors were, therefore, in their way monopolists who con-
trolled the pastoral surplus source. As for the rest, they could only gain
access to this surplus source by serving the proprietors and receiving in
return from them either the products of the existing herd or the nucleus
of a new. To the extent, then, that the non-proprietors were dependent
upon the herd for their livelihood, they could be coerced by the pro-
prietors. It should be borne in mind, however, that the proprietors
were also dependent to some extent upon the non-proprietors for the
defense of their herds and pasture lands. For this reason they were
forced to mitigate the rigor of coercion in order to secure the advan-
tages of cooperation.

The sources of the agricultural surplus were either widespread or
confined. In the subtropical zone where the sources of the agricultural
surplus were confined it was a comparatively simple matter for a group
of conquerors or usurpers to secure control. In the temperate zone,
however, where the sources of the agricultural surplus were spread out
over a wide area, monopolization was more difficult. By conquest and
through inheritance such control was, however, eventually obtained,
except where the surplus was not rich enough to make such monopoliza-
tion worth while. In both cases when proprietorship was established
the disinherited peasants were henceforth dependent upon their land-
lords for their livelihood, for they no longer had free access to the sur-
plus source. As a result, in agricultural regions the coercive system
was established in all its rigor during what we speak of as the feudal
ages.

The commercial era may be said to have begun with the differentia-
tion of occupations, the institution of markets and the introduction
of coined money. With the resultant development of exchange a new
surplus source was opened up whose utility producing capacity was
practically boundless, provided appropriate means and methods for its
exploitation could be devised. In this enquiry we are concerned with
the metliods rather than with the means of production, with the system

COOPERATION, COERCION, COMRETITION. 529

of organization rather than with the kinds of capital required for the
development of the industrial surplus source.'

For trade and commerce the familial system was found inadequate
from the outset. For handicraft and manufacture also the domestic
system was only applicable in certain circumstances and to a limited
extent at that. On the whole, therefore, the development of industry
and commerce is characterized by the extensive and intensive a])plica-
tion of the personal system of association. During the early days of
the craft and merchant guilds the cooperative system included all classes
of producers, the apprentices, the journeymen and the guild masters.
Later on when the wage system was established there was a differentia-
tion of cooperative groups, the apprentices and Journeymen cooperating
henceforth as industrial laborers, and the masters combining as capital-
ists in partnerships, companies and corporations. This differentiation
of cooperative groups was due to the gradual monopolization of the
sources of the industrial surplus. We should accordingly shift our
standpoint slightly and study the subject from this side.

At first the sources of the industrial surplus were too widespread to
admit of monopolization. As a result, the early guilds were organized
along purely cooperative lines. As each guild chose its particular line
of production, the then existing surplus sources came in time by custom
to be regarded as monopolies of the several guilds. But as every mem-
ber of the community was allowed to Join a guild and rise from appren-
tice to Journeyman, to master, such collective monopolies worked
no injury to any one. It had the effect, however, of restricting the
normal development of industry. Beyond the limited lines of produc-
tion controlled by the guilds there were practically limitless industrial
opportunities open to those who would work for themselves. This being
the case, the guilds — even though they sought and for the most part
obtained the support of the state — were not able to hold their artificial
monopolies of the surplus sources. Not to go into the history of the
subject, suffice it to say that in some countries by revolution and in
others through peaceful progress, the older guild privileges were every-
where broken down and industrial opportunities opened to all. In this
manner the way w^as cleared for the development of the competitive
system, which was a compromise of the older cooperative and coercive
systems, and a transitional stage, as it were, between the two.

Under the new regime the surplus sources were opened to competi-
tion, and by the laws of private property each producer was al-
lowed to hold and pass by testament so much of the surplus source as
he succeeded in developing. In considering the conditions of this con-
test it should be noted at the outset that for the development of the
industrial surplus organized labor was not enough ; a certain amount —

VOL. LXIII. — 34.

530 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

and with the progress of industry an increasing amount — of capital
was required. So from the first those that possessed capital had a
superior claim to the control of the surplus source, and as industry
developed the validity of this claim increased. Those that had labor
alone to offer were consequently compelled to work for wages for those
who had capital to contribute; but if from their wages the laborers
could save enough, they too might become capitalists and enter upon
the competitive struggle on their own account. Nor among the capital-
ists were the conditions of the contest entirely equal. For the develop-
ment of some surplus sources more capital was required than for the
development of others; and again, though as far as the surplus source
itself was concerned, small capital could compete with large capital,
still by reason of the economy of great organizations the small cap-
italist might nevertheless be at a disadvantage. So from the first the
large capitalist had a superior claim to the control of the surplus source,
and with the development of industry the validity of this claim also
increased.

From this it is evident that the competitive system must
result in the gradual elimination of the weaker competitors until
in the end only the strong survive. Indeed, this movement has
already gone so far as to be unmistakable, particularly in this land of
ours where the competitive system was given the fairest chance to prove
its economic efficiency. As the competitive field was gradually re-
stricted, the laborers naturally were first excluded. Though they
continued to save, as time went on they found that more and more
capital was required to enter into business for themselves, either because
the industries in their neighborhood were already absorbed by large
capitalists, or because the industries they might still embark upon with
their small capital were far removed from their neighborhood. The
next to be excluded from the competitive struggle were the small cap-
italists. As some capitalists secured control of the natural monopolies
and others succeeded in establishing artificial monopolies, the small
producers were unable to hold their own on the market and one by one
they have either been extinguished by or absorbed in the larger concerns,
until now, as a matter of fact, only the few strong competitors remain.

Properly interpreted this modern movement so familiar to us all
means simply this: the gradual monopolization of the sources of the
industrial surplus. Formerly these surplus sources were too wide-
spread to be monopolized, hence the passing existence of the competi-
tive system; but nowadays the ramifications of capital are nearly as
widespread as the surplus sources themselves, hence, as I see it, the
inevitable recrudescence of the coercive system. B}' the opening up
of new lands through colonization and by the development of fresh
surplus sources through invention, this movement has been stayed time

COOPERATION, COERCION, COMPETITION. 531

and time again in the past; but as colonies and inventions are imme-
diately monopolized nowadays we need not expect much further ob-
struction from these factors. It is high time, therefore, that we faced
the problem. Instead of trying to stimulate the competitive system,
which is really moribund, we should accept the situation as it is and
ask what the new coercive system signifies, how long it will last and
what system will probably succeed it.

It is a fact beyond dispute, I believe — though I confess with the
short space at my disposal I have not been able to present more than
passing proof of the fact — that to the extent that the sources of the
surplus are monopolized, to just such extent can the monopolizers
coerce those shut out of such monopoly. During the middle ages the
coercive system was established, as we have seen, through the monop-
olization of the sources of the agricultural surplus by powerful feudal
lords. Being dependent upon the feudal lords for their land, the
peasants were deprived of free access to the agricultural surplus source,
and could consequently be coerced. In our day the coercive system is
being reestablished through the monopolization of the sources of the
industrial surplus by the great capitalists. Becoming dependent upon
these capitalists for their jobs, wage-earners and salaried men generally
are being deprived of free access to the industrial surplus sources and
to this extent they too are being coerced. As throughout the middle
ages a few free peasant communities remained, so in modern times
independent producers persist in some industries. Still as most of the
land was feudalized in medieval times, the free peasants existed more
by sufferance than by right ; and as the main lines of industry are now-
adays controlled by great capitalists, the existing independence of the
small producer is nominal rather than real.

But freemen have never submitted to coercion with good grace if
there was any way to throw off the yoke. For this reason coercion has
never proved itself in the end a productive system of association; it
runs faster, so to speak, toward the law of diminishing returns than
any other system thus far devised. These facts are fundamental and
serve to suggest the probable outcome of the existing situation. Let
us therefore regard present conditions from this point of view.

As soon as the wage-earners recognized that despite their saving
they could not become capitalists, they began at once to present an
organized front to coercion. Up to this time the forces of labor had been
associated for the purpose of increasing the profits of capital. Hence-
forth the laborers themselves began to organize their own forces with a
view to raising the wages of labor. Trade unionism was the result.
It was then that the shield was reversed and the other side exposed to
view. It had become evident enough in the past that labor could not
develop the industrial surplus source without capital; recently it has

532 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

become equally evident that capital can not develop the industrial sur-
plus source without labor. Indeed, one has not to examine the situa-
tion very closely to become convinced that the once disfranchised wage-
earners are rapidly regaining as organized unions what they lost as
individuals, viz., a claim — and a valid claim at that — to some share in
the control of the industrial surplus source. To the extent that such
claim can be established through association, to just such extent, there-
fore, can coercion be mitigated. On this account it does not appear
to me at all unlikely that capitalists will tire in time of trying to enforce
coercive measures, if for no other reason, because they will find coercion
in the end too costly. That is to say, with diminishing returns staring
them in the face because of the antagonism of trade unionism, I can
readily see how capitalists may find it to their advantage to forego
exclusive control of their surplus sources and admit their laborers into
their monopolies by giving them shares in their companies. And if
this movement — which is already well advanced — toward profit-sharing
proceeds, ultimately the existing coercive relation between employer
and employee will be replaced by the cooperative system, and the old
guild organization will be reestablished on a very much larger scale.
But supposing the coercive system between capitalists and laborers
to be succeeded in this way by the cooperative system among producers,
there is still another class to be considered, namely, the consumers.
The new guilds, if established, would difi'er from the old guilds in this,
that they would actually control the headwaters of the industrial sur-
plus, while their predecessors only controlled a few incipient streams.
If they chose — and as their profits would be increased thereby they
might very well so choose — they could coerce consumers by demanding
monopoly prices for their products. Under the existing regime we
have had a taste of this sort of coercion as applied by the capitalists
alone, we can well imagine, therefore, what it would mean when applied
by capitalists and laborers combined. But here again, in spite of pres-
ent appearances, coercion must in the long run prove unprofitable. The
consumers do not represent a particular class, as do the laborers and the
capitalists, nor are their interests divided, as are those of the producers.
On the contrary, the consumers represent the entire community, and
public opinion is always united for fair prices and efficient service.
Monopoly prices and poor service touch the public's pocket, as we say,
and arouse resistance at once. When things go well enough the con-
sumers are satisfied, but let pressure be exerted on any side by pro-
ducers, it is remarkable how vigorously they resist. Agitation quickly
leads to association, and when combined consumers can readily bring
recalcitrant producers to terms, either by boycotting their products, or,
if this is not enough, by assuming control of the surplus source them-
selves. This latter plan has been adopted to a considerable extent in

COOPERATION, COERCION, COMPETITION. 533

Europe, where many industries are already municipalized or national-
ized, and in our middle western cities it looks as though the trolley
companies would pay the same penalty for charging what the people
consider high fares.

However we look at it, therefore, the existing system of coercion
as applied by the present monopolizers of the social surplus sources
appears to be confronted by opposing forces. When pushed too far
coercion is met by cooperation and diminishing returns set in. Already
cooperation is acting as a powerful check upon such coercion as exists,
and as we advance a little further I expect to see the coercive system
broken do^vn bit by bit, first by the cooperation of capitalists and
laborers in profit-sharing undertakings, and next, where necessary, by
the socialization of such industries as prove recalcitrant under the new
order of things. Or to put the thought theoretically, I think we may
expect the present monopolization of the surplus sources to be extended
gradually to admit laborers as well as capitalists, and finally, perhaps,
some monopolies to be still further extended so as to admit consumers
as well as producers.

534 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

THE SHEKMAN PEINCIPLE IN KHETOEIC AND ITS

EESTEICTIONS.

By Dr. ROBERT E. MORITZ,

UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA.

Tj^IFTEEN years ago, Professor L. A. Sherman, of the University of
-'- Nebraska, while investigating the sentence-lengths used by early
and modern English writers, noticed that in the works which he ex-
amined each author manifested an average sentence-length, which he
inferred to be characteristic of the author. Consecutive hundreds of
periods were averaged with respect to the number of words per sen-
tence and the mean of five or more of these averages was taken to repre-
sent approximately the average sentence-length used by the author. It
was found that the averages for separate hundreds generally varied by
less than 20 per cent, from the total average of 500 to 1,000 sentences.
The 2,225 periods of De Quincey's 'Opium-Eater' averaged 33.65 ±

6.64 words per sentence, where the number 6.64 indicates the largest
number of words by which the averages of individual hundreds differ
from the average 33.65. Similarly 722 periods from Macaulay's
'Essay on History' yielded 23 rb 3.35 words per sentence, 750 periods
from Channing's 'Self-Culture' 25.35 zb 1.45, 732 periods from Emer-
son's 'American Scholar' and the 'Divinity School Address' 20.71 =t

2.65 and 805 periods from Bartol's 'Eadicalism' and 'Father Taylor'
gave an average of 16.63 zb 2.35 words per sentence. These results led
to the suspicion that stylists are 'subject to a rigid rhythmic law from
which even by the widest range and variety of sentence length and
form they may not escajDC. ' Averages from other authors were made
with similar results. A culminating test was furnished by actually
counting the words in each of the 41,500 periods in the five volumes
of Macaulay's 'History of England' with the resulting average of
23.43 ±7.11. The conclusion was that writers who have achieved a
style are governed by a constant sentence rhythm, which will generally
be revealed by an examination of 300 periods.

Encouraged by these results. Professor Sherman induced Mr. Ger-
wig, then a student at the University of Nebraska, to examine other
stylistic peculiarities. This Mr. Gerwig did by determining the av-
erage number of predications per sentence and the percentage of simple
sentences used by one hundred different authors. His conclusions are
summed up in the following words : " A very little investigation served
to convince me that the same remarkable uniformity which had been

TEE SHERMAN PRINCIPLE IN RHETORIC. 535

foxmd in the average number of words used by any given author per
sentence would also hold in regard to the number of finite verbs, or
predications, found in each sentence. The results obtained convinced
me also that there was a uniformity in the number of simple sentences
per hundred of a given author. ' ' Mr. Gerwig expresses his conviction
that the average number of predications and simple sentences in five
hundred periods of any author who has achieved a style is approxi-
mately the average of his whole work. In particular he found that
'while Chaucer and Spenser put habitually over five main verbs in each
sentence they wrote, and less than ten simple sentences in each hun-
dred, Macaulay and Emerson used only a little over two verbs per sen-
tence, and left over thirty-five verbs in each hundred simple.'

The theory which has grown out of these investigations has been
most tersely stated by Mr. Hildreth, another student of Professor Sher-
man, who at the same time applies the theory to the Bacon-Shakespeare
controversy. We read:

Ten years or more ago Professor Sherman, while investigating the course
of stylistic evolution in English prose, made the discovery that authors indi-
cate their individuality by constant sentence proportions, personal and peculiar
to themselves. This vras demonstrated especially with the number of words used
per sentence in large averagings. It was found that De Quincey, Channing
and Macaulay, if five hundred periods or more were taken, evinced this average
invariably, and in the earliest as well as in the latest period of their author-
ship. This discovery led to the suspicion that good writers would be found con-
stant in predication averages, in per cent, of simple sentences, and other stylistic
details. Acting upon a suggestion to this effect, Mr. G. W. Gerwig, then a
pupil of Professor Sherman, undertook an investigation that established the
constancy of predication, as well as simple-sentence frequency, in given authors.
. . . Professor Sherman and Mr. Gerwig have thus established by an examina-
tion of a great many authors, that writers are structurally consistent with
themselves; that they possess a certain sentence-sense peculiarly their own.
These investigators have established that by this instinct authors use a constant
average sentence-length, and a certain number of predications per sentence,
and that a given per cent, of their sentences will be simple sentences. . . .
The work of these investigators covers a large amount of material and a wide
field of literature. They have examined and compared the works of ancient
and recent authors, early and late writings of the same author, and writings
of the same author of different character, such as history and dialogue, poetry
and prose.* Tlie results thus far obtained are sufficient to show that it is
not possible for a writer to escape from his stylistic peculiarities.

The principle once established, its application to cases of disputed
authorship is very plain. If each author employs but one set of av-
erage sentence proportions such as sentence-length, predication average
and simple sentence frequency, it is only necessary to determine these
constants for a disputed work and compare them with those of its sup-
posed author. If the two sets of constants manifest a striking differ-

* This Professor Sherman tells me is an oversight. Neither he nor Mr.
Gerwig think that the principle in question applies to poetry.

136

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

ence^ it is conclusive evidence that the supposed author did not write
the disputed work; if they are practically identical, the evidence is in
favor of the supposed author, for it is highly improbable that two sets
of three numbers each, taken at random, should happen to coincide,

Following this or some similar line of thought, Mr. Hildreth ex-
amined the prose in fifteen of Shakespeare's plays and of Bacon's
'Essays' and a portion of the 'New Atlantis.' To eliminate possible
errors arising from careless or inconsistent punctuation, all the material
was repunctuated according to modern principles, x^ll inorganic and
broken sentences were omitted. Then follow twelve pages of figures
representing totals and specimen results, and then the summary.

Summary.

Shakespeare.
Bacon

No. of Sentences
Examined.

5,002
2,041

No. of Words per

Sentence.

12.39
32.59

No. of

Predications

per Sentence.

1.70
3.45

Per Cent, of

Simple
Sentences.

39
14

The reader is left free to draw his own conclusion from these figures.
The closing statement is that the numbers are not presented as proof
conclusive, but only as contributory evidence in the controversy.

