Vmimm S5J? THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY Copyright, 1905 The Science Press THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY EDITED BY J. MCKEEN CATTELL VOL. LXVII MAY TO Oa^QBER, 1905 NEW YORK THE SCIENCE PRESS J905 Press of »HE New Eba pdiniiiig Compa»». Lascasteh, Pa, THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. MAY. 1905. PRESENT PROBLEMS IN RADIOACTIVITY.* By Professor K. RUTHERFORD, MCGILL UNIVERSITY. SINCE the initial discovery by Becquerel of the spontaneous emis- sion of new types of radiation from uranium, our knowledge of the phenomena exhibited by uranium and the other radioactive bodies has grown with great and ever increasing rapidity, and a very large mass of experimental facts has now been accumulated. It would be impossible within the limits of this article to review even briefly the more important experimental facts connected with the subject and, in addition, such a review is rendered unnecessary by the recent publication of several treatises f in which the main facts of radio- activity have been dealt with in a fairly complete manner. In the present article an attempt will be made to discuss the more important problems that have arisen during the development of the subject and to indicate what, in the opinion of the writer, are the subjects which will call for further investigation in the immediate future. Nature of the Radiations. The characteristic radiations from the radioactive bodies are very complex, and a large amount of investigation has been necessary to * Address given to the International Congress of Arts and Science, St. Louis, 1904. t Mme. Curie, ' These presentee a la Faculte des Sciences,' Paris, 1903. H. Becquerel, ' Recherches sur une propriete nouvelle de la mati&re,' Typographic de Firmin Didot et Cie,' Paris, 1903. E. Rutherford, 'Radioactivity,' Cam- bridge University Press, 1904. F. Soddy, ' Radioactivity,' Electrician Co., London, 1904. 31664 6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. isolate the different kinds of rays and to determine their specific char- acters. The ra)rs from the three most studied radio-elements, uranium, thorium and radium, can be separated into three distinct types, known as the a, (3, and y rays. The nature of the a and ft rays has been deduced from observations of the deflection of the path of the rays by a magnetic and electric field. According to the electromagnetic theory, a radiation which is deflectable by a magnetic or electric field must consist of a flight of charged particles. If the amount of deflection of the rays from their path is measured when both a magnetic and an electric field of known strength are applied, the value of the velocity of the particles and the ratio e/m, of the charge e carried by the particle to its apparent mass m, can be determined. From the direction of the deviation, the sign of the electric charge carried by the particle can be deduced. Examined in this way, the /? rays have been shown to consist of negatively changed particles projected with a velocity approaching that of light. The experiments of Becquerel and Kaufmann have shown that the (3 rays are identical with the cathode rays produced in a vacuum tube. This relationship has been established by showing that the value of e/m is the same for the two kinds of rays. In both cases the value of e/m has been found to be about 107 electromagnetic units, while the corresponding value of e/m for hydrogen atoms set free in the electrolysis of water is 104. If the charge on the /? particle — or electron, as it has been termed — is the same as that carried by the hydrogen atom, this result shows that the apparent mass of the electron at slow speeds is about 1/1000 of that of the hydrogen atom. The /? particles from the radio-elements are expelled with a much greater speed than the cathode ray particles in a vacuum tube. The velocities of the /? particles from radium are not all the same, but vary between 1010 and 3 X 1010 cms. per second. The swifter particles move with a velocity of at least 95 per cent, of that of light. The emission by radium of electrons with high but different velocities has been utilized by Kaufmann to determine the variation of e/m with speed. He found that the value of e/m de- creased with increase of velocity, showing that the apparent mass increased with the speed. By comparison of the experimental results with the mathematical theory of a moving charge, he deduced that the mass of the electrons was in all probability electromagnetic in origin, i. e., the apparent mass could be explained purely in terms of electricity in motion without the necessity of a material nucleus on which the charge was distributed. J. J. Thomson, Heaviside and others have shown that a moving charged sphere increases in apparent mass with the speed and that, for speeds small compared with the velocity of light, the increase of mass m = 2e2/3a where e is the PRESENT PROBLEMS IN RADIOACTIVITY. 7 charge carried by the body and a the radius of the conducting sphere over which the electricity is distributed. Kaufmann deduced that the value of e/m = 1.86 X107 for electrons of slow velocity. If the mass of the electrons is electrical in origin, it is seen that a = 10_ 13 cms., since the value of e = 3.4X1010 electrostatic units. The re- sults of various methods of determination agree in fixing the di- ameter of an atom as about 10— 8 cms. The apparent diameter of an electron is thus minute compared with that of the atom itself. The highest velocity of the radium electrons measured by Kaufmann was, as we have seen, 95 per cent, of the velocity of light. The power that electrons have of penetrating solid matter increases rapidly with the velocity, and some of those expelled from radium are able to penetrate through more than 3 mms. of lead. It is probable that a few of the electrons from radium move with a velocity still greater than the highest value observed by Kaufmann, and it is important to determine the value of e/m and the velocity of such electrons. According to the mathe- matical theory, the mass of the electron increases rapidly as the speed of light is approached and should be infinitely great when the velocity of light is reached. This leads to the conclusion that no charged body can be made to move with a velocity greater than that of light. This result is of great importance and requires further experimental verification. A close study of the high speed electrons from radium may throw further light on this question. Only a brief statement of our knowledge of electrons has been given in this paper. A more complete and detailed account of both theory and experiment will be given by my colleague, Dr. Langevin, in his address on ' Physics of the Electron.' The a Rays. The (3 rays are readily deflected by a magnetic field, but a very intense magnetic field is required to deflect appreciably the a rays. The writer showed by the electric method that the rays of radium were deflected both by a magnetic and electric field, and deduced the velocity of projection of the particles and the ratio, e/m, of the charge to the mass. The direction of deflection of the a rays is opposite in sense to that of the /? rays. Since the /? rays carry a negative charge, the a particles thus behave as if they carried a positive charge. The magnetic deflection of these rays was confirmed by Becquerel and Des Coudres, using the photographic method, while the latter, in addition, showed their deflection in an electric field and deduced the value of the velocity and e/m. The values obtained by Eutherforcl and Des Coudres were in very good agreement, considering the difficulty of obtaining a measurable deviation. 8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Observer. Value of Velocity. Value of e/m. Rutherford 2.5 X 10" cms. per sec. 6 X 103 electromagnetic units. Des Coudres 1.6 X 10° cms. per sec. 6 X 103 electromagnetic units. Now the value e/m for the hydrogen atom is 10*. On the as- sumption that the a particle carries the same charge as the hydrogen atom, this result shows that the apparent mass of the a particle is about twice that of the hydrogen atom. If the a particle consists of any known kind of matter, this result indicates that it is the atom either of hydrogen or of helium. The a particles thus consist of heavy bodies projected with great velocit}', whose mass is of the same order of magnitude as the helium atom and at least 2,000 times as great as the apparent mass of the /? particle or electron. If the a particles carry a positive charge, it is to be expected that the particles, falling on a body of sufficient thickness to absorb them^ will, under suitable conditions, give it a positive charge, while the substance from which they are projected acquires a negative charge. The corresponding effect has been observed for the (3 rays. The (3 particles from radium communicate a negative charge to the body on which they fall, while the radium from which they are emitted acquires a positive charge. This effect has been very stri- kingly shown by a simple experiment of Strutt. The radium com- pound, sealed in a small glass tube, the outer surface of which is made conducting, is insulated by a quartz rod. A simple gold leaf electroscope is attached to the bottom of the glass tube, in order to indicate the presence of a charge. The whole apparatus is enclosed in a glass vessel, which is exhausted to a high vacuum, in order to reduce the loss of charge in consequence of the ionization of the gas by the rays. Using a few milligrams of radium bromide, the gold leaf diverges to its full extent in a few minutes and shows a positive charge. The explanation is simple. A large proportion of the nega- tively charged particles are projected through the glass tube contain- ing the radium and a positive charge is left behind. By allowing the gold leaf, when extended, to touch a conductor connected to earth, the gradual divergence of the leaves and their collapse becomes auto- matic and will continue, if not indefinitely, at any rate for as long a time as the radium lasts. When the radium is exposed under similar conditions, but un- screened in order to allow the a particles to escape, no such charging action is observed. This is not due to the equality between the number of positively and negatively charged particles expelled from the radium, for no effect is observed when the radium is temporarily freed from its power of emitting ft rays by driving off the emanation by heat. The writer recently attempted to detect the charge carried by the a rays from radium by allowing them to fall on an insulated PRESENT PROBLEMS IN RADIOACTIVITY. 9 plate in a vacuum, but no appreciable charging was observed. The /? rays were temporarily got rid of by heating the radium in order to drive off its emanation. There was found to be a strong ioniza- tion set up at the surface from which the rays emerged and the surface on which they impinged. The presence of this ionization causes the upper plate to rapidly lose a charge communicated to it. Although this action would mask to some extent the effect to be looked for, a measurable difference should have been obtained under the experimental conditions, if the a rays were expelled with a positive charge; but not the slightest evidence of a charge was observed. I understand that similar negative results have been obtained by other observers. This apparent absence of charge carried by the a rays is very re- markable and difficult to account for. There is no doubt that the a particles behave as if they carried a positive charge, for several ob- servers have shown that the a rays are deflected by a magnetic field. It is interesting to notice, in this connection, that Villard was unable to detect that the ' canal rays ' carried a charge. These rays, discovered by Goldstein, are analogous in many respects to the a rays. They are slightly deflected by a magnetic and electric field and behave like positively charged bodies atomic in size. The value of e/m is not a constant, but depends upon the nature of the gas in the tube through which the discharge is passed. The apparent absence of charge on the a particles may possibly be explained on the supposition that a negatively charged particle (an electron) is always projected at the same time as the positively charged particle. Such electrons, if they are present, should be readily bent back to the surface from which they came by the action of a strong magnetic field. It will be of in- terest to examine whether the charge carried by the a rays can be detected under such conditions.* Another hypothesis, which has some points in its favor, is that the a particles are uncharged at the moment of their expulsion, but, in consequence of their collision with the molecules of matter, lose a negative electron and consequently acquire a positive charge. This point is at present under examination. The question is in a very unsatisfactory state and requires further in- vestigation. It is remarkable that positive electricity is always associated with matter atomic in size, for no evidence has been obtained of the exist- ence of a positive electron corresponding to the negative electron. This difference between positive and negative electricity is apparently fundamental, and no explanation of it has as yet been forthcoming. * Recent experiments have confirmed this point of view. By the use of a strong magnetic field, to remove the slow moving electrons, the charge carried by the a rays has been detected both by J. J. Thomson and the writer. to POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. The evidence that the a particles are atomic in size mainly rests on the deflection of the path of the rays in a strong magnetic and slectric field. It has, however, been suggested by H. A. Wilson that the a particle may in reality be a ' positive ' electron, whose magni- tude is minute compared with that of the negative. The electric mass of an electron for slow speeds is equal to 2e2/3a. Since there is every reason to believe that the charge carried by the a particle and the electron are the same, in order that the mass of the positive elec- tron should be about 2,000 times that of the negative, it would be necessary to suppose that the radius of the sphere over which the charge is distributed is only 1/2000 of that of the electron, i. e., about 10— 10 cms. The magnetic and electric deflection would be equally well explained on this view. This hypothesis, while interest- ing, is too far reaching in its consequences to be accepted before some definite experimental evidence is forthcoming to support it. The evi- dence at present obtained strongly supports the view that the a particles are in reality projected matter atomic in size. The probability that the a particle is an atom of helium is discussed later. Becquerel showed that the a rays of polonium were deflected by a magnetic field to about the same extent as the a rays of radium. On account of the feeble activity of thorium and uranium, compared with radium and polonium, it has not been found possible to examine whether the rays emitted by them are deflectable. There is little doubt, however, that the particles of all the radio-elements are projected matter of the same kind (probably helium atoms). The a rays from the different radioactive products differ in their power of penetrating matter in the proportion of about three to one, being greatest for the a rays from the imparted or ' induced ' activity of radium and thorium, and least for uranium. This difference is prob- ably mainly due to a variation of the velocity of projection of the a particles in the various cases. The interpretation of results is rendered difficult by our ignorance of the mechanism of absorption of the a rays by matter. Further experiment* on this point is very much required. It is of importance to settle whether the a particles of radium and polonium have the same ratio e/m. Becquerel states that the amount of curvature of the a rays from polonium in a field of con- stant strength was the same as for the a rays from radium. This would show that the product of the mass and velocity is the same for the a particles from the two substances. The a rays of polonium, how- ever, certainly have less penetrating power than those of radium, and * Bragg and Klceman (Phil. Mag., Dec, 1904) have recently attacked this question and have offered a very satisfactory explanation of the mechanism of the absorption of the a rays by matter. PRESENT PROBLEMS IN RADIOACTIVITY. n presumably a smaller velocity of projection. This result would indicate that e/m is different for the a particles of polonium and radium. It is of importance to determine accurately the ratio of e/m and the velocity for the rays penetrating two substances in order to settle this vital point. The y Rays. In addition to the a and ft rays, uranium, thorium and radium all emit very penetrating rays, known as y rays. These rays are about 100 times as penetrating as the ft rays and their presence can be de- tected after passing through several centimeters of lead. Villard, who originally discovered these rays in radium, stated that they were not deflected in a magnetic field, and this result has been confirmed by other observers. Quite recently, Paschen has described some experiments which led him to believe that the y rays are corpuscular in character, consisting of negatively charged particles (electrons) projected with a velocity very nearly equal to that of light. This conclusion is based on the following evidence: Some pure radium bromide was completely enclosed in a lead envelope 1 cm. thick — a thickness sufficient to completely absorb the ordinary ft rays emitted by radium, but which allows about half of the y rays to escape. The lead envelope was insulated in an exhausted vessel and was found to gain a positive charge. In another experiment, the rays escaping from the lead envelope fell on an insulated metal ring, surrounding it. When the air was exhausted, this outer ring was found to gain a negative charge. These experiments, at first sight, indicate that the y rays carry with them a negative charge like the ft rays. In order to account for the absence of deflection of the path of the y rays in very strong magnetic or electric fields, it is necessary to suppose that the particles have a very large apparent mass. Paschen supposes that the y rays are negative electrons like the ft rays, but are projected with a velocity so nearly equal to that of light, that their apparent mass is very great. Some experiments recently made by Mr. Eve, of McGill University, are of great interest in this connection. He found by the electric method that the y rays set up secondary rays, in all directions, at the surface from which they emerge and also on the surface on which they impinge. These rays are of much less penetrating power than the primary rays and are readily deflected by a magnetic field. The direction of deflection indicated that these secondary rays coi sisLed, for the most part, of negatively charged particles (electrons) pro- jected with sufficient velocity to penetrate through about 1 mm. of lead. In the light of these results, the experiments of Paschen re- ceive a simple explanation without the necessity of assuming that the i2 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. y rays of radium themselves carry a negative charge. The lead envelope in his experiment acquired a positive charge in consequence of the emission of a secondary radiation consisting of negatively charged particles, projected with great velocity from the surface of the lead. The electric charge acquired by the metal ring was due to the absorption of these secondary rays by it, and the diminution of this charge in a magnetic field was due to the ease with which these secondary rays are deflected. It is thus to be expected that the en- velope surrounding the radium, whether made of lead or other metal, will always acquire a positive charge, provided the metal is not of sufficient thickness to absorb all the y rays in their passage through it. No conclusive evidence has yet been brought forward to show that the y rays can be deflected either in a magnetic or an electric field. In this, as in other respects, the rays are very analogous to the Eontgen rays. According to the theory of Stokes, J. J. Thomson and Weichert, Eontgen rays are transverse pulses set up in the ether by the sudden arrest of the motion of the cathode particles on striking an obstacle. The more sudden the stoppage the shorter is the pulse, and the rays, in consequence, have greater power of penetrating matter. In some recent experiments Barkla found that the secondary rays set up by the Eontgen rays, on striking an obstacle, vary in intensity with the orientation of the vacuum tube, showing that the Eontgen rays exhibit the property of one-sidedness or polarization. This is the only evi- dence so far obtained in direct support of the wave nature of the Eontgen rays. If Eontgen rays are not set up when the cathode particles are stopped, conversely, it is to be expected that Eontgen rays will be set up when they are suddenly expelled. Now this effect is not observable in an X-ray tube, since the cathode particles acquire most of their velocity, not at the cathode itself, but in passing through the electric field between the cathode and anticathode. It isy however, to be expected theoretically that a type of Eontgen rays should be set up at the sudden expulsion of the /? particles from the radio atoms. The rays, too, should be of a very penetrating kind, since not only are the charged particles projected with a speed approaching that of light, but the change of motion must occur in a distance comparable with the diameter of an atom. On this view the y rays are a very penetrating type of Eontgen rays, having their origin at the moment of the expulsion of the /? particle from the atom. Tf the /? particle is the parent of the y rays the intensity of the /? and y rays should, under all conditions, be pro- portional to one another. I have found this to be the case, for the 7 rays always accompany the /3 rays and, in whatever way the /? ray PRESENT PROBLEMS IN RADIOACTIVITY. 13 activity varies, the activity measured by the y rays always varies in the same proportion. Active matter which does not emit /? rays does not give rise to y rays. For example, the radio tellurium of Marck- wald, which does not emit /? rays, does not give off y rays. Certain differences are observed, however, in the ionizing action of y and X rays. For example, gases and vapors like chlorine, sulphuret- ted hydrogen, methyl-iodide and chloroform, when exposed to ordinary X rays, show a much greater ionization, compared with air, than is to be expected according to the density law. On the other hand, the relative ionization of these substances by y rays follows the density law very closely. It seemed likely that this apparent difference be- tween the two types of rays was due mainly to the greater penetrating power of the y rays. This was confirmed by some recent experiments of Eve, who found that the relative conductivity of gases exposed to very penetrating Eontgen rays from a hard tube approximated in most cases closely to that observed for the y rays. The vapor of methyl-iodide was an exception, but the difference in this case would probably disappear if X rays could be generated of the same penetrating power as that of the y rays. Thus the results so far obtained generally support the view that the y rays are a type of penetrating X rays. This view is in agreement too with theory, for it is to be expected that very penetrating y rays will always appear with the /? rays. No evidence of the emission of a type of Eontgen rays is observed from active bodies which emit only a rays. If the a particles are initially projected with a positive charge, such rays are to be expected. Their absence supplies another piece of evidence in support of the view that the a particle is projected without a charge but acquires a posi- tive charge in its passage through matter.* Emission of Energy by the Radioactive Bodies. It was early recognized that a very active substance like radium emitted energy at a rapid rate, but the amount of this energy was strikingly shown by the direct measurements of its heating effect made by Curie and Laborde. They found that one gram of radium in radioactive equilibrium emitted about 100 gram calories of heat per hour. A gram of radium would thus emit 876,000 gram calories per year, or over 200 times as much heat as is liberated by the explosion of hydrogen and oxygen to form one gram of water. They showed that the rate of heat emission was the same in solution as in the solid state, and remained constant when once the radium had reached a stage of radioactive equilibrium. Curie and Dewar showed that the * Recent experiments indicate, however, that the a particles are charged at the moment of this expulsion. 1 4 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. rate of evolution of heat from radium was unaltered by plunging the radium into liquid air or liquid hydrogen. It seemed probable that the evolution of heat by radium was directly connected with its radioactivity and the experiments of Eutherford and Barnes proved this to be the case. The heating effect of a quantity of radium bromide was first determined. The emana- tion was then completely driven off by heating the radium, and con- densed in a small glass tube by means of liquid air. After removal of the emanation, the heat evolution of the radium in the course of about three hours fell to a minimum corresponding to one quarter of its original value, and then slowly increased again, reaching its original value after an interval of about one month. The heat emission from the emanation tube at first increased with the time, rising to a maxi- mum value about three hours after its introduction. It then slowly decreased according to an exponential law with the time, falling to half value in about four days. The curve expressing the recovery from its minimum of the heating effect of radium is complementary to the curve expressing the diminu- tion of the heating effect of the emanation tube with time. The curves of decay and recovery agree within the limit of experimental error with the corresponding curves of decay and recovery of the activity of radium when measured by the a rays. Since the minimum activity of radium, measured by the a rays, after the emanation has been removed is only one quarter of the maximum activity, these results indicate that the heating effect of radium is proportional to its activity measured by the a rays. It is not proportional to the activity measured by the /? or y rays, since the (3 or y ray activity of radium almost completely disappears some hours after removal of the emanation. These results have been confirmed by further observations of the distribution of the heat emission between the emanation and the suc- cessive products which arise from it. If the emanation is left for several hours in a closed tube, its activity measured by the electric method increases to about twice its initial value. This is due to the 'excited activity' or in other words to the radiations from the active matter deposited on the walls of the tube by the emanation. The activity of this deposit has been very carefully analyzed, and the re- sults show that the matter deposited by the emanation breaks up in three successive and well marked stages. For convenience, these successive products of the emanation will be termed radium A, radium B and radium C. The time T taken for each of these products to be half transformed and the radiations from each product are shown in the following table: PRESENT PROBLEMS IN RADIOACTIVITY. 15 Product. T Radiations. Radium, a rays. Emanation, 4 days, a rays. Radium A, 3 mins., a rays. Radium B, 21 mins., no rays. Radium C, 28 mins., a, /3 and 7 rays. When the emanation has been left in a closed vessel for several hours, the emanation and its successive products reach a stage of approximate radioactive equilibrium, and the heating effect is then a maximum. If the emanation is suddenly removed from the tube by a current of air, the heating effect is then due to radium A, B and C together. On account, however, of the rapidity of the change of radium A (half value in three minutes) it is experimentally very difficult to distinguish between the heating effect of the emanation and that of radium A. The curve of variation with time of the heating effect of the tube after removal of the emanation is very nearly the same as the corresponding curve for the activity measured by the a rays. These results show that each of the products of radium supplies an amount of heat roughly proportional to its a ray activity. Each product loses its heating effect at the same rate as it loses its activity, showing that the mission of heat is directly connected with the radio- active changes. The results indicated that the product, radium B, which does not emit rays, does not supply an amount of heat com- parable with the other products. This point is important and requires more direct verification. Since the heat emission is in all cases nearly proportional to the number of a particles expelled, the question arises whether the bom- bardment of these particles is sufficient to account for the heating effects observed. The kinetic energy of the a particle can be at once determined, since e/m and v are known. The following table shows the kinetic energy of the a particle de- duced from the measurements of Eutherford and Des Coudres. The third column shows the number of a particles expelled from 1 gram of radium per second on the assumption that the heating effect of radium (100 gram calories per gram per hour) is entirely due to the energy given out by the expelled a particles. Number of Particles Observer. Kinetic. expelled per Second from 1 Gram of Radium. Rutherford 5.9 X 10-« ergs 2 X 10u Des Coudres 2.5 X 10~6 ergs 5 X 1011 This hypothesis that the heating effect of radium is due to bom- bardment of the a particle can be indirectly put to the test in the following way. It seems probable that each atom of radium in break- ing up emits one a particle. On the disintegration theory, the residue 16 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. of the atom, after the a particle is expelled, is the atom of the emana- tion, so that each atom of radium gives rise to one atom of the emana- tion. Let q be the number of atems in each gram of radium breaking up per second. When a state of radioactive equilibrium is reached the number N of emanation particles present is given by N = q/X where A is the constant of change of the emanation. Now Kamsay and Soddy deduced from experiment that the volume of the emana- tion released from 1 gram of radium was about one cubic millimeter at atmospheric pressure and temperature. It has been experimentally deduced that there are 3.6 X 1019 molecules in one cubic centimeter of gas at ordinary pressure and temperature. The emanation obeys Boyle's law and behaves, in all respects, like a heavy gas, and we may in consequence deduce, since N = 3.6 X 1016 and A = 2.0 X 10-6, the value q = 7.2 X 1010- Now the particles expelled from radium in a state of radioactive equilibrium are about equally divided between four substances, viz., the radium itself, the emanation, radium A and radium C. We may thus conclude that the number of a particles expelled per second from 1 gram of radium in radioactive equilibrium is 2.9 X 1011. The value deduced by this method is intermediate between the values previously obtained (see previous table), on the assumption that the heating effect is entirely due to the a particles. I think we may conclude from the agreement of these two methods of calculation that the greater portion of the heating effect of radium is a direct result of the bombardment of the expelled a particles, and that, in all probability, about 5 X 1010 atoms of radium break up per second.* The energy carried off in the form of /? and y rays is small com- pared with that emitted in the form of a rays. By calculation it can be shown that the average kinetic energy of the /? particle is small in comparison with that of the a particle. This is confirmed by com- parative measurements of the total ionization produced by the a and (3 rays, when the energy of the rays is all used up in ionizing the gas, for the total ionization produced by the (3 rays is small compared with that due to the y rays. The total ionization produced by the y rays is about the same as that produced by the /3 rays, showing that, in all probability, the energy emitted in the form of these two types of radiation is about the same. From the point of view of the energy radiated and of the changes which occur in the radioactive bodies, the a rays thus play a far more important role in radioactivity than the f3 or y rays. Most of the products which arise from radium and thorium emit only a rays, while the f3 and y rays appear only in the last of the series of rapid changes which take place in these bodies. * By measuring the charge carried by the a rays, the writer {Nature, March 2, 1905) has recently deduced that 6.4 X 1010 atoms of radium break up per second. PRESENT PROBLEMS IN RADIOACTIVITY. 17 Since most of the heating effect of radium is due to the a rays, it is to be expected that all radioactive substances which emit them will also emit heat at a rate proportional to their a ray activity. On this view, both uranium and thorium should emit heat at about one millionth the rate of radium. It is of importance to determine directly the heating effect for these substances and also for actinium and radio-tellurium. According to the disintegration theory, the a particle is expelled as a result of the disintegration of the atom of radioactive matter. While it is to be expected that a greater portion of the energy emitted will be carried off in the form of kinetic energy by the expelled particles, it is also to be expected that some energy will be radiated in con- sequence of the rearrangement of the components of the system after the violent ejection of one of its parts. No direct measurements have yet been made of the heating effect of the a particles independently of the substance in which they are produced. Experiments of this character would be difficult, but they would throw light on the im- portant question of the division of the radiated energy between the expelled a ray particle and the system from which it arises. The enormous emission of energy by the radioactive substances is very well illustrated by the case of the radium emanation. The emanation released from 1 gram of radium in radioactive equilibrium emits during its changes an amount of energy corresponding to about 10,000 gram calories. Now Eamsay and Soddy have shown that the volume of this emanation is about 1 nubic millimeter at standard pressure and temperature. One cubic millimeter of the emanation and its product thus emits about 107 gram calories. Since 1 c.c. of hydrogen, in uniting with the proportion of oxygen required to form water, emits 3.1 gram calories, it is seen that the emanation emits about three million times as much energy as an equal volume of hydrogen. It can readily be calculated on the assumption that the atom of the emanation has a mass 100 times that of hydrogen, that I pound of the emanation some time after removal could emit energy at the rate of about 8,000 horse-power. This would fall off in a geometrical progression with the time, but, on an average, the amount of energy emitted during its life corresponds to 50,000 horse-power days. Since the radium is being continuously transformed into emanation, and three-quarters of the total heat emission is due to the emanation and its products, a simple calculation shows that 1 gram of radium must emit during its life about 109 gram calories. As we have seen, the heat emission of radium is about equally divided between the radium itself and the three other a ray products which come from it. The heat emitted from each of the other radioactive substances, while their VOL. LXVII. — 2 1 8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. activity lasts, should be of the same order of magnitude, but in the case of uranium and thorium the present rate of heat emission will probably continue, on an average, for a period of about 1000 million years. Source of the Energy emitted by the Radioactive Bodies. There has been considerable difference of opinion in regard to the fundamental question of the origin of the energy spontaneously emitted from the radioactive bodies. Some have considered that the atoms of the radio-elements act as transformers of borrowed en- ergy. The atoms are supposed, in some way, to abstract energy from the surrounding medium and to emit it again in the form of the characteristic radiations. Another theory which has found favor with a number of physicists supposes that the energy is derived from the radio-atoms themselves and is released in consequence of their dis- integration. The latter theory involves the conception that the atoms of the radio-elements contain a great store of latent energy, which only manifests itself when the atom breaks up. There is no direct evidence in support of the view that the energy of the radio-elements is de- rived from external sources, while there is much indirect evidence against it. Some of this evidence will now be considered. There is now no doubt that the a and /? rays consist of particles projected with great speed. In order that the a particle may acquire the velocity with which it is expelled, it can be calculated that it would be necessary for it to move freely between two points differing in potential by about five million volts. It is very difficult to imagine any mechanism, which could suddenly impress such an enormous velocity on one of the parts of an atom. It seems much more reasonable to suppose that the a and /? particles were originally in rapid motion in the atom and, for some reason, escaped from the atomic system with the velocity they possessed at the instant of their release. There is now undeniable evidence that radioactivity is always accompanied by the production of new kinds of active matter. Some sort of chemical theory is thus required to explain the facts whether the view is taken that the energy is derived from the atom itself or from external sources. The ' ex- ternal ' theory of the origin of the energy was initially advanced to explain only the heat emission of radium. We have seen that this is undoubtedly connected with the expulsion of a particles from the different disintegration products of radium, and that the radium itself only supplies one quarter of the total heat emission, the rest being derived from the emanation and its further products. On such a theory it is necessary to suppose that in radium there are a number of different active substances, whose power of absorbing external energy dies away with the time, at different but definite rates. This still leaves the fundamental difficulty of the origin of these radioactive PRESENT PROBLEMS IN RADIOACTIVITY. 19 products unexplained. Unless there is some unknown source of energy in the medium which the radioactive bodies are capable of absorbing, it is difficult to imagine whence the energy demanded by the external theory can be derived. It certainly can not be from the air itself, for radium gives out heat inside an ice calorimeter. It can not be any type of rays such as the radioactive bodies emit, for the radioactivity of radium, and consequently its heating effect is unaltered by her- metically sealing it in a vessel of lead several inches thick. The evidence, as a whole, is strongly against the theory that the energy is borrowed from external sources and, unless a number of improbable assumptions are made, such a theory is quite inadequate to explain the experimental facts. On the other hand, the disintegration theory, ad- vanced by Rutherford and Soddy, not only offers a satisfactory ex- planation of the origin of the energy emitted by the radio-elements, but also accounts for the succession of radioactive bodies. On this theory, a definite, small proportion of the atoms of radioactive matter every second become unstable and break up with explosive violence. In most cases, the explosion is accompanied by the expulsion of an a particle ; in a few cases by only a ft particle, and in others by a and ft particles together. On this view, there is at any time present in a radioactive body a proportion of the original matter which is un- changed and the products of the part which has undergone change. In the case of a slowly changing substance like radium, this point of view is in agreement with the observed fact that the spectrum of ra- dium remains unchanged with its age. The expulsion of an a or ft particle, or both, from the atom leaves behind an atom which is lighter than before and which has different chemical and physical properties. This atom in turn becomes un- stable and breaks up, and the process, once started, proceeds from stage to stage with a definite and measurable velocity in each case. The energy radiated is, on this view, derived at the expense of the internal energy of the radio-atoms themselves. It does not contra- dict the principle of the conservation of energy, for the internal energy of the products of the changes, when the process of change has come to an end, is supposed to be diminished by the amount of energy emitted during the changes. This theory supposes that there is a great store of internal energy in the radio-atoms themselves. This is not in dis- agreement with the modern views of the electronic constitution of matter, which have been so ably developed by J. J. Thomson, Larmor and Lorentz. A simple calculation shows that the mere concentra- tion of the electric charges, which on the electronic theory are sup- posed to be contained in an atom, implies a store of energy in the atom so enormous that, in comparison, the large evolution of energy .from the radio-element is quite insignificant. 2o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Since the energy emitted from the radio-elements is for the most part kinetic in form, it is necessary to suppose that the a and /? particles were originally in rapid motion in the atoms from which they are projected. The disintegration theory supposes that it is the atoms and not the molecules which break up. Such a view is neces- sary to explain the independence of the rate of disintegration of radio- active matter, of wide variations of temperature, and of the action of chemical and physical agents at our command. This must be conceded if the term atom is used in the ordinary chemical sense. It is, however, probable that the atoms of the radio-elements are in reality complex aggregates of known or unknown kinds of matter, which break up spontaneously. This aggregate behaves like an atom and can not be resolved into simpler forms by external chemical or physical agencies. It breaks up, however, spontaneously with an evolu- tion of energy enormous compared with that released in ordinary chemical changes. This question will be considered later. The disintegration theory assumes that a small fraction of the atoms break up in unit time, but no definite explanation is, as yet, forthcoming of the causes which lead to this explosive disruption of the atom. The experimental results are equally in agreement with the view that each atom contains within itself the potentiality of its final disruption, or with the view that the disintegration is precipitated by the action of some external cause, that may lead to the disintegration of the atom, in the same way that a detonator is necessary to start certain explosions. The energy set free is, however, not derived from the detonator, but from the substance on which it acts. There is another general view which may possibly lead to an explanation of atomic disruption. If the atom is supposed to consist of electrons or charged bodies in rapid motion, it tends to radiate energy in the form of electromagnetic waves. If an atom is to be permanently stable, the parts of the atom must be so arranged that there is no loss of energy by electromagnetic radiation. J. J. Thomson has in- vestigated certain possible arrangements of electrons in an atom which radiate energy extremely slowly, but which ultimately must break up in consequence of the loss of internal energy. According to present views, it is not such a matter of surprise that atoms do break up as that atoms are so stable as they appear to be. This question of the causes of disintegration is fundamental and no adequate explana- tion has yet been put forward. Radioactive Products. Rutherford and Soddy showed that the radioactivity was always accompanied by the appearance of new types of active matter which possessed physical and chemical properties distinct from the parent PRESENT PROBLEMS IN RADIOACTIVITY. 21 radio-element. The radioactivity of these products is not permanent, but decays according to an exponential law with the time. The activity I at any time t is given by 1 1 = I0e ~M, where I0 is the initial activity and A a constant. Each radioactive product has a definite change constant which distinguishes it from all other products. These products do not arise simultaneously, but in consequence of a suc- cession of changes in the radio-elements; for example, thorium in breaking up gives rise to Th X, which behaves as a solid substance soluble in ammonia. This in turn breaks up and gives rise to a gaseous product, the thorium emanation. The emanation is again unstable and gives rise to another type of matter which behaves as a solid and is deposited on the surface of the vessel containing the emanation. It was found that the results would be quantitatively ex- plained on the assumption that the activity of any product at any time is the measure of the rate of production of the next product. This is to be expected since the activity of any substance is propor- tional to the number of atoms which break up per second, and, since each atom in breaking up gives rise to one atom of the next product together with a or ft particles, or both, the activity of the parent is a measure of the rate of production of the succeeding product. Of these radioactive products, the radium emanation has been very closely studied on account of its existence in the gaseous state. It has been shown to be produced by radium at a constant rate. The amount of emanation stored up in a given mass of radium reaches a maximum value when the rate of supply of fresh emanation balances the rate of change of the emanation present. If q be the number of atoms of emanation produced per second by the radium, and N the maximum number present when radioactive equilibrium is reached, then N=q/X, where A. is the constant of change of the emanation. This relation has been verified experimentally. The emanation is found to diffuse through air like gas of heavy molec- ular weight. It is unattacked by chemical reagents and in that re- spect resembles the inert gases of the argon family. It condenses at a definite temperature — 150° C. Its constant of change is un- affected between the limits of temperature of 450° C and — 180° C. Since the emanation changes into a non-volatile type of matter which is deposited on the surface of vessels, it was to be expected that the volume of the emanation would decrease according to the same law as it lost its activity. These deductions based on the theory have been confirmed in a striking manner by the experiments of Eamsay and Soddy. The radium emanation was chemically isolated and found to be a gas which obeys Boyle's law. The volume of the emanation ob- served was of the same order as had been predicted before its separa- tion. The volume was found to decrease with the time according to 22 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. the same law as the emanation lost its activity. Eamsay and Collie found that the emanation had a new and definite spectrum similar in some respects to that of the argon group of gases. There can thus be no doubt that the emanation is a transition sub- stance with remarkable properties. Chemically it behaves like an inert gas and has a definite spectrum and is condensed by cold. But, on the other hand, the gas is not permanent, but disappears, and is changed into other types of matter. It emits during its changes about one million times as much energy as is emitted during any known chemical change. From the similarity of the behavior of the emanation of thorium and actinium to that of radium, we may safely conclude that these also are new gases which have only a limited life and change into other substances. 6-6-6-0- Tlior-tuni<. 71hor.X. £rma notion Thcrr A 7~hor & Thar C 6-6-0 Ura niary? C/t-o n i u m X Final Pr-od ' uc t &-6-0-&- O Actinium Achn.X £*r\anohoY\ flchnA Acti'n.S Actin.C Fig. 1. The non-volatile products of the radioactive bodies can be dis- solved in strong acids and show definite chemical behavior in solution. They can be partially separated by electrolysis and by suitable chemical methods. They can be volatilized by the action of high temperature and their differences in this respect can be utilized to effect in many cases a partial separation of successive products. There can be little doubt that each of these radioactive products is a transition sub- stance possessing, while it lasts, some definite chemical and physical properties which serve to distinguish it from other products and from the parent element. • PRESENT PROBLEMS IN RADIOACTIVITY. 23 The radioactive products derived from each radio-element together with the type of radiation emitted during their disintegration, are shown graphically in Fig. 1. The radiations from actinium have not been so far examined sufficiently closely to determine the character of the radiation emitted by each product. There is some evidence that a product, actinium X, exists in actinium corresponding to Th X in thorium.* It has not, however, been very closely examined. The question of nomenclature for the successive products is im- portant. The names Ur X, Th X have been retained and also the term emanation. The emanation from the three radio-elements in each case gives rise to a non-volatile type of matter which is deposited on the surface of the bodies. The matter initially deposited from the radium emanation is called radium A. Eadium A changes into B and B into C, and so on. A similar nomenclature is applied to the further products of the emanation of thorium and actinium. This notation is simple and elastic and is very useful in mathematical dis- cussion of the theory of successive changes. In the following table a list of the products is given, together with the nature of the radiation and the most marked chemical and physical properties of each product. The time T for each of the products to be half trans- formed is also added. The changes which occur in the active deposits from the emana- tion of radium, thorium and actinium have been difficult to determine on account of their complexity. For example, in the case of radium, the active deposit obtained as a result of a long exposure to the emana- tion contains quantities of radium A, B and C. The changes occurring in the active deposit of radium have been determined by P. Curie, Danne and the writer. The value of T for the three successive changes is 3, 21 and 28 minutes, respectively. Radium A gives only a rays, B gives out no rays at all, while C gives out a, (3 and y rays. These results have been deduced by the comparison of the change of activity with time, with the mathematical theory of successive changes. The variation of the activity with time depends upon whether the activity is measured by the a, /? or y rays. The complicated curves are very completely explained on the hypothesis of three successive changes of the character already mentioned. The activity of a vessel in which the radium emanation has been stored for some time rapidly falls to a very small fraction after the emanation is withdrawn. However, there always remains a slight residual activity. The writer has recently examined the activity in * Godlewski {Nature, Jan. 19, 1905) has recently separated actinium X. It is similar in chemical properties to thorium X and loses half of its activity in about 10 davs. 24 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Radioactive Products. T. Rays. Some Chemical and Physical Properties. URANIUM. 1 5x 108 years. a Soluble in excess of ammonium carbonate. V Uranium X. 1 22 days. ^,7 Insoluble in excess of ammonium carbonate. V Final product. THORIUM. I 109 years. a Insoluble in ammonia. V Thorium X. 1 4 days. a Soluble in ammonia. V Emanation. 1 1 minute. a Inert gas condenses about — 120° C. V Thorium A. 1 11 hours. no rays. Attaches itself to negative electrode, soluble in strong acids. Thorium B. 1 55 minutes. «,/3,y Separable from A by electrolysis. V Final product. ACTINIUM. 1 V Actinium X?. 1 V Emanation. 1 3.9 seconds. a Gaseous product. V Actinium A. 1 41 minutes. no rays. Attaches itself to negative electrode, soluble in strong acids. Actinium B. 1 1.5 minutes. a Separable from A by electrolysis. V Final product. RADIUM. 1 1,000 years. a V Emanation. 1 4 days. a Inert gas, condenses — 150° C. V Radium A. 1 V 3 minutes. a Attaches itself to negative electrode, soluble in strong acids. Radium B. 1 21 minutes. no rays. Volatile at 500° C. V Radium C. 1 28 minutes. *,P,y Volatile at about 1,100° C. V Radium D. 1 About 40 years. P, y Soluble in sulphuric acid. V Radium E. 1 V about 1 year. a Attaches itself to bismuth plate in solution, volatilizes at 1,000° C. detail. The residual activity at first mainly consists of ft rays, and the activity measured by them does not change appreciably during the period of one year. The a ray activity is at first small, but increases uniformly with the time for the first few months that the activity has been examined. These results receive an explanation on the hypoth- esis that radium C changes into a product D which emits only /? rays. D changes into a product E which emits only a rays. This view has been confirmed by separating the a ray product by dipping bismuth-plate into the solution containing radium D and E. The probable period of these changes can be deduced from observations of PRESENT PROBLEMS IN RADIOACTIVITY. 25 the magnitude of the a and (3 ray activity at any time. It has been deduced that radium D is probably half transformed in 40 years and radium E is half transformed in about 1 year. The evidence at present obtained points to the conclusion that radium E is the active constituent present in Marckwald's radio-tellurium and probably also in the polonium of Mme. Curie.