Without wishing to deny the general principle of sentence-rhythm,
which, in honor of its discoverer, I shall refer to as the Sherman prin-
ciple in rhetoric, I wish to point out certain limitations to this prin-
ciple, which I think will invalidate the conclusion that must otherwise
be drawn from the above summary. The Sherman principle has been
established only for certain normal forms of composition, a fact which
lias been overlooked in the statement of the principle, as well as in its
applications. What has been shown is that a writer uses definite sen-
tence proportions while writing in a certain form of composition; it
has not been shown that he uses the same proportions when he employs
essentially different forms of composition, such as drama and descrip-
tion, criticism and correspondence. It is almost obvious that the sen-
tence proportions of a philosophic discourse must differ from those
employed in light fiction or the drama, yet this fact is not only over-
looked, but directly denied in Mr. Hildreth 's statement of the Sherman
principle. To compare the sentence structure of dramatic composi-
tions with the sentence structure of a heavy dissertation or description
ip to compare the oral utterances of a person engaged in deep contem-
plation or in vivid imagination of some sublime object with the com-
monplace talk of the drawing-room or the vernacular of the market-
place. Quite as plausible would it seem to assert that a man's average
gait in walking is the same whetlier he is out for pleasure, on business,
to escape from danger, or on a long journey.

THE SHERMAN PRINCIPLE IN RHETORIC.

537

The chief fact which apparently gives weight to the persistence of
sentence proportions, regardless of the composition employed, is the
instance of Macaulay's 'History of England,' for which the sentence
constants are practically the same as those of his essays, notwithstand-
ing that some parts of the 'History,' in particular the second volume,
contain much dialogue. This anomaly is explained by the fact that
taking the five volumes as a whole the essay stj'le predominates to such
an exlent as practically to obliterate the disturbing effect of the dia-
logue portions. This is easily demonstrated. The average sentence
length of 'Macaulay's History' is 24.43, which differs but little from
23.65 of Machiavelli. 24.00 of Pitt and 23.00 of the 'Essay on History'

Variation of Sentence-length in Ten Authors.

500 10.
500 51.

500 15.

500 45.

Stcift.

' Polite Conversation '

'Essay on the four last years of Queen Anne '.

Dryden.

' The Mock- Astrologer '

' Essay on Satire '

Gcldsmith.

' She Stoops to Conquer '

' The Vicar of Wakefield '

' Present State of P. Learning in Europe ' . . . .

Scott.

' Life of Napoleon '

' Auchindrane ' \ 500

02

Average Number of Words
Sentence.

per

5 o I ^ o

500
500
500

13.
31.
30.

8:12.
6 49.

0 16.
0 48.

9 13.
2 30.
4 24.

3 O
O --I

^o

0 12.113.7
3 58.2 62.1

19.617.1
40.144.8

1 13.2,14.9
8:27.5 25.8
6 25.7 23.5

' Ivanhoe '

Carlyle.

' Signs of the Times,' etc .
' The Hero as Divinity ' . .

Bayard Taylor.
'The Prophet'.

500'46.0;47,

1 21.

2 35.

'" : >z-

. =

13.6
53.0

16.3
33.3

12.4
26.5
20.4

' Balearic Days ' .
Lowell.

'Letters,' Vol. II...
'Fable for Critics'.

Holmes.

' Guardian Angel ' . .

500

500
500

500
500

500
180

500

19.]

46.

0 50.0
9 23.9
3 33.7

27.
25.

15.
30.

4 31.
2:21.

49.8 i 46.5
19.2 21.8
29.8 32.2

8 26.9:34.5
5! 24.3 23.5

81 11.8! 11.3 14.8
3: 29.3 27.8 26.6

21.8

18.8:18.2:22.5

26.

' Tlie Autocrat at the Breakfast Table " ' 500, 19.

Longfellow.

' The Spanish Student ' .
' Hyperion '

Schiller.

' The Robbers ' *

'History of Thirty Years' War'.

500
500

12500

.1 500

12.
20.

12.
29,

4 29.
7,18.

0; 8.

5 '25.

2Jn.

9 27.

0 32.231.1
8 18.0 23.8

8 11.1
4| 27.5

4 12.6
8 28.3

8.8
24.3

10.2

24.9

42.3
23.4

16.4
27.6

17.2

25.6
20.1 1

10.1 1
21.3

10.9
25.7

12.4
54.8

16.9
42.3

13.5
28.4
24.9

47.9
21.2
35.4

32.6
23.6

14.0
28.3

19.T
96.6

28.9
20.1

10.2
23.S

11.5
27.3

* The averages except the last are for 500 periods.

538

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

by the same author. jSTow of the 41,500 periods of the 'History,' there
are forty-five hundreds whose average is less than twenty words per sen-
tence. These we may take to represent the dialogue portions of the
work. The exact average of these 4,500 periods is 18.62 words per
sentence, that is, 4.81 words per sentence less than the average for the
entire 'History.' If we replace these sentences by others of normal
length, we augment the total aggregate by 4,500 times 4.81 or 21,645
words. That is, if the portions of the 'History' which contain an
excessive amount of dialogue were replaced by an equal number of
sentences of normal length, the five volumes would contain 41,500 X
23.43 -j- 21,645 or 993,990 words. Dividing this number by 41,500
we obtain 23.95 words per sentence, a result not essentially different
from the actual average, 24.43.

But whether the presumption is for or against limitations of the
Sherman principles is of little consequence in a matter so easily tested
by experiment. I have prepared a table giving the approximate sen-
tence-lengths for widely divergent forms of composition by the same
author. The averages by hundreds, as well as the final average, have
been given in order to show the variation in the averages of consecutive
hundreds in each work.

It is needless to continue this table, for a mere inspection of the
figures already given must once and for all settle the 'single set of
constants' theory. In fact the question suggests itself, whether the
number of different sets of constants which an author may employ is
not limited merely by his versatility as a writer. So far as sentence-
length is concerned, this conjecture is fully corroborated by a partial
examination of Goethe's works. The results are exhibited in the fol-
lowing table :

Variation in the Sentence-

LENGTH OF GoETHE'

s Writings.

oi

Iz; a

a,

Average Number of Words per Sentence.

Title of Work.

5

o ^

is

* Der Buergergeneral '

500
2500
500
500
500
500
500
500
500
500
500
500
500
288
600

6.7
8.7
13.5
14.6
16.3
18.5
20.7
23.1
21.9
23.2
28.4
27.1
31.5
33.8
37.3

5.1
9.2
12.5
15.2
17.2
16.5
20.9
23.7
23.6
26.5
25.7
32.9
36.1
34.1
32.9

4.5
8.7
11.3
13.6
15.5
16.9
19.1
22.7
23.7
25.6
29.3
33.7
30.9

36.9

3.9

7.8
11.2
13.0
12.3
14.8
22.7
21.5
25.1
23.0
22.3
27.0
28.9

31.7

4.7
8.1
12.4
12.0
16.5
16.6
18.2
22.7
24.5
28.4
26.1
36.9
31.1

34.9

5.0

8.5
12.2
13.7
15.«
16.1

' Goetz V. Berlichingen ' *

' Letters to Frau v. Stein '. ...

'Faust': First Part

' Faust ' : Second Part

' Reinecke Fuehs '

'Die Leiden d. j. Werthers'...
' Italiaenische Reise: Rom '. . .
' Die Wahlverwandtschaften ' . .

' Briefe aus der Schweiz '

' Entwurf einer Farbenlehre '. . .
' Bildhauerkunst '

20.3
22.7
23.4
25.3
26.4
31.5

' Dichtung u. Wahrhcit '

' Metamorphose d. Pflanzen ' . . .
'Literatur : Recensionen ' . . . .

31.7
33.7
34.7

* The individual averages are for 500 periods each, the total for 2,500
periods.

TEE SHERMAN PRINCIPLE IN RHETORIC. 539

The above list includes romance, drama, allegory, criticism, biog-
raphy, description, science and correspondence, but with the exception
of 'Faust' and 'Eeinecke Fuchs' the works are all in prose, so that the
fact of variation is not disturbed even if we consider prose literature
alone. There can be little doubt that a complete examination of
Goethe's writings would furnish a chain of sentence-lengths varying
by almost insensible gradations from five to thirty-five or forty words
per sentence.

The conclusion from which there seems to be no escape is that the
average sentence-length used by an author depends upon at least two
factors, one of which is the author's sentence sense, the other the par-
ticular form of composition into which his thought is cast.

What is true of sentence-length holds equally true of predication
averages and simple sentence percentages. Other things being equal,
the shorter sentences will naturally contain the fewer predications, and
a larger per cent, of simple sentences, the limits being single predica-
tions, on the one hand, and none but simple sentences, on the other.
This general relation is fully made good by the facts. Macaulay, in
his 'History of England,' uses 23.3 words per sentence and 2.3 finite
verbs, which is almost exactly ten words to one verb. Nearly the same
ratio obtains in More's 'Life of Eichard III.' with an average of 3.65
verbs out of 36.5 words per sentence; Hooker's 'Ecclesiastical Polity,'
with an average of 4.12 verbs and 40.9 words per sentence; Sidney's
'Defense of Poesie,' 3.98 verbs and 39.3 words per sentence; and Chan-
ning's 'Self-Culture' employs 2.57 verbs out of a total of 25.9 words
per sentence. However, in very short sentences there is a tendency to
diminish and in very long sentences to increase the ratio of the total
number of words to the number of verbs per sentence. Thus Emerson
in his 'Divinity School Address' uses 2.14 verbs and 18.0 words per
sentence, while Hakluyt in the 'Voyages of the English Nation to
America' uses but 4.44 verbs out of an average of 56.8 words per
sentence.

A more striking though less obvious relation exists between predica-
tion averages and simple sentence percentages, which is all the more sur-
prising, inasmuch as simple sentence percentages are the least constant
of the sentence proportions thus far examined. For instance, Lyly's
'Euphues' furnishes for five consecutive hundreds 26, 14, 20, 15 and 8
simple sentences respectively. De Quincey's 'Opium-Eater' yields the
nimibers 10, 19, 15, 7 and 21 for consecutive hundreds, and Macaulay
in his ' History of England ' gives simple sentence percentages as widely
divergent as 41 and 27, though each average is based upon 500 consec-
utive sentences. These are extreme cases, but even the average variation
is high. An examination of fifty authors shows that the simple sen-
tence percentages based upon an examination of 400 sentences, differs

540

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

on an average by nearly 6 per cent. (5.98 per cent.) from the averages
based upon 500 sentences from each author, with extreme variations
as high as 28.8 per cent. It seems quite plain, therefore, that several
thousand sentences from each author would have to be examined to get
anything like a constant simple sentence percentage.

Now Mr. Gerwig's tables* for predication averages and simple sen-
tence percentages for prose works comprise averages of about 60,000
sentences taken from seventy-one different authors, exclusive of the
complete averages for Macaulay's 'History.' These tables I utilized
for a preliminary testf by employing the following device. I grouped
together all the works whose predication averages fell between 1.50 and
2.00 per sentence. This group yielded an average of 1.83 predications
per sentence and 53 simple sentences per hundred. Next I averaged
the works which contained between 2.00 and 2.25 predications per
sentence, and the average for this group was found to be 2.15 verbs
per sentence and 38 simple sentences per hundred. Proceeding sim-
ilarly by grouping the works whose predication averages fall between
2.25 and 2.50, between 2.50 and 2.75, and so on, we obtain the follow-
ing table :

The numbers P, the predication averages, and S, the simple sentence
percentages, aside from the general reciprocal relation which we should
expect, manifest a more specific uniformity. The square-root of 53, the
first number under S, multiplied by 1.8G, the corresponding number
under P, is 13. -j-, but so also is the square-root of 39.1, the second
number under S, multiplied by 2.14, the corresponding number for P.
Similarly for the third, fourth, fifth pairs of corresponding numbers.
That is, we find

1.86|/53.0 = 13. +
2.14 y^ 39.1 = 13.+

** University (of Nebraska) Studies,' Vol. 2, No. 1.

t For a detailed discussion of this experiment, together with other matter
of a more technical nature, see ' University Studies,' University of Nebraska,
Vol. 111., No. 3.

THE SHERMAN PRINCIPLE IN RHETORIC. 541

2.34^^32.9 = 13. +
2.62^25.9 3=13.+

and so on through the list, the result in each case being 13. -j-. In
short, we have quite uniformly

where C = 13.57, the arithmetic mean of the slightly varying values
13. -f-, which are given in the last column of our table.

How nearly this equation fits our data may be best seen from the
graphical representation. Fig. 1. The curve P -j/ >S = 13.57, as well

60

fS

bit

50

MO

45
40
35

9<

V

X

^

\l

30

n

X^

L

PS

^

v^

2Q

^

^

-^

#^

^^^ .

-~2i

i5

—

—

10
5

1

1

3 1

5~

1
2

[> 2

5

3(

) 3

} 4(

) 4

5 5

1
0 5

5 61

)

ap the P's and /S's from our table, have been plotted in rectangular co-
ordinates by using the values of 8 for abscissas, and for ordinates ten
times the corresponding values of P. The resulting points have been
numbered to correspond with the index numbers in our table.

The relation expressed by P -y/ S^=C may be easily expressed in
words. For if P^ and Po represent two predication averages, and 8^,
82, the corresponding simple sentence percentages, Ave have approxi-
mately

from which

P,:P, = i/8,:^8,

that is :

The predication averages of various works are approximately in-
versely proportional to the square-roots of their simple sentence per-
centages.

542 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. !

i

It will be interesting to test this law on some specific work, not i

included in the table from which the law has been deduced. Ma- \
caulay's 'History of England' is the only larger work whose sentence

dimensions have been determined with reasonable accuracy. Here S i
was found to be 34.2, and substituting this in our formula we find

P = 13.57 -7- ^34.2 = 2.32 j

which is nearly equal to the value 2.30 as determined by actually count-
ing the finite verbs in 40,000 sentences.

There is, of course, no reason to infer that our formula will apply
with equal accuracy to the sentence dimensions of every other work.
Variations from it must occur. The only conclusion that is warranted
is that when a reasonable number of works are selected whose predica-
tion frequency is nearly the same, and the average of these frequencies
is taken, this average will bear a definite relation to the average of
simple sentence ratios of the same works and that this relation is ap-
proximately expressed by our formula.

EDUCATIONAL ENDOWMENTS IN THE SOUTH. 543

EDUCATIO^iTAL ENDOWMENTS AT THE SOUTH.

Bv ELIZABETH M. HOWE.

WITHIN the past five years alone the benefactions to institu-
tions of higher learning in the United States have amounted to
a little more than sixty-one millions. That is to say, during that time
money from private sources has been devoted to liberal education at the
rate of a little more than a million dollars a month. In many cases, it
must be admitted, the claim of the institutions thus favored to the rank
of college or university is not very substantial, but the gifts themselves
represent the loyalty of the donors to a certain ideal of education, how-
ever imperfectly that ideal may have expressed itself.

At first it would seem that this flood of gold, the high tide of a
stream that began to flow about thirty years ago, could have left no
need of the higher education unprovided for; but as usual a closer
survey of the field shows not only many a nook not yet irrigated, but
whole fields still arid and uncared for. Educational endowments have
this in common with other investments, that they follow usually the
line of greatest immediate efficiency; they are also controlled in a high
degree by sentiment, and the two have so reinforced each other here in
America as to turn great streams of wealth in certain directions, while
but scanty dribbles have flowed in others. The habit of giving began
to establish itself soon after the civil war, and the greatest beneficiaries
during these intervening years have been the young men of the New
England and north central states. The next most favored class have
been the young men and women of the middle states and the west;
least of all has the white population of the south profited by this gen-
erosity. And by the white population we do not mean the 'poor whites,'
nor the mountaineers, nor the 'crackers,' nor any other class tradition-
ally aloof from educational infiuences, but the white race in toto. ' The
south, ' also, should be defined. For our purpose here it means the ten
cis-Mississippi slave states and Louisiana, since the slave states further
west have been subjected to influences which have left the first group
untouched.

Looking through the list of institutions of the higher learning issued
by the Bureau of Education at Washington — a list which is comprehen-
sive rather than critical — we find the advantage in every respect but
one with the north. That advantage, to speak politely, is in the num-
ber of universities and colleges of liberal arts themselves. Massachu*

544 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

setts reports nine and so does Alabama; Ehode Island has one and
Connecticut three, but North Carolina has fifteen, Georgia and Vir-
ginia each eleven and Tennessee twenty-four. Yet out of a total of
157 millions of productive funds held by American colleges, the south
has but fifteen; of eight and a half million books in college libraries,
the south holds but one and a quarter millions ; the value of her scien-
tific apparatus is a little over a million against a total valuation of
seventeen millions, and of grounds and buildings eight and a half
millions in a total of 146 millions. The total annual income available
for the higher education in Virginia, Korth and South Carolina,
Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Tennessee and Kentucky is
nineteen thousand dollars less than the yearly income of Harvard Uni-
versity, The efficiency of this income is still further reduced by being
divided among a multitude of institutions. Ten feeble colleges are a
poor substitute for one strong one. Out of forty institutions in the
United States with jDroductive funds amounting to a million and over,
but five are in the south ; of twenty-one with productive funds of between
half a million and a million, but one. As to colleges for women, in
1890 sixty-eight per cent, of all such institutions — classing as colleges
institutions empowered to give degrees — were in the south, while
seventy-eight per cent, of the endowment of that group of institutions
was held by twelve colleges in the North Atlantic states. The increase
of endowment for women's colleges since that date has been prepon-
derantly in institutions at the north.

So far as can be gleaned from public records, there are three
southern state universities which in thirty years have received no 'bene-
faction' whatsoever. It is true that in 1878 one of them reported hope-
fully that it had received some samples of cotton in different stages of
growth, and some silk cocoons, but the visions of prosperity thus
evoked were not fulfilled. Another term of barren years set in, and
though as an emblematic gift — the substance of things hoped for — the
cocoons were most happy, as an educational endowment they left much
to be desired. Occasionally the southern college not otherwise favored
has reported a gift of books, but there has been an ominously large
proportion of ' public documents ' in these lists, and libraries of country
clergymen — hardly treasuries of modern thought, it is to be feared.
These facts show another difference, in addition to the quantitative
one, between the educational opportunities which have been open to
the young men and women of the north and south.

The usual way of meeting an array of facts such as these is to refer
to Mark Hopkins on his log as the true measure of the quality of a
college, but unfortunately in no way does a scanty endowment tell so
against an institution as in securing able teachers. The greatest
scholarship, the exceptional ability in teaching, the strong and winning

EDUCATIONAL ENDOWMENTS IN THE SOUTH. 545

personality gravitate through urgency of demand to the great centers.
JMoreover, the abnormal conservatism of the south, both political and
religious, creates an atmos])here antagonistic to the finer interests of
scholars.

Superficially speaking, liberal training is an unimportant factor in
the problem of general education; it is the elementary school that
counts. But here again we find a deplorable contrast between the
south and other parts of the country. In 1900 the average length of
the school year in the southern states was but 109 days, the average
expenditure per pupil $9.72. In the north central states — new states,
many of them — the average expenditure per pupil was $20.85. We
must remember, too, in connection with these statistics, that the border
states, such as Maryland and Tennessee, bring up the average enor-
mously. In Xorth Carolina 'school kept' but a fraction over seventy
days, and the expenditure per pupil was $4.34. In Alabama, though
the school year was eight days longer, the expenditure per pupil was
but $3.10, and so small is the enrolment through the southern states,
that at the Conference for Education in the South held in 1901, the
average number of school days per child was given as three a year.
Be it remembered, too, that these children, the men and women of
to-morrow, thus on starvation rations scholastically, are wathout other
means to relieve their necessities. There are no 'vacation schools,' no
lectures, no libraries, one might almost say no books passing from hand
to hand. They are without the stimulus of contact either with active
life or with a considerable number of well-educated people; and as they
grow to maturity they are too often without occupation, except of the
most restricted and uneducative kind. According to Mr. Walter H.
Page, the proportion of illiterate white voters in the ten cis-Mississippi
southern states is to-day as large as it was in 1850. That is to say, in
all these years of marvelous educational development in other parts of
the country, and in which even the black, just out of slavery, has so
progressed, the southern white has not gained; indeed, he has lost,
since he staggers to-day under the incubus of half a century of apathy.
We are accustomed to take the 27 per cent, of the census as represent-
ing the illiteracy of the old slave states, but that is a very incomplete
measure. At least an additional 25 per cent, can do no more than
read and write, and the upper level of intellectual equipment and
efficiency is below that of the corresponding classes in other parts
of the country. Yet upon these men and women devolves the most
critical and complicated social problem ever given to a community to
solve, one demanding above all else that it be seen clearly and seen
whole, and requiring for its solution nothing less than statesmanlike

VOL. LXIII. — 35.

546 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

methods, a wide social philosoph}^ and the finest etliical feeling trans-
lated into terms of democracy.

Wliat are the reasons for these lamentable and even tragic condi-
tions ? First, certainly, are those so often noted — poverty and a scanty
population. The proportions of area and school population might be
placed at forty children per square mile in Ehode Island and forty
square miles per child in Florida — a condition which gives the former
commonwealth an advantage in developing a system of public schools.
But back of this and back of the terrible losses of the civil war lies
another which has made the first two effective for harm — heretofore
the south has not desired any general development of education within
her borders. At the time that John Eliot in Massachusetts was praj^-
ing, 'Lord, for schools everywhere among us,' Governor Berkeley of
Virginia, in answer to an inquiry from England, was writing, 'I thank
God there are no free schools nor printing presses; God keep us from
both.'

William and Mary made a j)romising beginning. It was established
as a school for the Virginia people and the Indians, with an endowment
munificent when compared with that of Harvard and Yale at that time.
' ' But, ' ' to quote a southern educator, ' ' the idea that education was not
for the masses did not die an easy death in Virginia ; and William and
Mary was never a people's school in the sense that Harvard and Yale
were. * * * The years following the Revolution saw the defeat of every
plan for universal education. Most of the provisions were merely per-
missive, and the whole atmosphere was antagonistic. The noble plan
of Jefferson was too liberal to be even proposed in its entirety, and the
part which was made public was so mutilated in the process of adoption
that it became an object of contempt."

At the outbreak of the civil war the provision for education below
the grade of college was sporadic and infrequent, nor, with the possible
exception of the University of Virginia, was there a single college in
the south to compare with those of the north. It is necessary to keep
these things in mind — the habit of neglect, the established indifference,
the educational poverty, both of thought and endowment — if we are
to understand the conditions to-day. To those must be added that
self-satisfied habit of mind which has always been one of the south 's
heaviest handicaps. It was with such a history as this that the south
had to meet the terrible conditions at the close of the civil war, and it
is these traditions which are largely responsible for the tragic mistakes
of these later years.

'Wliy should the children go to school?' asked a South Carolina
mother. 'Every one in the county knows who we are.' So the chil-
dren did not, and to-day are lounging through life in frayed and listless
poverty. Even in towns whore tliere was a less open avowal of the doc-

EDUCATIONAL ENDOWMENTS IN THE SOUTH. 547

trine that to be known bj your neighbors is a liberal education,
the attempts at schooling in the later sixties and early seventies
presented many picturesque variations from the usual type. The
early morning hours would see sedate horses bestridden by from three
to five children each making their way into town to deposit their load
at a dame school, sometimes a dame school of delicate and antiquated
refinement, and sometimes one of a rather hot-handed domesticity,
where the boys were cuffed through geography and fractions. These
schools sprang usually from the teacher's need instead of from her
at^ility; almost invariably was she without professional training and
without educational standards, and too often even without anv but the
most meager schooling. Such institutions quite deserved the prac-
tical disregard in which they were held. Their potent influence — for
they exercised one — was not upon the reluctant children within their
walls, but upon the community without, for whom they alone repre-
sented learning, knowledge, the great society of scholars. It was with
such educational standards, perhaps we should say also such educational
habits, as these that the generation born just after the war grew up;
they knew such schools or none at all; and it was not tlie child of the
poor white alone who depended upon them, but the children of all
classes, outside of the chief cities. For many a year after the close
of the civil war the shrunken and disheveled libraries lay neglected
in the dignified old houses; other cares than those of literature
absorbed their owners and their owners' sons and daughters. The
res angustae domi were studied at first hand, instead of through
the medium of Latin authors, and it was full twenty years after, in
many cases, before the ruling group of people, even in many of the
most favored parts of the south, sent a son to a college of exacting
standard and liberal equipment. Their daughters they are hardly
sending even now. It is the men and women of that bereft generation,
shorn of the family distinction of the past, lacking the discipline of
the civil war itself, so royally met by so many southern men and
women, and growing up with little or no education wlio are now in
the saddle. Is not this the key to many of the lamentable social con-
ditions in the south to-day? Is the persistent medievalism of thought
any but a logical outcome?

In so comprehensive a range of needs it would seem difficult to
single out any as specially vital, and it is true that educational endow-
ment for the so^^th can hardly go amiss. But there are certain strategic
points which it is especially desirable to gain. The first of these is the
development of industrial training. For many a year to come, if not
for many a generation, the south must be essentially a rural population,
and if the dormant mind is to be reached, it must be through the things
with which it is in daily contact. One of the ways to dignify labor is to

548 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

make it interesting, and probably no one thing would do more to efface
the lingering class distinctions of the south than a well developed and
widespread system of industrial education. The man or woman who
has skill in your own handicraft commands your respect, no matter
who his forebears may have been, and the guild, even though it be
unorganized, founded ■ on some form of mental comradeship, is an effi-
cient corrective for many unwholesome class distinctions. Industrial
training is also preeminently valuable to the south because it is based
on science. To acquire it is to acquire inevitably to some degree the
scientific habit of thought, that is to say, the habit of thought which
not only demands facts but respects them, and to which law means not
the whim of man, but the unrelenting edict of nature with all its in-
evitable penalties. To displace even an a priori theory of how to
make hens la}' by one based upon an open-minded study of facts, is to
make an advance in methods of thinking which must ultimately react
upon other things than hens. The calm and impersonal methods of
science, once given a foothold, even in the dairy or the poultry yard,
must in the end dislodge that impassioned a 'priori reasoning which
has been the bane and weakness of the south for so many generations.
But the teaching of science is expensive; it means laboratories and
experiment stations and provisions for individual work. It means, in
short, those endowments in which the south is deficient.

The second strategic need is for the best possible normal training.
The lamp of learning, if learning it can be called, has been passed on
in one southern hamlet and another from gentlewoman to gentlewoman,
who has brought to her work the traditions of culture, the refinement
and the care-taking habit which were her birthright. Thirty years ago
she was not greatly behind teachers in other parts of the country in
professional training — since practically no one had any — ^but each year
since then has put her at a greater comparative disadvantage. Nothing
in the history of the south is more promising than the eager desire for
professional education which many of its teachers are now showing,
and, in so far as they come from the old ruling class, they have the
power to confer upon their public a double benefit. A certain con-
descension towards teachers is apt to linger in the minds of a com-
mercial community, in spite of fervent lip-service. But when the
teachers come largely, as they are apt to do in the south, from the class
which represents the most deeply rooted traditions of a community,
that phase of crudity may be short lived, if not altogether avoided.

The third need of the south is a cordon of secondary schools, finan-
cially independent of their patrons. They may be independent as the
pu])lic school is independent or they may be made so by endowment, but
independent they must be, if they are to do their best work. This is
an inviting field for endowment, as $100,000 will do for a school what

EDUCATIONAL ENDOWMENTS IN THE SOUTH. 549

a million will hardly do for a college. The host solution of the prob-
lem of the secondary schools in the south is the concentration of the
strength of a coninumity upon its public schools, since to keep them
at a creditable level is to help to the solution of more questions than
can be reached in any other way. The endowed private school, on the
other hand, has the great advantage of being out of politics and having
a freer hand in working out its development than is possible to a public
school in a community of lax or unformed educational standards. In
either case, the point is to secure to the school freedom to select its
teachers without political or denominational dictation, and to make it
strong enough to impose its standards upon a reluctant community.

Finally, the interdependence of school and college is such that
neither can do its best work alone. The college rests upon the school as
the house on its foundations, and without the college standards by which
to test its work the school loses a powerful stimulus. With the utmost
generosity on the part of our philanthropists which can be looked for,
even in these lavish days, the southern colleges must remain for many
years inferior to those of the north in equipment and as a whole in
teaching force. Yet they represent for the great mass of the young men
and women in their respective communities the best that is open to
them, and, too often, all that can be desired. Probably as valuable a
gift as could be made to the south just now, and one requiring a com-
paratively small fund, would be the establishment of a group of scholar-
ships especially for young southern men and women, available in dif-
ferent institutions in the north. Let us imagine the competitive
examinations for such scholarships held at Ealeigh for the young men
and women of the Old North State, at Columbia, South Carolina, for
the students of that state, at Augusta, Jacksonville, Mobile. Not only
would every ambitious boy and girl in the state be aroused, but the spur
of opportunity would be felt in every school with a spark of life in its
m.anagement, and there would be the impact upon the very centers of
growth of new habits of thought.

'The south has no reason to be ashamed of its traditions,' said a
dignified and able southern woman who had done good service for edu-
cation, when such a plan was broached in her hearing. But by the
time that one of her sons had graduated at Harvard and another at
Cornell, and her daughter was hard at work at Vassar and her niece
at Pratt, she would see that no question of traditions, in the sense in
which she felt them threatened, was involved. On the contrary, what
is best in the distinctive characteristics of the south can not be pre-
served by men and women of belated minds, and one of the services
which we ask of that part of the country is that those finer elements
shall be preserved and made a part of our national life. The present
demand for industrial education in the south, too, which is making

550 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

itself heard so clearly from so many directions, makes the need of some
provision for the best liberal training the more necessary; for unless
industrial education is informed and guided by such a spirit, the abyss
of a dull utilitarianism awaits it.

The Spanish-American war revealed the south of these later days
to itself. It gave — 0 happy gift ! — a new point from which to reckon
time, and showed how far, unknown to themselves, the old slave states
had moved since Appomattox. A tide of vigor swept through villages
and hamlets, bringing them, for the first time in a generation, in con-
tact with the life of the world. It is not fanciful to attribute the educa-
tional awakening of the south to-day in part, at least, to that contact
with outside affairs — to the sense of oneness with a great nation. But
whatever the cause, the fact is here to reckon with — a desire for educa-
tion throughout the south such as it has never known, and it is being
sought in many cases in the face of great difficulties and at the cost
of noble sacrifice. Many a southern man and woman, to-day buried
in obscure villages, have fairly earned a brevet for gallantry in action
in the struggle with stifling social conditions. There is no more present
duty for the x\merican people than to uphold their hands. When a
community's poverty, born of its ignorance, is such that the tax levy
yields but $18 a year for schools, the vicious circle must be broken from
outside. The state must care for those hamlets which can not care for
themselves, and by a parity of reasoning, the needs of the south are a
charge upon public-spirited men and women everywhere. The response
should be prompt and abundant. With the new-born desire for educa-
tion, the line of greatest efficiency for educational endowments is shifted
to the south; the need there is great and basal — and they are next
of kin.

UEirrZIAN WAVE WIEELESS TELEGRAPHY. 551

HERTZIAN WAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. V.

By Dr. J. A. FLEMING, F.R.S.,
PROFESSOR OF ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING, UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON.

QUITE recently, Sir Oliver Lodge and Dr. Miiirhead have era-
ployed as a self-restoring coherer or kiimascope a steel disc
revolved by clockwork, the edge of which just touches a globule of mer-
cury covered with a thin film of paraffin oil. The contact is made
between the mercury and the steel by the electric wave generating an
electromotive force in the aerial, sufficient to break through the thin
film of oil. When the wave stops, the circuit is again interrupted
automatically.

This device is used without a relay to actuate directly a syphon
recorder as used in submarine telegraphy. The working battery em-
ployed with it must only have an electromotive force of about a tenth
of a volt. It may be used also with a telephone in circuit and can
therefore be employed either for telegraphic or telephonic reception.*

One of the most sensitive of these self-restoring kumascopes is the
carbon-steel-mercury coherer, the invention of which has been attrib-
uted to Castelli, a signalman in the Italian Navy,! but also stated on
good authority to have been the invention of offi-
cers in the Royal Italian Xavy, and has there-
fore been called the Italian Navy Coherer.;};
This instrument has been arranged in several
forms, but in the simplest of these it consists of
a glass tube, having in it a plug of iron and a
plug of arc-lamp carbon, or two plugs of iron
with a plug of carbon between them. The
plugs of iron, or of iron and carbon, are sepa-
rated by an exceedingly small globule of mer-
cury, the size of which should be between one
and a half and three millimeters. The plugs
closing the tube must be capable of movement,
one of them by means of a screw, as shown in the diagram (Fig. 17),
taken from a patent specification communicated to Mr. Marconi by the

* See Proc. Roy. Soc. London, Vol. LXXI., p. 402.

t See Report by Captain Quintino Bonomo, ' Telegrafia senza fili,' Rome,
1902; L'Elettricista, Ser. II., Vol. I., pp. 118, 173.

t See Royal Institution, Friday evening discourse, by Mr. Marconi, June
13, 1902. Also The Electrician, Vol. XLIX., p. 490. Also a letter to the
Times of July 3, 1902, by the Marchese Luigi Solari.

B

0

7

^

W

__P^

C M I

IK ■

^V^.'^iL/J'^^*

Fig. 17. Italian Navy
Self-Restoring Kuma-
scoPE. C, carbon plug;
/, iron plug ; M, mercury
globule; A, aerial ; B, bat-
tery ; T, telephone ; 8, ad-
justing screw.

552 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Marchese Luigi Solari, of the Eoyal Italian Navy. One of the plugs
of this tube is connected to the aerial and the other to the earth, and
they are also connected through another circuit composed of a single
dry cell and a telephone. The arrangement then forms an extremely
sensitive detector of electric waves or of small electromotive forces, or,
if a wave falls on the aerial, the electromotive force at once improves
the contact between the mercury and the plugs and therefore causes
a sudden increase in the current through the telephone, giving rise to
a sound; but when the wave ceases, or the electromotive force is with-
drawn, the resistance falls back again to its origin value, and the
arrangement is therefore self-acting, requiring no tapping or other
device for restoring it to receptivity.