* The changes in the active deposit of thorium have been analyzed by the writer, and the corresponding changes in actinium by Miss Brooks. The occurrence of a ' rayless change ' in the active deposits from the emanation of radium, thorium and actinium is of great interest and importance. As these products do not emit either a, ft or y rays, their presence can only be detected by their effect on the amount of the succeeding products. The action of the rayless change is most clearly brought out in the examination of the variation of activity with time of a body exposed for a very short interval in the presence of the emanations of thorium and actinium. Let us consider, for simplicity, the variation of activity with time for thorium. The activity (measured by the a rays) observed at first is very small, but gradually increases with the time, passes through a maximum and finally decays according to an exponential law with the time falling to half value in eleven hours. The shape of this curve can be completely explained on the assumption of the two successive changes, the second of which alone gives out rays. The matter deposited on the body during the short exposure consists almost entirely of thorium A. Thorium A changes into B and the breaking up of B gives rise to the activity measured. If thorium A does not give out rays, the activity of the body at any time t after removal can be easily shown to be proportional to e~ Xat — e~ A>', where Ax, A2 are the constants of change of thorium A and B, respectively. Now the experimental curves of variation of activity are found to be accurately expressed by an equation of this form. A very interesting point arises in settling the values of Ax, A2 corresponding to the two changes. It is seen that the equation is symmetrical in Ax and A2 and in consequence is unaltered if the values of Ax and A2 are interchanged. Now the constant of the change is determined by the observation that the activity finally decays to half value in 11 hours. The theoretical and experimental curves are found to coincide if one of the two products is half transformed in 11 hours and the other in 55 minutes. The comparison of the theoretical and experimental curves does not, however, allow us to settle whether * The writer has recently found that radium E and radio -tellurium have identical rates of decay. Both lose half of their activity in 150 days. This result shows that the active substance in radio-tellurium is a transformation product of radium. 26 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. the period of change of thorium A is 55 minutes or 11 hours. In order to settle the point, it is necessary to find some means of separa- ting the products thorium A and B from each other. In the case of thorium, this is done by electrolyzing a solution of thorium. Pegram obtained an active product which decayed according to an exponential law with the time falling to half value in a little less than one hour. This result shows that the radiating product thorium B has the shorter period. In a similar way, by recourse to electrolysis, it has been found that the change actinium B has a period of 1.5 minutes. In the case of radium, P. Curie and Danne utilized the difference in volatility of radium B and C in order to fix the period of the changes. It is very remarkable that the third successive product of radium, thorium and actinium should not give out rays. It seems probable that these rayless changes are not of so violent a character as the other changes, and consist either of a rearrangement of the com- ponents of the atom or of an expulsion of an a or /3 particle with so slow a velocity that it fails to ionize the gas. The appearance of such changes in radioactive matter suggests the possibility that ordi- nary matter may also be undergoing slow ' rayless changes/ for such changes can not be detected in the radio-elements unless the succeeding products emit rays. It is seen that the changes occurring in radium, thorium and actinium are of a very analogous character and indicate that each of these bodies has a very similar atomic constitution. While there can be no doubt that numerous kinds of radioactive matter with distinct chemical and physical properties are produced in the radio-elements, it is very difficult to obtain direct evidence in some cases that the products are successive and not simultaneous. This is the case for products which have either a very slow or very rapid rate of change compared with the other product. For example,, it is difficult to show directly that radium B is the product of radium A and not the direct product of the emanation. In the same way, there is no direct evidence that radium C is the parent of radium D. At the same time, the successive nature of these products is indicated by indirect evidence. There can be little doubt that each of the radioactive products is a distinct chemical substance and possesses some distinguishing physical or chemical properties. There still remains a large amount of chemical work to be done in comparing and arranging the chemical properties of these products and in determining whether the successive products follow any definite law of variation. The electrolytic method can in many cases be used to find the position of the product in the electrochemical series. The products which change most rapidly are PRESENT PROBLEMS IN RADIOACTIVITY. 27 present in the least quantity in radium and pitchblende. Only the slower changing products like the radium emanation and radium D and E exist in sufficient quantities to be examined by the balance. It is possible that the products radium A, B and C may be obtained in sufficient quantity to obtain their spectrum. Connection between the a Particles and Helium. The discovery of Ramsay and Soddy that helium was produced by the radium emanation was one of the greatest interest and impor- tance, and confirmed in a striking manner the disintegration theory of radioactivity, for the possible production of helium from radioactive matter had been predicted on this theory before the experimental evi- dence was forthcoming. Ramsay and Sodcly found that the presence of helium could not be detected in a tube immediately after the intro- duction of the emanation, but was observed some time afterwards, showing that the helium arose in consequence of a slow change in the emanation itself or in its further products. The question of the origin of the helium produced by the radium emanation and its connection with the radioactive changes occurring in the emanation is one of the greatest importance. The experimental evidence so far obtained does not suffice to give a definite answer to this question, but suggests the probable explanation. There has been a tendency to assume that helium is the final disintegration product of the radium emanation, i. e., it is the inactive substance which re- mains when the succession of radioactive changes in the emanation has come to an end. There is no evidence in support of such a conclusion, while there is much indirect evidence against it. It has been shown that the emanation which breaks up undergoes three fairly rapid transformations; but after these changes have occurred, the residual matter — radium D — is still radioactive and breaks up slowly, being half transformed in probably about 40 years. There then occurs a still further change. Taking into account the minute quantity of the radium emanation initially present in the emanation tube, the amount of the final inactive product would be insignificant after the lapse of a few days or even months. Thus it does not seem probable that the helium can be the final product of the radioactive changes. In addition, it has been shown that the a particle behaves like a body of about the same mass as the helium atom. The ex< pulsion of a few a particles from each of the heavy atoms of radium would not diminish the atomic weight of the residue very greatly. The atomic weight of the atoms of radium D and E is in all probability of the order of 200, since the evidence supports the conclusion that each atom expels one a particle at each transformation. In order to explain the presence of helium, it is necessary to look 28 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. to the other inactive products produced during the radioactive changes. The a particles expelled from the radioactive product are themselves non-radioactive. The measurement of the ratio e/m shows that they have an apparent mass intermediate between that of the hydrogen and helium atoms. If the a particles consist of any known kind of matter they must be atoms either of hydrogen or of helium. The actual value of e/m has not yet been determined with an accuracy sufficient to give a definite answer to the question. On account of the very slight curvature of the path of the a particles in a strong magnetic or electric field, accurate determination of e/m is beset with great difficulties. The experimental problem is still further complicated by the fact that the a particles escaping from a mass of radium have not all the same velocity and in consequence it is difficult to draw a definite conclusion from the observed deviation of the complex pencil of rays. The results so far obtained are not inconsistent with the view that the a particles are helium atoms, and indeed it is difficult to escape from such a conclusion. On such a view, the helium, which is gradually produced in the emanation tube, is due to the collection of a particles expelled during the disintegration of the emanation and its further products. This conclusion is supported by evidence of another character. It is known that thorium minerals like monazite sand contain a large quantity of helium. In this respect they do not differ from uranium minerals which are rich in radium. The only common product of the different radioactive substances is the a particle and the occurrence of helium in all radioactive minerals is most simply explained on the supposition that the a particle is a projected helium atom. This conclusion could be indirectly tested by examining whether helium is produced in other substances besides radium, for example, in actinium and polonium. The experimental determination of the origin of helium is beset with great difficulty on all sides. If the a particle is a helium atom, the total volume of helium produced in an emanation tube should be three times the initial volume of the emanation present, since the emanation in its rapid changes gives rise to three products each of which emits a particles. This is based on the assumption, which seems to be fulfilled by the experiments, that each atom of each product in breaking up expels one a particle. This at first sight offers a simple experimental means of settling the question, but a difficulty arises in accurately determining the volume of helium produced by a known quantity of the radium emanation. It would be expected that, if the emanation were isolated in a tube and left to stand, the volume of gas in the tube should increase with time in consequence of the liberation of helium. In one case, however, Eamsay and Soddy PRESENT PROBLEMS IN RADIOACTIVITY. 29 observed an exactly opposite result. The volume diminished with time to a small fraction of its original value. This diminution of volume was due to the decomposition of the emanation into a non- gaseous type of matter deposited on the walls of the tube, and followed the law of decrease to be expected in such a case, namely, the volume decreased according to an exponential law with the time falling to half value in four days. The helium produced by the emanation must have been absorbed by the walls of the tube. Such a result is to be expected if the particle is a helium atom, for the a particle is pro- jected with a velocity sufficient to bury itself in the glass to a depth of about 1/100 mm. This buried helium would probably be in part released by the heating of the tube, such as occurs with the strong electric discharge employed in the spectroscopic detection of helium. Eamsay and Soddy have examined the glass tubes in which the emana- tion had been confined for some time to see if the buried helium was released by heat. In some cases traces of helium were observed. Accurate measurements of the value of e/m for the a particle and also an accurate determination of the relative volume of the emana- tion and the helium produced by it would probably definitely settle this fundamental question. Certain very important consequences follow on the assumption that the a particle is, in all cases, an atom of helium. It has already been shown that the radio-elements are transformed into a succession of new substances, most of which in breaking up emit an a particle. On such a view, the atom of radium, thorium, uranium and actinium must be supposed to be built up in part of helium atoms. In radium, at least five products of the change emit particles, so that the radium atom must contain at least five atoms of helium. In a similar way, the atoms of actinium and thorium (or, if thorium itself be not radioactive, the atom of the active substance present in it) must be compounds of helium. These compounds of helium are not stable, but spontaneously break up into a succession of substances, with an evolution of helium, the disintegration taking place at a definite but different rate at each stage. Such compounds are sharply dis- tinguished in their behavior from the molecular compounds known to chemistry. In the first place, the radioactive compounds disin- tegrate spontaneously and at a rate that is independent of the physical or chemical forces at our control. Changes of temperature, which exert such a marked influence in altering the rate of molecular reac- tions, are here almost entirely without influence. But the most striking feature of the disintegration is the expulsion, in most cases, of a pro- duct of the change with very great velocity — a result never observed in ordinary chemical reactions. This entails an enormous liberation of energy during the change, the amount, in most cases, being about one million times as great as that observed in any known chemical reac- 3o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. tion. In order to account for the exjDulsion of an a and a /? particle with the observed velocities, it is necessary to suppose that the particles are in a state of rapid motion in the system from which they escape. Variation of temperature;, in most cases, does not seem to affect the stability of the system. It is well established that the property of radioactivity is inherent in the radio-atoms, since the activity of any radioactive compound de- pends only on the amount of the element present and is not affected by chemical treatment. As far as observation has gone, both uranium and radium behave as elements in the usually accepted chemical sense. They spontaneously break up but the rate of their disintegration seems to be, in most cases, quite independent of chemical control. In this respect, the radioactive bodies occupy a unique position. It seems reasonable to suppose that while the radioactive substances behave chemically as elements, they are, in reality, compounds of simpler kinds of matter, held together by much stronger forces than those which exist between the components of ordinary molecular com- pounds. Apart from the property of radioactivity, the radio-elements do not show any chemical properties to distinguish them from the non-radioactive elements except their very high atomic weight. The above considerations evidently suggest that the heavier inactive ele- ments may also prove to be composite. Origin of the Radio-elements. We have seen that the radio-elements are continuously breaking up and giving rise to a succession of new substances. In the case of uranium and thorium, the disintegration proceeds at such a slow rate that in all probability a period of about 1,000 million years would be required before half the matter present is transformed. In the case of radium, however, where the process of disintegration proceeds at over one million times the rate in uranium and thorium, it is to be expected that a measurable proportion of the radium will be trans- formed in a single year. A quantity of radium left to itself must gradually disappear as such in consequence of its gradual transforma- tion into other substances. This conclusion necessarily follows from the known experimental facts. The radium is being transformed continuously into the emanation which in turn is changed into other types of matter. Since there is no evidence that the process is re- versible, all the raduim present must, in the course of time, be trans- formed into emanation. The rate at which radium is being trans- formed can be approximately calculated either from the number of a particles expelled per second or from the observed volume of the emanation produced per second. Both methods of calculation agree in showing that in a gram of radium about half a milligram is trans- formed per year. From analogy with other radioactive changes, it is PRESENT PROBLEMS IN RADIOACTIVITY. 31 to be expected that the rate of change of radium will be always pro- portional to the amount present. The amount of radium would thus decrease exponentially with the time falling to half value in about 1,000 years. On this view, radium behaves in a similar way to the other known products, the only difference being that its rate of change is slower. We have already seen that, in all probability, the product radium D is half transformed in about 40 years and radium E in about one year. In regard to their rate of change, the two substances radium D and E, which are half transformed in about 40 years and one year respectively occupy an intermediate position between the rapidly changing substances like radium A, B and C and the slowly changing parent substance radium. If the earth were supposed to have been initially composed of pure radium, the activity 20,000 years later would not be greater than the activity observed in pitchblende to-day. Since there is no doubt that the earth is much older than this, in order to account for the existence of radium at all in the earth, it is necessary to suppose that radium is continuously produced from some other substance or sub- stances. On this view, the present supply of radium represents a condition of approximate equilibrium where the rate of production of fresh radium balances the rate of transformation of the radium already present. In looking for a possible source of radium, it is natural to look to the substances which are always found associated with radium in pitchblende. Uranium and thorium both fulfill the conditions necessary to be a source of radium, for both are found associated with radium and both have a rate of change slow compared with radium. At the present time, uranium seems the most probable source of radium. The activity observed in a good specimen of pitchblende is about what is to be expected if uranium breaks up into radium. If uranium is the parent of radium, it is to be expected that the amount of radium present in different varieties of pitchblende obtained from different sources will always be proportional to the amount of uranium contained in the minerals. The recent experiments of Boltwood, Strutt and McKoy indicate that this is very approximately the case. It is not to be expected that the relation will always be very exact, since it is not improbable, in some cases, that a portion of the active material may be removed from the mineral by the action of percolating water or other chemical agencies. The results so far obtained strongly support the view that radium is a product of the disintegration of uranium. It should be possible to obtain direct evidence on this question by examining whether radium appears in uranium compounds which have been initially freed from radium. On account of the delicacy of the electric test of radium by means of its emanation, the question can be very readily put to experimental trial. This has been done for uranium by Soddy, and for thorium by 32 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. the writer, but the results, so far obtained, are negative in character, although if radium were produced at the rate to be expected from theory, it should very readily have been detected.* Such experiments, however, taken over a period of a few months are not decisive, for it is by no means improbable that the parent element may pass through several slow changes, possibly of a ' rayless ' character, before it is transformed into radium. In such a case, if these intermediate products are removed by the same chemical process from the parent element, there may be a long period of apparent retardation before the radium appears. The considerations advanced to account for radium apply equally well to actinium, which, in all probability, when isolated will prove to be an element of the same order of activity as radium. The most important problem at present in the study of radioactive minerals is not the attempt to discover and isolate new radioactive substances, but to correlate these already discovered. Some progress has already been made in reducing the number of different radioactive substances and in indicating the origin of some of them. For example, there is no doubt that the ' emanating substance ' of Giesel contains the same radioactive substance as the actinium of Debierne. In a similar way, there is very strong evidence that the active constituent in the polonium of Mme. Curie is identical with that in the radio-tellurium of Marckwald. The writer has recently shown that the active constituent in radio-tellurium or polonium is, in all probability, a disintegration product of radium (radium E). The same considerations apply to the radio-lead of Hofmann, which is probably identical with the product radium D. It still remains to be shown whether or not there is any direct family connection between the radioactive substances uranium, thorium, radium and actinium. It seems probable that some at least of these substances will prove to be lineal descendants of a single parent element, in the same way that the radium products are lineal descendants of radium. The subject is capable of direct attack by a combination of physical and chemical methods, and there is every probability that a fairly definite answer will soon be forthcoming. Radioactivity of the Earth and Atmosphere. It is now well established, notably by the work of Elster and Geitel, that radioactive matter is widely distributed both in the earth's crust and atmosphere. There is undoubtedly evidence of the presence of the radium emanation in the atmosphere, in spring water, and in air sucked up through the soil. It still remains to be settled whether the observed radioactivity of the earth's crust is due entirely * In a recent letter to Nature, Soddy states that he has found that there is a slow growth of radium in a uranium solution. A similar result has been noted by Whetham. PRESENT PROBLEMS IN RADIOACTIVITY. 33 to slight traces of the known radioactive elements or to new kinds of radioactive matter. It is not improbable that a close examination of the radioactivity of the different soils may lead to the discovery of radioactive substances which are not found in pitchblende or other radioactive minerals. The extraordinary delicacy of the electroscopic test of radioactivity renders it not only possible to detect the presence in inactive matter of extremely minute traces of a radioactive sub- stance, but also in many cases to settle rapidly whether the radio- activity is due to one of the known radio-elements. The observations of Elster and Geitel render it probable that the radioactivity observed in the atmosphere is due to the presence of radioactive emanations or gases, which are carried to the surface by the escape of underground water. Indeed it is difficult to avoid such a conclusion, since there is no evidence that any of the known con- stituents of the atmosphere are radioactive. Concurrently with ob- servations of the radioactivity of the atmosphere, experiments have been made on the amount of ionization in the atmosphere itself. It is important to settle what part of this ionization is due to the presence of radioactive matter in the atmosphere. Comparisons of the rela- tive amount of active matter and of the ionization in the atmosphere over land and sea will probably throw light on this important problem. The wide distribution of radioactive matter in the soils which have so far been examined has raised the question whether the pres- ence of radium and other radioactive matter in the earth, may not, in part at least, be responsible for the internal heat of the earth. It can readily be calculated that the presence of radium (or equivalent amounts of other kinds of radioactive matter) to the extent of about five parts in one hundred million million by mass would supply as much heat to the earth as is lost at present by conduction to its surface. It is certainly significant that, as far as observation has gone, the amount of radioactive matter present in the soil is of this order of magnitude. The production of helium from radium indirectly suggests a means of calculating the age of the deposits of radioactive minerals. It seems reasonable to suppose that the helium always found associated with radioactive minerals is a product of the decomposition of the radioactive matter present. In the mineral fergusonite, for example, about half of the helium is removed by heating the mineral and the other half by solu- tion. Thus it does not seem likely that much of the helium formed in the mineral escapes from it, so that the amount present represents the quantity produced since its formation. If the rate of the production of helium by radium (or other radioactive substance) is known, the age of the mineral can at once be estimated from the observed volume of helium stored in the mineral and the amount of radium present. All these VOL. LXVII. — 3 34 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. factors have, however, not yet been determined with sufficient accuracy to make at present more than a rough estimate of the age of any par- ticular mineral. An estimate of the rate of production of helium by radium has been made by Eamsay and Soddy by an indirect method. It can be deduced from their result that 1 gram of radium produces per year a volume of helium of about 25 cubic mms. at standard pressure and temperature. They, however, consider this to be an under esti- mate. On the other hand, if the particle is a helium atom, it can be calculated that 1 gram of radium produces per year about 200 cubic mms. of helium. Let us consider, for example, the mineral fergusonite. Eamsay and Travers have shown that it yields about 1.8 c.c. of helium and contains about 7 per cent, of uranium. It can be deduced from known data that each gram of the mineral contains about one four-millionth of a gram of radium. Supposing that one gram of radium produces % c.c. of helium per year, the age of the mineral is readily seen to be about 40 million years. If the above rate of production of helium is an overestimate, the time will be correspondingly longer. I think there is little doubt that, when the data required are known with accuracy, this method can be applied with considerable confidence to determine the age of the radioactive minerals. Radioactivity of Ordinary Matter. The property of radioactivity is exhibited to the most marked extent by the radioactive substances found in pitchblende, but it is natural to ask the question whether ordinary matter possesses this property to an appreciable degree. The experiments that have so far been made show conclusively that ordinary matter, if it possesses this property at all, does so to a minute extent compared with uranium. It has been found that all the matter that has so far been examined shows undoubted traces of radioactivity, but it is very difficult to show that the radioactivity observed is not due to a minute trace of known radioactive matter. Even with our extraordinarily delicate methods for the detection of radioactivity, the effects observed are so minute that a definite settlement of the question is experimentally very difficult. J. J. Thomson has recently given an account at the British Association meeting of the work done on this subject in the Cavendish Laboratory, and has brought forward experimental evidence that strongly sup- ports the view that ordinary matter does show specific radioactivity. Different substances were found to give out radiations that differed in quality as well as in quantity. A promising beginning has already been made but a great deal of work still remains to be done before such an important conclusion can be considered to have been definitely established. THE HARVARD MEDICAL SCHOOL. 35 THE HARVARD MEDICAL SCHOOL. By FRANK WALDO, Ph.D., CAMBRIDGE, MASS. TI/ HILE the new building plant of the Harvard Medical School VV is approaching completion it seems a fitting time to give a brief account of the work of the school and its equipment. Harvard was the second of the American colleges to establish a school of medicine. The study of medicine in Harvard dates from the close of the war of the American Revolution, when in the years 1782 and 1783 three professorships of medicine were founded; and the first degree, that of M.B. (bachelor of medicine), was conferred in 1788. It was not until 1811 that the degree of M.D. began to be given. Up to 1810 the instruction was given in Cambridge, at which date the school was trans- ferred to Boston, where in 1815 the first medical school building was erected. The second building that was occupied was completed in 1883. The theory of medicine has of course been taught from the begin- ning of the Harvard Medical School and eminent men have lectured to its students, but outside hospital and clinic facilities had to be sought. In the first Harvard Medical School building there was no laboratory at all. With the removal in 1883 to the buildings at present occupied by the school, limited laboratory facilities were provided, in which very important investigations have been conducted. The hospital and clinical service is still, however, so dependent on outside cooperation that this work has been much hampered. For entrance into the school a college degree is required, or in exceptional cases its equivalent, and since 1892 a four years' course has had to be pursued in order to obtain the degree of doctor of medicine. The present policy of the school is to so arrange the studies that the student can give his time fixedly for lengthy periods to one sub- ject or group of subjects. Thus anatomy and histology are given the first half of the first year, and physiology and physiological and pathological chemistry during the second half. In the second year pathology and bacteriology are studied during the first half year. It has been the rule to lay down a rigidly required course, throughout. in the study of medicine, but beginning in the fall of the present year the fourth year work will be elected in order to give the student an opportunity to specialize in the department of medicine that he pro- poses to adopt for his practise. 36 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. o o X o CO ij ■4 o s - a w a H 6. O J » O THE HARVARD MEDICAL SCHOOL. 37 The Harvard Medical School has numbered among its faculty from the first some of the most eminent physicians of our country. The professors have not been practitioners only, but men of high scien- tific attainments who have made notable contributions to the science of medicine. Among the most important things accomplished in the recent studies by the Harvard medical faculty may be mentioned dis- coveries concerning congenital dislocation, cancer, acetonemia, blood pressure, small-pox and scarlet fever. The contributive activity of various departments of the Harvard Medical School is indicated by the list of publications made during the year from October 1, 1903, to October 1, 1904. Anatomy, 7; physiology, 9; histology and embryology, 3; bacteriology, 7; pharma- cology and therapeutics, 2; pathology, 22; comparative pathology, 4; surgery, 14; hygiene, 8. Probably nearly as many more investiga- tions were being carried on but were not published within the period mentioned. The school is about to enter upon a new and distinct period in its history as the possessor of the finest equipment for medical study of any medical school in the world. In its new location the Harvard Medical School will be enabled to carry on in the most satisfactory manner the study of medicine in theory, practise and laboratory in- vestigation. It, of course, remains to be seen how thoroughly the con- ditions will be utilized by the faculty and students in furthering the' advance of medical knowledge and medical study, but the excellent work done with limited facilities bespeaks a great future activity. The provisions made in the new buildings for the study of medicine are those that are demanded by the medical knowledge and the ad- vanced methods of the times. Apropos of this it has been well said that the advance in medicine during the past thirty years has been greater than in all preceding time. The distribution of the buildings, which are being erected at an expenditure of about $2,000,000, and their general style of archi- tecture is shown in the accompanying illustration, from a photograph of a model that was exhibited at the St. Louis Fair, in which the administration building appears in the center at the head of the court, while on the right (facing the picture) the front building is to be devoted to the subjects of hygiene and pharmacology, and the second one to physiology and physiological chemistry. The front building on the left is to be occupied by the departments of surgery, bacteriology and pathology; and the one behind it to anatomy, histology and embryology. Work upon these new buildings was begun in September, 1903, but it is not expected that they will be completed until towards the close of 1905. which will preclude their being occupied until the fall term of 1906. o 8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. The design of the buildings, which are of marble, is distinctly Grecian, and when completed they will form a noteworthy group merely from the architectural point of view. The work of construc- tion is being pushed forward as rapidly as possible. At the time of present writing, the building to be devoted to hygiene and pharma- cology is farthest advanced towards completion; the walls are up on the one for surgery, bacteriology and pathology; the iron framework and the walls are in position for the one for physiology and physio- logical chemistry, and the building for histology and embryology is nearly as far advanced. Only the foundation and a little of the upper portion of the administration building have been erected. It is of interest to note that much of the funds that have been so generously contributed to enable the Harvard Medical School to make this forward leap is INTew York money. Mr. J. P. Morgan gave the three buildings at the back of the group, and Mrs. Collis P. Hunting- ton and Mr. David Sears gave the buildings in the foreground. Ac- cording to the treasurer's report and other accounts, Mr. Morgan gave $1,135,000; Mrs. Huntington, $250,000; Mr. Sears, $250,000, and to these sums must be added a million from Mr. John D. Rockefeller, nearly $371,000 from Henry L. Pierce (1898) and about a half mil- lion dollars from other sources. In the erection of such an extended plant for the medical school all possible precautions have been taken to make it suit its purpose in all respects, and to allow for the expansion of the school and for in- creased demands on the part of medical instruction. The four main laboratory buildings have each two wings; and not only have the assignments of location for each department been care- fully considered as regards the school as a whole, but the allied or supplementary subjects are placed in the wings that are united through a common center. Connecting these wings is an amphitheater over which are placed the special libraries pertaining to the departments occupying the wings. The arrangement of these departments is such as to place in the same building those that are most intimately con- nected. The actual arrangement adopted has already been outlined in the mention of the various buildings at the beginning of this article. It must be remarked in addition that the study of surgery is provided for in various departments. The arrangement of the wings is such that they may be extended as the school grows so as to ultimately have three-fold the working capacity at present provided for. In the con- struction of the various buildings and their adaptation to their special purposes, the questions of light, heat and ventilation have been care- fully considered; especial use of the principle of lighting by high windows has been made since ibis insures a good light at the rear of the rooms. THE HARVARD MEDICAL SCHOOL. 39 In general, each laboratory wing is divided longitudinally by a broad corridor, and the rooms on each side, which are in most instances of convenient size (23 feet by 30 feet), have adjustable terra cotta walls whereby the rooms may be enlarged or reduced in size accord- ing to needs in individual cases. But in the case of the physiological- chemistry building there is no medial corridor, and the laboratories are placed across the wing. Also in the building devoted to pathology and bacteriology one wing contains two large teaching laboratories, while the other wing is divided up into smaller rooms for research work. In the administration building there are the school offices, a general reading room, an alumni room, four lecture rooms and the Warren Museum occupies the third floor. The general public associates the names of Pasteur and Koch with single discoveries, but fails to realize that those men have introduced new methods of work and study, and that the things that their names are especially associated with are but incidents in broad systems; and it is the encouragement of such studies and their practical application that the Harvard Medical School has especially in mind in the arrangement of its new laboratory equipment. We wonder that the great improvements and discoveries in medi- cine are not more widely applied. How can they be when the great majority of practitioners have not had the scientific training necessary 4o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. to enable them to understand and apply what is being done by the most advanced workers and discoverers? The training that the medical student must undergo in order to enable him to comprehend and apply with intelligence the new methods and discoveries in medi- cine can not be obtained in a poorly equipped institution nor by poorly equipped minds. It is for this reason that Harvard has hailed with such joy the incoming of the means to equip her medical school properly, and has so raised its standard of admission that the equivalent of a college degree is demanded of those permitted to enter the school. The study of medicine, broadly considered, has reached such a stage that its present day aspect can be taught only in a great university and by university methods. The old-fashioned medical school served its purpose; but it has had its day, and it can no longer prepare its students to meet the demands of modern medical science. The new equipment of the medical school will greatly strengthen the connection between it and the college at Cambridge. Hitherto it has been a school apart from the main university, and many a man has graduated from Harvard College without being made practically aware that there is such a thing as the Harvard Medical School. It will be possible under the new conditions to greatly enlarge the scope of the electives that bear on a medical education that may be taken by members of the college or other departments of the university. The departments of psychology and physics in the university can now be properly correlated with the Medical School both in pedagogy and in original investigations. Hitherto the lack of space facilities and apparatus has made the lecture room and the clinic the main features of student contact with the professors of the school, and this has of necessity kept the feeling of a technical school alive in the student body. The new equipment will incite and foster the growth of the broader university spirit in both study and research. The medical school will now be able to do what it could not do before, that is, to offer facilities to students and investigators of other departments of the university for special study and research under medical school auspices. One of the most important features of the improved systems of medical study is the learning how to use medical literature and the acquirement of the habit of using it. It is only a small proportion of the physicians of the country who can come directly in contact with the special fields of investigation in medicine, and so the chief avail- able channel for keeping up with current progress is through medical literature. The Harvard Medical School possesses unusual facilities for the training of its students in the proper use of the literature of the science. In the first place there are the great general libraries of Boston and Harvard College forming cojointly one of the best col- THE HARVARD MEDICAL SCHOOL. 41 lections of books in the world. Next, there is the Boston Medical Library, which is freely open to the Harvard medical students and which possesses one of the most complete collections of medical books in existence, besides containing an unrivaled display of medical journals, which number between seven and eight hundred and em- brace the publications of all important countries. In the various departments of the Harvard Medical School col- lections of books have been made that serve as technical working libraries; and in the plans for the new buildings this very important feature has been duly provided for. Thus in connection with each laboratory there will be such books, pamphlets, reports and journals as, in the opinion of the person in charge, are the most necessary reference books for students pursuing that specialty. A medical student so trained in the use of medical literature can hardly be con- tent to depend upon antiquated text-book knowledge in his practise in after years. In that most important matter of applied medicine — hospital ser- vice and clinics — the new conditions of the Harvard Medical School promise to be as nearly ideal as the forethought of man can plan. When the grounds for the new site were purchased, enough land was secured to permit the erection of a number of hospital buildings adja- cent to the medical school group. Appreciating the advantages of a close connection with the Harvard Medical School, the trustees of several of the new local hospital movements have availed themselves of the opportunity offered and have secured building sites convenient to the school. Moreover, they have signified the intention of joining forces as completely as possible in the carrying on of their humane work. There is first of all the new Brigham Hospital with its founda- tion of about five millions. . The trustees of the Brigham Hospital fund have signified their intention, after some legal complications have become settled, of purchasing ten acres of the Harvard Medical School grounds as a site for their proposed buildings; but without restriction or accompanying agreement of alliance. Cooperation will mean much to the Harvard Medical School, and quite as much to the hospital. The new Children's Hospital has a location on the west of the medical school buildings, and the Thomas Morgan Botch Infant's Hospital will build on the school grounds. Near by is the new building of the Samaritan Hospital which was commenced last May; and within easy reach by cars is the Free Hospital for Women. The affiliation of the Harvard Medical School with these institutions will give it the best hospital connections of any medical school in America. ^^v >£f off f P o| j B at! i Fig 4. Selected Sketches from Malpighi's Works showing Stages in thk Development of the Chick (1G72). by Atti. From descriptions of his personal appearance, it is prob- ably a better likeness than the handsome idealized portrait painted by Tabor, and presented by Malpighi to the Royal Society of London.* Fig. 4 shows a few selected figures from the various plates of his embryological treatises, to compare with those of Wolff. While Harvey taught the gradual formation of parts, Malpighi, from his own observations, supposed the rudiments of the embryo to p. 563. For a reproduction of that portrait see Pop. Sci. Mo., Vol. LVIIL, 1901, io6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. preexist in the egg. He thought that, possibly, the blood vessels were in the form of tubes, closely wrapped together, which by becoming filled with blood were distended. Nevertheless, in the treatises men- tioned above he is very temperate in his expressions on the whole matter, and evidently believed in the new formation of many parts. In the work published after his death he appears to have been less circumspect. Malpighi's work, with that of some of his contemporaries, marks the beginning of the theory of preformation.* On the whole, Malpighi should rank above Harvey as an embryol- ogist, on account of his discoveries and fuller representation, by draw- ings and descriptions, of the process of development. As Sir Michael Foster has said : " The first adequate description of the long series of changes, by which, as they melt the one into the other, like dissolving views, the little white opaque spot in the egg is transformed into the feathered, living, active bird, was given by Malpighi. And where he left it, so for the most part the matter remained until even the present century. For this reason we may speak of him as the founder of embryology." The Period of Wolff. Between Harvey and Wolff, embryology had become dominated by the theory that the embryo exists already preformed within the egg, and, as a result of the rise of this new doctrine, the publications of Wolff had a different setting from that of any of his predecessors. It is only fair to say that to this circumstance is owing, in large part, the prominence of his name in connection with the theory of epigenesis. As we have already seen, Harvey, more than a century before the publi- cations of Wolff, had clearly taught that development was a process of gradual becoming. Nevertheless, Wolff's work as opposed to the new theory was very important. While the facts fail to support the contention that he was the founder of epigenesis, it is to be remembered that he has claims in other directions to rank as the foremost student of embryology prior to Von Baer. As a preliminary to discussing Wolff's position we should bring under consideration the doctrine of preformation and encasement. Rise of the Theory of Predelineation. — The idea of preformation in its first form is easily set forth. Just as when we examine a seed, we find within an embryo plantlet, so it was supposed that the various forms of animal life existed in miniature within the egg. The process, of development was supposed to consist of the expansion or unfolding of this preformed embryo. The process was commonly illustrated by reference to flower buds. " Just as already in a small bud all the * See further under the period of Wolff. VON BAER AND RISE OF EMBRYOLOGY. 107 parts of the flower, such as stamens and colored petals, are enveloped by the green and still undeveloped sepals, — just as the parts grow in concealment and then suddenly expand into a blossom, so also in the development of animals it was thought that the already present small but transparent parts grow, gradually expand, and become discernible."* From the feature of unfolding this was called in the eighteenth cen- tury the theory of evolution, giving to that term quite a different mean- ing from that accepted at the present time. This theory, strange as it may seem to us now, was founded on a basis of actual observation — not entirely on speculation. Although it was a product of the seventeenth century, from several printed accounts one is likely to gather the impression that it arose in the eighteenth century and that Bonnet, Haller and Leibnitz were among its founders. This implication is in part fostered by the circumstance that Swam- merdam's ' Biblia Naturae,' which contains the germ of the theory, was not published until 1737 — more than a half century after his death — although the observations for it were completed before Mal- pighi's first paper on embryology was published in 1672. While it is well to bear in mind that date of publication, rather than date of observation, is accepted as establishing the period of emergence of ideas, there were other men, such as Malpighi and Leeuwenhoek, con- temporaries of Swammerdam, who published in the seventeenth cen- tury the basis for this theory. Malpighi supposed (1672) the rudiment of the embryo to pre- exist within the hen's egg, because he observed evidences of organiza- tion in the unincubated egg. This was in the heat of the Italian summer (in July and August, as he himself records), and Dareste suggests that the developmental changes had gone forward to a con- siderable degree before Malpighi opened the eggs. Be this as it may, the imperfection of his instruments and technique would have made it very difficult to have seen anything definitely in stages under twenty- four hours. In reference to his observations he says that, in the unincubated egg, he saw a small embryo enclosed in a sac which he subjected to the rays of the sun. " Frequently I opened the sac with the point of a needle so that the 'animals contained within might be brought to the light, nevertheless to no purpose: for the individuals were so jelly-like and so very small that they were lacerated by a light stroke. Therefore it is right to confess that the beginnings of the chick pre- exist in the egg and have reached a higher development in no other way than in the eggs of plants." (" Quare pulli stamina in ovo prceexistere, altioremque originem nacta esse fateri convenit, haud dis- pari ritu, ac in Plantarum ovis") * 0. Hertwig. io8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Swammerdam (1637-1680) supplied a somewhat better basis. He observed that the parts of the butterfly, and other insects as well, are discernible in the chrysalis stage. Also, on observing caterpillars just before going into the pupa condition, he saw in outline the organs of the future stage, and very naturally concluded that development consists of an expansion of already formed parts. A new feature was introduced through the discovery, by Leeuwen- hoek about 1677,* of the fertilizing filaments of eggs. Soon after, con- troversies began to arise as to whether the embryo preexisted in the sperm or in the egg. By Leeuwenhoek, Hartsoeker ana others the egg was looked upon as simply a nidus within which the sperm de- veloped, and they asserted that the future animal existed in miniature in the sperm. These controversies gave rise to the schools of the Animalculists, who believed the sperm to be the animal germ, and of the Ovists, who contended for the ovum in that role. One of the curiosities of this period is shown in Fig. 5, taken from an old Dutch edition of Leeuwenhoek's works, in which he under- takes to represent predelineation of both sexes within the sperm. Fig. 5. Sketches illustrating Pre-delineation of the Embryo within the Sperm. From an old edition of Leeuwenhoek's Works. It is interesting to follow the metaphysical speculations which led to another aspect of the doctrine of preformation. There were those, notably Swammerdam, Leibnitz and Bonnet, who did not hesitate to follow the idea to the logical consequence, that, if the animal germ exists preformed, one generation after another must be encased within it. This gave rise to the fanciful idea of encasement or emboitement which was so greatly elaborated by Bonnet and, by Leibnitz, applied to the development of the soul. Even Swammerdam (who, by the way, although a masterly observer, was always a poor generalizer) con- ceived the mental picture of the germs of all forthcoming generations having been located in the common mother Eve, all closely encased one within the other, like the boxes of a Japanese juggler. The end of the human race was conceived of by him as a necessity, when the last germ of this wonderful series had been unfolded. His successors, in efforts to compute the number of homunculi, * The discovery is also attributed to Hamm, a medical student, and to Hartsoeker, who claimed priority in the discovery. TON BAER AND RISE OF EMBRYOLOGY. 109 JrsM«ss<. 3pc p «*'««riKr,57^. ~- !4\ r # Fig. 6. Plate from Wolf's Theoria Gmerationis (1759), showing Stages in the Development of the Chick. which must have been condensed in the ovary of Eve, arrived at the amazing result of two hundred millions. Work of Wolff. — Wolff, as a young man of 26 years, set himself against this grotesque doctrine of preformation and encasement, in his ' Theoria Generationis,' published in 1759. This consists of three parts : One devoted to the development of plants, one to the develop- ment of animals and one to theoretical considerations. He contended that the organs of animals make their appearance gradually, and that he could actually follow their successive stages of formation. The figures in it illustrating the develoment of the chick, some of which are shown in Fig. 6, are not, on the whole, so good as Malpighi's. Wolff gives in all seventeen figures, while Malpighi published eighty- no POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. six, and his twenty figures on the development of the heart are more detailed than any of Wolff's. When the figures represent similar stages of development, a comparison of the two men's work is favorable to Malpighi. The latter shows much better, in corresponding stages, the series of cerebral vesicles and their relation to the optic vesicles. Moreover, in the wider range of his work, he shows many things — such as the formation of the neural groove, etc. — not included in Wolff's observations. Wolff, on the other hand, figures for the first time the primitive kidneys, or ' Wolffian bodies,' of which he was the discoverer. Although Wolff was able to show that development consists of a gradual formation of parts, his theory of development was entirely mystical and unsatisfactory. The fruitful idea of germinal continuity had not yet emerged, and the thought that the egg has inherited an organization from the past was yet to be expressed. Wolff was there- fore in the same quandary as his predecessors when he undertook to explain development. Since he assumed a total lack of organization in the beginning, he was obliged to make development ' miraculous ' through the action on the egg of a hyperphysical agent. From a total lack of organization, he conceived of its being lifted to the highly organized product, through the action of a ' vis essentialis corporis/ He returned to the problem of development later, and, in 1768-69, published his best work in this field on the development of the in- testine.