A very ingenious form of combined telephone and coherer has been
devised by T. Tommasina.* In this instrument the diaphragm of an
ordinary Bell telephone carries upon it a very small carbon or metallic
coherer. This coherer is connected in between the aerial and the earth,
and is also in circuit with a battery and the electromagnet of a tele-
graphic relay. When this relay operates it closes the circuit of another
battery which is placed in series with the telephone coil. The moment
the current passes through the telephone coil it attracts, and therefore
vibrates, the diaphragm and shakes up the metallic filings. If an
observer therefore places the telephone to his ear, he hears a sound cor-
responding to every train of waves incident upon the aerial. With this
arrangement, one can obtain two different kinds of results, according
to the nature of the cohering powder placed in the cavity in the
diaphragm. First, if the powder consists of a non-magnetic metal,
gold, silver, platinum or the like, the receiver will be very sensitive :
and at the same time the current passing through it when it is colierod
will be sufficient to work a sensitive recording apparatus in series with
the telephone coil. Secondly, if the metallic powder placed in the
cavity is a magnetic metal, the receiver will be somewhat less sensitive,
but will work with more precision, because of the magnetic action of
the magnet of the telephone upon the cohering powder. If no record-
ing apparatus is used, the observer must write down the signals as
heard in the telephone, since corresponding to a short spark at the
transmitting station, a single tick or short sound is heard at the tele-
phone, and corresponding to a series of rapidly successive sparks, a
more prolonged sound is heard in the telephone. These two sounds, as
already explained, constitute the dot and the dash of the Morse signals.

We may, in the next place, refer to that form of kumascope in

which the action of the wave or of electromotive force is not to decrease

the resistance of a contact, l)iit to increase that of an iin])erfect contact.

As already mentioned, Professor Branly discovered long ago that

* See U. S. A. Patent Specification, No. 700,101, May 24, 1900.

HERTZIAN \VAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAFIiY. 553

peroxide of lead acts in an opposite manner to metallic filings, in
that when placed in a Branly tube it increases its resistance under the
action of an electric spark, instead of decreasing it. Again, Professor
Bose has found that fragments of metallic potassium in kerosene oil
behave in a similar manner, and that certain varieties of silver, anti-
mony and of arsenic, and a few other metals, have a similar property.
Branly tubes, therefore, made with these materials, or any arrange-
ments which act in a similar manner, have been called 'anti-coherers.'
The most interesting arrangement which has been called by this name
is that of Schafer. * Schafer's kumascope is made in the following
manner : A very thin film of silver is deposited upon glass and a strip
of this silver is scratched across with a diamond, making a fine trans-
verse cut or gap. If the resistance of this divided strip of silver is
measured, it will be found not to be infinite, but may have a resistance
as low as forty or fifty ohms if the strip is thirty millimeters wide. On
examining the cut in the strip with a microscope, it will be found that
the edges are ragged and that there are little particles of silver lying
about in the gap. If then an electromotive force of three volts or more
is put on the two separated parts of the strip, these little particles of
silver fly to and fro like the pith balls in a familiar electrical experi-
ment, and they convey electricity across from side to side. Hence a
current passes, having a magnitude of a few milliamperes. If, how-
ever, the strip is employed as a kumascope and connected at one end
to the earth and at the other end to an aerial, when electric waves fall
upon the aerial, the electrical oscillations thereby excited seem to have
the property of stopping this dance of silver particles and the resistance
of the gap is increased several times, but falls again when the wave
ceases. If therefore a telephone and battery are connected between
two portions of the strip, the variation of this battery current will affect
the telephone in accordance with the waves which fall upon the aerial,
and the arrangement becomes therefore a wave-detecting device. It is
said to have been used in wireless telegraph experiments in Germany
up to a distance of ninety-five kilometers.

We must next direct attention to those wave-detecting devices which
depend upon magnetization of iron, and here we are able to record
recent and most interesting developments. More than seventy years
ago, Joseph Henry, in the United States, noticed the effect of an
electric spark at a distance upon magnetized needles.f Of recent times,
the subject came back into notice through the researches of Professor
E. Eutherford, I who carried out at Cambridge, England, in 1896, a

* See E. Marx, Phys. Zeitschrift, Vol. II., p. 249; Science Abstracts, Vol.
IV., p. 471. See also German Patent Specification No. 121,663, Class 21a.
t See ' The Scientific Writings of Professor Joseph Henry.'
+ Phil. Trans. Roy. Soc. Loud., 1897, Vol. 189a, p. 1.

554

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

valuable series of experiments on this subject. He found that if a
magnetized steel needle or a very small bundle of extremely thin iron
wires is magnetized and placed in the interior of a small coil, the
ends of which are connected to two long collecting wires, then an elec-
tric wave started from a Hertz oscillator at a distance causes an imme-
diate demagnetization of the iron. This demagnetization he detected
by means of the movement of the needle of a magnetometer placed near
one end of the iron wire. Although Eutherford's wave detector has
been much used in scientific research, it was not, in the form in which
he used it, a telegraphic instrument, and could not record alphabetic
signals.

Not long ago Mr. Marconi invented, however, a telegraphic instru-
ment based upon his discovery that the magnetic hysteresis of iron can
be annulled by electric oscillations. In one form, Mr. Marconi's mag-
netic receiver is constructed as follows''^ (see Fig. 18) : An endless

band of thin iron wire composed of several
iron wires about No. 36 gauge, arranged in
parallel, is made to move slowly round on two
pulleys, like the driving belt of a machine.
In one part of its path, the wire passes
through a glass tube, on which are wound
two coils of wire, one a rather short,
thick coil, and the other a very fine, long
one. The fine, long coil is connected with
a telephone, and the shorter coil is con-
nected at one end to the earth and the
other to the aerial. Two permanent horse-
shoe magnets are placed as shown in Fig. 18, with their similar
poles together, and, as the iron band passes through their field,
a certain length of it is magnetized, and owing to the hysteresis of the
material, it retains this magnetism for a short time after it has passed
out of the center of the field. If then an electric oscillation, coming
down from the aerial, is passed through the shorter coil, it changes the
position of the magnetized portion of the iron and, so to speak, brings
the magnetized portion of iron back into the position it would have
occupied if the iron had had no hysteresis. This action, by varying
the magnetic flux through the secondary coil, creates in it an electro-
motive force which causes a sound to be heard in the telephone con-
nected to it. If at a distant place a single wave or train of waves is
started and received by the aerial, this will express itself by making
an audible tick in the telephone, and if several groups of closely ad-

* See Proc. Roy. 8oc. Lond., June 12, 1902. 'Note on a Magnetic Detector
for Electric Waves whidi can be employed as a Receiver for Space Telegraphy,'
by G. Marconi.

Fig. 18. Marconi Mag-
netic Receiver. Wi W.,,
wheels; /, iron wire band
P, primary coil ; S, secondary
coil; T, telephione; A, aerial ;
E, earthplate.

HERTZIAN WAVJ'J WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 555

jacent wave trains are sent, these will indicate themselves by producing
a rapid series of ticks in the telephone, heard as a short continuous
noise and taken as equivalent to the Morse da^h.

It was by means of this remarkably ingenious instrument that Mr.
Marconi was able, in the summer of 1902, to detect the waves sent out
from Poldhu on the coast of Cornwall, and receive messages as far as
Cronstadt in the Baltic, in one direction, and as far as Spezzia in the
Mediterranean in another direction, and also to receive messages across
the Atlantic from the power stations situated in Glace Bay, ISTova
Scotia, and from one at Caj)e Cod in Massachusetts, U. S. A., in
December, 1902.

There can be no question that this magnetic detector of Mr. Mar-
coni's, used in connection with a good telephone and an acute human
ear, is the most sensitive device yet invented for the detection of elec-
tric waves and their utilization in telegraphy without continuous wires.
It is marvelously simple, ingenious and yet effective, as a Hertzian
wave telegraphic receiver.

Whilst on the subject of magnetic wave detectors, the author may
describe experiments that he has been recently making to construct a
Hertzian wave detector on the Eutherford principle, wliich shall be
strictly quantitative. All the receivers of the coherer type and electro-
lytic type give no indications that are at all proportional to the energy
of the incident wave. Their indications are more or less accidental and
depend upon the manner in which the receiver was last left. There is
a great need for a quantitative wave detector, the indications of which
shall give us a measure of the energy of the arriving wave. It is only
by the possession of such an instrument that we can hope to study
properly the sending powers of various transmitters or the efficiency of
different forms of aerial or devices by which the wave is produced.
This magnetic receiver is constructed as follows :

A coil of fine wire is constructed in sections like the secondary
coil of an induction coil, and in the instrument already made, this
coil contains thirty or forty thousand turns of wire. In the interior of
this coil are placed a number of little bundles of fine iron wire wound
round with two coils, a fine wire coil which is a magnetizing
coil, and a thicker wire coil which is a demagnetizing coil. These
sets of coils are joined up, respectively, in series or in parallel.
Then, associated with this form of induction coil is a commutator of
a peculiar kind, which performs the following functions when a bat-
tery is connected to it and when it is made to revolve by a motor or
by clockwork. First, during part of the revolution, the commutator
closes the battery circuit and magnetizes the iron cores, and whilst this
is taking place the secondary circuit of the induction coil is short-
circuited and the galvanometer is disconnected from it. Secondly, the

556 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

magnetizing current is stopped, and soon after that the secondary
coil is unshortcircuited and connected to the galvanometer, and re-
mains in this condition during the remainder of the revolution. This
cycle of operations is repeated at every revolution. If then an electrical
oscillation is sent into the demagnetizing coils, and if it continues
longer than one revolution of the commutator, it will demagnetize the
iron core during that period of time in which the battery is discon-
nected and the galvanometer connected. The demagnetization of the
iron which ensues produces an electromotive force in the secondary
coil and causes a deflection of the galvanometer, and this deflection
will continue and remain steady if the oscillation persists. Moreover,
since this deflection is due to the passage through the galvanometer of
a rapid series of discharges, it is large when the oscillations continue
for a long time and are powerful, and small when they continue for
a short time or are weak. We can, therefore, with this arrangement,
receive on the galvanometer, just as on the mirror galvanometer used
in submarine cable work, a dot or dash, and, moreover, the magnitude
of these deflections is a measure of the energy of the wave.

It is probable that when this arrangement is perfected it will
become exceedingly useful for making all kinds of tests and measure-
ments in connection with Hertzian telegraphy, even if it is not sensi-
tive enough to use as a long distance receiver.

Of late years, a variety of wave-detecting devices have been brought
forward, which depend upon electrotysis. One of the best known of
these is that by De Forest and Smythe.* In this arrangement, a tube
contains two small electrodes like plugs, which may be made of tin.
silver or nickel, or other metal. The ends of these plugs are flat and
separated from each other by about one two-hundredth of an inch.
Sometimes the end of one of these plugs is made cup shaped and the
cup or recess is filled with a mass of peroxide of lead and glycerine.
In the interval between the electrodes is placed an electrolyzable mix-
ture, which consists of glycerine or vaseline mixed with water or
alcohol, and a small quantity of litharge and metallic filings. These
metallic filings act as secondary electrodes. When a small electro-
motive force is applied between the terminals of the electrodes of this
tube through a very high resistance of twenty or thirty thousand
ohms, an exceedingly small current passes through this mixture, and
it causes an electrolytic action which results in the production of chains
of metallic particles connecting the two electrodes together. If, in
addition to this, one terminal or electrode of the arrangement is con-
nected to an aerial wire and the other terminal to the earth, then on
the arrival of an electric wave creating oscillations in the wire; these
oscillations pass down into the electrolytic cell where they break up the

* See U. S. A. Patent Specification, No. 716,000, Application of July 5, 1901.

HERTZIAN \YAVE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY. 557

chains of metallic particles and thus interrupt the current i)assing
through the telephone quite suddenly, which is heard as a slight tick
by an ear applied to it. As soon as the wave ceases, the chain of metallic
particles is reestablished, so that the appliance is always in a condition
to be affected by a wave. It is said that this breaking up and reforma-
tion of the chains of metallic particles is so rapid that a short spark
made at the transmitting station is heard as a tick in the telephone,
l)ut a rapid succession of oscillatory sparks is heard as a short con-
tinuous sound; hence the two signals necessary for alphabetical con-
versation can be transmitted.

Another receiver which has some resemblance to the above, although
different in principle, is that of jSTeugschwender.* In this arrange-
ment, which to a certain extent resembles the Schiifer detector, a glass
])late has upon it a deposit of silver in the form of a strip, which is cut
across at one place, thus interrupting it. If the cut is breathed upon
or placed in a moist atmosphere, a little dew is deposited upon the
glass, which bridges over the cut in the metal and creates an electric
continuity. Hence a small current can be passed across the gap and
through a telephone by one or two cells of a battery. If, however, an
electric oscillation passes across the gap on its way from an aerial to
the earth, then the continuity of the liquid film is destroyed and the
current is interrupted and a sound created in the telephone.

The opinion has been expressed by Sir Oliver Lodge that in this
case the interruption of the circuit which occurs is really due to the
coalescence of minute water particles into larger drops, as when vapor
is condensed into rain, and hence the continuity of the material is
interrupted.

We must then make a brief reference to other kimiascopes which
depend upon the heating power of an electrical oscillation, which it
possesses in common with every other form of electric current. Pro-
fessor E. A. Fessendenf has constructed a very ingenious thermal
receiver in the following manner: An extremely fine platinum w^ire,
about 0.003 of an inch in diameter, is embedded in the middle of a
silver wire about one tenth of an inch in diameter, like the wick of a
candle. This compound wire is then drawn down until the diameter
of the silver wire is only .002 of an inch, and hence the platinum
wire in its interior being reduced in the same ratio, will have been
drawn to a diameter of 0.00006 of an inch. A short piece of this drawn
wire is then bent into a loop and the ends fixed to wires. The tip of
the loop is then immersed in nitric acid and dissolved in the silver,
leaving an exquisitely fine platinum wire a few hundreds of an inch in

* See The Electrical Revieic, Vol. XLIV., 1899, May 26; Wied Ann., Vol.
LXVIII., p. 92; or German Patent Specification, No. 107,843.
t U. S. A. Patent Specification, No. 706,742, 1902.

558 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

length and having a resistance of about thirty ohms. This little
loop is sealed into a glass bulb like a very small incandescent lamp,
or it may be enclosed in a small silver bulb and the air may be
exhausted. If an electrical oscillation is sent through this exceed-
ingly fine platinum wire, it heats it and rapidly increases its re-
sistance. The electrical oscillations produced in an aerial are sent
through a number of these loops arranged in parallel, and the loops
are short-circuited by a telephone, joined in series with a source of
very small electromotive force produced by shunting a single cell or
opposing to one another two cells of nearly equal electromotive force.
Any variation of resistance of the little j)latinum loops due to the heat
produced by the oscillations, by suddenly altering the current flowing
through the telephone, will cause a sound to be heard in it. The elec-
trical oscillations when passing through the loops are therefore de-
tected by the heat which they generate in these exquisitely fine plati-
num wires.

Finally, one word must be said on the subject of electrodynamic
receivers, due to the same inventor. An exceedingly small silver ring
is suspended by a quartz fiber and has a mirror attached to it in the
manner of a galvanometer. This ring is suspended between two coils
joined in series, which are placed either in the circuit of the aerial or
in the secondary circuit of the small air core transformer inserted
between the aerial and the earth. When electrical oscillations travel
down the aerial they induce other electrical oscillations in the silver
ring, and if the ring is so placed that its normal position is with its
plane inclined at an angle of forty-five degrees to the place of the
fixed coils, then the ring will be slightly deflected every time an
oscillation occurs in the aerial.

Omitting further mention of the details of the kumascopes in use
and the receiving aerial, we must next proceed to consider the receiving
arrangements taken as a whole.

In the original Marconi system, the sensitive tube or coherer was
inserted between the bottom of the receiving aerial and the earth.*
Accordingly, when the incident electric wave strikes the receiving
aerial and creates in it an oscillatory electromotive force, this last will,
if of sufficient' amplitude, cause the particles of the coherer to cohere
and become conductive. This sudden change from a nearly perfect
non-conductivity to a conductive condition is made to act as a switch
or relay, closing or completing the circuit of a single cell, and so send-
ing a current through an ordinary telegraphic relay, closing or com-
pleting the circuit of a single cell, which may in turn actuate another
recording telegraphic instrument, such as a Morse printer. To pre-
vent the oscillations from passing into the relay circuit, small choking
* See British Patent Specification, G. Marconi, No. 12,039, June 2, 1896.

HERTZIAN WAVE WIFELESS TELEGEAPIIY. 559

or inductance coils are inserted between the ends of the sensitive tube
and the relay and cell and serve to confine the oscillations to the tube.

It has already been pointed out that in the transmiting aerial the
amplitude of the potential vibrations increases from the bottom to the
top, and when vibrating in its fundamental manner there is a potential
node at the earth connection and a potential loop or antinode at the
top. The same is true of the receiving aerial. Hence if the kumascope
employed is a Branly metallic filings tube and is inserted near the base
of the aerial, the difference of potential between its two ends will be
small.