* This is a very original and strong piece of observational work. While his observations for the ' Theoria Generationis ' did not reach the level of Malpighi's those of the paper of 1768 surpassed it and held the position of the best piece of embryological work up to that of Pander and Von Baer. This work was so highly appreciated by Von Baer that he said : e It is the greatest masterpiece of scientific observation which we possess/ In it he clearly demonstrated that the development of the intestine, and its appendages, is a true process of becoming. Still later, in 1789, he published further theoretical con- siderations. But all Wolff's work was launched into an uncongenial atmos- phere. The great physiologist, Haller, could not accept the idea of epi genesis, but opposed it energetically, and, so great was his authority, that the ideas of Wolff gained no currency. This retarded progress in the science of animal development for more than a half century. In 1812, the elder Meckel, recognizing the great value of Wolff's researches on the development of the intestine, rescued the work from neglect and obscurity, by publishing a German translation of the same, and bringing it to the attention of scholars. From that time onward Wolff's work began to be fruitful. * ' De Formatione Intestinoram,' Nova Commentar, Ac. Sci. Petrop., St. Petersburg, XII., 1768; XIII., 1769. > VON BAER AND RISE OF EMBRYOLOGY. in His ' Formatione Intestinorum ' embodies his greatest contribu- tion to embryology rather than his { Theoria Generationis ' ; not only is it a more fitting model of observation, but in it he foreshadows the idea of germ-layers in the embryo, which, under Pander and Von Baer, became the fundamental conception in structural embryology. Throughout his work, both early and late, he likens the embryonic rudi- ments, which precede the formation of organs, to leaflets. In his work of 1768, he describes in detail how the leaf-like layers give rise to the systems of organs: Showing that the nervous system arises first from a leaf-like layer, and is followed, successively, by a flesh- layer, the vascular system and, lastly, by the intestinal canal — all arising from original leaf -like layers. In these important generalizations, although they are verbally in- correct, he reached the truth as nearly as it was possible at the time, and laid the foundation of the germ-layer theory. Wolff was a man of great power as an observer, and although his influence was for a long time retarded, he should be recognized as the foremost investigator in embryology before Von Baer. The little known of his life is gained through his correspondence and a letter by his amanuensis. Through personal neglect, and hostility to his work, he could not secure a foothold in the universities of Germany, and, in 1764, on the invitation of Catharine of Eussia, he went to the Academy of Sciences at St. Petersburg, where he spent >the last thirty years of his life. His sincere and generous spirit is shown in his correspondence with Haller, his great opponent. " And as to the matter of contention be- tween us, I think thus: For me, no more than for you glorious man, is truth of the very greatest concern. Whether it chance that organic bodies emerge from an invisible into a visible condition, or form themselves out of the air, there is no reason why I should wish the one were truer that the other, or wish the one and not the other. And this is your view also, glorious man. We are investigating for truth only: we seek that which is true. Why then should I contend with you?" I have not been able to locate a portrait of Wolff, although I have sought one in various ways for several years. The Secretary of the Academy of Sciences at St. Petersburg writes that no portrait of Wolff exists there, and that they will gratefully receive information regarding any existing portrait of the great academician. The Period of Von Baer. What Verworn says of Johannes Miiller's position in physiology, may with equal appropriateness be applied to Von Baer in the science of embryology. He was : " One of those monumental figures that the history of every science brings forth but once. They change the whole 112 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY Fig. 7. K. Eunst Von Baer at about Seventy Years of Age. aspect of the field in which they work and all later growth is influenced by their lahors." The greatest classic in embryology is his ' Entwickelungsgeschichte der Tiere — Beobachtung unci Reflexion,' the first part of which was published in 1828, and the work on the second part completed in 1834, although it was not published till 1837. This second part was never finished according to the plan of Von Baer, but was issued by his pub- lisher, after vainly wailing for the finished manuscript. The final portion, which Von Baer had withheld, in order to perfect in some particulars, was published in 1888, after his death, but in the form in which he had left it in 1834. VON BAER AND RISE OF EMBRYOLOGY. 113 The observations for the first part began in 1819, after he had received a copy of Pander's researches and covered a period of seven years of close devotion to the subject, and the observations for the last part were carried on at intervals for several years. It is significant of the character of his ' Keflexionen ' that, although published before the announcement of the cell-theory, and before the acceptance of the doctrine of organic evolution, they have exerted a moulding influence upon embryology to the present time. The posi- tion of Von Baer in embryology, is due as much to his sagacity in speculation, as to his powers as an observer. " Never again have observation and thought been so successfully combined in embryo- logical work " (Minot). Von Baer was born in 1792, and lived on to 1876, but his enduring fame in embryology rests on work completed more than forty years before the end of his useful life. After his removal from Konigsberg to St. Petersburg, in 1834, he very largely devoted himself to anthro- pology in its widest sense, and thereby extended his scientific reputation into other fields. If space permitted, it would be interesting to give the biography* of this extraordinary man, but here, it will be necessary to content our- selves with an examination of his portrait and a brief account of his work. Several portraits of Von Baer showing him at different periods of his life have been published. A very attractive one, taken in his early manhood, appeared in Harper s Magazine for 1898. The expression of the face is poetical, and the picture is interesting to compare with the more matured sage-like countenance forming the frontispiece of Stieda's ' Life of Von Baer.' This, perhaps best of all his portraits, shows him in the full development of his powers. An examination of it impresses one with confidence in his balanced judgment and the thoroughness and profundity of his mental operations. The portrait of Von Baer at about seventy years of age, reproduced in Fig. 7 is destined to be the one by which he is commonly known to embryologists, since it forms the frontispiece of the great cooperative ' Handbook of Embryology ' now appearing under the editorship of Oskar Her twig. Apart from special discoveries, Von Baer greatly enriched em- bryology in three directions : In the first place, he set a higher standard for all work in embryology and thereby lifted the entire science to a higher level. Activity in a great field of this kind is, with the rank and file of workers, so largely imitative that this feature of his influence * Besides biographical sketches by Stieda, Waldeyer and others, we have a very entertaining autobiography of Von Baer, published in 1864, for private circulation, but afterwards (1866) reprinted and placed on sale. vol. lxvii. — 8. ii4 POPULAR SCIEN.CE MONTHLY. should not be overlooked. In the second place, he established the germ-layer theory, and, in the third, he made embryology comparative. In reference to the germ-layer theory, it should be recalled that Wolff had distinctly foreshadowed the idea, by showing that the ma- terial out of which the embryo is constructed is, in an early stage of development, arranged in the form of leaf -like layers. He showed specifically that the alimentary canal is produced by one of these sheet-like expansions folding and rolling together. Pander, by observations on the chick (1817), had extended the knowledge of these layers and elaborated the conception of Wolff. He recognized the presence of three primary layers, an outer, a middle and an inner, out of which the tissues of the body are formed. But, it remained for Von Baer,* by extending his observations into all the principal groups of animals, to raise this conception to the rank of a general law of development. He was able to show that in all animals except the very lowest, there arises in the course of develop- ment leaf-like layers, which become converted into the ' fundamental organs ' of the body. Now, these elementary layers are not definitive tissues of the body, but are embryonic, and therefore, may appropriately be designated ' germ-layers.' The conception that these germ-layers are essentially similar in origin and fate, in all animals, was a fuller and later de- velopment of the germ-layer theory, which dominated embryological studv until a recent date. Von Baer recognized four such layers: the outer and inner ones being formed first, and, subsequently budding off a middle layer composed of two sheets. A little later (1845) Remak recognized the double middle layer of Von Baer as a unit, and thus arrived at the fundamental conception of three layers — the ecto-, endo- and meso- derm— which has so long held sway. For a long time after Von Baer, the aim of embryologists was to trace the history of these germ-layers — and so in a wider and much qualified sense it is to-day. It will ever stand to his credit, as a great achievement, that Von Baer was able to make a very complicated feature of development clear * It is of more than passing interest to remember that Pander and Von Baer were associated as friends and fellow students, under Dollinger at Wiirz- burg. It was partly through the influence of Von Baer that Pander came to study with Dollinger, and took up investigations on development. His ample private means made it possible for him to bear the expenses connected with the investigation, and to secure the services of a fine artist for making the illustra- tions. The result was a magnificently illustrated treatise. His unillustrated thesis in Latin (1817) is more commonly known, but the illustrated treatise in German is rarer. Von Baer did not take up his researches seriously until Pander's were published. It is significant of their continued harmonious rela- tions thai Ynn Baer's work is dedicated 'An meinen jugendfreund, Dr. Chris- tian Pander.' VON BAER AND RISE OF EMBRYOLOGY. 115 and relatively simple. Given a leaf-like rudiment, with the layers held out by the yolk, as is the case in the hen's egg, and it was no easy matter to conceive of how they are transformed into the nervous system, the body wall, the alimentary canal and other parts, but, Von Baer saw deeply and clearly that the fundamental anatomical features of the body are assumed by the leaf-like rudiments being rolled into tubes. Fig. 8 shows four sketches taken from the plates illustrating Von Baer's work. At A is shown a stage in the formation of the embryonic Fig. 8. Sketches from Von Baer's Ejibryological Treatise (1828). envelojoe, or amnion, which surrounds the embryos of all animals above the class of amphibia. At B, another figure of an ideal section, shows that long before the day of microtomes, Von Baer made use of sections to represent the relationships of his four germ-layers. At C and D is represented, diagramatically, the way in which these layers are rolled into tubes. He showed that the central nervous system arose in the form of a tube, from the outer layer, the body-wall in the form of a tube, composed of skin and muscle layers, and the alimentary tube from mucous and vascular layers. The generalization that embryos in development tend to recapitu- late their ancestral history is frequently attributed to Von Baer, but the qualified way in which he suggests something of the sort will not justify one in attaching this conclusion to his work. Von Baer was the first to make embryology truly comparative, and to point out its great value in anatomy and zoology. By embryological ix6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. studies, he recognized four types of organization — as Cuvier had done from the standpoint of comparative anatomy. But, since these types of organization have heen greatly changed and sub-divided, the impor- tance of the distinction has faded away. But as a distinct break with the old idea of a linear scale of being it was of moment. Among his especially noteworthy discoveries may be mentioned that of the egg of the human being and other mammals, and the noto- chord as occurring in all vertebrate animals. Von Baer has come to be dignified with the title of the ' Father of modern embryology.' ISTo man could have done more in his period, and it is owing to his superb intellect, and talents as an observer, that he accomplished what he did. As Minot says : He ' worked out, almost as fully as was possible at this time, the genesis of all the principal organs from the germ-layers, instinctively getting at the truth as only a great genius could have done.' After his masterly work the science of embryology could never return to its former level ; he had given it a new direction, and through his influence a period of great activity was inaugurated. The Period from Von Baer to Balfour. In the period between Von Baer and Balfour there were great gen- eral advances in the knowledge of organic structure which brought the whole process of development into a new light. Among the most important advances are to be enumerated: the announcement of the cell theory, the discovery of protoplasm, the beginning of the recognition of germinal continuity and the establish- ment of the doctrine of organic evolution. The Cell Theory. — The generalization that the tissues of all ani- mals and plants are structurally composed of similar units — called cells — was given to the world through the combined labors of Schleiden and Schwann. Schleiden, the botanist, in 1838, and Schwann, the anatomist, in the following year, published the observations on which this truth rests. The investigations stimulated by the announcement of this theory soon resulted in showing that the conception of the cell entertained by the founders was very iniperfect, and, by 1860, the original theory had been molded into the protoplasm doctrine of Max Schultze. The modification of the cell theory did not, however, affect the original conception that the cell is a unit of organic structure, but showed that the unit is, essentially, a globule of protoplasm containing a nucleus, and not simply a box-like compartment as Schleiden and Schwann had suggested. The broad-reaching effects of the cell-theory may be easily imagined since it united all animals on the broad plane of similitude in micro- scopic structure. Now, for the first time, the tissues of the body were VON BAER AND RISE OF EMBRYOLOGY. 117 analyzed into their units; now, for the first time, was comprehended the nature of the germ-layers of Von Baer. Among the first questions to emerge in the light of the new re- searches were : What is the origin of the cells in the organs, the tissues and the germ-layers ? The road to the investigation of these questions was already opened, and it was followed, step by step, until the egg and sperm came to be recognized as modified cells. This position was reached, for the egg, about 1861, when Gegenbaur showed that the eggs of all vertebrated animals, regardless of size and condition, are in reality single cells. The sperm was put in the same category about 1865. The rest was relatively easy— the egg, a single cell — by successive divisions produces many cells, and the arrangement of these into primary embryonic layers brings us to the starting point of Wolff and Von Baer. The cells, continuing to multiply by division, not only increase in number, but also undergo changes through division ! of physiological labor, whereby certain groups are set apart to perform a particular part of the work of the body. In this way arise the various tissues of the body — which are, in reality, similar cells performing a similar function. Finally, from combinations of tissues the organs are formed. But the egg, before entering on the process of development, miist be stimulated by the union of the sperm with the nucleus of the egg, and, thus, the starting point of every animal and plant, above the lowest group, proves to be a single cell with protoplasm derived from two parents. While questions regarding the origin of cells in the body were being answered, the foundation for the embryological study of heredity was also laid. Advances were now more rapid and more sure, flashes of morpho- logical insight began to illuminate the way, and the facts of isolated observations began to fit into a harmonized whole. Apart from the general advances of this period, mentioned in other connections, the work of a few individuals requires notice. Bathke and Remak were engaged with the broader aspects of em- bryology as well as with special investigations. To Rathke is owing great advances in the knowledge of the derelopment of insects and other invertebrates, and Bemak is notable for similar work with the vertebrates. As already mentioned, he was the first to recognize the middle layer as a unit — through which the three germ-layers of later embryologists emerged into the literature. Koelliker, the veteran embryologist, still living in Wiirzburg, car- ried on investigations on the segmentation of the egg. Besides work on the invertebrates, later, he followed with care the development of the chick and the rabbit — he encompassed the whole field of embryol- ogy—and published, in 1861 and later, in 1876, a general treatise on nS POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Fig. 9 Albrecht Koei.uker. Born 1817. vertebrate embryology of high merit. His portrait is shown in Fig. 9. Huxley took a great step towards unifying the idea of germ-layers throughout the animal kingdom, when be maintained, in 1849, that the two cell-layers in animals like the hydra, and oceanic hydrazoa, corre- spond to the ectoderm and endoderm of higher animals. Kowalevsky, whose portrait is shown in Fig. 10, made interesting discoveries of a general bearing. In 1866 he showed the practical identity, in the early stages of development, between one of the lowest vertebrates (Amphioxus) and a tunicate. The latter had up to that time been considered an invertebrate, and the effect of VON BAER AND RISE OF EMBRYOLOGY. 119 Fig. 10. A. Kowalevsky 1840-1901. Kowalevsky's work was to break down the sharply limited line, sup- posed to exist between the invertebrates and the vertebrates. This was of great influence in subsequent work. Kowalevsky also founded the generalization that all animals in development pass through a gastrula stage, — a doctrine associated, since 1874, with the name of Haeckel under the title of the gastraea theory. Beginning of the Idea of Germinal Continuity. — The conception that there is unbroken continuity of germinal substance between all liv- ing organisms, and that the egg and sperm are endowed with an inherited organization of great complexity, has become the basis for all current theories of heredity and development. So much is involved in this concep- tion, that, in the present decade, it has been designated (Whitman) ' the central fact of modern biology.' The first clear expression of it is found in Virchow's ' Cellular Pathology ' pub- lished in 1858. It was not, how- ever, until the period of Balfour, and through the work of Fol, Van Beneden (chromosomes, 1883), Boveri, Hertwig and others, that the great importance of the fact began to be appreciated, and the conception began to be woven into the fundamental ideas of development. Influence of the Doctrine of Organic Evolution. — This doctrine, although founded in its modern sense by Lamarck, in the early part of the nineteenth century, lay dormant until Darwin, in 1859, brought a new feature into its discussion, by emphasizing the factor of natural selection. The general acceptance of the doctrine, which fol- lowed after fierce opposition, had, of course, a profound influence on embryology. The latter science is so intimately concerned with the genealogy of animals and plants, that the newly accepted doctrine, as affording an explanation of this genealogy, was what was most needed. The development of organisms was now seen in the light of ancestral history; rudimentary organs began to have meaning as hereditary sur- vivals, and the whole process of development assumed a different aspect. This doctrine supplied a new impulse to the interpretation of nature at large, and of the embryological record in particular. The meaning of the embryological record was so greatly emphasized in the period of Balfour, that it will be commented upon under the next division of our subject. The period between Von Baer and Balfonr proved to be one of great importance on account of the gonoral advances in knowledge of i2o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. all organic nature. Observations were all moving towards a better and more consistent conception of the structure of animals and plants. A new comparative anatomy, more profound, and richer in meaning than Cuviers, was arising. The edifice on the foundation of Von Baer's work was now emerging into recognizable outlines. The Period of Balfour, with an Indication of Present Tendencies. The workers of this period inherited all the accumulations of pre- vious efforts, and the time was ripe for a new step. Observations on the development of different animals — vertebrates and invertebrates — had accumulated in great number, but they were scattered through technical periodicals, transactions of learned societies, monographs, etc., and there was no compact science of embryology with definite outlines. Balfour reviewed all this mass of information, digested it, and molded it into an organized whole. The results were published in the form of two volumes with the title of ' Comparative Embryology.' This book of 'almost priceless value' was given to the world in 1880-81. It was a colossal undertaking, but Balfour was a phenomenal worker. Before his untimely death at the age of thirty-one, he had been able to complete this work and to produce, besides, a large number of technical researches. The period of Balfour is taken arbitrarily in this paper, as beginning about 1874, when he published with Michael Foster ' The Elements of Embryology.' Balfour was born in 1851. During his days of preparation for the university he was a good student, but did not exhibit in any marked way, the powers for which later he became distinguished. At Cam- bridge, his distinguished teacher, now Sir Michael Foster, recognized his great talents, and encouraged him to begin work in embryology. After his work in this field was once begun, he threw himself into it with great intensity. He rose rapidly to a professorship in Cambridge, and so great was his enthusiasm and earnestness as a lecturer, that in seven }^ears ' voluntary attendance on his classes advanced from ten to ninety.' He was also a stimulator of research, and at the time of his death there were twenty students engaged in his laboratory, on problems of development. He was distinguished for personal attractiveness, and those who met him were impressed with his great sincerity, as well as his per- sonal charm. He was welcomed as an addition to the select group of distinguished scientific men of England, and a great career was pre- dicted for him. Huxley, when he felt the call, as a great personal sacrifice, to lay aside the more rigorous pursuits of scientific research, and to devote himself to molding science into the lives of the people, said of Balfour: ' He is the only man who can carry out my work.' But that was not destined to be. The story of his tragic end need be only referred to. After completing the prodigious labor on VON BAER AND RISE OF EMBRYOLOGY. 12 1 the ' Comparative Embryology ' he went to Switzerland for recupera- tion, and met his death, with that of his guide, by slipping from an Alpine height into a chasm. His death occurred in July, 1882. His portrait is shown in Fig. 11. The memorial edition of his works fills four quarto volumes, but the ' Comparative Embryology ' is Bal- four's monument, and will give him en- during fame. It is not only a digest of the work of others, but contains, also, general considerations of a far-seeing- quality. He saw developmental proc- esses in the light of the hypothesis of organic evolution. His speculations were sufficiently reserved and nearly always luminous. It is significant of the character of this work to say that the speculations contained in the papers of the rank and file of embryological work- ers, for more than two decades, and often fondly believed to be novel, were for the most part anticipated by Balfour, and also better expressed, with better qualifi- cations. The reading of ancestral history in the stages of development is such a characteristic feature of the embryological work of Balfour's period that some observations concerning it will now be in place. Interpretation of the Emory ological Record. — Perhaps the most impressive feature of animal development is the series of similar changes through which all pass in the embryo. The higher animals, especially, exhibit all stages of organization from the unicellular fertilized ovum to the fully formed animal so far removed from it. The intermediate changes constitute a long record, the possibility of interpreting which has been a stimulus to its careful examination. Meckel, in 1821, and later Von Baer, indicated the close similarity between embryonic stages of widely different animals; Yon Baer, indeed, confessed that he was unable to distinguish positively between a reptile, bird and mammalian embryo in certain early stages of growth. In addition to this similarity — which is a constant feature of the embryological record — there is another one that may be equally significant, viz., in the course of embryonic history, sets of rudimentary organs arise and disappear. Rudimentary teeth make their appear- ance in the embryo of the whalebone whale, but they are transitory and soon disappear without having been of service to the animal. In the embryos of all higher vertebrates, as is well known, gill-clefts and gill- arches, with an ajmropriate circulation, make their appearance, but Fig. 11. Francis M. Bai.four (1851-1882). i22 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. disappear long before birth. These indications, and similar ones, must have some meaning. Now whatever qualities an animal exhibits after birth are attributed to heredity. May it not be that all the intermediate stages are also inheritances, and, therefore, represent phases in ancestral history? If they be, indeed, clues to ancestral conditions, may we not, by patch- ing together our observations, be able to interpret the record, just as the history of ancient peoples has been made out from fragments in the shape of coins, vases, implements, hieroglyphic inscriptions, etc.? The results of reflection in this direction led to the foundation of the recapitulation theory, according to which animals are supposed, in their individual development, to recapitulate to a considerable de- gree phases of their ancestral history. This is one of the widest gen- eralizations of embryology. It was suggested in the writings of Von Baer and Louis Agassi z, but received its first clear and complete ex- pression in 1863, in the work of Fritz Muller. Although the course of events in development is a record, it is, at best, only a fragmentary and imperfect one. Many stages have been dropped out, others are unduly prolonged or abbreviated, or appear out of chronological order, and, besides this, some of the structures have arisen from adaptation of a particular organism to its condi- tions of development, and are, therefore, not ancestral at all, but, as it were, recent additions to the text. The interpretation becomes a difficult task which requires much balance of judgment and profound analysis. The recapitulation theory was a dominant note in all Balfour's speculations, and in that of his contemporary and fellow-student, Marshall. It has received its most sweeping application in the works of Ernst Haeckel. Widely spread through the recent literature is to be noted a re- action against the too wide and unreserved application of this doc- trine. This is to be naturally expected, since it is the common tendency in all fields of scholarship, to demand a more critical esti- mate in research, and to undergo a reaction from the earlier crude an I sweeping conclusions. Improvement in Methods. — Another feature of the work in Bal- four's period was increasing attention to methods of preparing ma- terial for study. The great problem is to bring tissues under observa- tion, with the normal relations as little disturbed as possible,* so that the prepared material will represent the conditions existing in life and no others. " Many of the most important elements of cell- structure are invisible in life, and can only be brought to view by means of suitable fixation, staining and clearing." One great danger is that pseudo-structures will be artificially formed by the action of reagents. On this account great attention has been given to every YON BAER AND RISE OF EMBRYOLOGY. 123 feature of technique, and the success of an investigation may depend, very largely, on the care exercised in the use of reagents and dyes, and the mechanical part of getting sections in shape for observation. Investigations of an earlier period were now repeated with greater refinement of technique, and the result was, a change not only in in- terpretations, but often in the points of observation. Establishment of Marine Biological Laboratories. — Among other influences which have contributed to the advancement of embryology — as well as to all biology — has been the establishment of fully equipped sea-side laboratories. These have supplied facilities for working where developing forms are most abundant and most diversified. Also, as distributors of prepared material, they have made a wide range of forms available to investigators. The famous ' Stazione Zoologica/ founded by Dohrn in 1872, and still under his direction, has exercised a powerful influence. Not only have numerous researches in embry- ology been carried on there, but, also, prepared material has been shipped to investigators in all parts of the world. Balfour was one of the earliest to avail himself of the opportunities at the Naples Station. The Marine Biological Station at Wood's Hole, Mass., of which Whit- man has been director since its foundation, in 1886, is to be men- tioned as second only to that of Naples for the extent of its influence and quality of its work. The many other similar laboratories in this country and abroad have aided in the great advance along ernbry- ological lines. Nearly all problems in anatomy and structural zoology are ap- proached from the embryological side, and, as a consequence, the work of the great army of anatomists and zoologists has been in a measure embryological. Many of them have produced beautiful and important work, but the work is too extended to admit of review in this con- nection. Oscar Hertwig, of Berlin, whose portrait is shown in Fig. 12, is one of the representative embryologists of Europe, and lights of the first magnitude in this country are Brooks, Minot, Whitman and E. B. Wilson. Although no attempt is made to review the researches of the re- cent period, we can not pass entirely without mention the discovery of chromosomes and of their reduction in the ripening of the egg and in the formation of sperms. This has thrown a flood of light on the phenomena of fertilization, and has led to the recognition of these bodies as, probably, the bearers of heredity. The work of the late Wilhelm His, whose portrait is shown in Fig. 13, is also deserving of especial notice. His luminous researches on the development of the nervous system, the origin of nerve fibers, and his analysis of the development of the human embryo are all very important. 124 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Recent Tendencies. Experimental Embryology. — Soon after the publication of Balfour's great work on ' Comparative Embryology/ a new tendency in research began to appear which led onward to the estab- lishment of experimental embryology. All previous work in this field had been concerned with the structure or architecture of organisms, but now the physiological side began to receive attention. Whitman has stated with great aptness the interdependence of these two lines of work as follows : " Morphology raises the question, How came the Fig. 12. Oskar Hertwig in 1890. organic mechanism into existence? Has it had a history, reaching its present stage of perfection through a long series of gradations, the first term of which was a relatively simple stage? The embryological history is traced out, and the paleontological records are searched, until the evidence from both sources establishes the fact that the organ or organism under study is but the summation of modifications and elaborations of a relatively simple primordial. This point settled, physiology is called upon to complete the story. Have the functions remained the same through the series ? or have they undergone a series of modifications, differentations and improvements more or less parallel with the morphological series?" VON BALE AXD ELSE OF EMBRYOLOGY. I25 Fig. 13. W. His at Sixty-four Years (1831-1004). Since physiology is an experimental science, all questions of this nature must be investigated with the help of experiments. Organisms undergoing development have been subjected to changed conditions, and their responses to various forms of stimuli have been noted. In the rise of experimental embryology we have one of the most promising of the recent departures from the older aspects of the subject. The results already attained in this attractive and suggestive field make too long a story to justify its telling in this paper. Eoux, Herbst, Loeb, Morgan, E. B. Wilson and many others have contributed to the growth of this new division of embryology. Good reasons have been adduced for believing that qualitative changes take place in the protoplasm as development proceeds. And a curb has been put upon that ' great 126 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. fault of embryology, the tendency to explain any and every opera- tion of development as merely the result of inheritance.' It has been demonstrated that surrounding conditions have much to do with in- dividual development, and that the course of events may depend largely upon stimuli coming from without, and not exclusively on an inherited tendency. Cell-Lineage. — Investigations on the structural side have reached a high grade of perfection in studies on cell-lineage. The theoretical conclusions embodied in the germ-layer theory are based upon the assumption of identity in origin of the different layers. But the lack of agreement among observers, especially in reference to the origin of the mesoderm, made it necessary to study more closely the early de- velopmental stages before the establishment of the germ -layers. It is a great triumph of exact observation that, although continually changing, the consecutive history of the individual cells has been fol- lowed, from the beginning of segmentation, to the time when the germ-layers are established. Some of the beautifully illustrated memoirs in this field are highly artistic. Blochman (1882) was a pioneer in observations of this kind, and, following him, a number of American investigators have pursued studies on cell-lineage with great success. The work of Whitman, Wilson, Conklin, Kofoid, Lillie, Mead and Castle has given us the history of the origin of the germ-layers, cell by cell, in a variety of animal forms. These studies have shown that there is a lack of uniformity in the origin of, at least, the middle layer, and therefore there can be no strict homology of its derivatives. This makes it apparent that the earlier generalizations of the germ- layer theory were too sweeping, and this theory is retained in a much modified form. Theoretical Discussions. — Certain theoretical discussions, based on embryological studies, have been rife in recent years. And it is to be recognized without question, that discussions regarding heredit37 regeneration, the nature of the developmental process, the question of inherited organization within the egg, or germinal continuity, etc., have done much to advance the subject of embryology. Embryology is one of the. three great departments of biology which, taken in combination, furnish us with a knowledge of living forms along lines of structure, function and development. The embryo- logical method of study is of increasing importance to comparative anatomy and physiology. Formerly it was entirely structural, but is now becoming, also, experimental, and will be of more service to physiology. While it has a strictly technical side, the science of embryology must always remain of interest to intelligent people as embracing one of the most wonderful processes in nature — the de- velopment of a complex organism from the single-celled condition, with a panoramic representation of all intermediate stages. GALILEO. 127 GALILEO. By EDWARD S. HOLDEN, ScD., LL.D., U. S. MILITARY ACADEMY. IV. WHEN the master of the palace examined the published book he discovered that Galileo had not obeyed the orders and injunc- tions given to him by the Holy Office on February 26, 1616, sixteen years previously. Therefore the imprimatur for Eome was wrongly attached. Galileo did not inform the Inquisitor at Florence of the aforesaid injunctions and orders. Therefore the imprimatur for Florence was obtained by e ruse.' Such was substantially the theory held by Galileo's judges at Eome. It was, in strictness, true. The command of the Holy Office (February 26, 1616) not to hold, teach or defend the Copernican opinion had been violated in the Dialogues (as indeed it had been violated less flagrantly in II Saggiatore and in the letter on the tides). The orders of Eiccardi were obeyed in form but not in substance. If the text of the Dialogues had been submitted at Eome, the Eoman imprimatur would never have been given. Finally, the general prohibition of March 5, 1616, not to teach the Copernican opinion had been disobeyed in the Dialogues, as in the two preceding publications. That no proceedings had been taken regard- ing the two last-named books did not in their eyes excuse the issuance of the former. If Galileo had merely desired to promulgate the Copernican truths it would have been perfectly easy and safe for him to have printed his book in Germany, with or without his name. * But he wished for an Italian triumph even more than for the spreading of a doctrine that he knew to be true. The Dialogues were received on all hands with the greatest interest. Galileo's friends were delighted as they before had been with II Sag- giatore. They expected a similar reception for his new book, and Galileo beyond a doubt shared their expectations. Castelli — who was in favor with the Pope, and in Eome — wrote that he should read noth- ing else but the Dialogues and his Breviary. The enemies of Galileo were for the moment paralyzed with anxiety and rage. The argu- ments of the Dialogues were more dangerous than those of II Sag- giatore even. Its attack on Aristotelianism and orthodoxy was even more insidious and vigorous. The upper classes of Italy have always i28 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. keenly relished irony and sarcasm. They were now laughing openly at the overthrow of the scholastics. The universities, the Jesuits and many of the clergy, on the other hand, were solidly arrayed against Galileo. The Jesuits were especially inimical. In a juncture like this everything depended upon the Pope. Galileo confidently ex- pected his support, but he had misread the Pope's mind from the very first. The Pope was surrounded by Galileo's enemies. Every point that would tell was made against the book and its author. The dangers that lurked in the Copernican doctrine were exposed ; Galileo's former interpretations of Holy Writ were set forth as monstrous, com- ing, as they did, from the pen of a layman; their obvious weaknesses were pointed out; he was denounced as a rebel to church authority, which had forbidden any one to teach the Copernican doctrine (March 5, 1616) ; the Pope was convinced that Galileo had intended to portray him in the character of Simplicius. It is absolutely certain that Galileo had no such intention. Under the circumstances it would have been madness for him to alienate his powerful friend and patron. Exactly why he closed his Dialogues with the quotation of the Pope's own words (spoken to Galileo in 1624) it is impossible to say. To us, in the light of events, the quotation seems an inconceivable blunder. But Galileo was very far from a blunderer. He was skilled in fine logic and with his pen. The closing words of the Dialogues (containing the quotation) can be read so as to express a humble submission to authority. It was beyond a doubt, Galileo's intention that they should be so read; it is equally certain that the submission was only perfunctory; the reckless irony of all that preceded them made the quoted words appear as mere foolishness in the mouth of the foolish Simplicius. The very name — Simplicius — was offensive to the Pope. It was not until after July, 1636, that he expressed himself as convinced that Galileo had intended no dis- respect. It was then too late. On July 26, 1636, Galileo writes: " I hear from Eome that his Eminence Cardinal Antonio Barberini and the French ambassador (de Koailles) have seen his Holiness and tried to convince him that I never had the least idea of perpetrating so sacrilegious an act as to make game of his Holiness, as my malicious foes have persuaded him, which has been the prime cause of all my troubles." The prune cause was Urban's conviction that Galileo had brought scandal into the church by teaching a doctrine which was, as yet, unproved. The storm was about to break. From now onward the story is fully told in the official documents of the inquisition. The further sale of the Dialogues was prohibited. Galileo's conduct was referred to a special commission of theologians and men versed in science to investigate. That it was not directly sent to the Holy Office was a . GALILEO. I29 signal mark of favor. A letter, drawn up by Galileo, was despatched by the Grand Duke to the angry Pope. On September 4, 1632, the Pope said to the Tuscan ambassador, Niccolini— Galileo's faithful friend: 'Your Galileo has ventured to meddle with things that he ought not, and with the most important and dangerous subjects.' He added that Galileo's book had been printed by a ruse. As to the ob- jections to the book ' Galileo knows well enough what the objections are . . . because we have talked to him about them, and he has heard them all from us.' The Pope had acted, he said 'with the greatest consideration for Galileo,' and added that Ms own conduct towards Galileo had been far better than Galileo's to him, for Galileo had de- ceived him. The Pope was firmly convinced that religion had been imperiled. The special commission reported after about a month that Galileo has transgressed orders in deviating from hypothetical treatment of the Copernican opinion and by decidedly maintaining it he has erroneously ascribed the phenomena of the tides to the stability of the sun and the motion of the earth, which do not exist ; he has been deceitfully silent about the command laid upon him by the Holy Office in 1616, to relinquish the Copernican doctrine "nor henceforth to hold, teach or defend it in any way whatsoever, verbally or in writing, etc.,' 'which injunction Galileo acquiesced in and promised to obey.' Furthermore, Galileo printed the imprimatur of Some on the title page of the Dialogues without authority; he put the saving clause of the book in the mouth of a simpleton, etc. (A full account of this report is given in Gebler's ' Galileo,' English edition, pp. 172-3. It is only incidentally of importance to us here.) On the fifteenth of September, 1632, the Pope notified Niccolini that Galileo's affair was to be transferred to the inquisition. This was astounding news to the ambassador, who had all along believed that no proceedings would be taken against the astronomer and that the very worst to be feared was perhaps a command to alter certain phrases of the book. In the interview the Pope said ' Galileo was still his friend ' — but that the Copernican opinion had been condemned sixteen years previously. At a meeting of the Congregation of the Holy Office held on September 23, it was pronounced that Galileo had disobe}red the command of February 26, 1616, and had concealed the prohibition then received by him from the censor at the time he applied for the imprimatur for his book; the inquisitor at Florence was, on the same day, by command of the Pope, directed to summon Galileo to appear before the commissary-general of the Holy Office in Eoom, ' as soon as possible, in the course of the month of October.' On October 1, Galileo, in writing, acknowledged the receipt of the summons and promised to present himself during October, as directed. VOL. LXVII. — 9. 130 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. The correspondence of Galileo shows that the summons came as a complete surprise to him, and he could not have received it without grave apprehension. He had risked everything in the belief that the Pope's favor and friendship would continue; but it is plain that this order would never have been despatched unless that favor had been withdrawn; his enemies had triumphed; he was at the mercy of men who would show no mercy to him personally — as in times past he had shown no mercy to them; even his friends among the Eoman notabilities were powerless in the face of the Pope's anger; and his most influential supporter — Prince Cesi — was dead. There can have been no moments in all of Galileo's long life so bitter as these. The whole fabric he had built up in his imagination crumbled in an in- stant. Numberless incidents that he had formerly interpreted in one way must have arisen in his mind demanding new and more veracious interpretations that could be reconciled with the present bewildering reversal of all his hopes and beliefs. The Holy Office would have no difficulty in proving him culpable of disobedience to its orders; the general prohibition binding on all catholics he had openly disobeyed, as well as the prohibitions special to his case. A letter written on October 13 to one of the cardinals, Barberini,* shows Galileo's consternation and astonishment. He curses the time, he says, devoted to his studies. He begs the cardinal to intercede with the wise fathers in Eome, not to release him from giving an account of himself, which he is ready and anxious to do — but to make it easiest for him to obey. He can give his account in two ways ; he can write a full history of his whole connection with the Copernican contro- versy which will prove to any one free from party malice that he has all along acted piously and as a good catholic; or he can give it verbally to the officers of the Inquisition in Florence. If, however, no dispensation or delay can be granted he will make the journey to Eome in spite of his great age and many bodily infirmities. The Tuscan ambassador at Eome interested himself in the matter, and throughout the whole of Galileo's process was devoted, prudent, wise and unwearied. No son could have been more faithful, nor more deli- cate. The letter was delivered, but the Pope would not permit delay. Galileo must come to Eome to answer. Mccolini then appealed directly to the Pope, begging for delay on account of Galileo's in- firmities. The answer was that he must come — slowly, if necessary — with every comfort — but he must be tried in person, ' for having been so deluded as to involve himself in these difficulties, from which we had relieved him when we were cardinal.' On the ninth of December orders were sent to Florence to compel Galileo to set out. A medical * Cardinal Antonio Barberini senior was the brother, and Cardinal Antonio- junior was the nephew, of the Pope. GALILEO. I31 certificate of the seventeenth by Galileo's physicians pronounced him unfit to travel. The certificate was not believed in Koine, and Nic- colini reported on the thirtieth that it was intended to send a physi- cian from Eome with a commissioner who would, if he were fit to travel, bring him to Eome in chains. On January 11, 1633, the Grand Duke wrote to Galileo advising him to set out, offering him one of the Court litters to travel in, and the hospitality of the ambassador's palace in Eome. On the twentieth of January Galileo left Florence on his last journey to Eome, arriving there, after a tedious quarantine, on February 13. Galileo, though technically a prisoner, was permitted to reside at the ambassador's palace. He writes to the Tuscan secretary of state that his treatment indicates ' mild and kindly treatment very different from the threaten- ing words, chains and dungeons.' He was allowed to drive out, the shades of the carriage being half-drawn. His letters show that he was full of hope. It was now more than four months since he had been cited to appear, and in this time he must have considered what form the charges were to take and what defense he should make. Niccolini's despatch of February 27, 1633, says: The main difficulty consists in this — that these gentlemen maintain that in 1616 he [Galileo] was ordered neither to discuss the question [the Coper- nican opinion] nor to converse about it. He says, on the contrary, that these were not the terms of the injunction which were that that doctrine was not to be held or defended. He considers that he has the means of justifying himself, because it does not at all appear from his book that he does hold or defend the doctrine nor that he regards it as a settled question, as he merely adduces the reasons, hinc hinde. The other points appear to be of less im- portance and easier to get over. From this despatch of Galileo's friend it appears that his defense was settled upon. The certificate of Cardinal Bellarmine was to be submitted to his judges; and it was to be proved from his book that he had obeyed the orders of the cardinal. Nothing was left undone by Niccolini, Castelli, or by the Grand Duke, to forward Galileo's interests. The Duke wrote letters of recommendation to the ten cardinals who made up the Holy Office, and some of the cardinals read the Dialogues and discussed them with Castelli. On April 12 Galileo was cited to appear at the Palace of the Inquisition. He ac- knowledged the Dialogues to be his own work. He was then asked to recount the proceedings of 1616 and replied that Cardinal Bellar- mine had then told him 'that the aforesaid opinion of Copernicus might be held as a conjecture, as it had been held by Copernicus, and his eminence was aware that, like Copernicus, I only held that opinion as a conjecture,' which is evident from a letter (dated April 12, 1615) from the cardinal to Foscarini, in which he says: "It ap- i32 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. pears to me that your Keverence and Signor Galileo act wisely in contenting yourselves with speaking ex suppositione and not with cer- tainty." " In the month of February, 1616, Signor Cardinal Bellarmine told me that as the opinion of Copernicus, if adopted absolutely, was contrary to Holy Scripture, it must neither be held or defended, but that it might be held hypothetically and written about in this sense." Here Galileo presented a copy of the certificate which de- clares that the doctrine of Copernicus ' is contrary to the Holy Scrip- tures and therefore can not be defended or held.' The Inquisition then asked if any other command was communicated to him and if he would remember it, if what was then said was read aloud to him. Galileo replied : " I do not remember that anything else was said or enjoined upon me, nor do I know that I should remember what was said to me, even if it were read to me. I say freely what I do remember, because I do not think that I have in any way disobeyed the injunction, that is, have not by any means held or defended the said opinion that the earth moves and the sun is stationary." The Inquisition now remind Galileo that a command was issued to him, before witnesses, enjoining " that he must neither hold, defend nor teach that opinion in any way whatsoever.' The annotation commands Galileo to ' relinquish altogether ' the Copernican opinion, and for- bids him ' henceforth to hold, teach or defend it in any way whatso- ever, verbally or in writing; otherwise proceedings would be taken against him in the Holy Office; which injunction the said Galileo acquiesced in and promised to obey." The Inquisition asks if Galileo remembers how and by whom the words first quoted were intimated to him. He replies : "I do not remember that the command was intimated to me by anybody but by the cardinal verbally ; and I remember that the command was ' not to hold or defend.' It may be that ' and not to teach ' was also there. I do not remember it, neither the definition ' in any way whatsoever,' but it may be that it was, for I thought no more about it, nor took any pains to impress the words on my memory, as a few months later I received the certificate now produced of the said Signor Cardinal Bellarmine, of twenty-sixth May, in which the injunction ' not to hold or defend ' that opinion is expressly to be found. The two other definitions of the said injunction that have just been made known to me, namely, ' not to teach,' and ' in any way,' I have not retained in my memory, I suppose, because they are not mentioned in the said certificate on which I rely and which I have kept as a reminder." Emphasis is laid by Gebler in his Galileo on the difference between an injunction ' not to teach ' and one ' not to hold or defend.' I can see no essential difference between forbidding a citizen of Russia, let GALILEO. 133 ns say, from holding or defending anarchistic opinions and forbidding him from holding, teaching or defending such opinions in any way whatsoever, verbally or in writing. The latter prohibition is more formal. It is not more absolute. The annotation of February 26, 1616, is received throughout the process by the Inquisitors as exact in all particulars. It is not denied by Galileo; he says merely that he does not recall certain parts of it. It does not formally appear that the witnesses to it were called to testify. If they had been called their recorded testimony would have settled certain points that must now be settled from the text of the annotation itself. I can see no reason to doubt that the words of the text mean precisely what they say. This is perhaps the place to say that the documents of Galileo's process have been examined again and again and that each examina- tion has proved that the papers have not been tampered with in any manner and that they represent the case as it was understood by the Holy Office with minute accuracy. The hearing for the first day was closed with further questions and answers. Galileo was asked whether after the aforesaid command was issued to him he received permission to write the Dialogues. He replied : " After receiving the command aforesaid I did not ask permission to write the book . . . because I did not consider that in writing it I was acting contrary to, far less disobeying, the command not to hold, defend, or teach, the said opinion." The next questions relate to the printing of the book and Galileo is asked if he had informed the censor of the command afore- said. He replies : " I did not say anything about the command to the master of the palace . . . for I have neither maintained nor de- fended the opinion that the earth moves and the sun is stationary in that book, but have rather demonstrated the opposite of the Copernican opinion and shown that the arguments of Copernicus are weak and not conclusive." Galileo's defense is here outlined. It is to be that he did not ' hold ' the Copernican opinion after 1616. ISTot holding it, he did not defend it, nor teach it. Hence he had disobeyed no command, he maintains, although it is obvious to all that the Dialogues, like his other writings, are a brilliant defense of the system of Copernicus. An apartment of ' three large and comfortable rooms ' was assigned to Galileo in the Palace of the Holy Office, as he was their prisoner. His servants stayed with him. His meals were sent in by the devoted Mccolini, to whom he wrote every day with perfect freedom. His own account of the proceedings of the first day of his examination is as follows : I arrived in Rome on the tenth of February and I was placed in the clement charge of the Inquisition and of the Sovereign pontiff, Urban VIII., who esteemed me although I could not rhyme epigrams and little love-sonnets. I i34 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. was placed in arrest in the delicious palace of . . . the Ambassador of Tuscany. The next day I received the visit of P. Lancio, Commissary of the Holy Office, who took me with him in his carriage. On the way he questioned me, show- ing a great desire that I should repair the scandal I had raised throughout all Italy by maintaining the opinion of the motion of the earth. To all the mathematical reasons that I could bring forward he answered one thing only. Terra autem in ceternum stdbit, quia terra in ceternum stat, as the Scripture saith. Thus discoursing, we arrived at the palace of the Holy Office. I was presented, by the commissary, to the assessor with whom I found two Dominican monks. They notified me, with civility, that I should be permitted to ex- plain my reasons to the congregation, and that, subsequently, my excuses would be heard if I were judged culpable. The following Sunday I appeared, in fact, before the congregation and proceeded to set forth my proofs. To my ill-fortune they were not satisfying; no matter what pains I took I could not succeed in making myself understood. My arguments were interrupted by their zeal, they spoke only of the scandal I had caused, always bringing up the passage of Scripture referring to the miracle of Joshua, as the unanswerable portion of the matter. This reminded me of another passage in which the language of the Bible is entirely conformable to popular notions — (The heavens are solid and polished like a mirror of brass). This example seemed to me to be opposite to prove that the words of Joshua could be so interpreted and the conclusion seemed to me to be entirely just. But they gave it no weight and I was answered only by shrugging of shoulders. Galileo's own account of the proceedings gives a different impres- sion from that of the official record. He was argumentative about texts of Scripture, and when his explanation of Joshua's miracle was not found satisfactory, he suddenly recalls another text which will con- vince the Inquisitors, he thinks, that Scripture is not to be interpreted literally. They answered by shrugging their shoulders and by again referring to the scandal he has created in the Church. Galileo does not seem to have, even yet, realized the situation. A letter from the commissary-general of the Inquisition to Cardinal Francesco Barberini (dated April 28, 1633) explains the events of the next weeks. The letter states that the commissary has informed the cardinals of the Holy Office regarding Galileo's case, and that they " took into con- sideration various difficulties with regard to the manner of pursuing the case and of bringing it to an end. More especially as Galileo has in his examination denied what is plainly evident from the book writ- ten by him; since in consequence of this denial there would result the necessity for greater rigor of procedure and less regard to other considerations belonging to this business. Finally I suggested a course, namely, that the Holy Congregation should grant me permis- sion to treat extra-judicially with Galileo, in order to render him sensible of his error, and to bring him, if he recognizes it, to a con- fession of the same . . . permission was granted me. That no time might be lost, I entered into discourse with Galileo yesterday after- noon, and after many arguments and rejoinders had passed between GALILEO. i35 us, by God's grace I attained my object, for I brought him into a full sense of his error. . . . The affair is being brought to such a point that it may soon be settled without difficulty. The court will maintain its reputation; it will be possible to deal leniently with the culprit. ..." Who can say what the arguments of the commissary of the in- quisitor were? They were effective. Galileo's attitude was utterly and instantly changed. On the thirtieth of April he again appeared before the Holy Office and read the following confession : In the course of some days continuous and attentive reflection ... it occurred to me to reperuse my printed dialogue, which for three years I had not seen, in order carefully to note whether, contrary to my most sincere intention, there had, by inadvertence, fallen from my pen anything from which a reader or the authorities might infer not only some taint of disobedience on my part but also . . . that I had contravened the orders of the Holy Church. ... I freely confess that in several places it seemed to me set forth in such a form that a reader ignorant of my real purpose might have had reason to suppose that the arguments adduced on the false side, which it was my intention to confute, were so expressed as to be calculated rather to compel conviction by their cogency than to be easy of solution. Two arguments there are in particular — one taken from the solar spots, the other from the ebb and flow of the tide — which in truth, come to the ear of the reader with far greater show of force and power than ought to have been imparted to them by one who regarded them as inconclusive, and who intended to refute them, as I truly and sincerely held and do hold them to be incon- clusive and admitting of refutation. And, as excuse to myself for having fallen into an error so foreign to my intention, not contenting myself entirely with saying that when a man recites the arguments of the opposite side with the object of refuting them, he should, especially if writing in the form of dialogue, state these in their strictest form, and should not cloak them to the disadvantage of his opponents — not contenting myself, I say, with this excuse — I resorted to that of the natural complacency which every man feels with regard to his own subtleties and in showing himself more skilful than the generality of men, in devising them, even in favor of false propositions, ingenious and plausible arguments. With all this, although with Cicero's ' avidior glorice quam satis est ' if I had now to set forth the same reasonings, without doubt I should so weaken them that they should not be able to make an apparent show of that force of which they are really and essentially devoid. My error, then, has been — and I confess it — one of vainglorious ambition, and of pure ignorance and inadvertence. This is what it occurs to me to say with reference to this particular, and which suggested itself to me during the reperusal of my book. This confused and almost incoherent confession is totally unlike the precise and elegant phrases of Galileo's writings. It is a com- plete reversal of his former position. Parts of it are evidently mere reminiscences of his conversation with the commissary-general (' vain- glorious ambition,' for instance, is a phrase that he must have accepted, not one originating with himself). The whole is a weak abandon- ment of a position proudly held and is as different as possible from the 136 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. manly attitude of Cremonini — an attitude, be it remarked, which he successfully maintained in the face of the Inquisitors. No one can read it without pity. It can be interpreted in many differing ways. My own interpretation is that Galileo was persuaded to make the con- fession by representations that the case was very serious indeed and that a general admission of the sort would satisfy the Pope and cardinals; and that after the confession was obtained it was not very difficult for his judges to proceed to the abjuration ; while if the abjura- tion had been first proposed Galileo might have desperately refused to make it, thus precipitating a crisis most unwelcome to the Holy Office. This is mere conjecture and is perhaps not worth recording. Certain it is that, the confession once extorted, all the dignity of Galileo's attitude was lost. By a slight increase of pressure one who had already yielded so much could be made to yield more, and finally to yield all. It seems to be clear that the pressure was gradually applied. The confession was received by the congregation. Galileo with- drew; but almost immediately returned to offer to write a continua- tion of his Dialogues which should most effectually confute the argu- ments of the earlier portions. This offer is interpreted by Gebler as ' weakness and insincere obsequiousness/ It appears to me to be simply an attempt on his part to prevent the condemnation and pro- hibition of his book; and to show that he was, even yet, far from realizing the grimness of the situation. Immediately offer the hear- ing, Galileo, still a prisoner of the Inquisition, was permitted to re- turn to the palace of the Tuscan ambassador. He wrote letters (which are not extant) to friends. Their answers show that he ' entertained the most confident hopes of a successful and speedy termination of his trial.' One of them writes (May 12) from Florence: "I have for a long time had no such consolatory news as that which your letter of the seventh brought me. It gives me well-founded hopes that the calumnies and snares of your enemies will be in vain . . . since you have gained far more than you have lost by the calamity that has fallen upon you. My pleasure is still more enhanced by the news that you expect to be able to report the end of the affair in your next letter." On May 10, Galileo was again summoned and was informed that eight days would be allowed him to prepare a defense. He, however, had already prepared it and at once submitted the following: When asked if I had signified to the R. P. the Master of the Palace the injunction privately laid upon me, about sixteen years ago, by orders of the Holy Office, not to hold, defend or ' in any way ' teach the doctrine of the motion of the earth and the stability of the sun, I answered that I had not done so. And not being questioned as to the reason why I had not intimated it, I had no opportunity to add anything further. It now appears to me to be necessary to state the reason in order to demonstrate the purity of my in- GALILEO. 137 tention, ever foreign to the employment of simulation or deceit in any opera- tion I may engage in. I say, then, that as at that time reports were spread abroad by evil-disposed persons, to the effect that I had been summoned by the Lord Cardinal Bellarmine to abjure certain of my opinions and doctrines, and that I had consented to abjure them, and also to submit to punishment for them, I was thus constrained to apply to his Eminence, and to solicit him to furnish me with a certificate, explaining the cause for which I had been summoned before him; which certificate I obtained, in his own handwriting and it is the same that I now produce with the present document. From this it clearly appears that it was merely announced to me that the doctrine attributed to Copernicus of the motion of the earth and the stability of the sun must not be held or defended and (here the original MS. is de- faced) . . . beyond this general announcement affecting every one, any other injunction in particular was intimated to me, no trace thereof appears there. Having, then, as a reminder, this authentic certificate in the handwriting of the very person who intimated the command to me, I made no further applica- tion of thought or memory with regard to the words employed in announcing to me the said order not to hold or defend the doctrine in question; so that the two articles of the order — in addition to the injunction not to ' hold ' or 1 defend ' it — to wit the words ' nor to teach it ' 'in any way whatsoever — which I heard are contained in the order intimated to me, and registered — struck me as quite novel and as if I had not heard them before; and I do not think I ought to be disbelieved when I urge that in the course of fourteen or sixteen years I had lost all recollection of them . . . whence it appears to me that I have a reasonable excuse for not having notified to the Master of the Sacred Palace the command privately im- posed upon me ..." [then follows a paragraph declaring that the faults scattered through this book ' have not been artfully introduced ' but are in- advertent, owing to a vainglorious ambition and complacency . . . which fault he is ready to correct.] Lastly, it remains for me to pray you to take into consideration my piti- able state of bodily indisposition to which, at the age of seventy years, I have been reduced by ten months of constant mental anxiety . . . ; [and he hopes that his judges may remit (his punishment) and may defend his honor and reputation against the calumnies of ill-wishers]. No one can read this confession and defence without a feeling of deep pity. This is even intensified if we find in it a lack of entire candor as it is hard not to do—' mistrust in the truthfulness of the accused' — is Getter's phrase. Galileo returned to his palace feeling that his confession had served him well and that his trial was to come to a favorable issue. His confession had, however, put him in the power of his judges. They believed that now was the time to make a signal example. It was decided by the congregation (June, 1633) to bring Galileo to trial 'as to his intention and under threat of torture.' On the morning of June 21 Galileo appeared before the Holy Office, and after being sworn was questioned. His first answer was: A long time ago, that is before the decision of the Holy Congregation of the Index ... I was indifferent and regarded both opinions, namely that of 138 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Ptolemy and that of Copernicus, as open to discussion, inasmuch as either one might be true to nature; but after the said decision, assured of the wisdom of the authorities, I ceased to have any doubt; and I held and still hold, as most true and indisputable, the opinion of Ptolemy, that is to say, the stability of the earth and the motion of the sun. Questioned upon the publication of his Dialogues, he answers in accordance with his previous utterances. ' I am here to obey/ he says, ' and I have not held this opinion since the decision was pronounced.' The protocol of his trial concludes with the words: (Galileo's) ' signa- ture was obtained to his deposition and he was sent back to his place.' This place was not the palace of the Tuscan ambassador. Galileo was detained at the building of the Holy Office till June 24. It is the opinion of the best judges that Galileo was not confined in the dungeons cf the Inquisition. There is not in the Vatican manuscript of the protocol, or in any other place, any evidence or any hint that Galileo was put to the torture at this or at any time. That he was threatened with the torture is equally certain. If he had boldly professed the Copernican opinion the proceedings would have taken a course that had been prescribed in advance (June 16). As he was disposed to abjure this opinion the course was different. On the twenty-second of June, 1633, Galileo was brought into the presence of his judges, where his sentence was pronounced. The sentence of Galileo is a long document. The following extracts con- tain the points of especial importance. We the undersigned ( the names are given ) , by the Mercy of God, Cardinals of the Holy Roman Church, Inquisitors-general throughout all the Christian Republic, deputed by the Holy Seat against heretical perversity: Whereas, you, Galileo, son of the late Vincenzio Galilei, Florentine, aged 70 years, were denounced, in 1615, to this Holy Office, for holding as true a false doctrine proposed by several authors, that is to say, that the sun is immovable . . . ; and moreover for having had certain disciples to whom you taught the same doctrine; for having corresponded on this subject with certain mathematicians of Germany; for having made public certain letters on the subject of spots upon the Sun in which you expounded the said doc- trine as true; and whereas you answered, when objections were made to you citing to you passages of Scripture, by explaining the said Scripture in your own manner; and whereas a copy of a letter was shown to you, said to have been written by you to one of your former disciples (Castelli), in which you, still maintaining the hypotheses of Copernicus, interpreted several propo- sitions contrary to the meaning and the authority of Holy Writ : This Holy Tribunal being therefore desirous of proceeding against the dis- order and mischief thence resulting . . . the two propositions of the stability of the Sun and the motion of the earth were . . . qualified as follows: The proposition that the sun is the center of the world and does not move from its place is absurd and false philosophically, and formally heretical, be- cause it is expressly contrary to the Holy Scripture. The proposition that the earth is not the center of the world and immovable, GALILEO. 139 but that it moves, and also with a diurnal motion, is equally absurd and false philosophically, and theologically considered, at least erroneous in faith. But whereas at the same time it was our pleasure to proceed against you with benignity, it was decided in the Holy Congregation . . . February 25, 1616, that the Very Eminent Cardinal Bellarmine should enjoin you to quit entirely the said false doctrine, not to teach it to others, not to defend it, never to treat it, under penalty that, if you failed to agree to this precept you would be thrown into a prison, and for the execution of this decree, on the fol- lowing day, in the Palace, in presence of the said Cardinal Bellarmine, after having been benignly admonished by him, you received from the Com- missary of the Holy Office, in the presence of a notary and of witnesses the in- junction to desist entirely from the said opinion and for the future it was forbidden to you to defend it, or to teach it in any way, whether by word of mouth or by writing; and having promised obedience, you were dismissed . . . and, whereas, there appeared last year, at Florence, a book whose title named you as the author . . . in which was found a manifest transgression of the aforesaid ordinance intimated to you, and as in that book you defended the opinion that had been condemned, although, in the book, by various devices, you endeavored to persuade that you left that opinion undecided and expressly probable, which is in itself a very grave error, since an opinion cannot be probable when it has been declared and defined to be contrary to Holy Writ : It is for this reason that, by our order, you have been called to this Holy Office, where, examined upon oath, you, admitted that the said book was written and published by you; you confessed that it loas commenced about twelve years ago, after having received the injunction above-named, and that you asked permission to publish it without signifying to those who were em- powered to grant permission, that you had been enjoined from holding, defend- ing or teaching such doctrine in any manner whatsoever. You also confessed that the said book in several places is so written that the arguments in favor of a false opinion may appear to be of a nature to force agreement, rather than such as to be easily refutable; you excused your- self for falling into an error foreign to your intention on account of the dialogue form and because of one's natural inclination to show oneself more acute and more subtle than the generality of men. . . . And whereas delay had been granted you to prepare your defense you produced a letter from Cardinal Bellarmine, that you had obtained from him in order to defend yourself from the calumnies of your enemies who had spread abroad that you had abjured and that you had been punished by the Holy Office. This letter declares that you did not abjure nor were you punished; that you had only been notified of the declaration . . . that the doctrine of the motion of the earth ... is contrary to the Holy Scriptures and that it can not be held or defended; and that as no mention was made in it of the prohibition of teaching in any manner whatever, it is to be believed that in the course of fourteen or sixteen years, this especial thing escaped your memory, and that this is the reason you said nothing of it when asking permission to print, and that in so speaking, you do not wish to excuse your error which should be imputed to a vainglorious ambition rather than to ill intention. But even this certificate, produced in your defense, only makes your cause worse, since it is there said that the said opinion is con- trary to Holy Writ, and nevertheless you have dared to treat and defend it, etc., and the permission (to print) that you obtained by ruse cannot help you. . . . And as it appeared to us that you did not speak the whole truth con- cerning your intentions, we judged it necessary to proceed to a rigorous ex- i4o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. animation at which . . . you answered like a good Catholic. . . . Therefore, having considered the merits of your case, with your confessions and excuses, and all that ought justly to be seen and considered, we have arrived at the underwritten final sentence against you . . . we say that you, the said Galileo . . . have rendered yourself . . . vehemently suspect of heresy . . . and that consequently you have incurred all the censures and penalties imposed . . . against such delinquents. From which ice are content that you be absolved, provided that first . . . you abjure, curse and detest the aforesaid errors (and) heresies ... in the form to be prescribed by us, . . . and we ordain that the book of the Dialogues ... be prohibited by public edict. We condemn you to the formal prison of this Holy Office during our pleasure, and by way of salutary penance, we enjoin that for three years you repeat the seven penitential psalms once weekly, reserving to ourselves full liberty to moderate . . . the aforesaid penalties . . . [signatures of seven cardinals — three not being present or not signing.] The abjuration of Galileo is the last document of the pitiable history : I, Galileo Galilei, . . . aged seventy years, arraigned personally before this tribunal and kneeling before you . . . swear that I have always believed, do now believe and by God's help will for the future believe, all that is . . . taught by the Holy Catholic and Apostolic Roman Church. But whereas — after an injunction had been judicially intimated to me . . . that I must altogether abandon the false opinion that the sun is the center of the world and immovable, and that the earth is not the center of the world, and moves, and that I must not hold, defend or teach in any way whatever, verbally or in writing, the said doctrine and after it had been notified to me that the said doctrine ivas contrary to Holy Writ — I wrote and printed a book in which I . . . adduce arguments of great cogency in its favor . . . and for this cause I have been pronounced by the Holy Office to be vehemently suspected of heresy . . . therefore desiring to remove . . . this strong suspicion, reasonably conceived against me, with sincere heart and unfeigned faith / abjure, curse, and detest the aforesaid errors and heresies . . . and I swear that in future I will never again say or assert verbally or in writing, anything that might furnish occasion for a similar suspicion regarding myself; but that should I known any heretic ... I will denounce him. ... I the said Galileo have abjured, sworn, promised and bound myself as above . . . this twenty-second day of June, 1633. Of the foregoing documents it is necessary to say that most have been translated from the French of Delambre, as the English trans- lations of Gebler were not accessible at the time of writing. It is believed that the extracts given accurately represent the originals. Certain phrases have been printed in italics to emphasize the essential facts of the story. It is also necessary to inquire whether the documents, as printed, correctly state the facts of the trial of Galileo, his explanations, con- fessions and abjurations. It was certainly within the power of the writers of them to state these facts falsely, or to place them in a false light. Every one has to make up his mind for himself whether GALILEO. 141 the foregoing documents are to be taken as correct statements of the circumstances before and during the trial, or not. It is assumed in this paper that they are, in this respect, correct. It seems impossible to make any thing more than a verbal dis- tinction between an injunction ' not to teach ' and one ' not to hold or defend.' An opinion that is held and defended to others is an opinion taught to them. The words of Galileo's judges appear to mean precisely what they say. There was no need to distort them, for his confession of April 30 placed him completely at the mercy of his judges. A discussion by Gebler (pp. 234-239) of the legality of the pro- ceedings against Galileo and of the effect of the sentence against him brings out with complete demonstration the propositions that: 'the sentence of Galileo rests again and again, even on the principles of the ecclesiastical court itself, on an illegal foundation ' ; that ' Eoman Catholic posterity can say to this day ' — with truth — " that Paul V. and Urban VIII. were in error e as men ' about the Copernican sys- tem, but not ' as Popes ' " ; and that " the conditions which would have made the decree of the congregation, or the sentence against Galileo, of dogmatic importance were wholly wanting. Both Popes had been too cautious to endanger (the) highest privilege of the papacy, by involving their infallible authority in the decision of a scientific controversy." There can be no doubt of the validity of these conclusions. The purpose of the prosecution was to check the spread of Copernican doctrines among the faithful and to utterly ruin the authority of Galileo. This purpose was fully attained when notice of his abjura- tion and punishment was sent to all vicars " so that it may come to the knowledge of all professors of philosophy and mathematics . . . that they may understand the gravity of the fault he has committed as well as the punishment they will have to undergo should they (likewise) fall into it." (July 2, 1633). There is no need to trace the further history of Galileo's life in detail. He was permitted to return to the neighborhood of Florence and there he lived until his death in 1612 — the year of Newton's birth. His friend and pupil Castelli writes of his death: The noblest eye which nature ever made is darkened; an eye so privileged, and gifted with such rare powers that it may truly be said to have seen more than the eyes of all that are gone, and to have opened the eyes of all that are to come. The year 1638 was marked by the publication of his epoch-making book ' Discourses on two new Sciences appertaining to Mechanics and Motion.' This contained the foundation of the modern doctrine of i42 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. mechanics and it is the crowning glory of Galileo's life. It attracted instant and universal attention, and at the age of seventy-four Galileo was again recognized by all Europe as a master of science — a founder of doctrine. The troubles of his later years grew light in the satis- faction of his legitimate pride. Myths have grown up about the history of Galileo that it is not necessary to destroy. The whole distressing story has been told in authentic documents. He never suffered bodily torture; he was humiliated and discredited. He never even dared to whisper: E pur se muove. His history, though misinterpreted, has been of the deepest service to the world. It affords a symbol around which the rights of men to freedom of thought have clustered. Just as Benedict Arnold serves as the type of a traitor, so Galileo has been made to serve as a martyr of science. But he was no martyr. A true martyr does not abjure his opinions even in presence of the rack. While his recanta- tion may be excused, it does not testify to moral greatness. We may add a paragraph from Gebler: Party interests and passions have to a great extent and with few ex- ceptions, guided the pens of those who have written on Galileo's life. The one side has lauded him as an admirable martyr of science, and ascribed more cruelty to the Inquisition than it really inflicted on him; the other has thought proper to enter the lists as defender of the Inquisition, and to wash it white at Galileo's expense. Historic truth contradicts both. Galileo was a genius of the first order. His title to lasting fame rests principally on his investigations in mechanics and physics, on the theory of the pendulum, the law of falling bodies, the invention of the thermometer, and on the intelligence with which he employed his unique opportunity for telescopic discoveries. His popular reputa- tion will, however, always be based upon his re-invention of the tele- scope, his advocacy and proof of the Copernican system, his sufferings from the Inquisition, his torture, his abjuration, his seclusion at Arcetri. He will remain preeminently the martyr for science. THE TEACHING OF LOGIC. 143 THE TEACHING OF LOGIC. By Professor ARTHUR H. DANIELS, UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS. IT is a well-known fact that logic is not so generally studied to-day as formerly, and that, on the whole, the attitude towards its edu- cational value is one of indifference. If, however, we try to account for its present status in our colleges by granting that logic is an in- herently difficult and uninteresting subject, our explanation is both inadequate and unfair to the subject itself. True, logic does require a distinctively analytic and reflective quality of mind. It does not afford the possibility that some subjects do, of getting through it by leaning upon memory, or by appropriating the thoughts of another; but, on the other hand, it constantly demands a conscious effort to think, in the absence of those substitutes for thinking things out for themselves which the weak and lazy-minded resort to. True, logic can make no exclusive claim to being an intellectual discipline. Other academic studies furnish just as severe tests of mental power. The real truth of the matter is that the formal conception and abstract presentation of logic are responsible for a large share of its unattract- iveness and needless difficulties. "What I have to write has reference only to elementary or introduc- tory logic. As to the metaphysics or the higher problems of logic I have nothing to say, in this connection, save to express my firm belief that the less an elementary course in logic has to do with metaphysical questions the better. In fact, the discredit into which logic has fallen is in part due to the teaching of the subject from the philosophic stand- point. To hold the place that it deserves in the college curriculum, logic must be shown to have some practical value. I know that this word is in disfavor. We are told of the mathematician who thanked heaven that he had at last discovered a truth which no one would ever be able to make any use of. Perhaps this seeker after truth was but voicing the common antipathy for the word practical. If it is a hope- lessly obnoxious term, why not adopt a word used by President Eliot and then always aim to make truth serviceable? It is my purpose in this article to point out some changes in the mode of presenting logic, whereby it may be modernized and made an attractive and useful under- graduate study. In the first place, the definition of logic should convey to the be- i44 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. ginner's mind a comprehension of its scope and purpose as concrete as possible. I can think of no better way of accomplishing this than by stating at the outset that the business of logic is to formulate and sys- tematically present the methods of our thinking for the purpose of acquiring knowledge of the correct methods and skill in their use. This would make logic a science, treating its subject matter descriptively rather than philosophically. Then proceeding to what is properly the first division of logic, namely, the study of words or terms, it should be made clear that logic treats language from the standpoint of meaning. In reality, logic, so far as its discussion of terms and propositions extends, is one of the trinity of subjects which have to do with the use of language. Its rela- tion to grammar and rhetoric may be best made clear by regarding as the primary interest of logic the function of words as expressing the thought of the speaker or writer. Of course, logical analysis is insep- arable from the correct teaching of grammar and rhetoric. But the actual practise is frequently such as to warrant the criticism that sense is sacrificed to grammatical and rhetorical niceties. One is also re- minded of that portion of Mr. Huxley's criticism of the teaching of English literature at Oxford, where he writes : " I venture to doubt the wisdom of attempting to mold one's style by any other process than that of striving after clear and forcible expression of definite concep- tions ; in which process the Glassian precept, i first catch your concep- tions,' is probably the most difficult to obey."* If students take up logic with the idea, carried over from their study of grammar and their use of dictionaries, that words get their character as nouns, or verbs, or what not, from their origin or form, they should be made to understand early that it is quite an erroneous idea. " The logical character of a name is not something fixed and stable, but quite the reverse. It is function, not structure, that de- termines logical character, and the function of words in asserting is variable. The different actual uses of names are what logic needs to distinguish, not different sorts of names apart from their actual use, words in their context, not words as grammar conceives them or as they lie side by side in a dictionary. . . . Since words are adaptable instruments of assertion, and not restricted to a single function, we might as well ask whether a penny stamp in the pocket is a receipt stamp or a postage stamp, as ask whether a word apart from its par- ticular use has this or that logical character."! The logical treatment of terms is essentially the question of how they are used in this or that connection. * ' Life and Letters,' vol. 2, p. 302. f Sidgwick, ' Use of Words in Reasoning,' p. 243. THE TEACHING OF LOGIC. 145 The same point of view should be maintained when we come to the next division of logic— the study of propositions. Here, likewise, the meaning side of language, and not the form, is of primary interest. Many students have difficulty in realizing that the meaning of a prop- osition does not depend upon its form ; that affirmative, or negative, or categorical forms are not necessarily expressions of affirmative, or nega- tive, or categorical thoughts. For example, the last clause of the verse, ' Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life; and few there be that find it/ is very frequently interpreted as meaning ' some do find it/ In this connection there is another not uncommon error, namely, that of regarding two propositions, worded differently, as different assertions, when, in fact, they assert the same thing. But traditional logic is of little help in the whole matter of logical analysis. For instance, its treatment of conversion makes dry reading and a perfunctory task for the student. It is even worse ; it savors of the artificial and useless. That a subject of such importance as con- version should be presented in a way so unnatural and forbidding as that of the traditional logic is much to be regretted. Logic should teach in this matter, not traditional rules, nor discussions of formal subtleties, but the simple truth that the Tightness or wrongness of every converse rests on precisely the same basis as that of the original proposi- tion, namely, known facts and laws. The proposition that ignorant people are superstitious is true because it agrees with the facts. But if we change it into superstitious people are ignorant we do not get a good converse, because this proposition does not agree with the facts. In the next place, the syllogism needs more radical change in treat- ment than either of the two previously mentioned divisions of so-called deductive logic. The traditional treatment has overloaded the subject with dry discussions, rules and symbolical schemes, so that there is hardly left the slightest appearance of any connection with actual thinking. Better omit all mention of figure, mood, reduction, and the question whether there are three or four figures, than miss the important lesson of the syllogism. " There is little," says Mr. Sidg- wick,* " that need be taught about the syllogism, since the process itself — which is merely that of bringing a particular case under a general rule — is used instinctively by every one from childhood onwards." Examples like these, ( Five francs are a dollar, four shillings are a dollar; therefore five francs are four shillings '; or, ' Some men are not fools, yet all men are fallible/ are not suited to bring out the real ' process/ much less to train the mind in accurately applying a general truth to a particular case. In fact, too many of the arguments selected * Sidgwick, ' Use of Words in Reasoning,' p. 354. vol. lxvii. — 10. 146 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. by authors of text-books for illustration and training in syllogistic reasoning serve little more than to show the machinery of the syllogism. Others are either too hackneyed, transmitted as they have been from one generation of writers to another, or are lifeless fragments and conse- quently mean scarcely more than so many words. Then, again, cases of faulty argument constitute too large a proportion of text-book exer- cises. If selected with discretion, defective reasoning may be used to bring out in the most emphatic manner certain mistakes commonly made in thinking. If, however, examples of bad reasoning are too patently wrong, or if they appeal simply to the instinct of curiosity and afford an excess of amusement, they are likely to fail in elucidating principles and establishing correct habits of thought. On the whole, fresh arguments taken from living thought, which are also models of accurate thinking, should be more extensively used. At this point in the teaching of logic comes the real test of the instructor's skill. Instead of relying upon the text-book, he must depend for illustration upon his own resources. And, as far as possible, the illustrations should be presented in their full form, as actual arguments, and not in the condensed and lifeless way that text- books from lack of space are forced to do. Moreover, what is of even more consequence, he must be able to stimulate students to find ma- terial for themselves. There is no more direct and practical way than this for the student to cultivate the critical habit of mind in reading newspapers and periodical literature, as well as the literature of the various subjects of his college course. Such material would consti- tute what John Morley has somewhere called ' reasoning in real matter.' " It would make such a manual as no other matter could, for opening plain men's eyes to the logical pitfalls among which they go stumbling and crashing when they think they are disputing like Socrates or reasoning like Newton. They would see how a proposition or an ex- pression that looks straightforward and unmistakable is yet, on examin- ation, found to be capable of having several distinct interpretations and meaning several distinct things." Of course there is danger of using exercises that for one reason or another are beyond the grasp of the sophomore or even the average senior. And yet, I am inclined to think that whatever pedagogical mistakes have been made in this connection have for the most part been in the direction of making the illustrations and problems so commonplace and simple as to seem silly. Indeed there is much to justify the student in real life in making the criticism of the student in the story, who says : " When they spring those tricks on you about the flying arrow not moving, and all the rest, and prove it by pure loo-ic, you learn what pure logic amounts to when it cuts loose from common sense." THE TEACHING OF LOGIC. 147 It is more evident in the ordinary treatment of inductive logic than in the case of deductive, that the subject is descriptive in char- acter, with its data taken from the work of scientific investigators and discoverers, and its purpose to set forth the approved ways of thinking. Nevertheless, more might be done to anticipate a first impression, not at all uncommon with students, that the subject matter of inductive logic is abstract and quite removed from daily human interests. There is no danger of over-emphasizing the relation of what is taught in the class room to the realities of life, by way of showing that the content of logic is not the invention of text-book writers, and is not esoteric in its nature and use ; that the methods described and analyzed in treatises on logic may be said to have their primitive forms in the uncultivated state of the human mind whether in savage or in civilized society. What is scientifically known as the uniformity of nature and the method of difference are but the tendencies of the human mind to expect similar coexistences and sequences under similar conditions, and to regard the new antecedent as the cause of the new phenomenon, tendencies as strong in the savage as in the civilized mind. In brief, we should show the student that the difference between the principles and methods of common life, and those studied in logic, is the difference between spontaneous and attentive observation; between rash and rationally guided theorizing; between verification that is heedless and insufficient, and that which is exact and exhaustive. Induction should be understood in its proper connotation. To conceive it as simply the reverse process of deduction, to regard it as identical with case-counting, or mere generalization based upon facts, is to remain ignorant of the complex and varied nature of scientific method, in which generalization plays but one part. A logical analysis of inductive method should be so complete as to make it unmistakably evident that to be a scientific investigator is to be more than a collector of facts and a propounder of theories. Darwin once remarked that any fool could generalize and speculate. The verification of theories by appeal to facts and known laws is the step in inductive procedure quite frequently overlooked or hastily taken. And yet the importance of it is emphasized by what has been said of eminent scientific investi- gators, namely, that the process of deduction has played a more im- portant part in their work than induction; that their days were spent in verifying their theories and establishing the further consequences of them. The failure to understand the complex nature of inductive method appears now and then in another form. It finds expression in the opinions of those who profess to speak authoritatively upon the study of science from the pedagogical point of view. According to this view, the distinction between the observational and the experimental 148 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. sciences is of insignificant value, and the arrangement of science courses might well enough be determined by local and economic conditions. This misconception should be classed with that of mistaking gen- eral for singular terms, as is often done in the case of moral law and natural law. For it regards science as all one and the same, having one invariable procedure in all branches of scientific research, regard- less of the peculiar nature of any particular group of phenomena. Consequently a study of any one of the sciences ought to satisfy the modern demand for science study and should qualify the more brilliant students as competent and reliable investigators in any branch of science whatsoever. If this were true, then, so far as pertains to method, the chemist might at once turn psychologist and pursue his work as successfully as though he had received his training in psychol- ogy instead of chemistry. The ideal man of science would be the last person to make any such claim. For he well knows that, besides the common features of the scientific method which appear everywhere in their broad outlines, there are numerous variations due to individual characteristics possessed by the data of the various sciences or different groups of sciences, and that to be a good scientist requires a preparation in the field in which one is to work. A better understanding of these facts might do much towards dispelling illusions as to a model science and the superiority of one science over another. Unfortunately scien- tists often assume an unscientific attitude towards one another. The physicist, for example, declares that for one to undertake the scien- tific study of psychical phenomena is to sound his death knell as a scientist. There is much need, among investigators in the various fields of human interest, of increased respect for one another's methods and results ; of an intelligent conception of the peculiar conditions and difficulties of problems other than one's own; and instead of ridicule and depreciation, a just and cordial recognition of contributions honestly made, even though they lack the precision and finality which characterize results obtained elsewhere. In addition to an orderly presentation of scientific methods and analysis of important and interesting conceptions such as the uni- formity of nature, cause, hypotheses, theory, law, inductive logic should make it very evident that the data of our thinking are varied, and that the character of many conclusions is problematical. The facts of human experience, the problems of the world at large, do not lend themselves to any ' secure method ' or yield conclusions that are certain. At one time we must act decisively on inferences which are far from approximating to certainty; and then again when it is not a question of choosing or starving, we need that suspended judgment which has been called the greatest triumph of intellectual discipline. In brief, THE TEACHING OF LOGIC. 149 a course in minor logic constructed along the following lines will, to my mind, render the best educational service: Definition and classi- fication, with special emphasis upon use as determining the meaning of terms. The interpretation of propositions and the relation between form and meaning, with much stress laid upon the complexity of actual thinking rather than upon categories, predicables and symbols. The study of the syllogism as a form to which arguments may be re- duced for the purpose of critical analysis. Training in ability to examine the validity of premises and their application to particular cases. And finally, the study of inductive methods with the view of familiarizing students with the actual ways by which knowledge is discovered. All this means that logic is essentially a psychological rather than a philosophical study; that its content is mental phenomena, because the study of methods is but the study of the human mind engaged in the search of truth; that induction and deduction are in reality two constantly interplaying processes and are never found to be what the time-honored division of text-books suggests. Discussions of contro- versial topics, in which logicians delight, and from which no text-book, so far as I know, is wholly free, should be excluded. They have little interest for most students and besides obscuring the real content of minor logic, are likely to produce the impression that logic lacks definiteness and substantial basis. It is much better to hand over speculative questions to philosophy proper. Enough will be left for the course in logic in the time usually allotted it. What Professor Hyslop has said is eminently true : " Logic has been made too formal for usefulness and postponed too late in the course. It ought to follow mathematics immediately, to correct the confidence in reasoning that that science inculcates consciously or unconsciously."* A word, in closing, upon a possible criticism of that part of logic which treats of inductive method. Why study logic in order to be- come familiar with the methods of science? Why not go directly to the several sciences themselves? " We sometimes can not see the wood for the trees ; and lose the broad outlines in the multiplicity of details." Just as we need to get out from among the trees to look at the wood; to stand some dis- tance from the building to get a full view of it, so the scientist must needs view the structure of scientific knowledge from outside his own special field. It is a frequent experience that students become so engaged in the multiplicity of fascinating phenomena of one science, or charmed by * The Psychological Review, 1903, p. 180. Sidgwick's 'Use of Words in Reasoning,' and Aikins' ' The Principles of Logic,' show an encouraging tendency away from the traditional treatment of logic. 150 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. mechanical manipulations, that they are oblivious to underlying truths shared in common with their own and other subjects, or perhaps fail to appreciate the individual characteristics of a particular subject or group of allied subjects. It can not be gainsaid that " a scientific habit of mind can be acquired only by the methodical study of some part at least of what the human race has come scientifically to know." But logic may supplement this indispensable kind of training. In it the methods themselves are made the direct objects of study. Brought together from near and far they may be compared, analyzed and classified with the attention focused upon them in their broad outlines. So pre- sented, with a good body of illustrations, they may be above criticism as too formal or abstract, and furnish both layman and specialist with means of cultivating the sense of discrimination and widening their interests and sympathies. THE MUTATIONS OF LYCOPERSICUM. 151 THE MUTATIONS OF LYCOPERSICUM. By Dr. CHARLES A. WHITE, SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION. DURING the years 1901 to 1903 inclusive I published results of my observations and experiments concerning the horticultural variability, atavic reversion or degeneration, and phylogenetic muta- tion of the common cultivated tomato. The reader is referred to those publications for such statements of pertinent facts as may be omitted from this one.* The object of the present article is to give in popular form a concise restatement of my experimental observations upon some remarkable cases of saltatory plant mutation and varietal changes of the tomato fruit, together with figures and additional dis- cussions. Although the cases of plant mutation referred to constitute the leading part of my subject, I will first discuss the origination and and decadent extinction of the improved fruit varieties which have arisen in connection with, and apparently as a result of, horticultural conservation. These discussions are necessary to the making of a clear distinction between fruit variation and plant mutation as I shall have occasion to refer to them. The enormous increase in the importance of the tomato as an article of food during the past thirty years has so stimulated its cultivation that very many fruit varieties of fine quality have resulted, figures and descriptions of the more important of which are annually pub- lished in seed growers' catalogues. During that time also at least two new specific plant forms have suddenly originated by mutation from the common species,f Lycopersicum. esculenium, making not less than three species of the cultivated tomato. It is desirable to characterize these species briefly in connection with the discussion of the fruit varieties which they bear. The two new species referred to I have called L. solanopsis and L. latifoliaium, respectively, of course leaving the original name, L. esculentum, with the unmutated, or mother form. * ' Varietal Mutation in the Tomato,' Science (n. s.), vol. xiv., pp. 841-844, New York, Nov. 29, 1901. 