It has also been mentioned that a receiver of this type acts in virtue
of electromotive force or potential difference, and hence the proper
place to insert the coherer is not at the base of the aerial, but between
the top of the aerial and the earth. This, however, could not be done
by running up another wire from the earth, as that would amount to
putting the coherer between the tops of two identical aerials, and be-
tween its ends there would be no difference of potential. Professor
Slaby, in conjunction with Count von Arco, has given an ingenious
solution of this problem. If we take two equal lengths of wire, bent at
I'ight angles, and connect the point of intersection with the earth,
placing one of these wires vertically and the other horizontall}'-, we
tlien have an arrangement which responds to the impact of electric
waves, and has electrical oscillations set up in it in such fashion that
tlie common point of the two wires has a very small amplitude of
]>otential, but the two extremities have equal and large variations. If
then we insert a coherer tube between the earth and the outer extremity
of the horizontal wire, it is influenced in the same manner as it would
be by the potential variations at the top of the vertical wire. In other
words, it is acted upon by a large difference of potential instead of a
small one. It is not found necessary to stretch
the horizontal wire out straight ; it may be coiled
into a spiral with open turns, and the slight
decrease in capacity and increase in inductance
resulting from this can be compensated by
cutting off a short piece of it

R S

M

In this way we have an arrangement LLl

/ TT -<r.\ • T • 1 J.1 J. J. -i- Fig. 19. Slaby Receiver.

(see Fig, 19) m which the outer extremity ^, aerial = g;, earth plate -. r,
of this open spiral experiences variations of coherer; m, multiplier; c,

, ,. 1 T . 1 ,1 J -ii XT condenser; /i, relay ; -B, bat-

potential which exactly correspond with those tery; ^, earth plale.

at the summit of the vertical aerial. The

receiving arrangements are then completed as in Fig. 19, one end of the
coherer being attached to the outer end of the spiral and the other end
through a condenser to the earth, a relay and a voltaic cell being ar-
ranged as shown in the diagram. The mode of operation of tliis re-

56o

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

ceiver is as follows: When the wave strikes the aerial it sets up in it
electrical oscillations with a potential antinode at the summit, and at
the same time a potential antinode is created at the outer end of the
spiral attached near the base of the aerial; this spiral being called by
Professor Slaby a multiplicator. As long as the coherer tube remains
non-conductive, the local cell can not send a current through the
relay, but, as soon as the resistance is broken down by the impact of a
wave, the local cell sends a current through the coherer tube which,
passing down to the earth through the base of the aerial and up through
the earth connection to the condenser, completes its circuit through the
relay. Many variations of this arrangement have been made by Slal^y
and Von Arco and by the Allgemeine Elektricitats Gesellschaft of Berlin.
In 1898, Mr. Marconi made a great advance in the construction
of his receiving apparatus by the insertion of his 'jigger' or oscilla-
tion transformer in the aerial receiving cir-
cuit.* In this arrangement, the primary
coil of an air core transformer wound in a
particular way is inserted between the re-
ceiving aerial and the earth, and the sec-
ondary circuit is cut in the middle and con-
nected to the two surfaces of a condenser,
these surfaces being also connected through
the circuit of an ordinary telegraphic relay
and a single cell (see Fig. 30). The ends
of the secondary circuit of this oscillation
transformer are also connected to the terminals of the coherer tube,
and these again are short-circuited by a small condenser.

The operation of this receiver is as follows: The oscillations set up
in the aerial pass through the primary circuit of the jigger, and these
induce other oscillations in the secondary circuit : the electromotive
force or difference of potential between the primary terminals being
transformed up in any desired ratio. It is this exalted electromotive
force Avhich is made to act on the coherer tube, and, inasmuch as
the jigger operates in virtue of a current passing througli its
primary circuit and this current is at a maximum at the lower end of
the aerial, the arrangement is exceedingly effective, because it, so to
speak, converts current into voltage. At the lower end of the aerial,
although the amplitude of the potential oscillations is a minimum, the
amplitude of the current oscillations is a maximum, and the jigger
transforms these large current oscillations into large potential oscilla-
tions, provided it is constructed in the light manner. We can also
transform up or increase the amplitude of the small potential varia-
tions near the bottom of the aerial by employing the principle of

Fig. 20. Marconi Receiver,
A, aerial; J, jigger; CO, con-
densers ; F, filings tube ; T, tap-
per ; R, relay ; B, battery ; M,
Morse printer.

Seo (J. Maifoni, Biiti.sh Patent Specification, No. 12,32(), of June 1, 189S.

HERTZIAN ]YAVE W I HE LESS TEEEGRAFIIY. 561

resonance. Many devieey of this kiml due to Professor Slaby and
others have been suggested and tried l)ut the details are rather too
technical to be fully described here.

It will be noticed that llic Tcceiving aerial may be arranged in one
of two ways — it may be oitlK'r earthed at the lower end or it may be
insulated. It has been claimed that there is a great advantage in
earthing the receiving aerial directly in that it eliminates atmospheric
disturbances.

We shall allude to this point more particularly later on. Mean-
while it may be mentioned that the receiving arrangements, as a whole,
constitute a sensitive arrangement, as shown by Popoff, Tommasina
and by all the large experience of Mr. Marconi himself for detecting
changes in the electrical condition of the atmosphere, which are doubt-
less of the nature of electrical oscillations. On the other hand, the
receiving arrangements may be perfectly insulated, and some experi-
mentalists have asserted that by this method

the greatest freedom is secured from atmos- c |— J— 00-i

pheric disturbances. Amongst the non- ~T2s^^^^^s^^^~

r5~ir"S~5iri5\-

earthed arrangements the system invented l)y J ^

Professor F. Braun, of Strasburg, and worked Hi Ih — - —

by Messrs. Siemens, of Berlin, may be men- aTrT^r^^-,r,r-jnr-|€iii=>p

tioned.* ^^

Professor Braun 's arrangements are in- fig. 21. braun's nox-

T , J • ,1 T- • T7I- 01 T ^.^ ■ EARTHED Receiver. J, indue-

dicated m the diagram m Fig. 21. In this tion cou ; c, c, condensers ; <s,
case, an induction coil is used to create a spark gap; ,7, transmitting jig-
clischarge between two spark balls, and to finVgs^ube-Xreiayf^, ba^!
these two balls are connected the two tery.
outer coatings of two condensers, the inner coatings of which are con-
nected together through the primary coil of an air core transformer.
The secondary coil of this transformer is connected to two extension
wires forming a Hertz resonator, and the length of these wires is so
adjusted with reference to the time period of the primary circuit that
they resonate to it, the whole length from end to end of the secondary
circuit being half a wave length. The receiver, as shown in the diagram,
consists of a pair of quarter wave length receiving wires connected
through two condensers, which are shortcircuited by the primary coil
of an oscillation transformer. The secondary circuit of this last
oscillation transformer has two extension wires to it, turned in the
same manner, to respond to the primary oscillator; and in the circuit
of one of these extension wires is placed a coherer tube, shortcircuited
by a relay and a local battery.

It will thus be seen that there is an entire abolition of ground con-

* See The Electrical Revieir, September 26, 1902, Vol. LI., p. 543.
VOL. Lxni. — 36.

562 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

nection^, which, Professor Braim claims, practically avoids all atmos-
pheric disturbances.* The details of the receiving arrangement are as
follows : The coherer tube consists of an ebonite tube containing hard
steel particles of a uniform size, placed in the adjustable space between
two polished steel electrodes. It is found that with this steel coherer,
a small amount of magnetism in the particles increases its sensitive-
ness, and to obtain this, a ring magnet is employed in connection with
a coherer tube. Eeceiving apparatus arranged on this system is said to
have been used for telegraphing between Heligoland and Cuxhaven,
a distance of thirty-six miles.

All the immense experience, however, gained by Mr. Marconi and
those who have worked with his system, is in favor of using the earth
connection. There is no doubt that Hertzian wave telegraphy can be
conducted over short distances by means of totally insulated aerials,
but for long distances the earth connection is essential, for the reasons
that have been explained previously.

There are many of the details of the receiving arrangements which
remain to be considered. If the communication is received by a tele-
graphic instrument like the Morse printer, which requires a current
of anything like ten milliamperes to work it, then an important ele-
ment in the receiving arrangement is the relay. The relay that is
generally used is a modified form of the Siemens polarized relay,
which is so adjusted as to make a single contact. For marine work on
board ship, it is essential that this relay shall be balanced so that varia-
tions in position shall not afEect it. Sometimes the relay is hung, in
gimbals like a compass, and at other times suspended from a support
by elastic bands, so as to avoid jolting. In any case, the relay must be
so adjusted that no change of position will cause it to close the circuit
of the telegraphic printer or recorder. Its sensibility ought to be such
that it is actuated by a tenth of a milliampere, and, if possible, even
by less. The alteration of sensibility in the ordinary contact form of
relay is the pressure that is necessary to bring the platinum points of
the circuit closer together, so as to pass the minimum current which
will work the telegraph printer.

The important matter, however, in connection with the use of the
relay in Hertzian wave telegraphy, is that it should be capable of adjust-
ment without extraordinary skill. It is no use to put into the hands
of an operator a relay which requires abnormal dexterity to make it
work at all.

* There is a good deal of contradiction between various inventors on this
point, some saying that 'earthed ' aerials obviate atmospheric electrical dis-
turbances, and others that insulated aerials are in this respect superior. The
truth appears to be that neither form is absolutely free from risk of dis-
turbance by this cause.

SHORTER ARTICLES AND CORRESPONDENCE. 563

SHOETEE AKTICLES AND COKKESPONDENCE.

AN UNUSUAL AURORA B0REALI8.
There was one feature of the au-
rora of August 21, as seen from York
Harbor, INIaine, of so extraordinary a
character as to deserve permanent
record. I refer to the arch extending
from east to west with its pendant
comet-like attachments as shown in
the illustration, which last, though un-

beeame fainter and of hut little inter-
est, when, at 0.30 p.m., there appeared
a magnificent arch spanning the hea-
vens from east to west, the top of the
arch being a little udrtli of the zenith,
and almost overhead. As shown in the
diagram at least three fourths of the
eastern half of the arch consisted of a
pale, only half-luiiiiuous column of

An Unusual Aurora Borealis.

skilfully drawn, gives a fairly correct
diagrammatic representation of the
phenomenon.

It was a clear starlit night with a
low bank of cloud along the north-
western horizon. No moon. The dis-
play began between 7 and 8 p.m., with
the usual nebulous huninosity in the
northern sky with occasional streaks
shooting upwards. These gradually

visible streaks, the band being perhaps
as wide as the diameter of a full moon
appears to be. The western segment
of the arch presented a most extraor-
dinary and magnificent spectacle.

Beginning a little east of the zenith
and continuing almost to the western
horizon, there appeared what might
easily be likened to a string of tre-
mendous comets. These pennants of

564

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

light, however — unlike comets — were
more brilliant at their bases, less
so at their apices. Their bases were
directed upwards, their points down.
They were constantly changing, ap-
pearing and disappearing, but not very
rapidly. Some would remain a min-
ute or more without much variation.
The number varied from ten to fifteen.
They were shorter toward the zenith,
longer toward the horizon. At the
western end of the arch, one long half-
luminous streak shot up obliquely (as
sho^^■n in the figure) and remained for
some minutes after the arch itself had
disappeared. The arch lasted from
9.30 to nearly 10 p.m.

In size the comet-like pendants ap-
peared about as wide at their bases
as the diameter of a full moon, and
four or five times such a diameter in
length. I reach this estimate by com-
paring my own conception with those
of several others who made observa-
tions at the same time.

It should be noted that no visible
connection existed between the arch
and the nebulous masses and streaks
of light near the northern horizon.

In looking at the diagram the read-
er may well conceive it to be too toy-
like and artificial to come within the
range of truth or possibility, but so
was the arch itself. No one could
have conceived such a display to be
either natural or possible. To some
it suggested a festive arch adorned
Vv'ith luminovis cornucopias, like a
Christmas decoration. Those of us
who a few weeks before had obtained
telescopic views of Barelli's comet
with some difficulty, seemed now to
be rewarded by nature exhibiting a
whole string of far more brilliant
comets for our special delectation.
The kind and degree of luminosity ap-
peared to be almost exactly like that
of the comet when seen through a good
glass.

The splendor and magnificence of the
display were beyond description ;
startlingly beautiful. The spectacle

seemed almost to overstep the modesty
of nature, but its coming unheralded
during the majestic silence of the
night served to banish so unjust a
thought. Surprise, delight, admira-
tion and awe — these were the feelings
that thrilled with pleasure those of us
who witnessed the sublime and mys-
terious scene — a scene that few of us
will ever see again.

The last we saw of this aurora was
at midnight when a diffuse light be-
hind a low bank of clovid near the
northern horizon gave the appearance
as of a moon about to rise. But a
medical acquaintance — Dr. S. W. Al-
len— who was out at 2 a.m. saw shim-
mering waves of iridescent light
streaming radially upwards from the
horizon towards a central point at
the zenith, a not very unusual phe-
nomenon which many of us have seen
once or more during the last half
century.

Auroral arches from east to west
have been observed in the Arctic re-
gions; double and triple ones are re-
corded by Mr. E. B. Baldwin in
Peary's ' Northward over the Great
Ice,' vol. 2, p. 191 et seq., but in this
country they are certainly very un-
usual. Baldwin describes one in which
the arch formed itself into a luminous
curtain, and the curtain folds knotted
' themselves into a series of electric
balls suspended in the same arch-or-
der' (p. 198). These globes of light
may have had some approaching re-
semblance to the comet-like pennants
of light I have endeavored to describe.

A. F. A. King.

SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY.

To THE Editor: In the first two
paragraphs of Sir Oliver Lodge's ad-
mirable address entitled 'ISIodern Views
on Matter,' published in the August
number of this journal, he alludes to
a distinction between the scientific as-
pects and the philosophical aspects of
his subject and hastens to disclaim any
qualifications for discussing the lat-

SHORTER ARTICLES AND CORRESPONDENCE. 565

tcr. Thus in the lirst paragraph he
says :

Tlie nature of matter has been regarded
by philosophers from many points of view,
but it is not from any philosophic stand-
point that I presume in this university to
ask you to consider the subject under my
guidance.

And in the second paragraph he
adds :

If I may venture to say so, it is the
more philosophic side of physics which
has always seemed to me the most suit-
able for study in this university ; and
although I disclaim any competence for
philosophic treatment, in the technical
sense, yet I doubt not that the new
views, in so far as they turn out to be
true views, will have a bearing on the
theory of matter in all future writings on
philosophy ; besides exercising a profound
effect on the pure science of physics and
chemistry, and perhaps having some in-
fluence on certain aspects of biology also.

The course which Sir Oliver fol-
lowed on the occasion of this Ro-
manes Lecture is not without emi-
nent precedent. Many a man of sci-
ence has acknowledged subserviency to
philosophy on similar occasions; and
there is no doubt tliat the most of us
have inherited a belief in the inferi-
ority of science to philosophy. But the
question I would ask is whether such
subserviency and such belief are any
longer justified and hence dignified?

This, of course, raises squarely the
question of the distinction between
science and philosophy. I assume, how-
ever, that it is imnecessary to thrash
over old straw here and now. Brush-
ing aside pseudo-science and barren
philosophy, what is the distinction, if

any, between sound science and sane
philosophy?

If one applies the scientific method
of investigation to scientists and to
philosophers of the modern types he
will find, I think, that they are very
much alike and that neither claims
any superiority over the other. It
\\ouId appear also that the two words
science and philosophy are now very
frequently used as synonymous in
spite of their widely diff'ering shades
of meaning.

^Vhy then should we prolong dis-
tinctions which are no longer tenalde?
Why, to return to the Romanes Lec-
ture, should we be asked to entertain
the hypothesis that some Oxford phi-
losopher is more likely to see straight
with respect to the intricate properties
of matter than Sir Oliver himself?
How much, in fact, has all philosophy,
in the sense in which Sir Oliver uses
the word, contributed to our knowl-
edge of matter? There was a time
when every obscure professor of
' moral ' or ' mental ' philosophy was
held, by common consent of the educa-
ted, more competent to judge of the
philosophic aspects of the ' Origin of
Species ' than Charles Darwin. But
have we not outlived that time, and is
not a relapse to the ways of that
time, even for the purposes of compli-
ment, reprehensible ?

Phtsicist.

[The point of our correspondent ap-
pears to be well taken. But possibly
Sir Oliver Lodge's compliment im-
plied that experimental science has
been neglected at Oxford. — Ed.]

566

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

THE PKOGEESS OF SCIENCE.

THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION FOR
THE ADVANCEMENT OF
SCIENCE.
For the first time in many years
there has been this summer no meet-
ing of the American Association. It
will be remembered that the Associa-
tion held a winter meeting at Wash-
ington during convocation week and
adjourned to meet at St. Louis a
year later. The lack of a summer
meeting is in some ways to be re-
gretted. For the presentation of sci-
entific work by specialists to special-
ists, the most business-like meetings
can be held in the winter; but for
social intercourse and especially for
the bringing of those not specially
engaged in scientific work in contact
with men of science, a summer meet-
ing with a certain amount of open-air
leisure seems to be desirable. Many
of our societies continue to meet in
the summer, and it seems that the
American Association should provide
a center. For example, this year the
American Mathematical Society met
in Boston, the American Chemical So-
ciety in Cleveland, the Society for the
Promotion of Engineering Education
at Niagara Falls, etc. For a general
meeting of scientific men, we must,
however, turn this summer to the con-
gresses in France, Germany, Great
Britain and other foreign countries.
The British Association met at
Southport, beginning on September 9,
under the presidency of Sir Norman
Lockyer, known for his contributions
to astronomy and as editor of Nature.
In the latter capacity, he has been
much interested in the endowment of
research work, which he treated in the
presidential address from which we
quote below. In addition to this ad-

dress evening lectures Avere given
by Dr. Robert Monroe on man as
artist and sportsman in the paleo-
lithic period; by Dr. Arthur Roe on
the Old Chalk Sea and some of its
teachings, and by Dr. J. S. Flett on
the volcanic eruptions in the West
Indies. Then there were the usual
addresses before the sections — Profess-
or W. Noel Hartley, before the sec-
tion of chemistry, reviewed the work
of spectroscopy of the last twenty-
five years and discussed especially its
relation to the investigation of the
composition of matter and of chemical
theory; Professor W. W. Watts, be-
fore the section of geology, laid spe-
cial stress on the value of geology as
an educational subject; Professor
Sydney J. Hickson, before the section
of zoology, reviewed the question of
the influence of environment in the
production of variation in animals
with special reference to the coelen-
terata; Captain E. W. Creak, before
the section of geography, spoke of the
connection between geography and ter-
restrial magnetism, explaining what
has latterly been done in the direction
of magnetic surveys and what is still
needed; the subject of the address of
Mr. E. W. Bradbrook before the section
of economics was 'Thrift'; Professor
J. Symington in addressing the an-
thropological section discussed the
significance of variations in cranial
forms with special reference to fossil
man; Mr. A. C. Seward, before the
section of botany, reviewed the geo-
graphical distribution of fossil plants.
The programs of the sections con-
tain the usual number of interesting
papers. The International Meteor-
ological Committee met at Southport
in conjunction with the association;

rilE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

567

the papers included a ^^uivey of the
relation of solar and terrestrial
changes by Sir Norman I^oek^^er. The
new discoveries reoardiny tlio cdnsti-
tution of matter and radiation, a sci-
entific advance the far-reaching charac-
ter of wliich we can scarcely appreci-
ate, was naln rally prominent in the
physical section. The papers included
one by Professor Rvitherford, of Mon-
treal, whose important investigations
on the emanations from radium were
described by Sir Oliver Lodge in a re-
cent issue of the IMontiily. The sub-
ject chosen for special discussion in
the chemical section was ' Combustion.'
The geological section conflicted with
the International Congress of Geol-
ogy at Vienna, but the program con-
tained many papers. The subject of
'fertilization' was especially dis-
cussed in the zoological section. Pro-
fessor E. B. Wilson, of Columbia Uni-
versity, being one of those taking part.
The British Antarctic Expedition was
naturally the subject of special inter-
est to the geographers, while the fis-
cal questions brought forward by ^Ir.
Chamberlain's proposed abandonment
of free trade attracted the economists.
The association will meet next year
at Cambridge under the presidency of
Mr. Arthur Balfour, the prime min-
ister ;
will be in South Africa

the following year the meeting

SIR NORMAN LOCKYER ON THE
ENDOWMENT OF EDUCATION

AND RESEARCH.
The presidential address of Sir
Norman Lockyer before the British
Association was entitled ' The Influence
of Brain Power on History.' The
speaker laid special stress on the need
of greater endowments for higher edu-
cation and research from the govern-
ment, and advocated duplicating the
Navy estimates of 1888-9, £24.000,000.
and devoting that amount to the in
crease of Great Britain's brain power.
He said: Our position as a nation,
our success as merchants, are in peril,
chiefly— dealing with preventable

causes — because of our lack of com-
pletely efficient universities and our
neglect of research.

What are the facts relating to pri-
vate endowment in this country? In
spite of the muiiififcnce displayed by
a small number of individuals in some
localities, the truth must be spoken.
In depending in our country upon this
form of endowment we are trusting to
a broken reed. If we take the twelve
English university colleges, the fore-
runners of universities unless we are
to perish from a lack of knowledge, we
find that private effort during sixty
years has found less than £1,000,000;
that is, £2,000,000 for buildings and
£40,000 a year's income. This gives
us an average of £1G6 000 for build-
ings and £3,300 for yearly income.

What is the scale of private effort
we have to compete with in regard to
the American universities? In the
United States, during the last few
years, universities and colleges have re-
ceived more than £40,000,000 from this
source alone ; private effort supplied
nearly £7,000,000 in the years 1898-
1900.

Next consider the amount of state
aid to universities afforded in Ger-
many. The builaings of the new Uni-
versity of Strasburg have already
cost nearly £1,000,000; that is, about
as much as has yet been foimd by
private effort for buildings in Man-
chester, Liverpool, Birmingham, Bris-
tol, Newcastle and Sheffield. The gov-
ernn.ent's annual endowment of the
san e German imiversity is more than
£49.000.

When we consider the large endow-
ments of university education both in
the United States and Germany, it is
obvious that state aid only can make
any valid competition possible with
either. The more we study the facts,
the more statistics are gone into, the
more do we find that we, to a large
extent, lack both of the sources of en-
dowment upon one or other or both of
which other nations depend. We are

*«^HiiMHiaiMiiMiKiibBl

/C-

lL/^

Avcvv^#M y7ji<251^

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

569

between two stools, and the prospect
is hopeless without some drastic
changes. And first among these, if
we intend to get out of the present
slough of despond, must be the giving
up of the idea of relying upon private
effort.

THE SCHOOL OF JOURNALISM OF
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

The endowment of a school of jour-
nalism at Columbia University by Mr.
J. Pulitzer has been widely discussed
by the press, which it so nearly con-
cerns. There is much diflference of
opinion as to the value of such a
school. It is argued that a news-
paper man can get his training best
in the office of a newspaper, and that
the information of the editor, corre-
spondent and reporter is too general
and transient to be the subject of a
course of study. On the other hand, it
is pointed out that in the other pro-
fessions there has been a transition
from the apprentice method to the
professional school, and that schools
of journalism may become as essen-
tial as schools of law or medicine. It
is certainly true that the technical
equipment of the journalist is less
extensive and definite than that of the
physician, the lawyer or the engineer.
Preijaration for journalism seems,
however, to parallel pretty closely
preparation for the church or for
teaching. The divinity student learns
Greek, Hebrew, ecclesiastical history,
systematic theology and the like, and
it is well that he should do so as a
matter of training, but the speedy ob-
livion that usually follows does not
decrease the valvie of his services as a
clergyman; on the contrary, the less
he concerns himself with the book of
Genesis and any definite system of
theology the better. It is well for the
clergyman to be a scholar, but Horace
or the French Revolution will serve
as well as the church fathers. The
conditions are similar for the intending
teacher. He must know the subject

that he is to teach, but this is given
in the ordinary college and university
courses, as are also English, psychology
and other subjects that should be stud-
ied. The history and principles of
education are about as useful for the
teacher as ecclesiastical history and sys-
tematic theology for the clergyman. A
man can not be taught in a school
either to preach or to teach. Yet
theological schools and normal schools
are on the whole useful institutions.
Schools of journalism will probably
soon be regarded as equally essential.

The uses of such schools are partly
indirect. They serve for example as
selective agencies. Men having talent
and ambition frequent such schools,
and those quite unfit are eliminated
before graduation. Even supposing
that four years in an engineering school
give no better training than actual
work in a shop, still those who gradu-
ate from the school are likely to be
better men than those who do not —
employers run less risk in choosing
them. Graduates from the Columbia
University School of Journalism will
probably deserve advancement better
and secure it more easily than those
who spend the same years in a news-
paper office. The coming together of
a large number of men having similar
interests and plans tends to encourage
and stimulate them. When they form
part of a great university, where in-
vestigation is continually in progress
and high ideals of conduct and cul-
ture are maintained, they will insen-
sibly conform to their surroundings.

But there are also certain direct
uses of professional schools even in
subjects such as teaching, commerce
and journalism. The student may pur-
sue the same studies as in the ordinary
college course, but the quantity and
emphasis are different. The intend-
ing journalist should study more Eng-
lish, history and political science than
the intending physician, and should
study them by somewhat different
methods. Then there is a certain

57°

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

amount of technical information and
skill, small in joui-nalism as com-
pared with medicine or engineering,
but still deserving treatment in a sys-
tematic and broad manner, and more
quickly and thoroughly' learned in spe-
cial courses than in actual practice.
It is especially the case in a large
office that a man has but small oppor-
tunity of learning anything except the
particular work assigned to him, al-
though it would be for his advantage
to know something of the work of
other dei:)artments. In the case of
teachers, summer schools at the uni-
versities have proved extremely iise-
ful. Similar short courses for journal-
ists will doubtless be given in the new
school. The combination of the theo-
retical study of general principles in a
university with practical work under

experts is probably the best kind of
eaucation for every profession.

Columbia University established the
first university school for teachers.
This has continually grown in stu-
dents, in endowments and in efficiency,
and has served as a model for other
institutions. The school of journalism
will doubtless repeat this history. It
begins with a generous endowment,
Mr. Pulitzer having given a million
dollars and having conditionally prom-
ised a second million. A building to
cost about $500,000 will be erected at
once on the site shown in the plan. It
will he directly on the right hand of
the magnificent entrance to the library
here illustrated.

President Butler, whose portrait is
reproduced, was elected president of
Columbia University on January 6,

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WBL

^ffl^^

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o

^jh o

' <.B

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hHJIUHII

.^—- ■M^

EAf\NAfsD

coLLZCc:;

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idUKKAU^t^

Plan of the Buildings and Grounds of Colu.mbia University.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.

571

Entrance to the Library of Columbia University.

1902. In the short period that has
elapsed the university has accom-
plished much, both on the educational
and on the material side. In addi-
tion to the school of journalism, there
have been various other large gifts,
including a dormitory costing $300,000.
Teachers College is erecting a building
for physical education at a cost of
over $250,000. Barnard College has
been given the three blocks of land
shown on the plan south of the college,
which cost about $1,000,000; and the
trustees of Columbia College have pur-
chased, at a cost cf nearly if 2,000,000,
the two large blocks south of the pres-
ent site.

THE EMPLOYMENT OF WOMEN.
The Massachusetts Bureau of
Statistics has published some rather
interesting information in regard to
the occupations of the sexes in the
state. In 1900 there were 1,208,491 per-
sons engaged in gainful occupations,
72.77 per cent, of whom were men and
27.23 per cent, women. Thirty years
before the percentages were 77.87 for
men and 22.13 for women. In 1870 the
number of females employed in gainful
occupations formed 17.03 per cent, of
the total number of females of all ages,
and in 1900 the percentage rose to
22.88. About one half of all females

aie under the age of twenty years, and
although many of these are employed,
there are many above that age who
are invalids or the like. It appears
that in a very general way it may be
said that one third of all women able
I to work were employed in gainful oc-
cupations in 1870 and one half in 1900.
Should this increase be maintained, all
women able to work would be engaged
in earning money one hundred and
twenty years hence.

The kind of work is analyzed in the
report in great detail, the recapitula-
tion being as follows:

The State.

Oovernmenl

Protes-ional

Domestic service.
Personal service.

Trade

Transportation ...

Agriculture

Tlie Fistieries

Manufactures

Mining

Laborers

Apprentices

Children at work

03

Ol

V

o3

03

a

a

,'"

u^

786,454

292,636

17,240

2,846

23,845

19,923

14.782

79,265

25,724

19.762

129,875

24,142

69,680

368

37,281

275

8,813

18

349,546

142,951

2,367

98,758

207

5.320

567

3,223

2,312

CO

o

pa

1,079,090

20,086

43 768

94,047

45,486

154,017

70 048

37,5.56

8,831

492,497

2,367

98,965

5 887

5,535

It will be noticed that very few
women are employed in transportation,
agriculture or as laborers. Indeed it
seems somewhat remarkable that only
275 women should be engaged in

572

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

agriculture, 207 as laborers, 18 in
the fisheries and 3 as carpenters.
Ao-riculture and out-of-door labor are
the most healthful occupations, and
would not affect the health of women,
as do the sedentary occupations to
which they are especially attracted.
There are 15,830 female teachers,
11,357 bookkeepers, 6,412 clerks and
copyists and 5,693 stenographers.
There were in 1885 only 106 stenog-
raphers. Less than three per cent, of
the teachers are married and about 5
per cent, of the clerks and bookkeepers.
The compilers of the report abstain
from comments on the sociological sig-
nificance of the figures they give, but
they obviously have these in mind as
statistics are added as to marriage,
birth, death and divorce rates. In
■1851, there were about 28 births per
thousand of the population, about 23
marriages, and nearly 19 deaths. In
1901, the ratio of births fell to about
25, marriages to about 17, and deaths
to nearly 17. Tliere has been an ex-
traordinary increase in the divorce
rate, there having been one divorce to
thirty-four marriages in 1882, one to
twenty-seven in 1891 and one to eight-
een in 1901. The decrease in the mar-
riage and birth rates becomes much
more significant when it is remembered
that the proportion of native-born in-
habitants has greatly decreased. In
1882, 55.74 per cent, of those married
were native-born, in 1891, only 43.56
per cent. The foreign-born have much
larger families, and the birth rate has
decreased much more than three per
thousand. How far the decrease is due
to the increased employment of women
in gainful occupations is a question
that desei-ves serious consideration.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS.
We note with regret the deaths of
Dr. Frederick Law Olmsted, the emi-
nent landscape architect; of Dr. Em-
manuel Munk, associate professor of
physiology at Berlin, and of Dr. C.
K. Hoffman, professor of zoology and
comparative anatomy at Harlem.

Among honors conferred on Ameri-
can men of science by foreign institu-
tions we notice that Dr. E. C. Picker-
ing, director of the Harvard College
Observatory, has been given the doc-
torate of science by the University of
Heidelberg, and Dr. E. B. Wilson, pro-
fessor of zoology at Columbia Uni-
versity, has been elected a foreign
member of the Accademia dei Lincei
of Rome.

Dr. E. B. Copeland, instructor in
bionomics at Stanford University, has
been appointed chief botanist of the
United States Philippine Commission.
— Dr. William J. Holland, director of
the Carnegie Museum of Pittsburg,
has returned to the United States with
the important paleontological collec-
tions of Baron de Briet, which the
Carnegie Museum has recently ac-
quired.— Dr. Emil Tietze, director of
the Imperial Geological Institute of
Austria, was chosen president of the
Ninth International Geological Con-
gress, which opened at Vienna on
August 20.

The ship Terra Nova has now sailed
from England to relieve the Discovery.
The British government, which has
appropriated £45,000 for the expedi-
tion, is acting without the advice of
the Royal Geographical Society and
the Royal Society, which originally
sent the expedition, assisted by a grant
from the governiiiont.

INDEX.

573

INDEX

XAMES OF CONTRIIil'TORS ARE PRINTED IN SMALL CAPITALS.

Age of College Graduation, Changes
in. W. Scott Thomas, 150.

Agricultural Education, American, An
Untilled Field in, Kenyon L. But-

TERFIELD, 257.

Agriculture, Modern, Bacteria in, Al-
bert Schneider, 333.

Animal Life, Highways and Byways
of, Herbert Osborn, 409.

Antarctic Expedition, British, 92, 379.

American, Society of Naturalists, 87 ;
Museum of Natural History, 283;
Philosophical Society, 287.

Art, Decorative, of the North Ameri-
can Indians, Franz Boas, 481.

Aurora Borealis, An Unusual, A. F.
A. King, 563.

Bacteria in INlodern Agriculture, Al-
bert Schneider, 333.

Bird, Robert Montgomery, Why a
Flame emits Light, 209.

Bird Rookeries on the Island of Lay-
san, C. C. Nutting, 321.

Birth Rate, The Declining, and its
Cause, Frederick A. Bushee, 355;
in Fiction, C, 373.

Boas, Franz, The Decorative Art of
the North American Indians, 481.

Bolton, Henry Carrington, Radium,
61.

British, Antarctic Expedition, 92. 378-,
Association for the Advancement of
Science, 566.

BuTTERFiELD, Kenyon, L., An Unfilled
Field in American Agricultural Ed-
ucation, 257.

C, The Birth Rate in Fiction. 373.

Ceylon. Pearl Fisheries of, W. A.
Herdman. 220.

Chemistry, Physiological, 85.

Classification of Fishes, Da\^d Starr
Jordan, 5.

College, Entrance Examinations,
Abraham Flexner, 53 ; Gradua-
tion, Changes in the Age of, W.
Scott Thomas, 159; Problem of,
377.

Columbia University School of Jour-
nalism, 569.

Congresses of Physicians. 191.

Cook, O. F., Stages of Vital Motion,
14; Evolution, Cytology and Men-
del's Laws, 219.

Cooperation. Coercion, Competition,
LiNDLEY M. Keasbey, 526.

Creative Purpose, Lord Kelvin on, 279.

Cytology, Evolution and Mendel's
Laws, 0. F. Cook, 219.

Dalton and Liebig, Celebrations in

Honor of, 280.
Dana, John Cotton, Some of the

Extra-artistic Elements of Esthetic

Emotion, 411.
Dean, Bashford, Obituary Notice of a

Lung Fish, 33.
Declining Birth Rate and its Cause,

Frederick A. Bushbee, 355.
Decorative Art of the North American

Indians, Franz Boas, 481.
Decrease in Size of American Fam-
ilies, Edward L. Thorndike, 64.
Discussion and Correspondence, 84,

185, 275, 373, 563.
Distinctions and Titles, American, W.

Le Conte Stephens, 312.
Dodd, Wm. E., Karl Lamprecht and

Kulturgeschichte, 418.

Economy in Nutrition, R. H. Chit-
tenden, 123.