'The Saltatory Origin of Species,' Bull. Torrey Bot. Club, vol. xxix., pp. 511-522, New York, Aug., 1902. 'My Tomato Experi- ments,' The Independent, vol. liv., pp. 2460-2464, New York, Oct. 16, 1902. 'Aggregate Atavic Mutation of the Tomato,' Science (n. s.), vol. xvii., pp. 76-78, New York, Jan. 9, 1903. f To avoid undue repetition, the terms ' species ' and ' plant forms ' are used interchangeably; and the term ' mutation ' is used in its now accepted sense of sudden origination of species. J52 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY This mother form, even as delimited by the mutations just mentioned, is much the most common one in cultivation. Its early stage of growth is fairly represented by the accompanying Fig. 2. The form to which the name L. solanopsis is given is well represented in a similar stage of growth by Fig. 1. Short descriptions of these two forms are recorded on a following page. I am not now able to present a figure of L. latifoliatum, but it is represented by the plant which bears the fruit variety known to gardeners as the Mikado, or Turner's hybrid. I think the latter name, when applied to the plant, is mis- leading because this specific plant form doubtless originated by true mutation, as L. solanopsis has done; and it is by no means certain that even the fruit variety which it then bore originated by hybridization. Pig. 1. Representing L. solanopsis, the Daughter Form. Fig. 2. Representing L. esculentum, the Mother Form. The difference of L. latifoliatum from the two other forms mentioned is conspicuously seen in its peculiar foliage, the leaves having decur- rent petioles and broad, flattened leaflets with their borders entire in- stead of notched or crenulated. These three species are as well defined and distinct as are any others of the dozen recognized species of Lycopersicum, and as distinct as are many of the recognized species of other plants, whether wild or cultivated, and there is apparently no tendency of the two derived species to revert to the mother form. I do not know of any case of hybridity between any two of them, and no indication of further mutation of the two new species has been observed. It is from these three specific plant forms that the improved fruit varieties have arisen. The greater part of them have arisen from L. esculentum, as that species has been delimited; a considerable num- ber have arisen from L. solanopsis, while L. latifoliatum has hitherto shown the minimum of varietal change in its fruit. These varieties THE MUTATIONS OF LYCOPERSICUM. 153 differ more or less from one another in shades of color, but their valuable qualities appear in the increased solidity or consistence, size and fine flavor of the fruit. Their origination has, in many cases at least, been sudden and fortuitous; and, although their specific char- acters are usually heritable, they are so peculiarly subject to degenera- tion that they hardly possess racial properties. The causes of their origination and extinction appear to be irrelative, and both are inde- pendent of specific plant mutation. Still, as I shall show, a few cases of coincidence of their origin with plant mutation are known; and more or less of common plant variation, and even of dwarfing, have sometimes occurred coincidently. Moreover, all cases of atavic re- version, or degeneration, of fruit varieties from their fine quality have apparently been unaccompanied by any material change in the plants bearing the degenerating fruit. Frequently special reference to those reversions will be made further on, but I will first turn aside for a few more or less theoretical remarks upon the character and manner of origination and extinction of the fruit varieties. In the simple cases of origination of the fruit varieties of the tomato, unaccompanied with plant mutation, the change occurs only in the pericarp, which becomes the fruit. Also, when atavic reversion occurs it is only the pericarp, that is, the fruit, which is materially affected; and both kinds of these changes are doubtless of molecular origin in the germ cells. Likewise, in all cases of phylogenetic plant mutation the initial act is molecular, and occurs in the germ cell of each ovule which gives origin to a new plant form.* There is no apparent reason to doubt that the mutative acts which thus respectively produced the two new specific forms from L. esculentum might have occurred without the coincident production of a new fruit variety, but as a matter of fact a new fruit variety of high quality was coincidently produced in each case; and the coming change in both plant and fruit was doubtless initiated in one and the same germ cell. Still, because of the essential difference between plant mutation and fruit variation, I think this pericarpal change was only a varietal coin- cidence, and not an essential part of the phylogenetic process in those cases. Moreover, that change is known to have occurred separately in other cases, and to have resulted only in weakly heritable fruit varieties. Known cases of degeneration, and final extinction of fine fruit varieties as such, are somewhat numerous, for their instability is very great, although at least most of them remain true to seed from year to year under favorable conditions. Whether the varieties which have * For exhaustive discussions of this and kindred subjects see ' Intra- cellular Pangenesis' by Hugo de Vries. Jena, 1889; and also 'Die Muta- tionstheorie,' vol. 1, by the same author. 154 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. arisen from the two new specific plant forms that were derived by mutation from L. esculentum are more permanent than are those of the mother species I do not now know, but all the cases of atavic reversion known to me have occurred with fruit varieties of the mother species. It therefore seems possible that the fruit varieties arising from L. solanopsis and L. latifoliatum may be less liable to hybridity, or otherwise more permanently heritable, than are those arising from the mother species, L. esculentum. The fruit of the two derived species has always been of fine quality and, for them, intraspecific fruit reversion would not be degeneration; but the original fruit of the mother species was very inferior, and any reversion of its improved quality would be degeneration. For those who may have the oppor- tunity, it will be interesting to observe the relative permanence of the fruit varieties arising from the different species, and the course that may be taken in any qualitative changes that may occur in the fine fruit varieties of the two derived species. In the case of the mother species the trend of fruit degeneration is direct, intraspecific and towards the primitive fruit condition. If similar reversional trend in the fruit of the two derived species could occur it would necessarily be accompanied by coincident reversion of specific plant characters, an occurrence which I think improbable, or we should have one and the same kind of degraded fruit borne by different species. Eeturning to the practical consideration of atavic reversions of fine fruit varieties, it may first be mentioned that they often occur locally and affect only a few plants, or the crop of a single garden or field, the variety thus affected remaining unchanged elsewhere, but, as I shall show, cases of reversion are often much more extensive. The progress of reversion is sometimes slow and sometimes sudden, the whole change in the latter case often occurring in a single genera- tion. The effect is much the same whether the degenerating process is sudden or slow; and however widely the improved varieties may have differed from one another, the reversional trend of all is towards the comparatively small globular berry that may be properly regarded as the primitive tomato fruit form. In slow degeneration the fruit begins to ripen unevenly; it diminishes in size and becomes com- paratively soft, and has a rank taste. The walls and dissepiments become thin, the seed compartments are reduced to four, three, and even to two, and the seed pulp is more abundant and more watery. In sudden reversion the primitive berry condition is reached, or ap- proached, at a bound. These remarks concerning degeneration apply especially to the varieties which have arisen from L. esculentum, as delimited, of which cases only I have had personal knowledge. With the possible exceptions which were merely suggested in a previous paragraph, the duration unimpaired of any of the highly THE MUTATIONS OF LYCOPERSICUM. 155 improved fruit varieties of the tomato is only a few years under favor- able conditions; and constant care is necessary to maintain their fine quality. Therefore the tendency to deteriorate is doubtless inherent; but this result is evidently hastened by careless cultivation, repeated planting of the same ground without rotation with other crops, the growing of plants from unharvested seed, cross pollination with in- ferior kinds, differences in character and fertility of the soil, and the influence of a climate much warmer than, or otherwise different from, the one in which the seed was produced. That this fruit degeneration is sometimes slow and sometimes sudden; that it is imminent and variously excited to action; that it is not confined to sporadic cases of single plants, but may, and often does, equally affect a whole crop, and sometimes all the crops of a wide region, is shown by the following statements of relevant facts. Every person who habitually visits the vegetable markets of any one of most of our towns and cities which are supplied from neigh- boring gardens is familiar with the different grades in quality of the tomatoes there on sale. Indeed, it is often easy to recognize among them different stages of reversion from some of the more common im- proved varieties, notably the Acme. These are too plainly cases of gradual degeneration, resulting from careless cultivation and crossing with inferior kinds, to need explanation. Several of my correspond- ents have furnished me with important corroborative facts. Dr. Geo. G. Groff writes that he has for many years observed in central Penn- sylvania, that tomato plants which sprang from seed of good varieties left in the ground during the winter always produced inferior fruit, usually the small kind called cherry tomatoes. Miss Mary E. Starr informs me that during her residence in Saint Martin's Parish, southern Louisiana, her father found it necessary to procure tomato seed from the north for every crop grown on his plantation, because the seed from even the first crop of tomatoes grown there usually produced very small and inferior fruit. Mr. L. S. Frierson, however, writing from northwestern Louisiana, says that he has produced ex- cellent fruit, true to seed, from his home-grown crops. Mr. H. J. Browne, of Washington, D. C, sent me from a plantation near Havana, Cuba, a small parcel of cherry tomatoes taken from plants which he found growing there luxuriantly. The planter assured him that they were the immediate progeny of the first Cuban crop of a fine large fruited variety, the seed of which he obtained from New York under the well-known varietal name of Trophy. He also asserted that such degeneration was always the result of his attempts to raise tomatoes from Cuban-grown seed, however fine might be the variety from which his original seed was obtained. The fruit of the first Cuban crop, like that of southern Louisiana, was always true to northern seed, 156 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. showing that the initial step towards atavic change took place in the germ cell of every one of the first seeds produced on those southern soils, and that the reversion was therefore sudden and aggregate. Mr. Browne, who has business interests in Calapach island, which lies thirty miles east of the Isle of Pines and eighty miles south of Cuba, also informs me that there are now growing on that island tomato plants which are four or five years old, they having changed from the condi- tion of annual, to that of perennial plants in that tropical climate. Furthermore, the fruit of those plants has changed from a good variety of large size for the first fruitage to the cherry form and size before mentioned for the later fruitages. These credible facts, gathered from widely different sources, plainly indicate that various exciting causes of varietal fruit degen- eration exist, but they throw little light upon the real nature of those causes. The facts mentioned also indicate that many new oppor- tunities are likely to arise for scientific agricultural experimentation with the tomato. Our tropical and subtropical island possessions will doubtless soon be called upon to supply, for our own and other countries, the increasing demand for early tomatoes, just as northern Egypt has been made the early tomato garden of Europe. My present object in referring to these facts, however, is their application to the second part of my subject. This second part pertains to phylogenetic plant mutation as dis- tinguished from ordinary plant variation and the production of new fruit varieties. The immediately following remarks embrace in nar- rative form an account of two cases of saltatory plant mutation which have fallen under my experimental observation. In the spring of 1898 I purchased a couple of dozen young tomato plants of the Acme variety which had been germinated by a gardener near Washington, D. C, and transplanted them, before any of their flower buds were formed, in a garden plot of a few hundred square feet, upon my house lot in the city. Short specific descriptions of these plants and their progeny are given for the purpose of showing their differences. As the plants matured and fruited they were found to possess all the characteristics of the Acme variety, and of typical L. esculentum. They early became decumbent, and at full maturity they were large and diffuse; the haulms, which were slender and somewhat numerous, reaching a maximum length of more than two meters; color of the foliage a comparatively light green; the petiole-midribs long and slender; leaflets moderately narrow, distant, petiolulate, and their sur- faces only slightly rugose; fruit of moderate size, usually depressed- globular in shape, but sometimes transversely oval, uniformly ripened, fleshy and well flavored, and in ripening the chlorophyl green changed to a deep crimson through more or less of yellow. THE MUTATIONS OF LYCOPERSICUM. 157 I selected seed from the fruit of the best plants of this crop of 1898, cured, and sealed them in a packet, and planted a random portion of them in my garden in 1899. I expected to produce true Acme plants from this sowing because of the well-known compara- tive stability of that variety and of my care in selecting and preserving the seed; and also because no other tomato plants were grown with them or in the same neighborhood, from which cross fertilization might have occurred. To my surprise, however, all the plants which grew from those seeds were distinctly different from the parent plants, not only as to fruit, but as to specific details of plant structure; and they were all alike in those characteristics. It may be incidentally mentioned that a difference was recognizable in the earliest stage of growth of the plantlets; the cotyledons were proportionately short, placed low on the stem, and in a goodly number of instances, triple; a character which I have never observed in any other tomato plantlets. At maturity the plants were sturdy and compact, standing erect with little support until after the first fruits were visible, and reaching a mature length of only about two thirds of that of the parent plants; haulms strong and comparatively few; foliage dark green; petiole-mid- ribs short and strong; leaflets moderately broad, not distant, sessile or nearly so, and their surfaces strongly rugose; fruit similar to that of the parent plants in size, shape and consistence, but of finer flavor and more delicate in color, changing from a dark chlorophyl green to cherry red or light crimson through a neutral or flesh color, and not through yellow. I preserved no seed from this crop of 1899, and supposed the fruit variety was therefore lost, as indeed it was, but two years later I recovered it, as will presently be shown. This fruit dif- fered considerably from any other of the numerous varieties known to me ; but the plants had essentially the same specific characters as those which had previously been produced by gardeners, known as the potato-leafed variety of tomato. It was by those characters that I designated L. solanopsis as a distinct species. In the spring of 1900 I purchased from a Philadelphia company of seed growers a packet of their ' selected Acme tomato seed/ which was grown in 1899 on a Pennsylvania farm, more than a hundred miles from the place where my first Acme plants were grown. From this seed I grew thirty plants to maturity, every one of which, with its fruit, was true to the Acme variety as I have just described it for my crop of 1898. Fig. 2 represents one of those plants as it appeared in the early stage of its growth. Its smaller size than Fig. 1 is due only to the relative size of the growing plants at the time the photo- graphs were taken. The conditions of cultivation in this case were identical with those in the former case; no other tomato plants were grown with them, nor were any grown in the neighborhood; and the 158 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. resulting crop of fruit gave no visible indication of impending muta- tion. I as carefully preserved seed from this crop as I had done in the former case, and planted them in my garden in 1901, believing that I should produce Acme plants, notwithstanding my former ex- perience. On the contrary, the result was an exact duplication of my experience with the crop of 1899, every plant and every fruit par- taking fully and uniformly of the duplicated mutation. The plant description, including that of the fruit, which is given in the im- mediately preceding paragraph applies as exactly to the plants of the crop of 1901 as it does to those of the crop of 1899. Fig. 1 represents a plant of this crop in the early stage of its growth, when it was beginning to shed its first flowers. Its deeper shade of green adds to the difference of aspect between the mother and daughter forms. The Figures 1 and 2 are copies of photographs which were taken of the plants as they were then growing in my garden.* The plant represented by Fig. 1 bore the new variety, which I have called the Washington. That which is represented by Fig. 2 bore the Acme variety. Although it can not be proved that the particular plant which is represented by Fig. 1 actually came from a seed borne by the plant represented by Fig. 2, I do not hesitate to assert positively that the plant form represented by Fig. 1 is the immediate progeny of the form represented by Fig. 2. I make this statement with all the more confidence because all the work of my garden has been done con amore by my own hands, including the planting of the seed, the plucking of the fruit from which the seed was taken, and the curing and preserving of the seed for the next year's planting. In all this work I practised the same conscientious care that I have done in all my other scientific work in other fields. No tomato seed other than that which I have mentioned was in my possession during all the time my experiments were in progress, and I do not admit the pos- sibility that any other seed was at any time substituted. Even if there had been any such substitution, it would not account for the mutations which I have described, which were phylogenetic in char- acter and not the result of hybridization. The fruit of the mutated plant species was also a new variety and would not, in any ordinary case of germination, have been produced by seed of any other variety previously known. This new variety is as distinct as are any other fine varieties, and it has been true to seed every year since its origina- tion. If my Acme plants, in either of the cases mentioned, had re- ceived adventitious fertilization by pollen from any other flowers than those of their connate crop associates, the cross fertilization would * These figures were originally published in an article by Dr. R. France", in Die Umschau, at Frankfurt am Main. In that article it was unfortunately stated that Fig. 1 represents the mother form, while the reverse is the fact. THE MUTATIONS OF LYCOPERSICUM. 159 certainly have been incomplete as to the whole crop and various as to the kinds of hybrids produced. Even if it were credible that the first case of complete aggregate mutation was due to fortuitous cross fertilization from some unknown source, it would still be too much to believe that exactly the same hybridizing process should have been repeated in the same manner in a following year. It may be added that there is now much reason to doubt that hybridization, although always imminent among tomatoes, has ever been so effective an agent in producing improved varieties of either plants or fruit as has been generally believed. Indeed,' saltatory mutation and racial variation have doubtless produced many of the results among plants that have been attributed to hybridization; although the latter has produced many wonderful results. At the close of this narrative of experimental observations it is well to call special attention to the assumed fact that the mutative process which produced the new plant form that has been described was essentially separate from the accompanying process of fruit varia- tion, although the two processes were intimately associated in both their origin and development. The plant mutation was from L. esculentum to L. solanopsis; the fruit variation was from the Acme to the Washington variety. The new fruit variety which accompanied the new plant form is of fine quality and therefore of horticultural value; but the origination of any fruit variety is, from a naturalist's point of view, of far less importance than the origination of a species. Plant mutation produces species which are real entities. Fruit variation is limited to changes in the pericarp; and the most improved and herit- able fruit variety thus produced may, by degeneration, become dis- associated from the plant entity without any impairment of that specific condition. There are two extraordinary features of the foregoing narrative of my observations. One of them relates to the sudden and complete mutation of every plant of a crop of twenty-four Acme tomato plants to another specific plant form bearing a new variety of fruit. The other relates to a subsequent exact duplication of that mutation in all its details as to both plant and fruit, in a crop of thirty plants, also of the Acme variety. It is apparent that both cases were initiated and consummated in the plants while they were growing in my garden because the germ cells which gave origin to the mutated plants were all formed there; and the mutated plants were there grown to maturity. Another fact, important in this connection, although stated in a pre- vious paragraph, is that this new specific form had been previously produced by gardeners, who had given to it the name of potato-leafed tomato. That is, this one and the same species, L. solanopsis, has arisen suddenly and independently from L. esculentum at not less than three different times, each in a different locality. 160 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Extraordinary as were the two cases of aggregate phylogenetic plant mutation which came under my observation, they are no more wonder- ful as natural phenomena than are the numerous cases of sudden and aggregate atavic reversion of previously constant and heritable fruit characters which have been mentioned in this and other publications. Indeed, among tomatoes, the aggregate occurrence of both plant muta- tion and atavic fruit reversion appears to be quite as normal as does their separate or individual occurrence. In both kinds of these cases, although their results are so different, the initial change has occurred in the germ cell of each of the seed ovules which gave origin to the affected plants. Both kinds are of mysterious, but doubtless natural, origin. Still, I can make no suggestion as to what may be the nature of either the determinate, predisposing or exciting cause in any of these cases. It is not necessary, but it may not be inappropriate, to say that the foregoing paragraphs have not been written from a biometrical point of view, but from that of an old time naturalist. The principal facts which are there recorded have presented themselves to me with more force than I feel able to present them to others. I am still greatly impressed with their remarkable character, especially because they are not in accord with my own former views. Some of them also are known to be at variance with commonly accepted views of horticultur- ists, but I present them all with full confidence in their accuracy. In- deed, I do not admit the possible occurrence of any error that could have been instrumental in producing any of the phenomena which are here recorded. Notwithstanding the peculiar features of these two cases of sudden mutation in the genus Lycopersicum, I assume that in their essential nature they are to be classed with those cases of mutation which have been observed in the genus (Enothera by Professor de Vries, and which he has used in demonstrating his theory of mutation.* In his experi- ments with those plants, popularly called evening primroses, he re- peatedly observed, in different years, the origination by sudden muta- tion of a few individual plants of one and the same species among the numerous progeny of the mother species. He also observed the similarly sudden and rare mutation of several new species from a mother species, but he has not reported any case of mutation of all the progeny of any one plant of a mother species; much less the progeny of a whole crop of plants, such as I have observed with refer- ence to the genus Lycopersicum. * See ' Die Mutationstheorie,' von Hugo de Vries, Volumes 1 and 2, Leip- zig, 1901, 1902; 'The Mutation Theory of Professor de Vries,' by Charles A. White, Smithsonian Report for 1901, pp. G31-640; and 'A New Theory of the Origin of Species,' by A. Dastre, Smithsonian Report for 1903, pp. 507-517. THE MUTATIONS OF LYCOPERSICUM. 161 The number of specific mutations which were observed in (Enothera by Professor de Vries was greater than the number that has yet been observed in Lycopersicum; but the scope of mutative action in (Eno- thera embraced only a very small percentage of the abundant progeny of the mother plants ; while in the two cases of mutation in Lycopersi- cum which I observed, that action embraced all the progeny of a small crop of mother plants. The mutative period in (Enothera occurred as a correlative of the extreme activity of natural reproductiveness and geographical distribution, but that period occurred in Lycopersicum as a correlative intensive cultivation. The unusual conditions, although so different in each case, apparently made the mutative opportunity available for the respective species. Other conditions will doubtless be found to give other species that opportunity, with diverse results. When other plants shall have been discovered in their mutative period the scope and diversity of mutative action will probably be found to differ in each case. If so, no one case can be made the absolute stand- ard for such action. The observations of Professor de Vries, as well as my own, show conclusively, not only that species may originate by sudden mutation, but that one and the same species may thus originate independently at different times and places and from different plants of a mother species. This fact is not without obvious significance in connection with geographical distribution of living species and the origination and distribution of organic forms during geological time. vol. i/xvii — U 1 62 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. BIOLOGY IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. By T. D. A. COCKERELL, UNIVERSITY OF COLORADO.* FOR the purposes of this article the term Rocky Mountains will be understood to mean the states and territory including and surrounding these mountains in the United States ; that is to say, New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming and Montana. The area thus indicated, stretching from north to south, and including both mountains and plains, is of course extraordinarily varied. Because of the different conditions of temperature, moisture, soil, etc., found within its borders, it possesses as a whole a fauna and flora extremely rich in species. It offers, in the high mountains and to the north, a large assemblage of circumpolar types, some exactly like those of northern Europe and Asia, others variously modified. It gives us, on the plains and to the south, a series of species of Austral origin, some of them intruders even from the tropics. Still again, in its valleys and forests, it has devel- oped a large number of endemic types, found nowhere else in the world. Such a region necessarily presents great attractions to the naturalist. It has been visited by numerous government expeditions and private individuals, beginning early in the nineteenth century, for the purpose of collecting its scientific treasures. It has yielded to these an abun- dant harvest, not only of living animals and plants, but also of fossil forms. Every museum of any consequence contains Rocky Mountain material, and innumerable publications are devoted to its description and illustration. These being the facts, a superficial observer might very well conclude that the natural history of the Rocky Mountains was thoroughly known. So far, however, is this from being true that it would be more correct to say that the scientific study of Rocky Moun- tain biology has hardly begun. Any one who examines the published accounts of Rocky Mountain animals and plants will find, at least in the majority of groups, little more than descriptions of species. Putting aside the enormous num- ber of species still undescribed, we find that the ' known ' species are in fact very little known at all. Among the insects, for instance, there are hundreds of which we do not even know the locality, nearer than the name of the state, and those of which we know the life history are comparatively few. The details of geographical distribution, the char- * Since this paper was written, the writer has moved to the University of Colorado, at Boulder. Mr. L. C. Himebaugh is now in charge of Colorado College Museum. BIOLOGY IN TEE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 163 acter and extent of the variations, the interrelations with other species — these are things rarely mentioned in accounts of species described from our area. The reason for this state of affairs is evident enough. Nearly everything has been done, until quite recently, by naturalists who re- sided in the eastern states. It is true that many of them visited the west, but usually to hurriedly gather together such miscellanea as came in their way, to take them home and there study them at their leisure, or turn them over to the appropriate specialists. Very little was done on the ground, except by a few resident naturalists, who were usually at a disadvantage because of the absence of libraries and museums. Even to this day, one comes across that deep reluctance to form inde- pendent conclusions, born of the feeling that in biology, as in other things, the wise men of the east hold the keys of knowledge. It is exactly the attitude which Americans of the eastern states, a hundred years ago, used to show to the naturalists of Europe. Eastern science is the mother of that of the west, and European science is its grandmother. May this relationship never be forgotten; but the time must come when the young fellow will stand for himself. I think and hope that this time is rapidly approaching, and therefore regard with more than ordinary interest the new developments in the educational institutions, which begin (only begin!) to make intellectual independence in biology a possibility. Such talk as this is not mere bombast ; such wishes are not merely born of that mania for supremacy which afflicts so many peoples. We do not wish to do any more than look after our own affairs, and that we surely are entitled to do. The point is that, after all, biology is the study of living things, and the descriptions of museum specimens are only preliminary to the most important part of the work. It is utterly impossible that the innumerable problems raised by different aspects of our fauna and flora (biota, let us say, after Stejneger) can ever be solved except on the ground. And our eastern friends — they have their own region, very far from being exhausted, besides having to look after material from all sorts of countries where there are no resident naturalists, or very few, and adequate facilities are not even in prospect. I am not proposing a sort of Monroe Doctrine in biology. Pro- fessor Underwood, not very long ago, did advocate something of this kind; proposing that Europeans should attend to their own flora, or at least to that of their own hemisphere, while Americans looked after American plants. This, if I understood it rightly (and it was plainly put!), was not a very defensible proposition; for imagine the results of the two halves of the circumpolar flora being studied entirely apart! Indeed, one has only to examine existing publications to see numerous ill results of this provincialism — and it is provincialism, though one's province be as large as the two Americas. So far from wishing to 1 64 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. isolate Eocky Mountain naturalists and their work from that of others, I wish exactly the reverse. The time will come, I think, when no single man will think of producing a monographic work on a group of organisms. He will compile the work, adding to his own contributions those of others from every region inhabited by his chosen beasts. In that day the local naturalist will contribute his part; but the point is, he will make his own observations, and will not merely send material for the all-wise one to ponder over. The history of Eocky Mountain mammalogy is quite interesting. During the nineteenth century 68 new mammals were described from our area. Of these, six are not now considered distinct, but 62 remain. In the first decade, two were described by Ord. In the twenties, Say made known five, in the thirties Bachman described two, in the forties nothing was added, in the fifties we have six by Baird and one by Audubon and Bachman, in the sixties two by Kennicott and one by Hayden, in the seventies one by Coues, in the eighties one by Shufeldt and one by Merriam. Thus, to the end of the eighties, 22 had been described. Now in the nineties, counting 1900, no less than forty were added, mostly by Merriam and Allen ! In 1901 three more were added, and in 1902 five. I first came to Colorado in 1887, and remember very well having the distinct impression that the species and subspecies of Eocky Mountain mammals were very well known. This, indeed, was the accepted view; but how wonderful was the result of assiduous col- lecting and study during the next ten or twelve years ! It is admitted that not all of the newly named animals are very distinct, but some are, and all appear to have their characters. Of all these descriptions, one was the joint work of two resident naturalists, but the rest were prepared by students living in the east. Perhaps one should make a second exception of the mouse described by Dr. Shufeldt, who resided for a considerable period in New Mexico. The number of new forms described from Colorado, New Mexico and Wyoming is about the same, Colorado being a little in the lead; but only seven, less than half the number of the other states, come from Montana. The northern state, however, can pride itself upon contain- ing the type locality of the grizzly bear; this and the common wood rat (Neotoma cinerea), also from Montana, being the two first-de- scribed animals from our region. It is not necessary to similarly outline the history of other groups, but it may be said that the flowering plants are in the midst of a revival period quite equaling that of the mammals, while the descrip- tion of new insects goes on at a very rapid rate. Of over 500 wild bees collected in the last ten years or so in New Mexico, more than 300 have been described as new. In order that it may be understood that something is really doing in the Eocky Mountains, I propose to briefly describe the existing BIOLOGY IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 165 facilities for work and say a little about some of the workers. I begin with Colorado Springs, merely because it is near at hand. We have in this town a few good naturalists. The senior member of the fraternity is Mr. Aiken, after whom the snowbird Junco aikeni was named. Mr. Aiken has, I suppose, the best collection of birds in this part of the country, and what is more to the purpose, has a really critical knowledge of them. A few days ago, I had the pleasure of reviewing with him a woodpecker which he believes to be new, and I hope he will publish an account of this and other interesting birds which he has studied. Our other bird man, Mr. Edward K. Warren, is also interested in mammals, and is making a remarkably interesting collection of small mammals. Mr. Warren is much interested in the photography of living wild animals and birds; and some of his photo- graphs, especially those showing the ptarmigan in all plumages, are exceedingly beautiful. Professor Cragin, the well-known paleontol- ogist and zoologist, is resident here, but now devotes himself entirely to the history of the west. The types of most of his new species of fossils are in the museum of Colorado College. Professor Sturgis, formerly of Connecticut, now shares with the present writer a laboratory in the new Palmer Hall, and is very busy working on myxomycetes, making colored drawings of innumerable forms. As a result of his work the boundaries between several so-called species are becoming decidedly obscure. Palmer Hall, the great new building of Colorado College, is the wonder and admiration of all who see it. From quarters which would have disgraced a high school, the scientific departments have moved into those which would do credit to any university. It is not possible to do everything at once, and it must be confessed that the equipment is not yet nearly up to the standard of the building. At the same time, there are very good facilities for teaching, and the museum contains a large amount of useful material. As regards the means for research, it seems to me that they are even now sufficient to keep any ambitious investigator from idleness. Of course the great opportunities are in the country itself, with the splendid mass of Pikes Peak close at hand, easily ascended by means of the cog railway. In the college, the large series of fossils — especially Cretaceous — collected by Professor Cragin invites study. Most of the material is from Kansas and Texas, but it would be invaluable for comparison to any one engaged in the study of the Colorado Cretaceous. There is also the herbarium of the late Edward Tatnall, of Wilmington, Delaware, which, although not rich in Eocky Mountain plants, is, on the whole, remarkably good, contain- ing apparently most of the standard sets from the United States and Mexico which have been distributed in recent years. The literature on biology at present possessed by the college is very insufficient, though the library contains many good things. There 1 66 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. is, however, Professor Sturgis's botanical library, very complete for the fungi, and including, I think, all the standard exsiccati, even those of Europe. The books include a complete set of Saccardo, which is now so difficult to obtain. My own library is nearly complete in those groups (Coccidge, wild bees) which I have especially studied, and contains much besides, among other things the Zoological Record from 1889 to date. On the whole, therefore, Colorado Springs offers good opportunities for resident work along several lines; and I presume the facilities will be improved every year. The other Colorado institutions I do not know so well, but I have within the last few months visited the State University, the Agricultural College and the Normal School. At the State University, at Boulder, I found Professor C. Juday in charge of the biology, the regular incumbent, Professor Eamaley, having departed on a tour round the world. I do not know very much about Dr. Kamaley's work, except that he has published some inter- esting studies of the epidermal tissues of flowering plants — a subject of particular interest in the arid west.* Professor Juday is doing some work for the Bureau of Fisheries, on the fishes of Colorado and their food, and the constituents of the plankton of the Colorado lakes. This work, of course, covers a field little explored in our state, and it is very fortunate that it can be undertaken by a resident investigator, though, as I understand it, his residence among us is only temporary. The university museum and herbarium are sufficiently good to be very valuable for teaching purposes, but from the standpoint of an investi- gator they are disappointing. Perhaps the most pleasing thing in the collection is a nice series of local birds, with full explanatory labels. Judge Junius Henderson, the curator of the museum, has devoted a good deal of attention to the birds, and also to paleontology. The new library building of the university is extremely beautiful and the library arrangement and facilities for getting at the books could scarcely be bettered. I noticed among the books a set of the Chal- lenger Eeports, Nature from the beginning, all of Pittonia, Edward's ' Butterflies of North America/ and many other good things. The Agricultural College, at Fort Collins, is chiefly noted bio- logically for the entomological work of Professor Gillette and his former assistants Professor Ball, Mr. C. F. Baker and Mr. E. S. G. Titus. From this institution have come the important ' List of the Hemiptera of Colorado/ Professor Gillette's revision of the Typhlo- cybidse and many other works known to all entomologists. There is just now ready for publication the first part of a catalogue of the * Since this was written Dr. Ramaley has returned from his journey round the world, bringing a large and most interesting collection from Java, Ceylon, Japan, etc. He is engaged in special researches on the anatomy of the cotyledon. BIOLOGY IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 167 Orthoptera of Colorado. As might be supposed, the entomological collections and library are very good, although the latter does not contain everything I expected to see. Professor Gillette is at present assisted by Mr. S. Arthur Johnson, a relative of the well-known curator of the Boston Society of Natural History. Mr. Johnson is doing very nice work on the Hymenoptera, especially on their nesting habits and parasites. He has discovered, for example, the hitherto unknown nest of Entechnia, and has definitely proved the association of Triepeolus with Melissodes. Also with Professor Gillette is Mr. Chas. Jones, a young entomologist who will be heard of in the future. Last summer he worked in a mine at Silverton, Colorado, and spent his leisure moments making by far the largest and best collection yet made of the insects of the Arctic- Alpine zone in the Eocky Mountains. In the Department of Botany and Horticulture at the Agricultural Col- lege, Professor Paddock is properly a horticulturist; but his assistant, Mr. F. M. Eolfs, a brother of Professor Eolfs, of Florida, is doing some very interesting work on parasitic fungi. The herbarium of the college gave me much surprise and pleasure. The last time I saw it, several years ago, it was in such a condition as to be of little use for critical work. Now, the Colorado material in it has all been gone over by Dr. P. A. Eydberg, of New York, who has in press a list of the flora of Colorado, i. e., of the flowering plants thereof. The greater part of the named material has been returned to the college, and I was nat- urally very much interested in the determinations. Although, as I learned from Professor Paddock, the college herbarium contains only about half as many Colorado plants as they have in the New York Botanical Garden, it is by far the best and most useful public herbarium in the state. I say public herbarium because Mr. Geo. Osterhout, of New Windsor, Colo., has long studied the native flora, and is said to have a very fine collection. He has described quite a number of new Colorado plants. At the Normal School, at Greeley, they do not pre- tend to do much research, but Professor Beardsley has made some studies of the minute fresh-water Crustacea, and of the Protozoa, de- scribing some new species. He has also made a collection of Colorado reptiles and amphibia, and will, I believe, publish a list of them. The library of the Normal School is very well arranged, and contains some good zoological books I did not expect to see. In Denver, the State Historical and Natural History Society has a collection, poorly housed in the lowest floor of the capitol building. Mr. Ellsworth Bethel, of the Denver West Side High School, has long studied the fungi and flowering plants of Colorado, and has a large collection. He has discovered very many new species, especially among the fungi, but his duties leave him little time for research. The East Side High School in Denver has a herbarium, presented by Miss Alice 168 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Eastwood, the well-known botanist of California, who used to teach in Denver, spending her summers studying the Colorado flora. In New Mexico, biology is not very much studied. I will only refer at this time to Professor E. 0. Wooton and his assistant, Mr. Metcalfe, at the Agricultural College. These botanists have made large collections of the New Mexico flora, and Professor Wooton's writings on the subject are well known. In Wyoming, one thinks first and last of Professor Aven Nelson, the indefatigable botanist of the University of Wyoming. The her- barium he has accumulated there is by far the best within our region, and his critical studies of the Eocky Mountain flora in the field have given him a knowledge possessed by no other man. He has, of course, described very many new species, and I have heard it stated that he will cooperate with Professor Coulter in the production of a new edition of the latter's ' Eocky Mountain Botany/ now so greatly behind the times. Between Professor Nelson and Dr. Eydberg we seem likely to possess in the near future works which will give a new impetus to the study of Eocky Mountain plants, making easy that which has been getting increasingly difficult. Professor Nelson has already issued a small school flora, including only the commoner and more conspicuous plants. In Montana, we have Professor Cooley, the entomologist of the experiment station, and Professor Morton J. Elrod, of the University of Montana. The work of Professor Elrod in founding a biological station and studying the mollusca, dragon-flies, etc., is extremely valu- able, and one may hope that it will continue to find hearty support. The publications of the University of Montana show that Professor Elrod has been able to interest a number of persons in the ' biological survey ' idea, and the work seems to be growing in volume and value every year. I have not attempted to refer to every Eocky Mountain worker, nor have I said anything about visiting naturalists ; but it would be a serious omission not to allude to Dr. Clements, of the University of Nebraska, who for a number of years has been a ' summer resident/ as they say of certain birds. Dr. Clements migrates to the mountains when his teaching work closes in Nebraska, and, with others, occupies a cottage at Minnehaha, which is on Pike's Peak, at an altitude of 8,400 feet. From this point he explores the slopes of the peak and the surround- ing country, and makes ecological observations. The above brief account of Eocky Mountain biology will make it apparent, I hope, that there are at least six places where fairly good facilities, of one sort or another, are offered for biological research. These are the University of Montana, the University of Wyoming, the University of Colorado, Colorado College, the Agricultural College of Colorado and the Agricultural College of New Mexico. In some in- BIOLOGY IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 169 stances, e. g., the botany at the University of Wyoming, these facilities are extremely good. It will also be clear that there are several resident naturalists within our area pushing forward the work to the best of their ability. Thus the outlook is in many ways satisfactory, but there are still great difficulties to be overcome. It is evident that the men already in the field can not nearly cover it; instead of a dozen or so, we need at least a hundred active workers, and a thousand would not find their hands idle. This is Utopian talk, of course ; but I do think that the first need is to increase the working force. Then again, those who are at work, almost without exception, have to get their living in other ways, and thus can give comparatively little time to research. In the experiment stations, research is well provided for, but the pop- ular clamor for e practical ' investigations and immediate results usually prevents the undertaking of anything very broad or fundamental. Furthermore, the experiment station officers mostly have to do a large amount of teaching. In the colleges and universities, teaching is nat- urally to the front, and in our mountain states this does not mean the teaching of graduate students to more than a very limited extent. A short time ago I appealed to the professor of chemistry in one of the Colorado institutions to do a piece of work of scientific and economic value. He immediately said that he longed to do it, ' but what can I do ? I am giving seven courses ! ' This is a fairly typical case, and although I know very well there are many who would not do anything as investigators if they had the time, the fact remains that those who would, and in fact do, are handicapped to an extent little appreciated or understood. It is not that research is disliked; if anything is done it usually meets with approval, but it is not understood that it is funda- mentally necessary to progress, and that it requires time as well as space to flourish in. Much of what has stood for culture in the west has been little better than a sort of intellectual parasitism on the east and Europe, and there is not yet an understanding or appreciation of the efforts to form an endemic product. On the other hand, those who have accumulated wealth, or in some manner have acquired the means of living at the expense of others, will find in the mountain states ample opportunity. There are, of course, many such people, but with very rare exceptions they do not take to biological subjects. The well-to-do amateur is, for some reason, extremely scarce among us, though in England, for instance, his kind has done wonders. Thus there is plenty to praise and plenty to blame ; but the only thing to do is to go ahead, and if the car of progress moves slowly, at all events it perceptibly moves. 17© POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. WHAT IS EESEAKCH? By Professor HENRY SHALER WILLIAMS, CORNELL UNIVERSITY. THE faculty for research is not some peculiar power of the mind, possessed by some and not possessed by others, but it is a com- mon faculty of all intelligent minds, more active often in youth than later in life, and its exercise in forwarding research depends more upon its discipline and training than upon any so-called original en- dowment of its possessor. But research is diverse from study, and the legitimate outcome of its exercise is not learning what is already known, but the extending of the boundaries of knowledge beyond the point reached by others. In order that these faculties may be appreciated and, when in a promising state of development, may be properly trained, it is requisite that the faculties be clearly recognized and understood, and that the kind of exercise necessary to strengthen and develop them be known and appreciated. What, then, is the particular part of our mental processes by which research is accomplished ? An answer to this question may be reached directly by distinguishing research from its most closely related ac- tivities, namely, investigation and study. Study has for its direct aim the acquirement of knowledge ; investi- gation has for its aim the understanding of the reasons and relations of things already known; full comprehension and scientific discern- ment are the results of its exercise. Pure research beyond both of these has for its aim the discovery of facts, truths and relations not previously known ; its results are the extension of the field of knowledge. Study, when separated from investigation and research, primarily deals with language and the names of things and ideas. Close atten- tion to words and language and a careful cultivation of the power of memory are essential to one who would become a perfect student. In this statement ' words and language ' are not restricted to what are technically called the languages, as French, German, Greek, Latin or English, but it applies to the sciences as well. The study of chemistry, botany or astronomy primarily consists in learning the proper words and names to apply to definite objects, or phenomena of nature. The task of the student of science is the learning of the nomenclature and formulas of science, and such learning may be acquired without much WHAT 18 RESEARCH? 