Education, not the Cause of Race De-
cline, Geo. J. Englemann, 172;
American Agricultural, An Un-
tilled Field in, Kenyon L. Butter-
field, 257; The Story of English,
J. E. G. DE Montmorency, 262, 344;
of Engineers, 383 ; and Research,
Sir Norman Lockyer on, 507.

Educational, Association, National,
The Boston Meeting of, 375; En-
dowments in the south, Elizabeth
M. Howe. 543.

Emotion, Esthetic, Some of the Extra-
artistic Elements of, John Cotton
Dana, 411.

Employment of Women, 571.

Engelmann, Geo. J.. Education not
the Cause of Race Decline, 172.

Engineers, Education of, 383.

English Education, the Story of, J. E.
G. DE Montmorency', 262, 344.

Entrance Examinations, College, Abra-
ham Flexner, 53.

Ericsson, John, 475.

Esthetic Emotion, Some of the Extra-
artistic Elements of, John Cotton
Dana, 411.

^n

574

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.

Evolution, Cytology and Mendel's
Laws, O. r. Cook, 210.

Examinations, College Entrance, Abra-
ham Flexner, 53.

Expedition, British Antarctic, 92, 378.

Exposition, Louisiana Purchase, Sci-
entific Program of, 189.

Eamilies, American, the Decrease in
Size of, Edward L. Thorndike, 64. '

Fertility, the Distribution of. Profess- |
or Pearson on, Edward L. Thorn-
dike, 84.

Fiction. The Birth Rate in, 373.

Field Columbian Museum, 89.

Fisheries, Pearl, of Ceylon, W. A.
Herdman, 229.

FiSK, EuG. L., Professor Shaler on
Animal Intelligence, 468.

Fitzgerald and Rowland, The Collected
Papers of, 470.

Flame, Why it emits Light, Robert
Montgomery Bird, 209.

Fleming, J. A., Hertzian Wave Wire-
less Telegraphy, 97, 193, 364, 439,
551.

Flexner, Abraham, College Entrance
Examinations, 53.

Flowers, Wild, the Preservation of,
Frances Zirngiebel, 246.

Forest and Game Commission of New
York, 93.

Forestry, 374.

Franklin Papers in the Library of the
American Philosophical Society, 382.

Game and Forest Commission of New

York, 93.
Gibbs, Josiah Willard, 188.
Graduation, College, Changes in the

Age of, W. Scott Thomas, 159.

Hallock, Mary, Pulse and Rhythm,
425.

Harkness, William, 86.

Heat, a New Source of — Radium, Hen-
ry Carrington Bolton, 61.

Heilprtn, Angelo, The Ascending
Obelisk of the Montagne Pelee, 467.

Helmholtz, Hermann von, 186.

Herdman, W. A., The Pearl Fisheries
of Ceylon, 229.

Hertzian Wave Wireless Telegraphy,
J. A. Fleming, 97, 193, 364, 439, — .

Howe, Elizabeth M., Educational
Endowments in the South, 543.

Hygiene, Municipal, the Field of, Ed-
win 0. Jordan, 132.

Identilication, Personal, Palm and
Sole Impressions and their Use for
purposes of, Harris Hawthorne
Wilder, 385.

Immigrant, The Slavic, Allan Mc-

Laighlin, 25.
Indians, North American, Decorative

Art of, Franz Boas, 481.
Intelligence, Animal, Professor Shaler

on, EuG. L. FiSK, 469.

Jastrow, Joseph, Helen Keller — a
Psychological Autobiography, 71.

Jordan, David Starr, Classification of
Fishes, 5; University Tendencies in
America, 141 ; The Training of a
Physician, 304.

Jordan, Edwin 0., The Field of Muni-
cipal Hygiene, 132.

Journalism, the School of Columbia
University, 569.

Keasbey, Lindley M., Cooperation, Co-
ercion, Competition, 526.

Keller, Helen, A Psychological Auto-
biography, Joseph Jastrow, 71.

Kelvin, Lord, on ' Creative Purpose,'
279.

King, A. F. A., An Unusual Aurora
Borealis, 563.

Kulturgeschichte and Karl Lamprecht,
Wm. E. Dodd, 418.

Laboratories and Schools, Summer,
478.

Lamprecht. Karl, and Kulturgeschich-
te, Wm. E. Dodd, 418.

Land and Water Plants, A Comparison
of, George James Peirce, 239.

Laysan, The Island of, Bird Rookeries
on, C. C. Nutting, 321.

Liebig and Dalton, Celebrations in
Honor of, 280.

Life, Animal, Highwaj^s and ByAvays
of, Herbert Osborn, 499.

Light, Why a Flame emits, Robert
Montgomery Bird, 209.

Lockyer, Sir Norman, on the Endow-
ment of Education and Research,
567.

Lodge, Oliver, Modern Views on flat-
ter, 289.

Louisiana Purchase Exposition, Sci-
entific Program of, 189.

Lung Fish, Obituary Notice of, Bash-
ford Dean, 33.

McLaughlin, Allan, The Slavic Im-
migrant, 25.

Magazine Science, B. F. L., 185.

^Massachusetts Institute of Technology,
476.

Matter, Modern Views on, Oliver
Lodge, 289.

Mendel's Laws, Evolution and Cytol-
ogy, 0. F. Cook, 219.

Mental and Moral Qualities, Correla-
tion between, Frederick Adams
Woods, 515.

INDEX.

575

IModcrn Views on INIatter, Oliver
Lodge, 289.

MoNTMORExNCY, DE, J. E. G., Tlie Story
of Kn<;lish Education, 202, 344.

Moral and INIental Qualities, Correla-
tion between, Fkederick Adams
\YooDS, 515.

MoRiTZ Robert E., The Sherman Prin-
ciple in Rhetoric and its Restric-
tions, 534.

Mosquito Destroyer, The So-called, 370.

Mosquitoes, and Suggestions for their
Extermination, William Lyman
L^nderwood, 454.

ISIunicipal Hygiene, The Field of, Ed-
win 0. Jordan, 132.

Museum, The Field Columbian, 89;
of Natural History, the American,
283.

JNIuseums of Natural History, the Op-
portunity of the Smaller, William
Orr, 40.

National Educational Association, The
Boston Meeting of, 375.

Natural History, The Opportunity of
the Smaller Museums of, William
Orr, 40 ; The American Museum of,
283.

Naturalists, The American Society of,
87.

New York Forest and Game Commis-
sion, 93.

Nutrition, Physiological Economy in,
R. H. Chittenden, 123.

Nutting, C. C, Bird Rookeries on the
Island of Laysan, 321.

Obelisk, The Ascending, of the Mon-
tagne Pelee, Angelo Heilprin, 467.

Obituary Notice of a Lung Fish, Bash-
ford Dean, 33.

Orr, William, The Opportunity of the
Smaller Museums of Natural His-
tory, 40.

Osborn, Herbert, Highways and By-
ways of Animal Life, 499.

Palm and Sole Impressions and their
Use for Purposes of Personal Identi-
fication, Harris Hawthorne Wil-
der, 385.

Pearl Fisheries of Ceylon, W. A. Herd-
man, 229.

Pearson, Professor, on the Distribution
of Fertility, Edward L. Thorndike,
84.

Peirce, George James, A Comparison
of Land and Water Plants, 239.

Pelee, The Ascending Obelisk of, An-
gelo Heilprin, 467.

Philosophical Society, The American,
287; Franklin Papers, 382.

Philosophy and Science, Physicist,
564.

Physician, The Tiaining of a, David

Staur Jui{|).\n, 304.
Physicians, Congresses of, 191.
Physicist, Science and Philosophy,

564.
Physiological Chemistry, 85; Economy

in Nutrition, R. H. Chittenden,

123.
Progress of Science, 86, 188, 279, 375,

475, 566.
Plants, Water and Land, A Comparison

of, George James Peirce, 239.
Psychology, 278.
Pulse and Rhythm, AIary Hallock,

425.

Race, Decline, Education not the Cause
of, Geo. J. Engelmann, 172; Sen-
escence, 88.

Racial Decline, C. E. Smith, 275.

Radium, a New Source of Heat, Henry
Carrington Bolton, 61 ; in Eng-
land, 381.

Research and Education, Sir Norman
Lockyer on, 567.

Rhetoric, The Sherman Principle in,
and its Restrictions, Robert E.
MoRiTZ, 534.

Rhythm and Pulse, Mary Hallock,
425.

Rookeries, Bird, on the Island of Lay-
san, C. C. Nutting, 321.

Rowland and FitzGerald, The Collec-
ted Papers of, 470.

Schneider, Albert, Bacteria in Mod-
ern Agriculture, 333.

Science, "The Progress of, 86, 188, 279,
375, 475, 566; Magazine, B. F. L.,
185; and Philosophy, Physicist,
564.

Scientific, Literature, 85, 186, 278,
374, 470; Items, 95, 192, 288, 384,
479, 572; Program of the Louisiana
Purchase Exposition, 189.

Senescence, Race, 88.

Shaler, Professor, on Animal Intelli-
gence, EuG. L. FiSK, 468.

Sherman Principle in Rhetoric and its
Restrictions, Robert E. Moritz, 534.

Slavic Immigrant, Allan McLaugh-
lin, 25.

Sleep, Theories of, Percy G. Stiles,
432.

Smith, C. E., Racial Decline, 275.

Sole and Palm Impressions and their
Use for Purposes of Personal Iden-
tification, Harris Hawthorne W^il-
DER, 385.

South, Educational Endowments in
the Elizabeth M. Howe, 543.

STE^'ENS, W. Le Conte, American
Titles and Distinctions, 312.

Stiles, Percy G., Theories of Sleep,
432.

576

POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY

Summer Laboratories and Schools, 478.

Technologj', Massachusetts Institute

of, 476.
Telegraphy, Wireless, Hertzian Wave,

J. A. Fleming, 97, 193, 364, 439,

551.
Thomas W. Scott, Changes in the

Age of College Graduation, 159.
Thorndiple, Edward L., The Decrease

in Size of American Families, 64;

Professor Pearson on the Distribu-
tion of Fertility, 84.
Titles and Distinctions, American, W.

Le Conte Ste-\t:ns, 312.
Typhoid Fever, The Treatment of, 91.

Underwood, William Lyman, Mosqui-
toes and Suggestions for their Ex-
termination, 454.

University Tendencies in America,
David Starr Jordan, 141.

Vital Motion, Stages of, O. F. Cook,
14.

Washington, The Improvement of the
City of, 149.

Water and Land Plants, A Comparison
of, George James Peirce, 239.

Wild Flowers, the Preservation of,
Frances Zirngiebel, 246.

Wilder, Harris Hawthorne, Palm
and Sole Impressions and their Use
for Purposes of Personal Identifica-
tion, 385.

Wireless Telegraphy, Hertzian Wave,
J. A. Fleming, "97, 193, 364, 439,
551.

Women, the Employment of, 571.

Woods, Frederick Adams, Correlation
between Mental and Moral Quali-
ties, 515.

Zirngiebel, Frances, The Preservation
of Wild Flowers, 246.

Vol. LXIII. No. 1 a^o -J' MAY, 1903

THE

POPULAR SCIENCE
MONTHLY

EDITED BY J. McKEEJf CATTELL

CONTENTS

The Classification of Fishes. President David Starr Jordan .... 5

Stages of Vital Motion. O. F. Cook 14

The Slavic Immiojrant. Dr. Allan McLaughlin 25

Obituary Notice of a Lung-fish. Professor Bashford Dean .... 33
The Opportunity of the Smaller Museums of Natural History. Wil-
liam Orr 40

College Entrance Examinations. Abraham Flexner 53

A New Source of Heat: Radium. Dr. Henry Carrinqton Bolton . . 61

The Decrease in the Size of American Families. Professor Edward L.

Thorndike 64

Helen Keller: A Psychological Autobiography. Professor Joseph

Jastrow 71

Discussion and Correspor.deuce :

Professor Pearson on the Distribution of Fertility: Edwaed L. Thoendike . . 84

Scientific Literature :

Physiological Chemistry 85

Progress of Science :

William Harkness ; The American Society of Naturalists ; Race Senescence; The
Field Columbian Museum ; ^The Treatment of Typhoid Fever ; The British Ant-
arctic Expedition ; The New York Forest and Game Commission ; Scientific Items 86

THE SCIENCE PRESS

LANCASTER, PA. GARRISON, N. Y.

NEW YORK : SuB-SiAnoN 84
Single Numbee, 30 Cents Yeaely Subscbiption, $3.00

C«PTBieHT, 1903, BT THB SCISNCS PRESS

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Physiological Economy in Nutrition. Professor R. H. Chittenden . 123

The Field of Municipal Hygiene. Professor Edwin 0. Jordan . . . 132

University Tendencies in America. President David Starr Jordan 141

The Improvement of the City of Washington 149

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Edited by The Rev. T. K. CHEYNE, D.D., Oriel Professor of the Interpretation of Holy
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On the Origin of Species. Professor Hugo de
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Mental and Moral Heredity in Royalty. Dr. Fred-
erick Adams Woods.

The Great Auk in Art. Frank Bond.

The Making of Biologists. Professor T. D. A. Cock-

ERELL.

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Industries of the South. Professor Glenn W.
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The Habits of the Giant Salamander. Dr. Albert
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The Carnegie Institution and the National Univer-
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A Visit to the Quarry-cavea of Jerusalem. Charles
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The Nile Dams and Reservoir. Sir Benjamin
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Index to Volume LXII.

CONTENTS OF MAY NUMBER.

The Classification of Fishes. President David Starr
Jordan.

Stages of Vital Motion. O. F. Cook.
The Slavic Immigrant. Dr. Allan McLaughlin.
Obituary Notice of a Lung-Fish. Professor Basii-
FORD Dean.

The Opportunity of the Smaller Museums of Natural
History. William Orr.

College Entrance Examinations. Abraham Flex-
ner.

A New Source of Heat : Radium. Dr. Henry Car-
rington Bolton.

The Decrease in the Size of American Families. Pro-
fessor Edward L. Thorndike.

Helen Keller : A Psychological Autobiography.
Professor Joseph Jastrow.

Discussion and Correspondence :

Professor Pearson on the Distribution of Fertility.
Edward L. Thorndike.

Scientific Literature :

Physiological Chemistry.

The Progress of Science :

William Hdrkness ; The American Society of
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Vol. LXIII. No. 3 JULY, 1903

THE

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EDITED BY J. MoKEEJ^ CATTELL

CONTENTS

Hertzian Wave Wireless Telegraphy. Dr. J. A. Fleming 193

Why a Flame emits Light. Professor Robert Montgomery Bird . . 209

Evolution, Cytology and Mendel's Laws. 0. F. Cook 219

The Pearl Fisheries of Ceylon. Professor W. A. Herdman .... 229
A Comparison of Land and Water Plants. Professor George James

Peirce 239

The Preservation of Wild Flowers. Frances Zirngiebel 246

An Unfilled Field in American Agricultural Education. Kenyon L.

BUTTERFIELD • • 257

The Story of English Education. J. E. G. de Montmorency .... 262

Discussion and Correspondence :

The Question of Kacial Decline : C. E. Smith 275

Scientific Literature :

Psychology 278

Progress of Science :

Lord Kelvin on 'Creative Purpose ' ; Celebrations in Honor of Dal ton and Liebig ;
The American Museum of Natural History ; The American Philosophical Society ;
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Edited by The Rev. T. K. CHEYNE, D.D., Oriel Professor of the Interpretation of Holy
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German and Italian.

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CONTENTS OF MAY NUMBER.

The Classification of Fishes. President David Starr
Jordan.

Stages oJ Vita) Motion. O. F. Cook.

The Slavic Immigrant. Ur. Allan McLaughlin.

Obituary Notice of a Lung-Fish. Professor Bash-
ford Dean.

The Opportunity of the Smaller Museums of Natural
History. William Orh.

College Entrance Examinations. Abraham Flex-
nek.

A New Source of Heat : Radium. Dr. Henry Car-
rington Bolton.

The Decrease in the Size of American Families. Pro-
fessor Edward L. Thorndike.

Helen Keller; A Psychological Autobiography.
Professor Joseph Jastrow.

Discus-^ion and Corrtsjiourtence : ^

Prolessor Pearson on the Distribution of Fertility.
Edward L. Thorndike.

Scientific Literature :

Physiological Chemistry.

The Progress of Science :

William Hrirkness; The American Society of
Naturalists; Race Senescence; The Field Colum-
bian Museum ; The Treatment of Typhoid Kever;
The British Antarctic Expedition ; The New
York Forest and Game Commission ; Scientific
Items.

CONTENTS OF JULY NUMBER.

Hertzian Wave Wireless Telegraphy. Professor J.
A. Fleming.

Physiological Economy in Nutrition. Professor R.
U. Chittenden.

Tiie Fie.'d of Municipal Hygiene. Professor Edwin
O. Jordan.

University Tendencies in America. President
David Stakr Jordan.

The Improvement of the City of Washington.

Changes in the Age of College Graduation. W. Scott
Thomas.

Education Not the Canse of Race Decline. Dr. Geo.
J. Engelmann.

Discussion and Correspondence :

Magazine Science: B. F. L.
Sc;eQti3c Literature :

Hermann von Helmholtz,
The Progress of Science :

Josiah Willard Gibb:); The Scientific Program of

the Louisiana Purchase Exposition; Congresses

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Vol. LXIII. No. i . AUGUST, 1903

THE

POPULAR SCIENCE
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EDITED BY J. McKEEJf CATIELL

CONTKNTS

Modern Views on Matter. Sir Oliver Lodge 289

The Training of a Physician. President David Starr Jordan . . . 304

American Titles and Distinctions. Professor W. Le Conte Stevens . 312

The Bird Rookeries on the Island of Laysan. Professor C. C. Nutting 321

Bacteria in Modern Agriculture. Dr. Albert Schneider 333

The Story of English Education. J. E. G. db MonTxMOrency .... 844

The Declining Birth Rate and its Cause. Dr. Frederick A. Bushee . 355

Hertzian Wave Wireless Telegraphy. Professor J. A. Fleming . . 364

Discussion and Correspondence:

The Birth Eate in Fiction : C 373

Scientific Literature :

Forestry 374

The Progress of Science ;

The Boston Meeting of the National Educational Association ; The Problem of the
College ; The British Antarctic Expedition ; The So-called Mosquito Destroyer ;
Kadium in England ; The Franklin Papers in the Library of the American Philo-
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OF THE ARCHEOLOGY, GEOGRAPHY, AND THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BIBLE

Edited by The Rev. T. K. CHEYNE, D.D., Orid Professor of the Interpretation of Holy
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Britain, Europe and America.
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"Whether for learner or expert, there is no dictionary that offers such an immense array of informa-
tion."—Willis Hatfield Hazard, in The Churchman.

DICTIONARY OF PHILOSOPHY AND PSYCHOLOGY

Including many of the Principal Conceptions of Ethics, Logic, Esthetics, Philosophy of Re-
ligion, Mental Pathology, Anthropology, Biology, Neurology, Physiology, Economics, Political
and Social Philosophy, Philology, and Education, and giving a terminology in English, French,
German and Italian.

Written by many hands and Edited by J. MARK BALDWIN, LL.D., Princeton Uni-
versity, with the co-operation and assistanct of an International Board of Consulting Editors.

In three Volumes, $15, net; Vols. I. and II., $10, net.

The Bibliographies by DR. RAND, the third volume of the full set, will be sold, separately at $5 net.

"The first adequate philosophic dictionary in any I " Entirely indispensable to every student of the sub-
language." Joseph Jastrow in T/ie Diai. | ject." American Journal of Psychology.

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN HORTICULTURE

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CONTENTS OF JUNE NUMBER

Hertzian Wave Wireless Telegraptiy. Professor J.
A. Fleming.

Physiological Economy in Nutrition. Professor R.

H. Chittenden.

The Field of Municipal Hygiene. Professor Edwin
O. Jordan.

University Tendencies in America. President
David Starr Jordan.

The Improvement of the City of Washington.

Changes in the Age ol College Graduation. W. Scott
Thomas.

Education Not the Cause of Race Decline, Dr. Geo.
J. Engelmann.

Discussion and Correspondence :

Magazine Science: B. F. L.
Scientific Literature :

Hermann von Helmholtz.
The Progress of Science :

Josiah Willard Gibbs; The Scientific Program of

the Louisiana Purchase Exposition ; Congresses

of Physicians ; Scientific Items.

CONTENTS OF JULY NUMBER

Hertzian Wave Wireless Telegraphy. Professor J.

A. Fl.KMING.

Why a Flame emits Light— the Development of the
Theory. Professor Robert Montgomery Bird.

Evolution, Cytology and Mendel's Laws. O. F. Cook.

The Pearl Fisheries of Ceylon. Professor W. A.
Hkrdman.

A Comparison of Lasd and Water Plants. Profes-
sor George James Peirce.

The Preservation of Wild Flowers. Frances Zirn-
qiebel.

An Untilled Field in American Agricultural Edu-
cation. Kenyon L. Butterfield.

The Story of English Education. J. E. G. de Mont-
morency.

Discussion and Correspondence :

The Decreasing Size of American Families : C. E.
Smith.

Scientific Literature :
Psychology.

Progress of Science :

Lord Kelvin on ' Creative Purpose '; Celebrations
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osophical Society ; Scientific Items.

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Vol. LXIII. No. 6 W^ SEPTEMBER, 1903

THE

POPULAR SCIENCE
MONTHLY

EDITED BY J. McKEEJf CATTELL

CONTKNXS

Palm and Sole Impressions and their Use for Purposes of Personal

Identification : Professor Harris Hawthorne Wilder .... 385
Some of the Extra-artistic Elements of Esthetic Emotion. John

Cotton Dana 411

Karl Lamprecht und Kulturgeschichte. Professor Wm. E. Dodd . . . 418

Pulse and Rhythm. Mary Hallock 425

Theories of Sleep. Dr. Percy G. Stiles . . " 432

Hertzian Wave Wireless Telegraphy. Dr. J. A. Fleming 439

Mosquitoes and Suggestions for their Extermination. William Lyman

Underwood 454

Shorter Articles and Discussion:

The Ascending Obelisk of the Montague Pel^e : Professor Angelo Heilprin. Pro-
fessor Shaler on Animal Intelligence ; Dr. Eug. L. Fisk 466

Scientific Literature:

The Collected Papers of Rowland and FitzGerald 470

The Progress of Science :

John Ericsson : The Massachusetts Institute of Technology ; Summer Laboratories
and Schools ; Sceintifio Items 475

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A CRITICAL DICTIONARY OF THE LITERARY, POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS HISTORY
OF THE ARCHiEOLOGY, GEOGRAPHY, AND THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BIBLE

Edited by The Rev. T. K. CHEYNE, D.D., Oriel Professor of the Interpretation of Holy
Scripture at Oxford Univernity ; and J. SUTHERLAND BLACK, LL.D., formerly As-
sistant Editor of the " Encyclopjjdia Britannica," Assisted by many Contributors in Great
Britain, Europe and America.
Four volumes (I. -III. ready ; IV. to be issued shortly). Cloth, $20 net; half-morocco, $30 net.

"Whether for learner or expert, there is no dictionary that ofFers such an Immense array of informa-
tion."—Willis Hatfield Hazard, in The Churchman.

DICTIONARY OF PHILOSOPHY AND PSYCHOLOGY

Including many of the Principal Conceptions of Ethics, Logic, Esthetics, Philosophy of Re-
ligion, Mental Pathology, Anthropology, Biology, Neurology, Physiology , Economics, Political
and Social Philosophy, Philology, and Education, and giving a terminology in English, French,
German and Italian.

Written by many hands and Edited by J, MARK BALDWIN, LL.D., Princeton Uni-
versity, with the co-operation and assistance of an International Board of Consulting Editors.

In three Volumes, $15, net; Vols. I. and II., $10, net.

The Bibliographies by DR. RAND, the third volume of the full set, will be sold separately at $5 net.

"The first adequate philosophic dictionary in any I "Entirely indispensable to every student of the sub-
language." Joseph Jastrow in 2Vie Z)iai. | ject." American Journal of Psychology.

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN HORTICULTURE

Edited by L. H. BAILEY, assisted by WILHELM MILLER and many expert Cultivators

and Botanists. 2,000 pages, with 2,800 illustrations and 50 full-page plates.

In four 8vo volumes. Bound in cloth, $20 net ; half morocco, $32 net.

"A landmark in the progress of American horticulture .... there is nothing with which it may be
compared." — American Oardening .

DICTIONARY OF ARCHITECTURE AND BUILDING

By RUSSELL STURQIS, Fellow of American Inst, of Architecture, Author of "European
Architecture,^' etc., and Many Architects, Painters, Engineers and other Expert Writers, Ameri-
can and Foreign. With Bibliographies of great value, 1 ,400 text illustrations, and over 100
full-page plates. Three volumes. Cloth, $18 net; half-morocco, $30 net.

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CONTENTS OF JULY NUMBER

Hertzian Wave Wireless Telegraphiy. Pkofessor J.
A. Flfming.

Why a Flame emits Light — the Development of the
Theory. Peofessok Robert Montgomkhy Bikd.

Evolution, Cytology and Mendel's Laws. O. F. Cook.

The Pearl Fisheries of Ceylon. Professoe W. A.
Hkrdman.

A Comparison of Land and Water Plants. Profes-
sor George James Peirce.

The Preservation of Wild Flowers. Frances Zirn-

GIEBEL.

An Unfilled Field in American Agricultural Edu-
cation. Ken YON L. Buttkrfield.

The Story of English Education. J. E. G. de Mont-
morency.

Discussion and Correspondence :

The Decreasing Size of American Families : C. E.
Smith.

Scientific Literature ;

Psychology.

Progress of Science :

Lord Kelvin on ' Creative Purpose '; Celebrations
in honor of Dalton and Liebg; The Americm
Museum of Natural History ; The American Phil-
osophical Society ; Scientific Items.

CONTENTS OF AUGUST NUMBER

Modern Views on Matter. Sir Oliver Lodoe.

The Training of a Physician. President David

Starr .Jordan.

American Titles and Distinctions. Professor W. Le
Conte Stevens.

The Bird Rookeries on the Island of Laysan. Pro-
EssoH C. C. Nutting.

Bacteria in Modern Agriculture. Dr. Albert
Schneider.

The Story of English Education. J. E. G. de Mont-
morency.

The Declining Birth Rate and its Cause. Dr. Fred-
erick A. BUSHEE.

Hertzian Wave Wireless Telegrai^hy. Professor J.

A. Fleming.
Discussion and Correspondence :

The Birth Rate in Fiction : C.
Scientific Literature :
Forestry
The Progress of Science ;

The Boston Meeting ot the National Educational
Association; Tlie Problem of the CoUt-ge ; The
British Antarctic Expedition : The So-called Mos-
quito Destroytr; Radium in England ; Tke Frank-
lin Papers in tne L:b.ary of the American Philo-
sophical Society ; The Educiuion of Engineers ;
Scientific Items.

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^ PSYCHOLOGICAL ^

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Vol. LXIII. No. 6 OCTOBER, 1903

THE

POPULAR SCIENCE
MONTHLY

EDITED BY J. MoKEEJ^ CATTELL

CONXKNTS

The Decorative Art of the North American Indians. Professor Franz
Boas 481

Highways and Bjways of Animal Life. Professor Herbert Osborn . 499

The Correlation between Mental and Moral Qualities. Dr. Frederick
Adams Woods 516

Cooperation, Coercion, Competition. Professor Lindley M. Keasbey 526

The Sherman Principle in Rhetoric and its Restrictions. Dr. Robert

E. MoRiTz 634

Educational Endowments in the South. Elizabeth M. Howe .... 543

Hertzian Wave Wireless Telegraphy. Professor J. A. Fleming . . . 551

Shorter Articles and Discussion:

An Unusual Aurora Borealis; Dr. A. F. A. King. Science and Philosophy; Physicist 563

The Progress of Science :

The British Association for the Advancement of Science ; Sir Norman Lockyer on the
Endowment of Education and Eesearoh; The School of Journalism of Columbia
University ; The Employment of Women ; Scientific Items 566

Index to Volume LXIII 573

THE SCIENCE PRESS

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Four Great Works of Reference

JUST READY, VOLUME IV., COMPLETING THE
ENCYCLOPEDIA BIBLICA

A CRITICAL DICTIONARY OF THE LITERARY, POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS HISTORY
OF THE ARCHEOLOGY, GEOGRAPHY, AND THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BIBLE

Edited by The Rev. T. K. CHEYNE, D.D., Oriel Professor of the Interpretation of Holy
Scripture at Oxford University; and J. SUTHERLAND BLACK, LL.D., formerly As-
sistant Editor of the "Encyclopaedia Britannica," Assisted by many Contributors in Great
Britain, Europe and America.

Four volumes. Cloth, $20 net; half-morocco, $30 net.

"Whether for learner or expert, there is no dictionary that oflFers such an immense array of informa-
tion."—Willis Hatfield Hazaed, in The Churchman.

DICTIONARY OF PHILOSOPHY AND PSYCHOLOGY

Including many of the Principal Conceptions of Ethics, Logic, -.Esthetics, Philosophy of Re-
ligion, Mental Pathology, Anthropology, Biology, Neurology, Physiology , Economics, Political
and Social Philosophy, Philology, and Education, and giving a terminology in English, ^French,
German and Italian.

Written by many hands and Edited by J. MARK BALDWIN, LL.D., Princeton Uni-
versity, with the co-operation and assistance of an International Board of Consulting Editors.
In three Volumes, $15, net ; Vols. I. and II., $10, net.
The Bibliographies by DR. RAND, the third volume of the full set, will be sold separately at $5 net.

"The first adequate philosophic dictionary in any I " Entirely indispensable to every student of the sub-
language." Joseph Jasteow in T/ie Diai. | ject." American Journal of Psychology.

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN HORTICULTURE

Edited by L. H. BAILEY, assisted by WILHELM MILLER and many expert Cultivators

and Botanists. 2,000 pages, with 2,800 illustrations and 50 full-page plates.

In four 8vo volumes. Bound in cloth, $20 net; half morocco, |32 net.

"A landmark in the progress of American horticulture , . . . there is nothing with which it may be
compared."— .American Oardening,

A DICTIONARY OF ARCHITECTURE AND BUILDING

By RUSSELL STURQIS, Fellow of American Inst, of Architecture, Author of "European
Architecture,'^ etc., and Many Architects, Painters, Engineers and other Expert Writers, Ameri-
can and Foreign. With Bibliographies of great value, 1 ,400 text illustrations, and over 100
full-page plates. Three volumes. Cloth, $18 net; half-morocco, $30 net.

"One of the most complete and important works in the language devoted to this department of art
and industry." — Architects and Builders Magazine.

Sold by Subscription Only. For Full Particulars
as to Special Casli or Instalment Offers Address

THE MACAIlIUUAIN COMPANV

66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK

The Popular Science Monthly

Entered in the Post OJftoe in Lancaster, Fa., at aeoond-«la»» meUlar,

CONTENTS OF AUGUST NUMBER

Modern Views on Matter. Sir Oliver Lodgk.

The Training of a Physician. President David
Starr Jordan.

Professor W. Le

American Titles and Distinctions.
UoNTE Stevens.

The Bird Rookeries on the Island of Laysan. Pro-
fessor C. C. Nutting.

Bacteria in Modern Agriculture. Dr. Albert

SC-HNEIDEK.

The Story of English Education. J. E. G. de Mont-
morency.

The Declining Birth Rate and its Cause. Dr. Fred-
erick A. Bushee.

Hertzian Wav^ Wireless Telegraphy. Professor J.
A Flemt; u.

Discussion and Correspondence :
The Birth Rate in Fiction : C.

Scientific Literature :
' Forestry

The Progress of Science :

The Boston Meeting ot the National Educational
Association; The Problem of the College ; The
British Antarctic Expedition ; The So-called Mos-
quito Destroyer ; Radium in England ; The Frank-
lin Papers in the Library of the American Philo-
sophical Society ; The Education of Engineers ;
Scientific Items.

CONTENTS OF SEPTEMBER NUMBER

Palm and Sole Impressions and their Use for Pur-
poses of Personal Identification: Professor,
Harris Hawthorne Wilder.

Some of the Extra-artistic Elements of Esthetic Emo-
tion. John Cotton Dana.

Karl Lamprecht und Kulturgeschichte. Professor
Wm. E. Dodd.

Pulse and Rhythm. Mary Hallock.

Theories of Sleep. Dr. Percy G. Stile.s.

Hertzian Wave Wireless Telegraphy. Dr. J. A. Flem-
ing.

Mosquitoes and Suggestions for their Extermination.
William Lyman Underwood.

Shorter Articles and Discussion :

The Ascending Obelisk of Montague Peliie ; Pro-
fessor Angelo Heilprin. Professor Shaler on
Animal Intelligence : Dr. Eug. L. Flsk.

Scientific Literature :

The Collected Papers of Rowland and FitzGerald.

The Progress of Science :

John Ericsson : The Massachusetts Institute of
Technology ; Summer Laboratories and Schools;
Scientific Items.

S^" The MONTHLY will be sent to new subscribers for six months for One Dollar

SUBSCRIPTION ORDER

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PuUishers of THE POPULAR SCIEJVCE MOJ^THLY,
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MONTHLY, beginning October, 1903.

Kame

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For Ordinary and Microscopic Purposes

Chemicals

AND CHEMICAL APPABATUS

Estimates for Import

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cently invented by Sir William Crookesfor showing the
marvelous radio-active properties of radium; also the
spinthariscope slides arranged for viewing these phe-
nomena with any microscope. Each instrument is
complete with particle of radium and flourescent
screen for viewing the scintillations.

The Spinthariscope, poxtpaid, • • $9,00
" Tlie Spinthariscope Slide, postpaid, 7.60
Duty free prices to schools and colleges. Send for circu-
lar ; also catalogues of microscopes, stereopticons and slidei.
Agents for E. Leitz and R. & J. Beck Microscopes.
>VlIIiams,Browii&EarIe,Dept. N. 918Che8tnnt St.,Phll»delphl».

J^ PSYCHOLOGICAL ^

^ APPARATUS ^

A list of psychological apparatus supplied
to the lahoratories of Columbia, Harvard
and other leading universities will be sent
on application.

Special apparatus and instruments for psy-
chological and physiological research will be
made to order. Designs will be submitted
for original apparatus.

E. HORSTMANN,

546 West 1 25th St., NEW YORK CITY

Stop drinking Coffee ! !!

Have Breakfast
with Me-

YOUR GROCER
HAS IT. -

IF YOU WANT
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