171 comprehension of the laws of nature or understanding of the principles which are symbolized by the language which the student may have acquired ability to use fluently. In other words, a full knowledge of the names of things may be acquired by study, together with ability to talk fluently about them without much personal comprehension, or, as we say, grasp, of the things described. This possibility I have seen realized particularly among students who from their youth have been rigidly trained in the old classical method of education. Men trained strictly by this method understand words with precision and acquire a full vocabulary. They may be able to speak eloquently on subjects of which they know little. I have seen such scholars (juniors or seniors in college), who upon receiving the clue to the subject on which they were expected to write examination papers, could spin out a creditable set of answers quite superior to those written by their less trained (literarily) companions, whose real comprehension of the subject, as shown by other tests, was vastly superior to their own. The pure student also may be said to be hindered from doing his best by stopping to investigate either the meaning or the application of the simple statements recorded in the verbal text before him. This learning by rote is an evil result of carrying study to excess, but it is also a definite aim of study pure and simple. A second result, more or less evil and which comes also as a natural result of pure study, is the tendency to lead the learner to accept, without question, the cor- rectness of the statements he learns. He learns to depend upon others for his knowledge, and thus the expression 'getting knowledge at second-hand ' becomes an actuality for the pure student. Although a successful student, he may fail not only to comprehend what he learns, but fail to think for himself. Nevertheless, the learning of other people's knowledge is an essential step in educating one's intellectual powers for higher work. We must have a wide knowledge of words and their meanings, and a good facility in the use of language, before we can successfully carry on systematic thought ; and the more full and precise his vocabulary the wider and deeper will be the possibilities of both the investigator and the man of original research. Study is thus an essential preparation for investigation ; but if the two be mixed too early in one's educational progress, the results will be deficient by virtue both of the inaccuracy of the learning and of the immaturity of the investigation. A student who begins to investigate too early will, on the one hand, degrade the quality of his scholarship, and, on the other, he will find that the immature conceptions of science which he first forms must often be abandoned upon fuller investigation ; or if retained will lessen the value of his results and place him in secondary rank as an in- vestigator. 1 72 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. To attain the best results of study one must become a docile pupil, learning with precision and thoroughness exactly that which the words and language present to him. Taking statements exactly as they are formulated and using words exactly as others have used them before us — only so may be laid the solid foundation on which genuine research can be securely built. Investigation Distinct from Study. — Investigation is distinctly an- other mental process from pure study. Its results are different from learning, as different as digestion is from eating, and for its best exer- cise a difference should be made in the training process, and in the objects to which the attention is given. Learning has to do with words and language. Investigation deals with meaning, ideas and conceptions. One of the first acts of the investigator, after he has learned to know the thing or phenomenon by its description, consists in transforming the description into new terms. It is like taking a crystal and turning it into a new light in one's hand to see the new reflections due to changed position. The attempt to express the conception in different language leads to a fuller realization of that which is contained in the description, as distinguished from the description itself. This result is more easily gained when an actual physical object before the investigator is im- pressing his senses, than when words alone are used. In the field of philosophy and in mathematics, the process of investigation may be car- ried on without a physical object being present, except in imagination. In this case the discipline of the mental faculties is more direct, and for discipline alone it may possibly be better than the laboratory- method. The rudiments of investigation are found in the classical mode of education, as in translating Greek or Latin into English. But investigation methods may be exercised and trained, certainly more easily and with greater pleasure to young minds, when the visible object is before one, as in the laboratory, where it remains constant and can be tested over and over again, while the terms of expressing one's own view of it are gradually perfected. The laboratory is the special place of investigation. Pure investigation deals with knowledge already attained; as with study the acquisition of the investigator is an acquirement of facts of common knowledge and is not yet research. Experiments are made not to advance knowledge, only to advance the knowledge of the experi- menter in fields already familiar to the teacher. In the fields of science, with which I am particularly concerned in this discussion, there is this difference between study and investigation, that investigation deals with the objective things as distinguished from the words describing them. Phenomena are but phases of things, and are included within the gen- eral term things, as being together experienced by our senses, inde- WHAT IS RESEARCH? 173 pendently of any names or language by which they may be symbolized. On the other hand, it is important to notice that things and their phe- nomena are grasped by the mind in the same way that words and lan- guage of common speech are learned. By study we gain knowledge of words, by investigation knowledge of the things and phenomena of our experience. The laboratory, the museum, the world at large are the normal fields of this process of investigation; much as books and the words of the lecturer are the normal fields of pure study. This brings us to the definition of research. Original research goes beyond investigation in that the things sought for are not only undescribed, but, when the research begins, are actually out of sight, that is, unseen. The field of research may be visible, but the genuine meaning of research is a looking beyond what can be seen; herein is found the most essential characteristic of suc- cessful research, viz., a comprehensive, a keen and a disciplined imag- ination of things and truths before they become objects of experience. We must distinguish, too, between scientific research and haphazard stumbling upon strange things in out of the way places. Curiosity hunters may discover novel and undescribed things, and may even point the way to their source, but it is the trained scientific investigator who discriminates their true value, orients them in the known world of things and makes them available for the use of man. Kesearch, as was noted at the outset, is not a special faculty pos- sessed by a few, but a common faculty specially trained and systematic- ally exercised by but the few, for whom it becomes a tool of the highest value, and the means of opening up new fields of knowledge to mankind. The underlying principle of original research is simple inquisitive- ness ; that trait so characteristic of the Yankee and the fox. I use the term Yankee as the name for a typical American, not a local or political term, but the name for the smart, shrewd, inventive man, who depends upon his own resources and, if without learning or education, still succeeds in penetrating untried fields, and in making headway under all manner of reverses, hindrances and difficulties, always exhibiting a quickness to observe differences and to interpret the meaning of things. All kinds of successful pioneers are made of such stuff. This quality is generally more active in youth than in grown men; the common methods of education repress rather than encourage its activity ; and the old classical system of education is particularly effect- ive in this direction. This repressing result is reached, however, not by direct means, but by the very perfection with which study, pure and simple, is fostered. It is a conspicuous fact in schools that often the keenest and brightest boy is not always the best student ; he may know more and observe more closely than any other, but he gets low marks in spelling, reading and, may be, in arithmetic, even in geography as i74 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. it was formerly taught, and particularly in grammar, which, I believe, is not now made so much of as formerly in common schools. The education which represses curiosity and inquisitiveness, and only edu- cates memory for words, makes learned men of the pedantic kind; so far it discourages and neglects the discipline of the research quality. The fact that the classical system of education trains the study quality to the neglect of research does not, however, diminish the importance of the kind of training it supplies as a fitting for a man for research. It is the neglected part to which attention is directed. I know of no better kind of discipline in study than the thorough and refined methods of the old classical system, supplemented by an early and continuous use of science. It is the neglect of this method which makes the slipshod, careless work which all scientific scholars regret, and unfits many students of science for successful investigation or research. This discipline produces results which may be likened to the tempering of steel, which shows after the steel is hammered into shape and sharpened for its specific purposes. The man who lacks this tempering is in- capable of holding the keen edge, or of making the fine and far-reaching discriminations, which a mind well tempered by the rigid discipline of the classical system has acquired. From the objective side research is the attacking of unsolved prob- lems, the examination of facts undescribed and unexplored, the seeking for truths imagined, but not hitherto formulated. New discoveries of truths, the correction of partial statements of truth, the formation and formulations of new conceptions, these are the results of research. What are the disciplines which foster research? The first requisite in the discipline required for successful research is the keeping alive of the original faculty of inquisitiveness. It must not be stifled while the student is being taught language and the con- tent of language from the books. The second point is that the method of exact study must be thor- oughly acquired, and applied in a wide field of knowledge, whatever may be the particular field of original research later to be chosen. One of the greatest difficulties met with in selecting men to take up original research in particular fields (as brought to light in the deliberations of the Carnegie Institution) is to find men sufficiently well trained to be competent to go on without guidance in new and untried fields. It is also a great mistake, since it necessarily leads to later disappoint- ment, to tempt, or allow, unripe men to try their hand at deep prob- lems of research — to putter over serious problems which the expert and experienced hand knowingly hesitates to attempt. There is no better way to acquire this part of the discipline than by a thorough classical training, such as might be given in what is called an arts course in our college, with a carefully selected and systematically WHAT 18 RESEARCH? 175 arranged series of science studies added. In this study of science care should be taken to begin courses in which lessons are to be learned, and learned upon authority and with exactitude, later to be perfected by laboratory practise; such is, in my judgment, the finest kind of preliminary discipline for a man of research. For it takes a learned man to tell the truth with precision, even when he is its discoverer; and, moreover, only the learned man knows when he has discovered a new truth. Ability to study deeply and accurately is then the second essential qualification to the making of a man of research. Thirdly, to undertake original research a man must be a trained investigator. He must know the methods by which other men have discovered truths and interpreted things. To learn this he must have gone through the exercise of a personal discovery of the meaning of things — have tested for himself the reality of the descriptions written in the books. Such training is best given in the laboratory; analysis and experiment leading to already known results must be gone over by the investigator in careful detail, and the steps of the progress, the associated conditions, the order of sequence of phenomena must be closely observed and recorded; and the relation of the phenomena to one another and the results of experiments clearly understood, formu- lated and, best of all, fully written out. Fourth, the man of research should have a vivid imagination, which should be trained to be accurate and to be his servant, not his master. This faculty, I fear, is often trained out of men by what is called ex- perience. Not only does the dry, matter of fact, world of every day tend to keep one down to thoughts of the immediate present, but the immensity of science and its practical applications, by the very abun- dance of the known facts, crowds out of use all mental pictures of hypothetical conditions not known to common experience. Neverthe- less, as has been already noted, the very function of research is to go beyond the field of present knowledge, and in it the attention must be fixed steadily upon concepts, the realization of which has not yet been attained. The scientific imagination may be exercised and disciplined by the study of mathematics. The architect's work is a definite appli- cation of imagination to projecting new construction. What are called ' working hypotheses ' are the results of this exercise of imagination in advancing research. The discipline of the faculty of imagination is necessary to enable the researcher to distinguish between his concepts of imagination and his concepts of experience. If he knows how to distinguish them, his imagination becomes his valuable assistant, if ignorant or unobservant of the difference, his results become speculative and ineffective. A fifth trait marking the typical man of research is a wide, open mind. Philosophically he should be a whole man, not simply a one- 176 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. sided specialist. Many a man attempting research has come short of really advancing knowledge on account of his prejudices. Darwin was a typical example of a philosophically whole man; whatever personal opinions he may have had, they were never allowed to prejudice any hypothesis he was examining, nor to interfere with conclusions toward which the observed facts logically led him. Faraday was another such man. He wrote the following words early in his scientific career- and his life work was an expression of their truth : The philosopher should be a man willing to listen to every suggestion, but determined to judge for himself. He should not be governed by appearances, have no favorite hypothesis, be of no school, and in doctrine have no master. He should not be a respecter of persons, but of things. Truth should be his primary object. If to these qualities he added industry, he may indeed hope to walk within the veil of the temple of nature. Again he wrote : We may be sure of facts, but our interpretation of facts we should doubt. He is the wisest philosopher who holds his theory with some doubt; who is able to proportion his judgment and confidence to the value of the evidence set before him, taking a fact for a fact and a supposition for a supposition. (Gladstone's, 'Life of Mr. Faraday,' pp. 93 and 94.) Sixth, research must be protected from interference. I take this expression from the game of football; the man who runs with the ball requires the protection of all the rest of the team. So research can not be carried on to successful issue, except by a man who is permitted to devote the best that is in him to the problem of research, and to do so he must have the way opened for him. Many may help to give him the opportunity, but the one thing essential is that he be left free and unimpeded to pursue the problem, wherever it leads him. Time and occasion and money must be at his disposal to such extent as his prob- lem demands. Research work must be regarded as the very flower of a university system, and should not be lightly valued or carelessly managed. Only men thoroughly fitted by the training of study and the training of investigation, and the training of mental discipline, should be allowed the privilege of entering upon research in our universities; but when- ever the proper man is found, the providing of a way for his pursuit of research work, in the field for which he is best fitted, becomes a con- tribution direct to the progress of science in the world, of which any university may be proud. The university may well scrutinize with con- summate care the qualities demanded for research, provide rigidly for the discrimination of those qualities wherever they are highly developed, and may wisely provide with liberality for the true man of research when he is discovered and is properly trained for his work. But in WHAT IS RESEARCH? 177 order to help the right man in his work of research, too great care can not be given to the importance of study and investigation as preliminary steps in the preparation for research. A brilliant student, who lacks power of investigation, may be unfit and inadequate to carry on re- search; and the most capable man of research may still come short of being a ready or able learner of words. Many a man by indomitable energy may overcome great deficiencies, but this fact should not excuse a university from the most rigid discrimination of the essential elements of merit in a man seeking to undertake research work. As the highest aim of the literary scholar is the production of last- ing literary creations, so the highest aim of the research scholar is the advancement of the boundaries of actual scientific knowledge and the discovery of new truths. In both cases the aim must be toward the highest, or the attainment will be unworthy. It is given to but very few to make marked success in either line. The man of research must be willing to devote his life to his work, to sacrifice most of the enjoy- able things otherwise within his reach. He must not be deceived as to the measurement of success. Eesearch can not be weighed by its practical value, to apply the term in its every-day sense, for practical value depends upon the financial productiveness of the energy expended. As with a newly discovered country, years of toil and great expenditure of money, and it may be loss of life, may be demanded before any profit results from the discovery. Even in fields in which rich results have already been attained great expenditure of thought, energy and expense may be required before practical results become evident from new research. We can recall many such cases. Success in research can not be measured by applause, or even by recognition from other scientific investigators. For appreciation comes only from those who appreciate; only those thoroughly conversant with a particular field of knowledge can distinguish an advance or enlargement of the boundaries of that field. The man of research must, therefore, be content to be alone in most of his work; unappreciated and unapplauded, using energy and money on tasks which may seem to all about him useless and wasteful. For these reasons this field of activity should not be entered upon lightly. We as teachers should ever be on the watch for men of the right quality for such advanced work, but should never tempt mere enthu- siasts to undertake a task which for success requires the toughness of a soldier, the temper of a saint and the training of a scholar. VOL. LXVII.— 12. 178 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. PLANTS THAT HIDE FKOM ANIMALS. By Professor W. J. BEAL, AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE, MICH. Plants Protected by Growing under Thorn Bushes and Thistles. — C. G. Pringle, for many years a famous plant collector, especially in Mexico and the arid regions of the United States, speaks of a native grass of northern Mexico, Muhlenbergia Texana, as such a great favor- ite with all grazing animals that it is usually exterminated or nearly so, except when growing under the protection of thorny shrubs, usually mesquite bushes. In Arizona during the winter and spring, the Indians bring it long distances into the towns to sell. He adds, ' How many times I have contended with the horrid mesquite bushes to gather an armful of this grass to carry joyfully to my hungry and jaded horses.' In such cases the thorns, spines and perhaps bitter taste of the _ bushes not only protect the young growth and leaves of certain plants, but furnish shelter for other tender and nutritious herbage. In arid regions, especially, similar instances of protection by thorn bushes are numerous. Plants retire beneath the Surface of the Ground and are protected from Animals. — At the close of the growing season, large numbers of plants, especially in regions subject to protracted droughts or to severe cold, cast off their leaves, take on a condensed form and remain secure beneath the surface of the ground for months at a time in the form of bulbs, tubers and rootstocks. At such times they are nearly sure to escape destruction by animals. I only need to mention as examples Solomon's seal, Dutchman's breeches, May apple, goldenrod, artichoke. Plants Protected from Animals by Water. — Not only the flowers of many species of plants as they project above the surface of the water are protected from most unwelcome insects, but the whole plants as well. Mud turtles, certain fishes, water snails, larvae of insects, eat aquatic plants, but most other animals are unable to reach them in such places. Water-plantain, wild rice, pond lilies, arrow-head, pickerel-weed, pondweed, lizard's tail, bulrush, bur-reed, cat-tail flag, water dock, and many more of their associates, root at the bottom with leaves float- ing on the surface or projecting above. Innumerable low forms, known as algae, are at home in lakes, ponds and streams or on the surface of the water, Avhile other kinds thrive in salt or brackish water. These aquatics find protection below PLANTS THAT HIDE FROM ANIMALS. 179 the surface or by extending above it, not only from numerous animals, but they have no competition with others which can only grow on dry or moist soil. Aquatics and marine plants and algae are also protected from ex- tremes of cold and heat. During the winter of a cold or temperate climate the rootstocks and buds severed from the tips or branches, and even the entire plant of some species, remain safe and dormant in the mud at the bottom, ready on the approach of mild weather to begin growing again. Some are amphibious, able to thrive when the land is flooded or when the floods have subsided. Plants with such habits have little competition. By climbing Trees and Bushes Many Vines get be- yond the Reach of Cattle. — A considerable number of plants practise economy by growing slender stems instead of producing large tree-trunks for self-support. rr Fig. 1. A Mght Blooming Cereus, Cereus Great numbers of climbing GreggU, showing the Large Succulent Roots plants or vines are favored ^ZrSnZf * Storehouse for Water above some others in their ability to reach the light and thrive, even though their stems are very weak and slender. This habit brings most of the leaves and flowers of many of them beyond the reach of cattle and other herbivores. Plant Traps in the Water catch Fish and Worms to eat. — A few plants not only defend themselves, but are aggressive fighters because they put to good use the animals they capture. The bladderwort is a water plant and catches much of its food. Underneath the surface of the water in which the plant floats are a number of lax, leafy branches spread out in all directions and at- tached to these are large numbers of little flattened sacks or bladders, sometimes one sixth of an inch long. The small end of each little bladder is surrounded by a cluster of bristles forming a sort of hollow funnel leading into the mouth below, and this is covered inside by a perfect little trap door, which fits closely, but opens with the least i8o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. pressure from without. A little worm or insect, or even a very small fish, can pass within, but never back again. The sack acts like an ell trap or a catch-'em-alive mouse trap. These little sacks actually allure very small animals by displaying glandular hairs about the en- trance. The small animals are imprisoned and soon perish and decay to nourish the wicked plant. Fig. 2. Bladderwort, Ulricularia vulgaris, a Floating Aquatic, the Flowers, at least ARE PROTECTED FROM CRAWLING INSECTS. (Slightly reduced. ) It is not the purpose of these pages to go into details regarding the methods of insectivorous plants, but to tell how plants defend or pro- tect themselves. When scattered by Bursting Pods, the Seeds ore seldom found by Animals. — When mature, the pistils of certain plants burst quickly and with considerable force, scattering the seeds in every direction. The small size and the inconspicuous colors of the seeds make it cer- tain that few of them will ever be found and destro}red by insects or mice. Plants of this kind are euphorbias or spurges, violets, peas, beans, witch hazel, castor-oil plants, balsams and many more. The bearded chaff enclosing the grains of porcupine grass and wild PLANTS THAT HIDE FROM ANIMALS. 181 barley are irritating to the months of grazing animals, which attempt to eat them, though it is not probable that cattle avoid these plants on this account. Gardeners often overlook some of the Weeds. — For many years the writer has had the oversight of two or three acres on which were grown some 2,000 kinds of plants. It is the exception to pass over a bed after a workman has ' dressed it up ' and not find a number of weeds left among the cultivated plants. They are overlooked be- cause of some resemblance of the weed to the plant desired. I enumerate a few examples found one day in the month of May: A few wild onions are left in the asparagus ; wild seedling lilies in a plat of Solomon's seal and in a bed of turtle-head; June grass lurks in plats of several sorts of pinks, of Phlox and of many other plants; narrow-leaved dock is often abundant, and some of it is left in a plat of dandelions, of teasels, of rhubarb, of butter- cups, of rue anemone; pig weeds Fig. 3. Leaf and Flower and Ripening Fruit of the Lotus, Nelumbium, protrud- ing abovethe Water, which protects these Plants from many Animals. (Much re duced.) are left to go to seed among potatoes and tomatoes; the brittle joints of prickly pear are left to grow among other species which they resemble; seeds of violets in variety spring up in plats of other violets where they were shot by the mother plants; chick- weeds are rarely ever all dis- covered in plats of speedwells; while speedwell lurks among the snap-dragons; white clover is not all removed from plats of alsike clover, red clover and black medick ; young plants of climbing fumitory are left in beds of ginseng, Dutchman's breeches and yellow puccoon; seedling wild cherries are overlooked among winter berries; ground-nut escapes notice as it comes up among hog pea-nuts, vetches, or Fig. 4. Buds or Tips of Branches of Blad- dekwort separated from the Main Stem and are soon ready to sink to the Bottom of a Pond and there remain during the Winter. 182 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. wild peas ; matrimony vine is left to grow awhile among plants of bitter- sweet, ground cherry, horse-nettle and buffalo bur; the Oswego tea Fig. 5. Twining Plant, Wild Morning-glory. (Reduced.) shies its rootstocks all about and many appear and remain for a time with peppermint, spearmint, sage, origanum and motherwort; worm- wood visits ox-eye daisy and the two agree well together; Canadian golden-rod creeps into plats of low-land grasses, sedges, wild asters and artichokes; the enterprising dandelion is found in plats of hawkweed, chicory, wild lettuce sow- thistle, and is often overlooked; and squaw- weed finds a welcome with sweet-colt's-foot. An Iris that imitates a Rattlesnake. — In por- tions of Washington rattlesnakes are very abun- dant, and are much dreaded by cattle and horses which graze large portions of the state. In this region grow large quantites of Iris fig. e. a cross section Missouriensis and when ripe the rattle of the muchenlargedofablad- see(j m tjie poc]s ci0Sely resembles the rattle of DER-LIKE Trap which « . • i -11 catches worms. (After the snake. Grazing animals invariably step Darwiu-> back after hitting these pods, and thus the green leaves of the plants are spared to work for future crops of seeds. For this observation I am indebted to Matt Crosby, of the U. S. Bureau of Forestry. PLANTS THAT HIDE FROM ANIMALS. 183 Seeds that mimic Pebbles. — Seeds are frequently met with that are mottled or striped or of an inconspicuous color difficult to find when dropped on the soil or among small pebbles. Seeds of this char- acter are least liable to be destroyed. By a process of selection for many generations, no doubt, seeds have acquired their present colors, and some of them are still under- going this process. Certain sorts of cow peas resemble the red soil found in some regions. Caster- oil beans have been mentioned as examples of those which are mottled. Some of the cacti have an irregular shape and a dull gray color much resembling stones of the desert. On the coast of some of the Philippine Islands, a coarse briar pro- duces beans more or less approaching a sphere in shape.* They are about the size of the finger tips of a man and some of them, like peas crowded in the pod, have two flat surfaces. The color varies from moderately dark to light drab, some giving a faint greenish tinge, while the luster of many is exactly that of chert pebbles. Nearly all the specimens show a series of approximately parallel darker lines passing around, very suggestive of stratification. All are quite hard, cut only Fig. 7. Three Seeds of Castor Beans, Brown and Mottled, not easily found when thrown on the Ground. (Slightly enlarged.) Fig. 8. Representing Four Seeds which closely resemble Pebbles, among which they were accidentally gathered. with difficulty with a knife, and when shaken together in the hand give that clinking sound, only somewhat duller, which is characteristic of pebbles. The mimicry then is that of mixed quartz pebbles, and covers shape, size, luster, hardness and stratification. It is so com- plete and perfect that it can not be regarded as mere coincidence Placed in water, the beans are found to be buoyant. Undoubtedly this mimicry of pebbles has saved many a seed from destruction by fish, bird or reptile. * W. H. Sherzer, Bot. Gaz., Vol. XXI. 1 84 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. THE PEOGRESS OF SCIENCE. THE CARNEGIE FOUNDATION. Mr. Andrew Carnegie has added to his vast gifts for public purposes a foundation to provide pensions for col- lege teachers. He has selected twenty- five trustees, all but three of whom are heads of educational institutions, and lias addressed to them a letter in which he states that he has transferred to them $10,000,000 five per cent, first mortgage bonds of the U. S. Steel Cor- poration to provide retiring pensions for the teachers of universities, colleges and technical schools in the United States, Canada and Newfoundland. Mr. Carnegie says : " I have reached the conclusion that the least rewarded of 'all the professions is that of the teacher in our higher educational insti- tutions. New York City, generously, and very wisely, provides retiring pen- sions for teachers in her public schools and also for her policemen. Very few indeed of our colleges are able to do so. The consequences are grievous. Able men hesitate to adopt teaching as a career, and many old professors whose places should be occupied by younger men can not be retired." Strictly sectarian institutions and those sup- ported by the state are excluded from participation. This foundation opens up many prob- lems of extreme importance. If it should be administered as a fund for indigent and disabled professors it would be an intolerable nuisance; but the trustees are of course too wise to permit any such outcome. Still it will be somewhat difficult to prevent it from becoming a charity. About ninety-five institutions are included in the preliminary list of those coming within the scope of the foundation. It would doubtless have been better to have distributed the money pro rata among such of these institutions as would agree to establish a pension system, and, as far as we can see, it would be best to distribute the income in this way. The obvious objection is that the demands of each insti- tution would vary greatly from time to time. One of our leading univer- sities with five hundred officers has a pension system, and we believe that there is at present only one professor on the retired list, whereas twenty years hence there may be a dozen. Still if the income were distributed among the institutions as a trust fund on condition that they establish a pen- sion system, things would come out even in the long run. The expenses and machinery of administration would be reduced to a minimum, and the ob- jectionable charity features would be avoided. When an institution has a pension system, the professor who accepts a position in it does so under a business contract, and there is no question of any patronage or charity. Thus the statutes of Columbia University read: " Any professor who has been fifteen successive years or upwards in the ser- vice of the University, and who is also sixty-five years of age, or over, may at his own request signified to the presi- dent in writing, or upon motion of the trustees, be made an emeritus pro- fessor on half-pay from the beginning of the next succeeding fiscal year." When a man becomes a professor at Columbia University at the age of forty years, he has an expectation of life of about thirty years, and may look, say, to five years of half pay in THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE. 185 retirement. As part of his salary an annuity is paid for by the university at the rate perhaps of $300 a year, and his salary is that much larger than the sum he receives. The income of the Carnegie Foundation should be admin- istered in some such way. One of the most important results of the scheme will be the pressure brought on the state universities to establish pension systems. The College of the City of New York has already provided liberal pensions, and the example will doubt- less be followed elsewhere. If eleemosynary features can be elim- inated from the Carnegie Foundation, the matter is reduced to a phase of the world-wide conflict between individ- ualism and socialism. Should the col- lege teacher be taken care of by society, or should he take care of himself? Much can certainly be urged in favor of life tenure of office, fixed salaries and pensions for university professors. They are thereby set free to do their work, exempt to a considerable extent from anxiety over their material sup- port, from commercial standards, from intrigues and possible injustice, from hasty work, from fear of the conse- quences of free speech. There are many who will develop the highest scholar- ship and produce the best research work under these conditions. But there are some who go to sleep comfortably in such a utopia and others who find it irksome. It tends towards dependence on the part of the professor and des- potism on the part of the administra- tion, to small salaries, to petty rival- ries for honors in place of the serious competition of real life, to a kind of panmixia, where all are chosen who are called and there is but little selection of the best. Probably most people who take thought look forward to socialism as a necessary outcome of the increased complexity of social conditions, but there will be division of opinion as to whether steps in this direction such as Mr. Carnegie's foundation should be welcomed or regretted. THE CONFERENCE OF ANATOM- ISTS AT THE WI8TAR INSTITUTE. The conference of anatomists held on April 11 and 12 at the Wistar In- stitute of Anatomy, Philadelphia, por- tends an important step in the advance- ment of the science of anatomy in America. The men called to this con- ference differ widely in their interests, in their methods of work and interpre- tation, yet all are interested in the one great problem of anatomy in its broad sense. They were selected for this reason, as representing the various phases of activity in morphology. They were invited by the Wistar Institute of Anatomy at the suggestion of its di- rector, Dr. M. J. Greenman, to meet in Philadelphia and discuss the relations which the institute might, with mutual advantage, bear to other forces in the promotion of anatomical research. The following anatomists took part in the conference: Dr. Lewellys F. Barker, professor of anatomy, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ills. Dr. Edwin G. Conklin, professor of zoology, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. Dr. Henry H. Donaldson, professor of neu- rology, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ills. Mr. Simon H. Gage, professor of embryology, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. Dr. G. Carl Huber, professor of embryology and histology, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. Dr. George S. Huntington, professor of anat- omy, Columbia University, New York City. Dr. Franklin P. Mall, professor of anatomy, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Dr. J. Playfair McMurrich, professor of anat- omy, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. Dr. Charles S. Minot, professor of embryol- ogy, Harvard Medical School, Boston, Mass. Dr. George S. Piersol, professor of anatomy, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. The belief of the institute authorities that there is much of common value to be gained by a cooperation of the in- stitute with the anatomical forces of America is shared by many others, and it is the common opinion that the Wistar Institute, on account of its in- dependent organization, will be of great value in supplementing the work iS6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE. 187 of other research schools and museums and especially in acting as a central institution for the collection and distri- bution of research materials and a storehouse for valuable morphological material which has been studied and is to be conserved for future comparisons. The Wistar Museum was instituted in 1808 by Dr. Casper Wistar and in- corporated as an independent institu- tion in 1893 to foster and increase and make useful the museum originally known as the Wistar, or Wistar and of managers. During the past twelve years the museum of the institute has multiplied its collections by six and their value by fifty, researches have been encouraged and much valuable work has been turned out, not to men- tion the great use which has been made of its museum (which is open free to the public) , by students of medicine and natural history from the various educa- tional institutions. The line in which the Wistar Institute has made decided progress is in museum technique; the Method of Storing Valuable Osteological Material in Dust-proof Steel Cases; the Specimens are in Trays. Horner Museum — the first museum of human anatomy in America — and to promote researches in human and com- parative anatomy. A charter was se- cured from the state of Pennsylvania, a modern fireproof building and endow- ment being given by General Isaac J. Wistar to maintain the equipment. This endowment has been most generously doubled and quadrupled several times over since 1893 by the same donor, al- most without the knowledge of its board development of new methods of exhibit- ing specimens, new dust proof steel and glass cases, new form of glass exhibi- tion vessels, the value of which has been recognized both at home and abroad. Most of this #ork, especially the experimental part, is done in its own machine shops, and it is likely that a high degree of technical skill will be developed here. This in itself enables the institute to be of great assistance to research anatomy, especially in those iSS POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE. 189 branches of the work where serial sec- tions and other difficult preparations are to be made. With an equipment for anatomical work equal to any in the country, with an endowment equal to the sum total expended by the three great anatomical schools in the states, with no energies expended in teaching undergraduate students, the Wistar Institute, organ- ized as an independent research insti- tution, stands unique in this country for the substantial support and encour- agement of anatomy. How can it be late certain suggestions to be discussed at the second session of the conference; this committee presented the following propositions: Notes taken at the meeting of the committee yesterday are presented in the following order : (1) The principal object of the institute to be lesearch and under these headings; (a) a chief of investigation, (6) research assistants or assistantships and men who shall divide their services between the museum proper and research, (e) technical assistants. (2) Research and materials: (a) research shall be in the field of neurology, (6) comparative anatomy and embryology. (3) Relations: (a) committee recommends that the subvention to the Journal of Anatomy be granted, (6) committee be ap- Method of Storing a Human Skeleton in a Tray. made of greatest use to the science? This problem, coupled with the fact that there is no central institute for anatomy in America devoted solely to the one purpose, where research ma- terials may be collected together, prop- erly prepared and sent freely to inter- preters who can not come to the insti- tute, was the reason for calling to- gether ten leaders in the science. They discussed it from their various stand- points and were unanimous in their opinion as to the work which might be accomplished. It was fully agre?d at the first session that the development of a museum and the pursuit of re- search are inseparably united. A com- mittee was then appointed to formu- pointed to consider relations of the Wistar In. stitute to American anatomists, (c) the Wistar Institute to apply to the Association of Amer- ican Anatomists for cooperation. (4) That an advisory board of ten be appointed for general purposes: (a) to form a sub-committee on neurology as well as other sub-committees that may be needed, (b) to establish relations with the committee of the International Association of Academies for Brain Investigation and with other committees for collective investigation, (...• 5? i ■Hapip|l||||npw« ■ Views in Padang. A Shelter for the Policemen, Padung. A Karbow Cart in Padang. EXPERIENCES IN SUMATRA. 299 The furniture of the apartments is simple, but very comfortable. A huge, square bed with a canopy of mosquito netting forms the chief feature of the sleeping room. There are no bed covers. A good mattress with thin soft pillows for the head and two long, round, hard, cooling pillows complete the sleeping accommodations. There is an open rack on which to hang the clothes, a small table with its 'goode nacht' light and one or two chairs. The open-air apartment in- variably contains a Dutch steamer chair — a most comfortable piece of furniture in a warm climate. A clothes line is stretched in front of each suite of rooms, and one must become accustomed to looking out from behind his wardrobe at his neighbors. Every few days all wearing apparel, particularly the woolens, must be hung in the sun to save them from mildew. Even with these precautions it is prac- tically impossible to preserve shoes, gloves and leather goods from damage. The call ' Spada ' summons one of the numerous servants always near. The meals at these Dutch hotels are much after the table d'hote system of Europe; one breakfasts when he pleases, but all guests are supposed to have the remaining two meals at the same hours. Before riztafel and dinner, ' spada ' brings to the open lobby of the hotel a tray containing the ingredients for the piht, the national drink of the Indies, and leaves it for all guests who care to indulge. Holland gin and a little bitters compose this counterirritant to the climate. Eiztafel is a unique meal. As its name implies, it is composed chiefly of rice. An expanded soup-plate is placed before each guest, and from an immense bowl of steaming, boiled rice, he ladles out a liberal supply. After the rice-bearer follows a procession of bare- footed servants with dishes containing chicken, boiled, stewed, fried and roasted; turkey, fried cocoanut, potatoes, gravies, a half dozen kinds of vegetables and lastly an elaborate assortment of condiments and preserves. The guest selects such of these as he wishes, and placing all on his mound of rice, mixes them thoroughly and the piece de resistance is prepared. The streets of Padang make no more pretensions to being straight than elsewhere in the Orient, but wind about in ways most confusing to the resident of a right-angled republic. The scenes are as unfa- miliar as the sounds; the pedestrians and vehicles are jumbled to- gether; there are no familiar lines of buildings anywhere; the canals are filled with native bathers, sousing their heads and rinsing their mouths in the yellow, turbid fluid. The common beast of burden is the water-buffalo, or karbow — great shuffling creatures looking as docile as lambs. It is difficult to believe that many of the animals which Ave see on the streets have been wild •^oo POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY ' Padang's Streets wind about in Ways the Most Confusing. ' in the jungles within a few years. Eight noble game they make too, ranking with the elephant and tiger in ferocity and clanger. In the rivers one frequently sees what looks like the partly submerged branch of a tree, but which, upon closer inspection, proves to be the horns of several karbow enjoying a bath. The streets are kept in excellent order for either foot or wheel. There is not a sidewalk in all Padang. The foreigner does not walk much nor far in such a climate, nor does the native if he is fortunate enough to have a fare in his pocket. The ordinary conveyances are two varieties of carts: the dos-a-dos (pronounced dos) with the seats back to back and holding four persons, and the tram with two short seats lengthwise behind the driver's seat. The latter is the more com- fortable, if not crowded to its full capacity of five persons. Both varieties are two-wheeled and are drawn by a single diminutive pony of the most contrary disposition. Traveling by this means is cheap, the legal rate being one guilder (40 cents American) per hour. The legal rate is, however, seldom paid if a bargain is made beforehand. As four persons ride as cheaply as one, the Chinese and Malays ride in groups. At frequent intervals throughout the city are small shelters to protect the policemen and pedestrians from the sudden rains. They are open on one side, and each contains a gong made of a hollow log with a skin stretched across, or sometimes a bell. In cases of fire or crime this gong is beaten to summon help. Many of these shelters contain benches, which are usually occupied in the daytime by some EXPERIENCES IN SUMATRA. 301 ' Orang Malay.' idly kicking his heels in the air, while his better half passes by with the burden on her head. We frequently witnessed the operation of repairing worn places in the streets. This work was all done by native prisoners and most elaborately. At first we wondered where the representative of the law was, for no uniform was visible other than the brown one of the convict and the white band of the ' trusty.' Inquiry furnished a more than adequate explanation. The convicts in Sumatra were Javanese, and the hatred between the natives of the two islands is so bitter that there was no danger of prisoners getting away. A similar system was followed in the disposition of native soldiers. To prevent thieves being abroad at night all natives and Chinese were required to carry lights. Cocoanut trees were plentiful in and around the eclipse camp, and the fruit often furnished a delicious bit of refreshment. jSTo one drinks the milk of the ripened fruit ; for this purpose the green nut is selected, before the formation of the meat has begun. One of the native boys A Side Street in Padang. (Betel Tree in the Foreground.) 3o2 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. would tie a cord around his ankles, which enabled him to get a grip of the straight, branchless trunks. A single blow of the heavy knife which he carried in his belt would send the nut to the ground with a thud that was ample evidence of the danger of being hit by one. The large monkey also gathers the nuts with a skill that is marvelous. He is sent up the tree, with a rope attached to his collar. Selecting the ripe nut, he gets it between his hands and rolls it back and forth until the stem is twisted off, whereupon he throws it to the ground. Stories are not wanting of vicious beasts taking this opportunity of killing their keepers with well-aimed nuts. The cocoanut monkey is the enemy of the baby. If he finds one unguarded, he immediately sets about twisting its head as he would a cocoanut. The dress and habits of the Dutch are well adapted to the climate. Early rising, usually about daylight, is the rule. After a bath and light breakfast, the serious work of the day is taken up and generally finished by midday, when the heat becomes oppressive. After riztafel all the tropical world goes to sleep. About 5 o'clock life begins to stir again, the more comfortable hour before sunset and the twilight being utilized for the promenade, for calls and for recreation. During the early part of the day the costume is almost anything one cares to make it, if one is not engaged in official or other business. The gentlemen are usually seen at home or about the hotels in sarong trousers and loose white jackets, sometimes without slippers and usually without hose. This costume is not uncommon on the streets also dur- ing the early morning hours. White duck or drilling is usually worn for business. For the afternoon promenade and for evening functions, dark clothes are customary, and most uncomfortable. The ladies have much the best of etiquette in this land. Their dress is at all times simple and comfortable. A short sarong skirt, reaching only to the ankles, a loose white jacket of some thin stuff, bare feet encased in slippers or sandals, compose the morning or home costume. Their evening dress much resembles that of their sisters in the temperate zones. It is not until one has been ashore on the low plains that he fully realizes the character of the heavy tropical heat. The air is saturated practically all the time. With a nearly vertical noon-day sun at all times of the year, and with little wind, there is an oppressiveness dur- ing the day in these islands that is unknown in temperate climates. One marvels at the windows and doors, without glass and with large slats, and wonders if it is never cool. He soon finds the wisdom of it and courts all breezes, by night as well as by day. Here it is eternal summer, where clothes are not a necessity, but a nuisance, and where one envies the little brown babies the entire lack of raiment which they enjoy for the first few years of their existence. EXPERIENCES IN SUMATRA. 303 One is early impressed with the amount of life: the land is over- flowing with the human species and the jungles with the lower forms. Even the atmosphere is charged with it ; a piece of paper waved through the air gathers the microscopical forms. A lamp is no sooner lighted than a perfect zoo appears. Great beetles three and four inches long go banging around in their crazy fashion, occasionally taking a header down the back of the unwary. The friendly yellow lizards with their queer little squeaks dart about the vails and ceilings catching flies and small bugs. I have counted a dozen of them in my apartments at one time. Were the insect and reptile life as active as in the temperate regions, the lot of man would indeed be a hard one. The same conditions, how- ever, which tend to keep the human species inactive, affect the pests also. Perhaps the greatest pest of this part of the world is the white ant, a bloated, bleached-out, repulsive little beast. He does not ven- ture out into the light, but woe unto anything organic if it is left in a dark corner for any length of time. He comes from somewhere and immediately sets to work. The natives of Sumatra are a wilder, freer race than their Javanese relatives, quicker of action, with keener eyes and bolder looks. At only a few points in the Island have they become subject to the Dutch, and nowhere to the extent that one finds in Java. Many of the Sumatra- nese are still independent. Friction still exists between them and the Dutch, but I was told that a white man could go almost anywhere unmolested. Much trouble was experienced by the Dutch in the early part of their rule from the Hajjis. These natives, who had made the pilgrim- age to Mecca, exerted almost absolute control over the ignorant masses. There were but few of them, and the necessity for keeping them friendly was consequently great — and very expensive. The Dutch hit upon the idea of making many Hajjis. The Dutch have been very successful in their management of the natives. They do not interfere with the mild form of Mohammedan- ism practised by the Malays nor do they allow any outside influence to be exerted. ISTo missionaries are permitted to proselyte or teach among the natives, and the few who have found their way into the country are required to confine their efforts to the Chinese or other foreigners. Almost the first glance shows the status of the sexes. The women are usually seen with large bundles on their heads and in their arms, stepping along briskly, while the men idle about with slouching gait, frequentlv carrvino- nothing but their dis'nitv or a dove cage. The dress of the men usually consists of a pair of gaudily figured sarong trousers and a jacket, with a large square of sarong cloth twisted into a cap. A sarong is usually worn by the men as a sort of badge 3o4 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. of caste. It is thrown over one shoulder or folded about the waist. They seem to be of no real use, but they can not be left aside. The dress of the women consists of two garments only, a sarong skirt and a long coat of figured calico. Small bundles and babies are carried in a sarong worn as a pouch under the left arm. The sarongs are all of brilliant colors and striking patterns, and few are really pretty. Labor was very cheap, the watchman at the eclipse station being paid 15 guilders per month, equivalent to $6.00 of our money. Ordi- nary labor was to be had in plenty for three guilders per month, and many a family was supported on such an income. The Malays have their own particular vices. Ordinarily they are not quarrelsome, but when aroused they can be fiends. Knives are the usual weapons, little crescent-shaped things no longer than the finger. This knife is held, as they hold all knives, between the tips of the fingers. The objective point is the abdomen. I tried to get a knife as a souvenir, but found it impossible, their sale having been prohibited, I was told. The most unique method of taking life is that often prac- tised upon faithless husbands, who are given finely chopped tiger whiskers mixed with their food. During our stay occurred the 3rearly celebration of the ' soldiers ' of Hasan and Hosain. A motley crowd of natives of all ages, in all sorts of grotesque costumes, with faces painted and carrying banners and symbols, paraded the streets day and evening for a week. Their only attempt at music consisted of discordant sounds from tin pans, sticks, gongs and whistles, subdued, fortunately, by the climate. The object of this exhibition is a superstitious one. When the blowing of trumpets fails to bring their gods to life, the believers gather money, throw an image of some kind into the sea, and subside for another year. The headland which juts out into the Indian Ocean just south of Pa dang commands an extensive view of the surrounding country. This Appenberg of the Dutch (or Boekit Munyeet of the Malays) is also interesting on account of its sacred monkeys. One Sunday when we had no pressing duties at the eclipse station, we paid a visit to the hill. The natives visit the hill and its monkeys to perform religious rites. On our way we passed one of their cave temples, with its group of worshippers. From the summit it was impossible to see anything of the city except a few of the warehouses along the river ; all else was completely hidden in the great grove of cocoanut trees. I had the privilege of seeing something of the coffee and spice in- dustry through the courtesy of the American consul, who was exten- sively engaged in the export trade. He showed me through the ' peel- ing mill ' where the hard outer husk of the coffee berry is removed by machinery (of American manufacture), and through his own and the government's warehouses. Much of the government coffee was EXPERIENCES IN SUMATRA. 3°5 very inferior, said to be due largely to the system of labor. The finer grades of coffee come from the private plantations. The coffee business is a monopoly, the government buying the product at a fixed price and then grading it for market. The price received by the government varies all the way from 15 to 60 guilders per picul, the average being about 40. The consul was very proud of the fact that he had sold the highest priced coffee which ever left Padang — 90 guilders the picul, equivalent to about 27 cents of our money per pound. This coffee came to America. The warehouses were redolent with the odors of all kinds of spices. Bales of cinnamon bark, piles of mace and nutmegs, bins of pepper and cloves attested the fitness of the early name for these islands. All of the spices must be sorted very carefully and many of them tested. For example, the bales of cinnamon bark contained a large portion that was absolutely worthless, put in knowingly by the natives who gathered it. This worthless bark can not be told by sight and so each piece must be tasted. After the instruments had all been packed, and while waiting for the steamer, a short trip was made into the Padang Highlands, where the natives were seen at home in their peculiar horned houses. This little-visited corner of the world offers an attractive field for the traveler who cares to go off the beaten paths. When the official calls had all been paid and the time came to say i slamat/ I left the island of Sumatra with many regrets. VOL. lxvii. — 20. 3o6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. PUBLIC INTEEEST IN EESEAECH. By Professor JOHN M. COULTER, UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO. THE subject I propose to discuss seems to me both timely and im- portant. I recognize that to many scientific men it is a subject to which they are indifferent or which may afford them passing amuse- ment. And yet, there appear in it certain possibilities that may be worth consideration. I do not refer to the general public, to whom information concerning research would be like ' casting pearls before swine/ but to what may be called the intelligent public, the public that thinks and brings things to pass. To develop in proper order what I have in mind, I shall speak of public interest in research under three divisions: (1) its present condition, (2) its possible condition, and (3) its possible results. 1. Its Present Condition. The most available index of the present interest in research is furnished probably by the newspapers and magazines, which try to respond to the desires of their readers. Even a cursory examination of the material they furnish, which may be said to deal with research, shows that it is scant in amount, sensational in form, and usually wide of the mark. The fact that it is scant in amount is a cause for con- gratulation if it must involve the two other features. The sensational form is a concession to what is conceived to be public taste; and while to a scientific man this form seems to exhibit the worst possible taste, the serious objection is that to secure the form truth is usually sacri- ficed. That the real significance of an investigation thus reported is usually missed is not to be wondered at, since the reporter is not the investigator and has no scientific perspective whatsoever. Some of the results of this kind of information are as follows: Men engaged in research are looked upon in general as inoffensive but curious and useless members of the social order. If an investigator now and then touches upon something that the public regards as useful, he is singled out as a glaring exception, and is held up as an example for us all to follow. If an investigation lends itself to announcement in an exceedingly sensational form, as if it were uncovering deep mysteries, the investigator becomes a ' wizard,' and his lightest utter- ance is treated as an oracle. The result is that if the intelligent reading public were asked to recite the distinguished names in science, PUBLIC INTEREST IN RESEARCH. 3° 7 they would name perhaps one or two real investigators unfortunate enough to be in the public eye, several 'wizards' and still more charlatans. The great body of real investigators would be known only to their colleagues, thankful that they were not included in any public hall of fame. And yet the public is not to be blamed, for it is giving its best information; and the fact that it has even such information indicates an interest that would be wiser were it better directed. And this better direction is dammed up behind a wall of professional pride, which makes an investigator look askance at any colleague who has broken through it. I have been especially interested in noting the rising tide of quasi- scientific papers in the leading magazines, seeking to inform the public of certain striking things and occasionally written by scientific men. These men are bold, if they have their colleagues in mind, but they may have something more important in mind. I judge that from the daily paper to the great magazine is the range of agencies by which research can reach the intelligent but non-scientific public; and the conclusion seems justified that while the daily press is as bad as it can be in this regard, it still voices an interest in such subjects; and that the leading magazines are becoming distinctly stronger in this feature. The intelligent public is certainly interested, but it is just as certainly not intelligently interested. 2. Its Possible Condition. The present condition of public interest in research, as described above, does not seem to invite a large measure of hope that it can be improved, even if this were thought desirable. The desirability of a stimulated and intelligent public interest will be discussed later; for the moment the securing of such interest will be considered. The problem is to substitute information for misinformation, so that in- terest may become intelligent. I have taken occasion to discuss this subject with managing editors of newspapers and magazines, and find a general opinion that many subjects of research would be of great interest to the intelligent public, but that such material is the most difficult of all to obtain. This does not mean that such subject matter is difficult to obtain, but that the necessary simplicity and attractiveness of presentation are usually lack- ing. These editors recognize that when the simplicity and attractive- ness must be supplied by a ' middle man/ the result is almost sure to be not only a series of misleading statements, but also a disappearance of the scientific atmosphere. This middle man who stands between science and the magazine public is a curious product of the present situation. He may simply interpret for the public, putting the lan- guage of science into the language of literature; but when he begins 3o8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. to observe for the public he joins the clan of ' poet-naturalists/ who, as John Burroughs has said, ' hold the eye close to the facts and will not be baffled/ It must be confessed that very seldom are they baffled. The judgment of the editors referred to, therefore, is that the middle- man should be abolished, in so far as he is merely an interpreter. As for the poet-naturalist, he will cease to appear scientific when the middle men are abolished. This means a distinct invitation to investigators to become their own interpreters, an invitation which will come to most of them with a distinct shock, if not as an absurdity. Taking it seriously, however, and waiving its absurdity for the moment, what is there in the way of accepting the invitation? The readiest answer to this question is that it would be a waste of time, and under the present conditions the answer seems true. The investigator's chief concern is his investigation; and he does not see how it can be benefited by any information he may give to the public. If such a benefit is not evident, the invitation should be declined; for to accept it under these circumstances is to strain after a little cheap notoriety. But the invitation involves a change of conditions, a change in the policy of editors, on the one hand, and of investigators on the other. If under the new conditions it can be made to appear worth while to accept the invitation, what is there still in the way? It is not to be expected that investigators in general will undertake to learn the art of popular writing, or will take the time to exercise it if they do not need to learn it. The only thing asked for is a simple statement, in terms that intelligent, but non-scientific, persons can understand, of the nature and bearing of an investigation. This would be authori- tative, and would be used, so our friends, the editors, assure us, not only in checking the wild vagaries of the reportorial imagination, but also in bringing to the public a large amount of information which no reporter could discover. Emphasis is to be laid upon the bearing of an investigation, for, naturally, this is the point of vital interest to the public, and the point of importance, as I shall show later. For ex- ample, I might describe in perfectly simple English the results of some experiments I had performed with evening primroses or with pigeons, and people would simply wonder at the things that amuse some men; but if it were added that these experiments have a bearing upon the origin of species and upon heredity, the investigation at once assumes a dignity and an importance that even the public will be quick to appreciate. One sees repeatedly in the public press joking, if not sneering, allusions to the immediate subject matter of some investigation, which seems insignificant or even ridiculous to the uninformed, when, in fact, PUBLIC INTEREST IN RESEARCH. 3°9 it has to do with a very important general subject, which would in- tensely interest the intelligent. I presume that every investigation by an experienced investigator is suggested by its general bearing, the immediate material merely being that which is most available. It is this feature that the reporter always misses, and a strategic movement is represented to the public as a dress parade. It may be well to intimate here that in all this discussion profes- sional investigators are in mind, and not that host of still-born investi- gators whose first and last publication is a doctor's thesis. Just how the clean-cut statements referred to may reach the public, and in what form, are matters of detail which purveyors to the public interest must work out. The general principle is that the investiga- tor's own statement shall be available for such use. 3. Its Possible Results. This is the vital consideration, for all the trouble and the outraged feeling involved must be justified. It means a campaign of education in reference to investigation, an education of the intelligent public. Perhaps it remains to be proved whether this public can become edu- cated in this matter, but the interests at stake seem to make it worth trying. I shall put aside as of secondary importance the more just estimate of investigators that would result, the pulling down of some conspicuous names to a proper level, and the better leveling up of scientific men in general. The present situation in this regard may be irritating and even disgusting, but it is not of sufficient importance to justify what has been proposed. In my judgment, the justification will be found in two results, which, taken together, must seem impor- tant to every investigator. 1. It will show that research is practical. — I recognize at once, in using this statement, that if the universities have stood for anything, they have stood for what is called ' pure science.' I would be the last one to recommend a departure from this standard, for my thought is to show that pure science is the real foundation for any effective applied science ; and that the ' practical science ' of popular definition is the rankest empiricism. A recent and conspicuous illustration in my own field may be cited. When Moore was busying himself with the study of algae, he would have been characterized by the public as highly impractical, for not only were his studies apparently foreign to human interest, but that group of plants is peculiarly within the domain of ' pure science.' However, when he was transferred to the Department of Agriculture, and began to apply his training, the problem of polluted water-supplies, which had cost empiricism, called e practical science,' many thousands of dollars in attempting to solve, met with almost immediate and bril- 3io POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. liant solution. The same training has devised inoculation for nitrogen- impoverished soils; and now the public regards Moore as a distin- guished example of a scientific man who began to amount to some- thing as soon as he abandoned pure science ! The illustration is prob- ably the more striking since the investigator himself applied his pure science; but it illustrates the fact that such practical results are reached most surely and most quickly from the vantage ground of pure science. What the public needs to know is that an effective and economic applied science must root itself in pure science, just as a tree must root itself in the soil. It was with this in view that I laid emphasis upon the general bearing of an investigation as the important feature of its public report. It need not be a practical bearing, to use ' practical ' in its conventional sense; for in many important investigations such a bearing is either lacking or trivial ; but simply the real bearing, which, if it does not appeal to the current desire for immediate practical appli- cation, does appeal to that better desire for information about impor- tant things, to that delight in feeling that the great things are being sought after. The public must be taught that even research that merely means increased knowledge is immensely practical, for it means an attitude of mind, a method, a body of knowledge that must be avail- able for every important problem, whether it happens to be one of economic interest or not. Such education, as all education, will be slow, but the increasing number of investigators who are being drawn from pure science to applied science will give increasing illustrations of the necessary train- ing for results. 2. It will secure endowment for research. — To show to an intelli- gent public that the investigations in pure science are the only kind that are fundamentally practical would not be worth while if it did not result in a better support of research. It is clear that the question of adequate support for research is the most serious one that confronts American science to-day. Teaching and administration tax the time and energy of established investiga- tors; the expense of investigation is becoming greater; the opportuni- ties for it in the way of position and equipment are so few that there is no inducement for young men to become investigators. Not equipped for the men we have, the very desirable multiplication of men is impos- sible. And yet, such equipment as we have is dependent in certain measure upon our output of men. In spite of these conditions, the volume of research is increasing yearly, and young men are still found who will not sell their birthright for a mess of pottage. These condi- tions will continue to become harder unless some relief is found. The Carnegie Institution was intended to furnish some relief. PUBLIC INTEREST IN RESEARCH. 31? and the great flood of dammed up opportunities that broke loose when this chance offered itself is a matter of record. This endowment, vast as it seemed to any individual, proved to be a mere pittance as com- pared with the pressing needs of research in America. To choose among these needs was bewildering, and no committee could choose wisely in every instance. But whether the choosing was wise or not has nothing to do with the impressive illustration afforded of the press- ing needs of research even in its present stage of development. There is no need at present of a fund. to stimulate research; what it needs just now is opportunity. What Mr. Carnegie was brought to see, the intelligent American public must be brought to see, for one institution and one board of control can not hope to meet the need. The appeal to American in- terest is utility, and there is no need to blink the fact. If our relief, therefore, is to come from American interest, we must tell the public what we are doing and of what service it may be; and this is to be done, as I have shown, without any change in our subjects or methods of research. I may say in passing, however, that it has long seemed to me wise to select among profitable subjects of investigation, which are included in our immediate interest, those that may have some bear- ing upon human interests. Nothing is lost by such a choice, and investigation is strengthened thereby in public estimation. I have not the slightest sympathy with those who select subjects for public effect; but I have also no sympathy for those who avoid them when they come in the natural sequence of work. Why should not the public expect some tangible service from the large body of men best equipped to render it? This is the question I was asked by a prominent business man. whom I was trying to interest in a botanic garden, and after I had explained that such an equipment would make certain important investigations possible that could not be undertaken without it. One may inveigh against this utilitarian point of view, but that it exists is a fact, and it does not alter a fact to despise it. Should it have been expected that this business man would break suddenly with the training of a lifetime, even when a botanic garden with an alluring corollary of experiments was pre- sented suddenly to his vision ? It was impossible to educate this par- ticular man in a short time, but had he heard over and over again, for he is interested in horticulture, that the very experiments proposed made possible a better horticulture, he would not have asked such a question. An appreciation of the utility of purely scientific investiga- tions must get into the atmosphere. An atmosphere of appreciation can be created for such non-utilitarian things as music and art, even in a commercially saturated environment, but it is not by keeping still about them or by only revealing them to the cult. 3i2 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. I am afraid that scientific training leads too often to idealism. We know the conditions we should have for our work, and we are impatient with those who do not recognize them. We act as though the suitable conditions should be offered to us freely as our right; and when the}' are not, we rail at those who could help us but do not. In fact, I have been surprised at the confidence shown in us by those who have no conception of what we are doing, and whom we do not take the trouble to inform. This argues well for the possible results of a persistent general campaign of education. I have no large faith that there will be any such campaign, for in my experience investigators have cultivated indifference. Each man is anxious for his own investigation, but not troubled to the point of effort about investigation in general. My chief concern is to secure recognition of the fact that we are being treated about as well as we can expect; and that there is an opportunity for us to do better for ourselves, and far better for investigation in general, if we care to avail ourselves of it. This is not a matter for organization or concerted action on the part of scientific men, but it is the cultivation of a general sentiment among them in favor of giving the public such information as has been suggested; a sentiment that acts when opportunity offers. This gen- eral sentiment is absolutely necessary, for, so far as I know, it is all the other way at present; and the man who sees his work reported in the public press shudders a little when he thinks of his colleagues. After all, it is the good opinion of his colleagues that a scientific man prizes most, and rightly; and he must feel them solidly behind him in any new departure. The attitude of our colleagues across the Atlantic can not be taken as our guide in this matter, for our institutions and our people, whether we approve of them or not, are different. Besides, our European brethren are facing to-day the same problem, and with a much more hopeless outlook. I have been assured by my German colleagues that since their government has become deeply interested in world politics the chances for increased support for research have diminished, and they regard private support as hopeless. We have behind us a public more prosperous and much more generous, accustomed to support lib- erally what it is interested in. If this can be taken advantage of, there is no reason why research in America can not be developed to an extent that is without precedent. THE VALUE OF OLD AGE. 313 THE VALUE OF OLD AGE. By JOHN F. CARGILL. DO the creative or initiatory faculties of the mind begin to wane at middle life? And would the ransacking of all historical data show that a majority of the greatest things in the world have been achieved by men under forty? To undertake anything like a positive solution of so great a problem is naturally out of the question; but one plain aspect of the matter may be shown — leaving it to the reader, or to some future writer having a passion for statistics, to determine upon which side are ranged the exceptions that prove the rule. It may be said with confidence that one fact is indisputable: We can mention no field in the broad domain of science — including astronomy, geology, biology, psychology, sociology, electromagnetism, electricity, engineering, invention, mathematics or medicine that does not owe much indeed to men of advanced years. This statement holds good of the fields also of mechanics, philosophy, statesmanship, letters, history, finance, music, art, discovery, exploration, navigation and many others. A noteworthy beginning may be made with the five great savants who, within the hundred years just past, have given to mankind en- tirely new concepts, new understandings of the universe and of life; have revolutionized the greater sciences, and made it necessary to build anew from the beginning. We will take them in chronological order. Immanuel Kant died in 1804 at the age of seventy-six. His Kritik {' Critique of Pure Eeason') was written, or appeared, after he had reached fifty-seven: a work of such vast comprehensiveness, such subtle, active and far-reaching intellectual resourcefulness, that the world has produced but a handful of men since his day who could fully appreciate or appraise him. His ' Contest of the Faculties ' appeared when he had passed seventy. His primary formulation of the nebular hypothesis was when he was in the thirties; but much of its elaboration was concluded many years afterward. Pierre de La- place, his coadjutor in the hypothesis which shook the world, died in 1827 at the age of seventy-eight. Laplace issued the earlier portion of his great ' Exposition du systeme du monde ' at about the age of fifty; and the completion of this monumental work containing the nebular hypothesis was not published until he was past seventy years. The next great step forward in enlightenment is from the field of astronomy to that of geology, and we come to Sir Charles Lyell, who 3i4 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. died in 1875 at the age of seventy-eight. The most important por- tions of Lyell's work were done after he had passed forty years ; com- plete and sweeping revisions and enlargements of his earlier work were done late in life, and even down to within three days before his death, at the age of seventy-eight years, he finished a revision of his ' Principles of Geology/ a work which amazed and electrified scientists of all nations, and remains to-day the unchallenged great text-book in that field. Lyell's is the broadest and best-balanced mind which has dealt with deep-lying geological problems. In effect, he may be said to have created the science of geology. His work marked the second epoch in the thought of mankind, supplying the needed second link in the chain of evidence of planetary evolution. He applied in geology the principle of gradual development to the earth's crust, which Laplace and Kant had previously wrought in astronomy con- cerning sun systems and planets; which Darwin accomplished after- ward in biology for living forms and organic life, and Spencer achieved for psychology in human consciousness and thought, and for sociology in human society and government. And, moreover, the fuller ampli- fication of Lyell's work was made after he had passed sixty years. With Lyell's work planetary evolution came to be a recognized and definite truth ; and then came Charles Darwin. Darwin was born in 1809, and lived until the age of seventy-three. His lifelong habits of thought, and his methods of research are too well known to be repeated, but it may be said that up to the age of forty-nine years he devoted himself almost wholly to accumulating stores of experience and observation, and to the planning of the great work which was to come afterward. ' The Origin of Species,' written at the age of fifty, sounded the farthest depth of biological knowledge and created such a whirlwind of controversy as no other book has done. His ' Descent of Man,' written at the age of sixty-two, was not less remark- able, and had an effect almost as widespread and profound. No man then living, either young or old, had the preparation, patience in the working out of details, breadth of mind, modesty or the honest sim- plicity of character, necessary to the carrying out of his tremendous task. Darwin may not have created the science of biology, but unmis- takably he brought it out of a vague, confusing and conflicting state, reduced the mass of evidence and details to concrete form, and made it into an orderly and perfect system. Herbert Spencer, the latest of this remarkable group of investiga- tors, died in 1904, at the age of eighty-three. Spencer's mind did not begin its best functions until he was well on into the forties. He was storing up until then — his mind was incubating, as it were. At forty he had made merely a rough outline or program of his ' Synthetic Philosophy,' which massive work he was to carry out triumphantly in THE VALUE OF OLD AGE. 315 his riper and broader years. ' First Principles/ the first work in the series, was finished when he was forty-two years old ; ' Principles of Psychology ' when he was fifty-two ; ' Principles of Sociology ' when he was fifty-six and one of the greatest in his ethics series, ' Justice/ came at the age of seventy-one. He was close upon eighty when his monumental ' Synthetic Philosophy ' was completed, and the person has not yet appeared who has discovered any diminution of his powers from the earlier work to the last page of the final volume. The only aspect of the matter that is worth troubling about is the assertion that no creative, original or vitally important work is accom- plished by men who have passed forty years. The difficulty is to make selections from the abundance of rich material at hand. We have a casual list, and one of the first names is that of an American. Benjamin Franklin was eighty-four years old when he died in 1790. His early life and achievements do not concern us, and are well known. When he was past sixty he was the chief instrumentality in the repeal of the Stamp Act; and after he had reached seventy years he was the main element of inspiration, energy and brains in the first continental congress. At this period (1776) — when he was at the head of the mission to the court of France in aid of American finance — it is said of Franklin that he was ' one of the most talked-of men in the world.' This mission in its all-around results to America and to the world at large has had no parallel. Its chief elements were the bringing about of an alliance between France and the colonies; and the negotiation of a loan of twenty-six million francs, obtained mainly through his own wonderful personality — it certainly was not upon any established or recognized basis of credit. This, after he was seventy years old. At the age of seventy-seven Franklin was one of three commissioners who negotiated the peace treaty with Great Britain after the revolu- tion. Even at the age of eighty his countrymen considered his services invaluable, and refused to be deprived of them. He devised the most original, valuable, important and far-reaching feature of the consti- tution of the United States, namely, that which gives the states equal representation in the Senate and representation according to population in the House. A large book could be filled with equally interesting and pertinent data concerning the achievements of men past middle life; but we may do little else than mention some of them. Christopher Columbus was fifty-six years old when he discovered America; and when he returned from his last voyage to the West Indies and South America he was sixty-eight. Magellan was forty-nine years old when he sailed away upon his globe-girdling voyage — the first man to circumnavigate the world. Baron Humboldt postponed until he reached seventy-six the crowning work of his life, finishing it ('The Kosmos') with high 3i6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. honor and credit. It is a work which despite certain shortcomings, inevitable on the part of any writer at that date, has been declared a successful attempt to portray the universe. Perhaps more than all else it displays the grand and comprehensive intelligence of a great man even at the age of eighty years and beyond. Goethe was eighty- three when he died. At past sixty he finished his ' Theory of Colors/ and he laid out for himself a completely new field of literary activities after he had reached sixty-five. He finished ' Faust ' at eighty, and care- ful criticism has long ago declared that the second part of ' Faust ' is the most important part of the poet's life work. Richard Wagner died at seventy. Wagner did not reach the zenith of his powers until he was fifty. The entire ' Nibelungen Ring ' was produced after he was sixty years old : ' Parsifal ' was written at sixty-four. Haydn died at seventy-seven ; his oratorio, ' The Creation/ was written at sixty-seven years, and i The Seasons ' some years later. Handel died at seventy- four. He composed ' Saul ' at fifty-three ; his greatest work, ' The Messiah ' at fifty-six ; ' Belshazzar ' at fifty-nine, and other works until he had passed seventy years. Gerome the artist died at eighty. He did not reach his greatest power until after he was forty, and much of his splendid work was done after sixty years. Verestchagin was sixty- three when he was cut off in what might be called the vigor and prime of his work by the blowing up of Admiral Makaroff's flagship a year ago. W. W. Story, the sculptor, died at seventy-six; he was a lawyer and writer of law books in early life, and did not take up sculpture until forty. In this he was eminently successful, as well as in the literary field which he continued almost to the end of his years. Lord Kelvin (Sir William Thomson) is now eighty-one. He was at the head of the department of natural philosophy at the Glasgow Univer- sity until sevent}r-two years of age, and his work in the departments of physics and mathematics has continued to the present. After he had passed forty years he originated the mirror galvanometer, and the siphon recorder which solved one of the greatest problems in submarine telegraphy. His works upon navigation, matter, physics and geology, executed after he had passed sixty years, are among his strongest and best. Faraday died at the age of seventy-six. His discoveries of the effect of magnetism upon the polarization of light, and diamagnetism were between the years of fifty and sixty, and many important dis- coveries in chemistry and electro-magnetism continued until late in life. Dr. 0. W. Holmes entertained and delighted the world with his writings until he was eighty, and died at the age of eighty-three. John Fiske did all of his historical work after he reached forty, and the most important of his productions, both historical and philosoph- ical, were after he passed fifty. Commodore Vanderbilt made eighty THE VALUE OF OLD AGE. 317 millions after he was seventy-five years old. These are but a few of the names at hand. Coming down to the present day, and to men who are in advanced life, and living and working amongst us, we might mention our beloved Mark Twain, now seventy, who failed in business for a heavy amount at sixty years, has paid his debts to the last dollar and has retrieved his own fortunes, whose writings at three-score and ten are scarcely less amusing than those of his youth, besides being vastly more in- structive. Dr. Wicr Mitchell is now seventy-six, and after a life of distinguished services to the world in his profe<=«ion he is still active, and in the present year is completing a work of fiction which is thought to be his best. Dr. Mitchell did not begin writing until he was past forty; since when he has published various scientific works as well as books of fiction. Andrew D. White is now seventy-three, has performed important diplomatic missions up to the age of seventy, and has contributed much to philosophy and letters since he reached sixty. Professor Simon Newcomb, now seventy, did not begin to write until he had passed forty, was called to the chair of mathematics at Johns Hopkins University at the age of forty-nine, and his mind is still undimmed and vigorous. Professor Goldwin Smith is now eighty-two ; most of his work has been done since he passed fifty years, he is yet writing, and it is still a pleasure and profit to read anything that comes from his pen. John Hay* is to-day, at th age of sixty-seven, with the exception perhaps of Benjamin Franklin, the greatest diplo- mat America has ever produced. He was appointed minister to England at the age of fifty-nine and secretary of state at sixty. J. Pierpont Morgan is now sixty-eight; his greatest achievement — the greatest industrial organization the world has ever known — the forma- tion of the United States Steel Corporation, was long after he reached the age of sixty years, and nobody has thus far perceived any weakening of his mental powers. Andrew Carnegie is in his seventieth year; has achieved his uncounted millions since he reached fifty years, and his intellect to-day is sufficiently strong so that when he speaks the whole world pauses to listen. The world's need of men of advanced years has perhaps never been so well presented as in Nathaniel S. Shaler's book, ' The Indi- vidual,' the main purpose of which was to present an account of what man's individual life means in the great order. In considering that valuable work it is well to bear in mind that five years ago, when it was written, Professor Shaler was in his sixtieth year, and that he is still professor of geology in Harvard University and dean of the Lawrence Scientific School. In the chapter wherein Professor Shaler considers the question of * This article was in type before the lamented death of John Hay. 3i 8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. the uses of the period of old age, he shows how the presence of three or four generations in a single social edifice gives to it far more value than is afforded by one or two. While the elders may contribute little to the direct profit of the association, they serve to unite the life of the community and bridge the gap between the successive generations. Professor Shaler shows that the average man up to the age of perhaps fifty has little or no time for calm reflection; that the necessities of existence demand that he pursue the gainful life, which is always more or less strenuous. Whatever possible period there may be for the individual to pursue the intellectual life must come afterward. And it does come. Is it necessary to argue that the world needs the assist- ance of the calm reflective mind? Remove this possibility, and man- kind may never be able to learn whether life has either meaning or value — in the larger sense. Recurring wars, he says, repetitions of political follies and the successions of commercial disasters, all show the need of adding in every possible way to the strength of the bond between generations, so that the life of society may gain a larger unit of action than is afforded by the experience of most of its active members. If the deeds of any single period could be the result of the experience of three or four generations of experienced men, rather than that of one, civil- ization would be an immense gainer. There would be fewer recitals of failure, fewer reversions toward savagery. This necessity is made evident, he says, because, notwithstanding the resources of our printed records, they convey only imperfectly the quality of one time to that which succeeds it. The real presence of the generations is necessary to the greatest extent that can be had. He says that the idea of the apparent uselessness of man in ad- vanced years is a survival from the time when a man's value in warfare was the paramount consideration ; and he adds, " The generation which has seen an aged Gladstone guide an empire ; a von Moltke at the three score limit beat down France ; and a Bismarck at more than three score readjust the Powers of Europe, has naturally enough given up the notion that a seat by the chimneyside is the only place for the elders, ?> SUGGESTIVE CASE OF NERVE-ANASTOMOSIS. 319 A SUGGESTIVE CASE OF NERVE-ANASTOMOSIS. By Professor GEORGE T. LADD, YALE UNIVERSITY. SUCCESSFUL cases of the anastomosis of motor nerves presiding over different groups of muscles have been several times reported since 1897. Some of these cases have resulted in the transference of function between the flexor and the extensor nerves of the same ex- tremity; in other cases, nerves serving so different purposes as the sympathetic and the imeumo-gastric have been successfully crossed. The anastomosis of mixed nerves offers, of course, a more complicated problem. In 1898 Dr. Faure attempted to cure a case of facial paralysis due to destruction of the Nervus facialis by uniting its peripheral end with that portion of the Nervus accessorius which supplies the trapezius muscle. But in this case a satisfactory restoration of the function of the facial nerve was not secured. Still later experiments upon animals in Munk's laboratory, with a view to effect a functionally satisfactory anastomosis of the same two nerves, resulted in a partial success. And one instance of this particular operation in the case of a man, which was attended by a somewhat marked recovery of function, was communicated to the Royal Society by Dr. Kennedy, of Glasgow, in November, 1900. The same authority reported several instances of the same class of cases in the London Lancet for March 1, 1902. In one of these cases, Dr. Kennedy, operating " for facial spasm, divided the facial nerve and united it to the spinal accessory with the result that the face recovered its power of movement to a great extent, but that whenever the patient lifted the right arm a spasm of the face was produced." The case of anastomosis, to which I wish now to call your atten- tion, was performed by Dr. Harvey Cushing of Baltimore, in the spring of 1902 ; and it consisted in transferring the proximal stem of the divided accessory nerve in toto into the distal end of the injured and paralyzed facial. The injury to the facial nerve was in this case caused by a bullet wound which completely severed the nerve on the right side of the face; and it involved a loss of the sensations of sweet, sour and bitter substances over the anterior two thirds of the tongue on that side, and a total motor paralysis of the same side. The patient could not close his right eye; lachrymation and other dis- comforts of facial paralysis were present; and none of the muscles 32o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. responded either to the emotions or to the volitions which control them in their normal state. The character of the anastomosis, surgically considered, will easily be seen from the charts (Fig. 1 and Fig. 2) ; and the unfortunate condi- tion of the patient on making the effort to close his eyes is represented by the accompanying photograph (Fig. 3). Dr. Cushing's surgery, so far as the completeness of the union effected between the two nerves was concerned, seems to have been unusually successful. This fact gives additional interest to the dis- cussion of the results from the physiological and psychological points of view. At the time of the operation, owing to the healing of the injury done to the chorda tympani, the sense of taste had largely returned; but 'the patient's face had become, even during repose, much drawn to the left, and an effort to close the eyes would result in the peculiar grimace characteristic of facial paralysis, with tilting up of the eyeball,' as shown in the photograph (Fig. 3). Almost immediately after the operation the patient insisted that his condition was improved; that he was no longer troubled with lachrymation, less troubled with saliva, and better able to dislodge food from his flaccid cheek. He also thought that some power of motion had returned to the eyelid. The doctor urges that this last symptom of improvement could only be due to the inhibitory action of the muscle concerned in raising the upper eyelid ; the other ' subjective assurances of improvement ' he confesses that he is at a loss to ex- plain. About them it would seem we must say, either that the patient was altogether mistaken, or that at least some slight nervous impulse was already passing over the recently united nerve-tract? On the tenth day after the operation the patient was sent home, provided with a small galvanic battery which he used for daily electrical treatment, and was later required to exercise the facial muscles per- sistently before a mirror. From this time on a fairly steady improve- ment was noticeable, beginning with the decrease in the asymmetrical appearance of the face while at rest, the lessening of the cleft be- tween the eyelids; and ending with the more and more highly differentiated voluntary control of the facial muscles and even with the partial recovery of their response to the varied forms of emotional excitement. On the ninety-fifth day the patient reported that, while galvanizing the muscles and at the same time watching his face in a mirror, he noticed to his surprise, on moving his shoulder, that he could produce considerable contraction in the paralyzed muscles. As he expressed it : ' When I wish to laugh straight, I can help it out with my shoulder.' A more particular description of this patient's condition at only two points of time subsequently will be quite sufficient for my purpose. SUGGESTIVE CASE OF NERVE-ANASTOMOSIS. 321 At the end of 168 days the asym- metry of his face when at rest was barely appreciable. He could to a slight extent dissociate movements of eve, nose and mouth. He could almost close his eye by voluntary effort. He could pronounce labials perfectly. He could pucker his lips, although not enough to whistle. He had considerable freedom of facial movement with- out lifting the arm or shrugging the shoulder. But "Elevation of arm and shrugging of shoulder still called forth general contrac- tion of facial muscles which could not be controlled and which was sustained." The condition of the patient's facial muscles at rest is seen by the photograph taken at this time (Fig. 4). Another photo- graph (Fig. 5) shows the result of a volitional effort to contract Corfi accessor! us. aci ali accessor*! us '# Fir;. 2. vol. lxvii.— 21. the facial muscles, when aided by the' arm elevated but completely at rest. At the end of 287 days the volitional control of individual groups of mus- cles had quite completely returned and could ' be effected without asso- ciated shoulder movements of con- traction in the other. facial muscles/ And although emotional expression had not improved to the same extent, it had returned in considerable measure. How involuntary contrac- tion of the face was still pro- duced by a sudden and vigorous elevation of the arm and shoulder is apparent from a photograph taken at this time (Fig. 6). But how, at the same date, symmet- rical closure of the eyes was pos- sible, without associated shoulder movements or the contraction of 322 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY other facial muscles is seen illustrated in another photograph (Fig. 7). A recent letter from Dr. Cushing summarizes the results obtained at this date, November 1904, by several similar operations in the FIG. 3. Fig. 4. I Fig. 5. Fig. 6. following words : " The first thing to return after the anastomosis is an involuntary movement of the face, associated partly with a voli- tional movement (shrugging the shoulder, for example) of the muscles SUGGESTIVE CASE OF NERVE-ANASTOMOSIS. 323 Fig. 7. supplied properly by the spinal accessory. Following this in a few weeks there is some power of volitional movement in the paralyzed muscles of the face, without association of shoulder movements. Last of all comes — if it comes at all — the emotional movements over which the patient has no conscious volitional control." This case which I have now presented in barest outline (and all similar cases of recovery of voluntary and emotional control of paralyzed muscles after anastomosis) raises a number of questions of interest to students both of cerebral physiology and of psychology from the physiological and experimental points of view. Among these the chief is, perhaps, the problem as to what takes place in the cortical centers that is brought about by the changes in the peripheral tracts through which the centers control the different groups of muscles. No completely satisfactory answer to this problem seems at present to be anywhere in sight. But there are three or four tenable hypotheses which may — probably with at least some factors taken from each — contribute toward the better understanding of the problem. Of such hypotheses the first which I will mention suggests that a more or less nearly complete substitution of function took place be- tween the center of the N. facialis and that of the N. accessorius. Their proximity would be favorable to this — the two centers being not more than about one inch apart. That the cortical center of the accessory nerve did exercise some control over the facial muscles through the united accessory and facial nerves is apparent from the effect produced upon those muscles by raising the arm or shrugging the shoulder. With the general fact of a certain power of substitution of new cerebral areas for disused or injured ones, cerebral physiology is familiar. But how centers so unlike in the character and variety of the muscular functions which they control as are the center for the facial muscles and the center for the trapezius muscle could substitute for each other, is difficult to imagine. Inasmuch, however, as the cortical 324 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. area, which was formerly ' accessory ' in the control of the arm move- ments, evidently was accessory still in the control of the facial move- ments, as soon as the juncture of the new nerve-tract was complete; it is possible that the continued exercise of its functions by electrical and volitional stimulus developed the required variety and differentia- tion of function necessary for facial control. How the cortical center for the N". accessorius knew (sic) that it was called upon to come to the rescue and improve its discerning qualities, as a part of a more complex and intelligent motor system, may remain for us an unanswerable question. In connection with this hypothesis we may perhaps help ourselves out with another. The fitting of hitherto unused nerve elements with the medullary sheaths necessary for their employment in voluntary motor functions would seem not to be an improbable assumption in the present case. The researches of Ballana, Stewart and others have shown that the regeneration of fibers in cut nerves is not, as was formerly supposed, effected by the growth of the proximal extremities of the axis-cylinders, but by axis-cylinders shot out from logitudinal cells which appear in the distal segment itself. Thus chains of cells are formed which fuse together and become invested with medullary sheaths. Flechsig has also shown that in the human infant at birth, while all the fibers of the spinal cord except those of the pyramidal tracts, which are used especially as conductors of voluntarily initiated impulses, have become myelinated, the vast multitude of fibers in the brain have not become so. According to Professor Sherrington, all this suggests a conclusion which has other evidence in its favor, namely, that a nerve-fiber is not a single nerve-cell process, but a series or chain of nerve-cells forming a functional continuum. The reason, then, why regenerated nerve-fibers do not attain maturity, and so perform their appropriate functions, unless they become united with the central end of some nerve, is that only by this union can they get an opportunity of actually performing these functions. That seems to amount to saying that the call upon them to perform un- accustomed work causes them to fit themselves for this work. It is not, therefore, too violent an assumption to suppose that, in such a case of recovery of voluntary and emotional control of paralyzed muscles by anastomosis as I have narrated, a new cerebral apparatus of control may be called into use by the process of myelinating the necessary nerve-elements. Such a process might be relied upon either to equip the cortical center of the accessory nerve for its new and more varied functions of control, or to prepare new paths of con- nection between this center and that which had formerly exercised exclusive control of the muscles of the face through the facial nerve. In a word, tin- building process in the brain, finding much of the SUGGESTIVE CASE OF NERVE-ANASTOMOSIS. 3*5 old mechanism thrown out of its accustomed use, may have made ready another center and new tracts for the same use. This hypothesis leads pretty directly to another which seems to be demanded by some of the facts of the case under examination. A more and more highly differentiated volitional control was obtained over the facial muscles; the stimulus of the various emotions, with- out the accompaniment of volition, met with a better response; and the sight of the condition of the facial muscles as afforded by a mirror was of help in gaining this increased control. All this experience would seem to prove beyond doubt that the higher cortical centers concerned in conscious volition, in emotion and in the perceptions of sight had somehow established the necessary new connections with the center, lower down, in control of the N". accessorius. In a word, whereas formerty, when the accessory nerve was only concerned in helping to lift the arm and shrug the shoulder, these volitional emo- tional, and visual centers, had paid little or no attention to their in- fluence over the cortical center of this nerve, now that this center and this nerve were being called upon for unaccustomed and more elaborate functions, they found out a way to get into connection, and to bring the new apparatus under their control. But thase volitional, emo- tional and visual centers are widely spread over the cortical area. About their special connections with one another, and especially with the center of the accessory nerve, under normal conditions, we are much in the dark. And how they could go to work to solve, in any length of time and even partially, the problem of readjusting their functional relations to the new and abnormal conditions, offers a problem as yet quite unanswerable by cerebral physiology. There is one other assumption which would seem to be at once more simple, more sure, and more effective in explanation, than either of those hitherto made. What was the old cortical center for the control of the muscles of the face through the X. facialis doing all this time? We can scarcely suppose it to have been entirely idle or resting in indifference to the functions of which it had been so sud- denly and rudely dispossessed. Indeed, it is as certain as anything about such matters can be that the cortical center of the facial nerve would not be allowed to rest. The fifth pair of nerves, whose function is to transmit the sensory impulses from the facial areas, was unim- paired; and since the discomfort from increased lachrymation, saliva and gathering food in the flaccid cheek was very great, this cortical center must have been perpetually sharply reminded of its neglect of duty. Moreover, every time the faradaic current was applied to the cheek, and the patient tried to get control over the facial muscles, helping himself meanwhile by looking in the mirror, there was un- doubtedly a very excessive demand for activity made upon this now 326 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. powerless area from the other cortical areas, which were under excite- ment. Now we know with certainty that increased intensity of the stimulation is followed by increased area of neural excitement. A spreading of the nervous processes on which the initiation of motor impulses depends — whatever the chemico-physical character of those processes may be — would, then, necessarily take place in the center of the N. facialis, in answer to the increased demands made upon it by the more intense stimulation from various higher areas. This spreading would, it is likely, have the double effect of enabling the center to use hitherto unused paths between itself and the center of the accessory nerve; and it might also compel the immature nerve- elements to myelinate themselves in preparation for the discharge of their new functions. When this enlarging area occupied, during its excitement, by the center of the facial nerve, had broken over, so to say, into the center of the accessory nerve, and had made good and useful the newly established connection between the two, then it could virtually resume its old functions of control, although now by a new and more roundabout path. The assumptions previous to the last would all seem to be helpful, if not needful, to explain some of the features of this case of nerve- anastomosis and sequent recovery from facial paralysis. The last as- sumption is absolutely essential in order to make any satisfactory progress toward explaining it at all. The other assumptions very speedily bring us to the hitherto impenetrable veil of mystery which is met when any attempt is made to explain the facts of experience by our theories of cerebral physiology or of experimental and physio- logical psychology. But the last assumption seems somewhat to lengthen the distance to the veil. The picture of the unity in variety of the histological elements, and collections of elements, and of the physiological functions, which belong to the nervous system, offered by such experiences as that of this patient, assists in confirming the views arrived at experimentally by Professor Sherrington and other ex- plorers in this field. But the unity and the variety of this infinitely complex system are not so much matters of wholly predetermined and, so to say, ' made-up ' sort, dependent upon unchangeable histological peculiarities externally combined into a whole; they are, the rather, a growth, changeful, adaptable to varying conditions, de- pendent upon need and use, and conditioned' chiefly, if not wholly, upon the possibility of establishing the necessary connections amongst the differently located elements. Many of the more important and interesting problems of psychology are suggested by this case of anastomosis. No other group of muscles is so expressive, so responsive to ideas and emotions, as those which SUGGESTIVE CASE OF NERVE-ANASTOMOSIS. 327 are controlled normally by the facial nerve. To read the face is to read the soul, so far as the latter can express itself, or repress its ex- pression, in any physical way. The whole history of this case reverses the normal history of the original development. Instead of the power of control being more and more acquired by experience of muscular and tactual sensations, and of the results produced by the external or emo- tional stimulation of these sensations, we have the increasing effect of the deliberate and persistent voluntary attempt to regain control, with its advancing degrees of success and increased differentiation; and last of all, and most imperfectly, the resumption of non-volitional motor functions under the stimulation of sensation and emotion. All this certainly looks like the picture of a mind learning how to use a tool, the construction of which has been suddenly so changed as to render it, for the time being, substantially a different tool. This, so far as the cerebral functions are concerned. The transmission of the motor im- pulses, when once started from the cortical centers, by new and un- accustomed tracts, is an affair of comparatively little significance either to physiology or to psychology. In this psycho-physical progress, which I will call the evolution of a more highly differentiated self-control, all the various familiar forms of functioning, and laws of functioning, when seen from the psycho- logical point of view, are apparent. The ease and ability increase with practise; the motor results are in a measure cumulative; the different forms of sensation-experiences inhibit or supplement and assist each other; and the effects of fatigue make themselves manifest. Such an evolution does not, however, seem explicable as nothing more than an increasing complexity, ease and precision of sensory-motor reflexes; although it has all the marks of dependence upon such a mechanical basis. To speak figuratively, what takes place in such cases of nerve anastomosis can not be completely and satisfactorily explained in terms that are applicable to a nervous mechanism, however complex, or com- plexly and mysteriously subject to improvements of a mechanical sort. An agency, that must be described in terms of ideation, apperception of an end to be attained, and purposeful volition consciously directed toward that end, seems also necessary to account for the whole result. If involuntary emotion and externally originated sensory-stimuli were ihe means of evoking and educating the motor organism, in the first instance; it is, on the other hand, conscious and purposeful voluntary effort which is the most important factor in the recovery of function and new education of the motor organism. And how astonishingly complex and even antecedently improbable, we might almost say, are the resulting histological and functional changes in the organism brought about by repeated volitions, our conjectural analysis of this case has suggested, if it has not made clear. 328 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. I am well aware that I shall be charged by some, both physiologists and psychologists, of harping again upon the same old string. But I confess that I am more and more indifferent to this charge. For I am more and more convinced that neither the idealistic nor the psycho- parallelistic theories of the relations of the nervous mechanism to the life of consciousness explain such a case of recovery from paralysis as this to which your attention has just been called. Indeed, both forms of theory seem to me to introduce a confusion, which increases rather than clears up, the fundamental mystery of the facts. To my think- ing, nothing which can possibly be said as to why the mind has a body goes any way at all toward explaining how this patient got control of his paralyzed facial muscles, for purposes expressive of his emotions and his volitions, through the N. accessorius and its cortical center, after the direct connection by the N. facialis with its center had been totally destroyed. Nor does any explanation which could conceivably express itself in terms of psycho-physical parallelism seem much more satisfactory. In a word, this suggestive case of anastomosis, and all similar cases, together with hundreds of other species of phenomena — some of them belonging to our ordinary experience and some of them due to extra- ordinary situations and developments — all seem to me to point unmis- takably to the existence of dynamical relations between the nervous mechanism and the conscious mental life. And is not our science, whether we start from the physiological or from the psychological point of view, nothing but a description of this net-work of dynamical interrelations? But in being this, how is it any less scientific or any more essentially mysterious than is any other science? To all science, indeed, of every species, it is just these dynamical interrelations which are the ultimate facts. Behind them it is impossible for science to go. Every science consists in the discovery, classification and formulating under so-called ' laws ' of these interrelations. To say a priori that that can not be, or is not, which most obviously is — this is to be esson- tiallv unscientific. A VISIT TO LUTHER BUR BANK. 3*9 A VISIT TO LUTHER BURBANK.* By PROFhSSOR HUGO DE VRIES, UNIVERSITY OF AMSTERDAM, HOLLAND. FOE many years I had wished to make a study of fruit culture in California and especially of the production of new varieties. One reason which, more than others, made me decide to accept an invi- tation to visit California was the prospect of making the personal acquaintance of Luther Burbank. Burbank is the man who creates all the novelties in horticulture, a work which every one can not do. It requires a great genius and an almost incredible capacity for work, together with a complete devotion to the purpose in view, to accomplish such results. Burbank possesses all these qualifications, and his previous achievements have excelled all expectations to such an extent that it is rightly presumed that no pos- sible improvements are beyond his reach. In fact, the most impossible things are attributed to him, and the credulous American people expect from him novelties which any person who knows would immediately declare to be nonsense. I once had a conversation, in a Pullman car, with a lady and a gentleman who told me all kinds of interesting stories about plants and fruits, about climate and places and many other things. They knew, of course, Burbank. Every American does, who pretends to know anything about fruits. They told me all about the large and juicy plums, the new pears, the beautiful flowers, and a number of other creations of his. But by far the best and most deli- cious fruit, entirely new in form, color and flavor, was, they said, a hybrid between a raspberry and a mulberry! Over this mystic novelty her enthusiasm was inexhaustible ! As soon as I had decided about my plans I wrote to Burbank and told him my desire. I had previously been in correspondence with * Authorized translation from the Dutch, by Dr. Pehr Olsson-Seffer, Stan- ford University. This article was written by Dr. H. de Vries, the eminent botanist and originator of the mutation-theory, while in California last summer. It was originally published in the magazine ' de Gids ' in Holland, and forms a part of the third chapter of a book ' Naar California ' by de Vries, which recently appeared in Amsterdam. It is of considerable interest to note the im- pressions de Vries, the scientific botanical experimenter, received during his first visit to Luther Burbank, the foremost practical plant-breeder in the world, whose remarkable achievements have created world-wide admiration, and to whom the Carnegie Institution recently granted an annual appropriation to insure the undisturbed continuation of his work for the next ten years. 33° POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. him, and a few years ago I had hoped to meet him at the Congress of Hybridologists in London, but his arduous labors prevented him from being present. I feared even now that there would not be many chances of speaking to him, because July is his busiest time, when all the numberless crossings are made and the selection of prunes takes Luther Birbank. place. These fruits at the present time are represented by a larger number of varieties than any other plant in his orchards. It is no small matter to select the best plum out of 300,000 different varieties. This requires not only talent and experience, but also a great deal of time, and it all has to be done within a few weeks while the prunes are ripe on the trees. A VISIT TO LUTHER BURBANK. 331 My wish to see him was, however, met with the greatest cordiality. Others had naturally the same desire, and we were consequently all invited to come together to Santa Kosa, where Burbank lives, and to inspect, under his personal guidance, his experimental plots. He set apart an evening and a whole day for our visit. How many crossings and selections he had to sacrifice for this I do not know. Our party was a rather large one. There was first Professor Svante Arrhenius — the man who with van't Hoff laid the foundation of modern physical chemistry. Among all the savants I ever had the fortune to meet, he certainly is the man with the widest knowledge and the broadest in- terests, and his opinion about Burbank's methods was of the greatest value to all of us. In our party was also the physiologist, Jacques Loeb, the discoverer of many important phenomena in regard to fer- tilization in lower animals. His studies have led him to the question of the causes of life and of those life-functions which give animals and plants their characteristics, expressed in the differences of kinds and varieties. These characteristics can not be studied to advantage except by means of hybridizing. So far no one in the whole world has made crossings on a larger scale than Burbank, and it was only natural that there should be many points in common between the studies of both these men. Our party was under the guidance of Professors Wickson and Osterhout, of the University of California. Both are personal friends of Burbank and, notwithstanding the distance, often visit him to keep posted on the progress of his work. Americans, and especially Californians, feel a great deal of pride in their Burbank. He is a very modest man; he does not work for fame, or for honor, or for the acquisition of wealth. He has none of the aspirations of a merchant. He loves his plants, and is enthusiastic over his work and plans. To accomplish something great for his country is his ideal. For his personal self he is satisfied if his work furnishes him a living and enough to carry on his experiments. In outward appearance Burbank is a very plain man, more a gar- dener than a savant, with clear blue sparkling eyes, full of life and fun, appreciating humor in others, telling us stories that kept us con- stantly laughing. He lives in a small house with his mother and sister, and has but one servant on the place, as he does most of the work personally. The walls of his room are covered with small photographs of his victories, and during our visit these pictures were taken down and demonstrated to us. As a matter of course prunes interest him more than anything else. Of the hundreds of thousands, which he got by crossing, a few are already in the market. To give an idea of the interest connected with such a new kind I may only name the Waynard plum. This is a deli- cious, big and round, dark blue fruit with a taste that makes one think 332 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY of a peach. One seedling of this tree, the selection from hundreds of thousands, he sold to a company, formed especially for the purpose of multiplying and introducing it into the market. This company was not to raise crops from it and to sell the fruit, but to produce grafts and as many plants as were required to introduce it into those states of North America where it will thrive, to make it one of the most com- monly cultivated trees in the United States and thereby to add millions upon millions of dollars to the annual production of the country. How A VISIT TO LUTHEU BUEBANK. 333 much Burbank realized for this one seedling- he did not mention to us, but it was certainly enough to compensate for his entire plum-culture of many years. Such are Burbank's ideals. For himself it is sufficient to receive the cost of producing his creations. He has no children, and does not feel the necessity of accumulating money. The sole aim of all his labors is to make plants that will add to the general welfare of his fellow beings. Therefore he looks in his selecting for other qualities than those upon which we, in Europe, generally lay stress. ' Ship- ping qualities,' that is the ability to withstand handling in packing and shipping by railroads or vessels, are most important to him. Next comes the property that makes it possible to cultivate them in regions which previously have been unsuitable for this purpose. To produce varieties which combine with great productivity a sufficient degree of frost resistance is one of the chief aims of Burbank. As an example of this, he spoke of his crossings with the Beach plum (Primus maritima). Here and there along the coast, especially in the eastern states of North America, this shrub grows wild. It is satisfied with almost any conditions. The most infertile sandy soil is just as good as the richest loam; the driest place as agreeable as the temporarily inundated ground. On the eastern coast it thrives equally well in the north and in the south, being nowhere affected by the cli- mate. It never suffers from frost, and always forms a dense shrub, often to the exclusion of all other tree-growth. In addition to all these qualities it is immensely prolific. It does not, of course, produce any edible plums ; the fruit is of the size of a small cherry, with a large seed and a very thin layer of fruit-flesh. Late in the season the branches are bent down under the weight of the fruits, which cover the branches in great profusion. This plum has, further, a great number of varieties, with all kinds of forms and colors, some ripening in July and August, others as late as September or October. Even in taste there are dif- ferences. Although the fruit is uneatable, it is possible to judge about its flavor. In many parts of California water is very scarce, but still the soil is fertile. In such regions the population is scanty and remains so, limited by the available water supply, in spite of the perfect climate and the fertility of the soil. Some kind of fruit tree that by means of long roots is able to get water from the deeper strata would be a bless- ing to such regions. Wealth and prosperity would increase and a large population could exist where lack of water now prevents cultiva- tion. Burbank thinks he will be able to produce such a fruit tree by combining the deep-rooting tendency of the beach plum with the deli- cious flavor and richness of our common plums. He brought to his place all kinds of beach plum in order to cross them with other species. 334 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. His aim will not be accomplished by one crossing. Connecting links are required, and therefore the North American beach plum has to be crossed with other American and Japanese plums (Prunus triflora and P. Americana), and each of these hybrids with four or five kinds of the common plum. Finally a series of hybrids is developed from which almost anything can be expected. It is natural that by such crossing we must expect the appearance of undesirable characters as well as desirable ones. Some plants pro- duce only good, others only bad, characters, but the greater part exhibit some good points in connection with a larger or smaller number of undesirable qualities. From hundreds of thousands only those must be selected which possess all the desired characters. To make this possible it is necessary not only to cross six or eight kinds with one another, but to use as many sub-species and varieties as possible for the experiments. This work necessitates hundreds and even thousands of experiments. The result of each crossing can only be judged by the fruit, and this indicates new combinations. It can easily be seen what an immense amount of work, patience and capacity of judgment and choice is re- quired to reach the ultimate aim. Yet Burbank told us on that re- markable evening of many such instances. He was enthusiastic in his hope to be able to realize all this during his life. The making of hybrids from the different species of plums naturally brought us to a subject which, for me. was of the greatest importance from a scientific standpoint. As Arrhenius and Loeb also felt more interest in the theoretical side of these problems, I took the first oppor- tunity to bring the conversation to that point. I had in mind the ' pitless prune.' Just imagine this, reader ! Next day Burbank took us to a plum tree heavily loaded with clear blue, very attractive, yet small plums. He picked a few and asked us to bite right through the middle of the fruit. We did as requested, and although we knew there was no stone in the plum, we experienced a feeling Of wonder and astonishment. Inside the plum was a seed, like an almond in its shell, and with the taste of an almond, but without the stony covering. When cutting through the fruit, we found the seed surrounded by the green fruit-flesh, the innermost part of which was a jelly-like mass, in which could yet be seen some remnants of hard little stones, that scarcely offered any resistance to the knife. Burbank declared, however, that he was not at all satisfied with the re- sult, and said that he had already young trees with fruits, in which nothing could be detected of the stone. Osterhout told us about the impression this plum made on Professor Bailey, professor of agriculture at Cornell University. He came un- prepared before this tree, and Burbank, always full of humor, thought it a good opportunity to play a little trick. Bailey had declared that A VISIT TO LUTHER BURBANK. 33 5 a stoneless plum was entirely an impossibility, something that was out- side of one human lifetime; he refused to believe the statement and could not be induced to risk his teeth on the experiment. To the great amusement of Burbank and Osterhout, he took a knife from his pocket, commenced to peel the plum and to cut away the fleshy part, in order to expose the stone, which he was sure would be there. How great was his astonishment when he finally did not find anything but the naked eatable kernel ! A couple of years ago when I read in one of Burbank's price lists about a stoneless plum, I shared a similar astonishment. How was it possible to bring about such a great change ? Hybrids do not present, as a rule, any new simple qualities, only new combinations of already existing properties. The evident properties are often developed from more than one factor, and such composite characters may thus appear, without any new essential factors having been present. This is a fundamental principle in crossing, whether it is done for scientific or for practical purposes. But although the elimination of the stone is only a loss and not a gain of a character, such a loss is just as much outside the sphere of hybrid making. My astonishment was, therefore, as great as that of Bailey, and I had long ago made up my mind to ask Burbank, if I ever had the oppor- tunity, what secret method or what happy coincidence had enabled him to effect such a fundamental change in a plant. I put my question to him that evening, convinced that on the answer depended largely the scientific value of our visit. And for the second time I was sur- prised over the unexpected and simple reply : " About two centuries ago they knew in France a ' prune sans noyau ' and I bought the fruit and raised a plant in order to cross it with others of my prunes." Thus there is no exception to the rule, there has been no real production of a, new character, but we have only had a case of the general American principle : ' try everything.' Over the whole world Burbank looks for different kinds and varieties of prunes, no matter how insignificant they may be, however wild and uneatable, as long as they possess only one or another characteristic, which, in combination with the common kinds, may bring out a new variety of greater value. To Professor Loeb and myself this was, to a certain degree, a dis- appointment. We had expected to learn a great deal about this point, the fundamental idea, if not the ultimate aim, of the studies of both of us — that is, the question of the nature and origin of new characters. We now surmised that Burbank's experience did not throw any light on this question. I had before experienced a similar disappointment. About twenty years ago I was occupied with experiments on hybridization for horticultural purposes. I had already found at that time the general 336 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. principle that only combinations, but no primary characteristics, were produced. Only in one instance I encountered what seemed to be an absolute exception to this rule. It was an announcement of Lemoine of Kanej', the most celebrated breeder of garden novelties in France. He claimed that he had been able to produce by crossing double lilacs. Double flowers remain longer on the branches than the single, which usually drop off after a few days. To find out how it was pos- sible to develop by crossing from single lilacs new varieties with entirely new characteristics I visited Lemoine in Xancy. Walking through his gardens. I put the question to him and received the following answer: " That is very simple. As a boy I had seen in the garden of an old relative a specimen of Syringa azurca, a very rare lilac of an ancient type with double flowers. Remembering this, I bought that tree from the person who owned my relative's home. With this tree I crossed all varieties of single lilacs I had and got the double variety." Here we find again the same procedure : first buying, then crossing, later graft- ing or budding on other forms, but no creation of an absolutely new character. The number of combinations may be unlimited, yet the creation of new prime characters is entirely excluded. This principle came into full evidence while we were in Burbank's grounds. He demonstrated to us ' white blackberries ' with large fruit of a delicious flavor, which now are an article of commerce. I asked him about the origin of this crossing. Burbank explained that here and there in California occurred a wild blackberry with white fruit. He had crossed this plant with other forms. A white variety of the common raspberry has similarly been known in Eurpoe since olden times. Another striking example is furnished by the spineless cactus, one of the novelties of which Burbank expects much. It is one of the Opuntias, a desert plant, the fruit of which is eaten and known as Indian figs. Its stem consists of big, flat slabs, joined together in the most fantastic manner. It reaches a height of six feet, spreading widely and growing luxuriantly. The fruit is much relished by cattle, as it is juicy, rich in foodstuff and has but few thorns. The wbole plant is eaten by animals only when they are driven to do so by hunger, as it is covered with hard prickly thorns. If the plant is cooked for some time the thorns soften and the cactus becomes a nutritious food. This process of cooking is, however, too expensive for practical pur- poses, and hence a cactus without thorns would transform a barren desert into rich pastures. To reach this Burbank brought together villi Opuntias from Mexico, South Africa and various other countries as well as the commonly cultivated species. Among the specimens Burbank received, one was accidentally found without prickles on the Leaves and another with no thorns on the vonno- shoots. It was, there- A VISIT TO LUTHER BURBANK. 337 fore, necessary to combine in one plant both these negative character- istics, something that experience has shown can be done. However easily this is explained, still it elicits astonishment and wonder to see a cactus without spines. All that is now left to be done is the cross- ing with forms known as the most nutritious, and at the same time to watch the development of other characteristics, especially the root system. It will not take many years for Burbank's cactus to transform large stretches of desert into fertile fields even without irrigation. Along the road in front of Burbank's house is a long row of high trees with wide spreading crowns and dark foliage. These are Bur- bank's first hybrids, walnuts, that are a combination of the eatable nut and an ornamental tree of the same genus (Juglans regia nigra). From seeds of this hybrid Burbank raised a few rows of seedlings which show a surprising variety in growth and leaves. These latter are all lanceolate, sometimes with broad leaflets, sometimes with nar- row, some are petiolate, others sessile on the branchlets, now coarse and then fine, frequently reminding one of the common English walnut, and again approaching the ancestor, the black walnut. We saw some of the variety of forms resulting from crossing, and from these the best have to be selected for certain purposes. Burbank's entire garden contains only two and a half acres, while the experiment farm near Sebastopol, about one hour's drive from Santa Bosa, comprises twenty acres. Two days each week Burbank spends on the farm, riding there on his bicycle ; the rest of the week he is at home. Here are all the more delicate crossings, and it is here every new experiment is started. It is only when certain definite re- sults are in view and when the cultivation of thousands of specimens is required that they are raised on the farm near Sebastopol. He showed us a bed of wild flowers in his garden. He collects these in the vicinity, transplants them, selects and crosses the various forms as soon as they promise anything of advantage. Others he crosses with cultivated species of sufficient relationship. His idea in doing this is to make a large number of garden plants, which will be so fertile, and consequently so cheap as to come within the reach of any one. Briefly, he wants to spread over every garden spot in California a still richer treasure of flowers than it already possesses. Thus, for instance, he has crossed the large and deliciously night-scented Nicotiana afiinis with the wild, tree-like Nicotiana glauca, which can not be called an ornamental plant on account of its greenish flowers, but by flowering profusely and by having such large bunches of flowers, it offers an excellent object for hybridization. We noticed several kinds of Cape gooseberries (Physalis), of the blood-red Heucheras and others already hybridized. The common garden poppy (Papaver somniferum) he had vol. lxvu. — hz 09 338 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. crossed with the large flowered, brilliant orange-red, perennial poppy, and a great number of hybrids were now growing. These were almost all sterile. Some of them terminated in a dried-up stub without flowers, others had a minute rudiment of fruit, others only remnants of calyx and corolla. There were all stages up to normal flowers, and seed capsules in which the not yet fully developed seeds could be seen through a lens. After crossing all kinds of color varieties of the common poppy he got one with a light blue color. Although the color is not very pretty, yet this plant is very interesting, as blue poppies have been hitherto unknown. Probably the change in color is caused by the combination of pigments in some flowers and the chemical constituents of cells of others. This is, however, only a supposition.* Many other wild plants, as Brodiceas, Erysimums and Cephdlyptrum Drummondi, he had hybridized, getting flowers which first came out carmine red, but then slowly changed to white, a very unusual mode of variation. In order to reduce the price of Amaryllis and Gladiolus to a few cents, and thus make these beautiful red and white-striped flowers common in every garden, he devoted attention to the increase of side-bulbs. He had already plants with twenty to twenty-four bulbs instead of the old forms with hardly any or but a few side-bulbs. Burbank has his own peculiar ideas about the power of nature and natural phenomena, which play such an important part in his work. His principal theory is that i heredity is the sum of all past environ- ments/ This he repeated time and again in his explanations. Cross- ing brings together in one individual the sum total of the environ- mental influences to which the two lines of parents have been subjected, and hence increases its variability. Among the remarkable results of Burbank's work which we saw at the Sebastopol farm were a couple of trees of Loquat (Eryobotrya japonica) about six feet high, but with spreading fruit-laden branches. One of these trees was the original Japanese kind with small yellow fruit, the size of a cherry, of acid taste and almost filled with the large seed. It has a peculiar flavor, found in no other fruit. This aroma was also found in the fruits of the other tree, but these were larger than walnuts and had an orange-red color. The seed was not larger than that of the wild tree, but the juicy fruit-flesh was greatly devel- oped in thickness and very delicious. This improvement of the loquat, which fruit makes one of the finest delicacies for the table, was accom- plished by Burbank without crossing, by selection only. This is the same process by which, since the time of the celebrated Belgian horti- * The original reads: De kleur berust waarschijnlijk op een verbinding van de kleurstof van somniige soorten met de scheikundige inhoudstoffen van de cellen van andere. Maar voorloopig is dit nog slechts een vermoeden. A VISIT TO LUTHER BURBANK. 339 culturist, Yan Mons, our large and juicy apples and pears have been produced, that is, by sowing the seed on a large scale and then con- tinuing the selection for one or more generations. About one half of Burbank's grounds was taken up by prunes. He has at present about three hundred thousand different kinds. The number of trees is not so great, however, as he grafts his seedlings on other trees, when they are two or three years old and show some promise for the future. For this purpose he uses the whole seedling, throwing away the roots. We saw small trees with from thirty to forty grafts, and large ones upon which two hundred to four hundred branches were grafted. When the foliage is of different color and form and the branches bear plums, red, yellow or blue, flat or round, small or large, some ripe and others only half developed, the result is strikingly bizarre. When the fruit is ripe he walks along the rows, marking those which are undoubtedly the best, as far as can be judged by a cursory examination. Then a working- man removes all those which for one reason or another are considered valueless. By this method only about half of his original stock is left, and this then receives his careful investigation. Possessed of an in- born talent, he is able to select in a few summers four or five of the best kinds among the hundreds of thousands on his grounds. These are then multiplied, while all the others are destroyed and replaced on the mother trees by the next series of seedlings. These are often some- what assorted even before transplanting from the shallow boxes where they have been grown. Sometimes the color of the leaves indicates the value of a tree, as in crossings between the common cherries and prunes with Prunus Pissardi, which, on account of its brown foliage, often is cultivated as an ornamental tree. In other cases the size of the leaf is an indication of certain properties of the fruit, Burbank's long experi- ence enabling him to see some correlation between leaf and fruit. Thus he can with some certainty discard a number of trees before trans- planting, which naturally saves time and room. One of Burbank's favorites is a large ' Marguerite,' which he calls the ' Shasta Daisy,' after the great California mountain of that name. It is one of his improvements of a perennial daisy which grows wild in Shasta county, and is very variable. By crossing and selecting, it has been developed into a plant that excels by its rapid growth and its pro- fusion of extremely large beautiful flowers, which for months cover the ground. These and other characteristics will make the Shasta daisy one of the commonest and cheapest, still one of the most beautiful, of garden plants. What makes Burbank's work entirely different from that of other plant breeders is the immense scale on which his selecting is made. He is, therefore, able to make greater improvements than others and in much shorter time. In his work Burbank is guided by a special gift 34o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. of judgment, in which he excels all his contemporaries. The best proof of this is to be found in the great success his creations have made, not only in North America, but also in Europe. His methods of work are the same as those followed by plant breed- ers in Europe. Secrets he has none, and if he is not willing to demon- strate his cultures to everybody, this must be attributed to the fact that his time is too valuable. There is no fear that any one could ' steal his trade ' by merely looking at it. Every one is left free to follow in his path, but without the special disposition for it nobody will succeed, and for simple imitation the entire process is too complicated. To give an idea of the immensity of his cultures, it is sufficient to cite one instance. When selecting a new kind of blackberry he picked out the best from 60,000 specimens, all in full bearing, dug up the rest and burned them. This is his way of working, not only with one kind of fruit or flower, but with all. The most remarkable trait, however, of his work is that he experiments with as many forms as possible. This method is carried to the highest degree of perfection, and thereby his results are so stupendous that they receive the admiration of the whole world. However large may be the number of forms subjected to crossing and selecting, this method is in itself limited. Burbank's products are all, with a few exceptions, reproduced not from seed, but by vegetative propagation. Grafts or cuttings, bulbs, shoots or division of roots are the means of multiplication. It is well known that vegetative propa- gation results in much greater stability than raising from seeds, which often produces degenerate types. Because of this fact, Burbank hardly ever experiments on annual or biennial plants, but confines himself to perennials. In Burbank's methods selection plays the most important part. To accomplish a good selection, however, the greatest possible degree of variation is a prerequisite. This variation is attained mainly through selection of the starting points and through artificial hybridization. The results are next cultivated on a large scale under environmental conditions which will develop as many differences as possible. Varieties coming from separate localities differ not only in regard to external characteristics, but their capacity of modification varies considerably, and can often be ascertained only in the special environ- ments of an experimental garden. The greater this power of adapta- tion the more chances for the experimenter. As a general rule, it holds true that the results of crossing depend primarily on the selection of varieties used for that purpose. These indicate, so to say, the program, the list of possibilities from which the choice and the combinations have later to be made. Outside of this A VISIT TO LUTHER BURBANK. 341 list very little good is obtained, and then only by accident. This occurs very seldom in Burbank's cultures. When he wishes to experiment with wild flowers Burbank goes out himself in search of specimens. He carefully compares the different places of growth and investigates the variation in individuals. Many days are thus employed in gathering together one kind in order to find out existing dissimilarities or to see whether they promise anything for future cultivation. Such specimens are then transferred to his ex- perimental grounds, and when established are subjected to crossing. With crossing or hybridization we usually understand the sexual union of two individuals belonging to different species or varieties. In practical plant breeding, however, it is not sufficient to combine two types, but three, four, and even five or six kinds are thus united, so as to bring out as many desirable qualities as possible in one single variety. It is, of course, impossible to predict what result will be obtained, and it must be left to chance and the future to decide what combinations are the most desirable. Often crossings are made only with the object in view that among all the combinations something good may turn up. In this case the breeder wants to destroy the equilibrium of existing characters, to make the constant forms unstable, and then to select the best out of the many balancing properties. When the parents them- selves are variable their offspring will naturally be more so, and the number of differences increases with the number of hybrids experi- mented upon. There is also a chance that latent or sleeping characters may be brought to light. From a scientific point of view we know, as yet, nothing about this, but Burbank holds the opinion that in many cases one character prevents another from becoming visible. For instance, in crossing, the first one meets an opponent which has kept it back — as is often the case in the crossing of varieties — and this latent character gets an opportunity of becoming active. We can naturally not detect what dormant qualities are hidden in a plant, and may, therefore, expect all kinds of surprises. The combinations may be desirable, and the hybrids can be propagated immediately, or they may be the reverse and need further crossing before the unfavorable traits are eliminated. Unknown atavistic properties may in this way become evident and may play an important part in the development of future generations. In other cases the crossings are made with a certain purpose in view. These are the instances from which we learn the most, and which at the same time give the best chances for quick and favorable, results. A certain number is selected of species or varieties, which together contain those characters we want combined in one type; the undesirable properties we try to eliminate. As the crossings result in all kinds of combinations, it is necessary to produce them in 342 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. as large numbers as possible, so that among the numberless undesirable and imperfect plants we may choose the best. The chances are that from the five or six desired good characters only three or four are found together. Thousands of seedlings have to be developed in order to create a possibility of finding one form in which the expected quali- ties are present. It is a game of solitaire on a large scale. I may mention as an example of this the production of the Alhambra plum, which was obtained by combining European, American and Japanese kinds. It took thirteen years to combine all these. First came the crossing of the Kelsey with the Prunus Pissardi. Their hybrid was crossed with French prunes. In the meantime various other crossings were created, and it was made possible to work the pollen of these ' into the strain/ as the term is called. First came Simoni X triflora, and then Americana X nigra. This sevenfold combination gave us the variety now known in the market as the Alhambra. We can go still further and cross species that are yet more widely separated. It is then naturally even more difficult to predict the re- sults. Burbank endeavored to combine the plum and the apricot and succeeded in getting a new fruit, which he calls plumcot, of very deli- cious taste and looking very much like an apricot, but combining the soft skin of this fruit with the dark color of the plum. Burbank had a number of varieties of this new fruit, some with a yellow fruit-flesh, others of dark red color, light rose or white. In taste these plumcots differ considerably. Burbank is equally successful in hybridizing flowers. In the in- stance of the Callas — well known through the many varieties of Richardia aethiopica — all the new cultivated forms have been hybrids of a few species. Burbank, however, crossed Calla hastata, the yellow ' Pride of Congo/ C. Elliottiana with dark yellow flowers and spotted leaves, C. Pentlandi, also yellow with dark purple spots, the rose-col- ored C. Rehmanni, and the small light yellow C. Nelsoni. From all these he received a great number of different hybrids, among which were found the most varying shades of color, very large-sized as well as dwarfish forms. The colors were not limited to spadix and spathe, but spread over peduncles and petioles, and even the leaves were varie- gated with spots and stripes. In addition to these peculiar colors and forms the hybrid Callas, of which Burbank had long rows in bloom at the time of our visit, possess a hardiness and adaptability to extreme temperatures, which fit them for outdoor cultivation, where formerly Callas could be forced to full development only in hothouses. Every year these hybrids are again subjected to the process of crossing, and each year new and often unexpected forms appear. How far this will go it is at present impossible to predict. Because of the favorable climatic conditions under which Burbank A VISIT TO LUTHER BURBANK. 343 conducts his experiments, he is able to work on a much greater scale than is possible in Europe. While we can only select from a few hundred of seedlings, Burbank can get tens of thousands into blossom. In this way the number of years necessary to bring about improvements can be considerably reduced. It required in Europe more than half a century to produce the beautiful Amaryllis forms, which we admire so much. Burbank has got wonderful results in much shorter time. In the process of selecting he preferred those forms which required the shortest time to come into blossoms, and by following up this method he succeeded in greatly shortening the duration of life from seed to seed, as it is called. It is evident what this means. Instead of having to wait four or five years after a crossing, before the result could be judged by the flowers, Burbank can make his selection in half the time. This, of course, not only includes saving of time, but also reduces the size of the cultures, and consequently the expenses. Burbank's aim is to make Amaryllis one of the most common ornamental garden plants, which will find its place in parks and private residences, in city gardens as well as near the farmer's humble dwelling. In order to introduce new forms into the stock of Amaryllis, Burbank endeavored to cross them with the related Crinums, and, from what we saw, his first trial was crowned with success. From the Florida swamps he obtained a wild Crinum Americanum, which has proved its fitness for crossing, and at the same time he had in his hothouse varieties from tropical regions, which he was going to cross with more hardy forms, so that they would feel at home in the California climate. Among all the above mentioned points upon which I desired to draw special attention is the shortening of life from seed to seed. As the experiments, with a few exceptions, are conducted on perennials, and as vegetative propagation only is resorted to for multiplication, it would in many cases necessarily take several years before the plants flowered. Where repeated crossings have to be made this would cause consider- able difficulty. The means which make it possible to shorten the vegetative period are three : first, the splendid climate of California ; second, the selection of the earliest flowering seedlings, and, finally, the method of grafting. Experience has taught us that the best way of forcing the stem or branches of seedlings to an early development is by grafting them on older trees. On a good-sized plum tree may be grafted, as said before, hundreds of seedlings. They will bloom in a couple of years, and as soon as they bear fruit selections can be made. The inferior grafts are then removed, so as to allow room for the good ones to develop more rapidly. In the process of artificial crossing the greatest possible precautions have to be taken in the application of pollen. Yet the method is as 344 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. simple as possible, because the hybridization is carried on on such a large scale. First the stamens of the flowers to be crossed have to be removed. This is usually done while the flower is in bud and the stamens close together. One circular cut only is sufficient. Care must, of course, be exercised so as not to hurt the pistil. Next protec- tion against insects has to be provided for, as otherwise pollen might be transferred from other flowers and the expected results spoiled. In scientific experiments a great deal of attention is paid to this, and the flowers are carefully enclosed in cases of metal gauze or in especially prepared paper bags, so that no insects can reach them. In practical plant breeding this would, however, be too cumbersome. By the cir- cular cut mentioned not only are the stamens cut through, but the corolla is also removed, and the flowers are consequently not so con- spicuous and do not attract the insects, except where there is fragrance. The majority of Burbank's improved fruit trees belong to the first category. In practical work the visit of a single insect is not so much feared, because all the mischief it may do in bringing the pollen is to produce a valueless hybrid. This can later be destroyed. Besides, the insect may come too late to bring about any result. But there is also a possibility that a new and good hybrid may be produced. The application of any cover is, therefore, entirely out of the question. This is the reason why unexpected results of such practical work are never entirely free from the suspicion that they are due to accidental introduction of pollen. Such results, therefore, do not enable one to draw reliable scientific conclusions. Burbank's method is to collect the pollen required for these cross- ings on watch-glasses, as it keeps fresh for about a week. With these glasses he goes to the plants he wants to pollinate and applies with his finger tip a little of the pollen on the stigma. This is, as a rule, not yet ripe, but the pollen adheres to it until it matures. Fecundation thus begins at the time the stigma becomes glutinous, which lessens the possibility of other pollen being introduced. I wish now to consider one of the most remarkable features of Burbank's work, the immense scale upon which it is conducted. This is the best plan for obtaining the most variations in a short time. He starts thousands of seedlings for each hybrid, and when the culture admits and the interest requires it, this number is increased to 50,000 or 60,000. In order to give an idea of the significance of these figures and of the work they imply, Burbank shows in one of his catalogues an autodafe of hybrid raspberries and blackberries. For the purpose of getting a hybrid with larger berries and bigger bunches he cultivated 65,000 seedlings until they blossomed and were in full bearing. A few dozens were selected, and the balance, heavily loaded with fruit, were dug up and gathered in a pile, which was then reduced to ashes. And A VISIT TO LUTHER BURBANK. 345 this goes on every year ; fourteen or fifteen such bonfires a year are not uncommon. One consisting of 10,000 to 15,000 roses, luxuriantly flowering seedlings, annihilated the work of a number of years after the selection of only three good varieties. Half a million lily bulbs were entirely destroyed after fifty of the best had been separated for further cultivation. And so I could cite a number of instances. It is evident that the chance of finding something good is much greater if the selection can be made from hundreds of thousands in- stead of from a few hundred only. Those who wish to compete with Burbank will have to accept this principle, and if this can not be done, they had better follow a different method and select species that admit the use of different methods. It is theoretically of great interest to compare Burbank's principle with the methods of selecting generally in vogue in Europe. There the work is not performed on such a large scale. Preference is given to repeated selections, and the idea is prevalent that the desired results can be reached only by following the regular road. The question is whether by such repeated selection we proceed faster than by a single sowing on a larger scale. "We can easily calculate the proportion, and it can be said that with five years' work a hundred times smaller num- ber of plants have to be cultivated. This would, of course, lessen the expenses in proportion, but there is always the disadvantage of the result being available so much later. When novelties are wanted in varieties of Begonias, Geraniums, Dahlias or Fuchsias, for instance, which annually produce many new forms, the hastening process would be of no value, but in new genera unexpected results are often attained, and in that case the hastening method will amply repay the expense. Yet these questions are the secrets of breeders. Of scientific importance is the question whether repeated selections are alone sufficient to bring about the same end, and further if by this means more variations are produced. We have no facts which would decide this, and I would not have brought up the question, had it not been for its great influence on the study of evolution. It is closely connected with the question whether species slowly merge into one another or whether they originate by mutations. In the former case small deviations would increase in the course of generations, and thus a long series of intermediate forms would connect the new and the old species. In the latter case a jump is made without any intermediate stages. So long as there were not sufficient instances of this mode of change, and so long as we had to rely upon cultivated varieties only as proof, the first proposition was naturally the most probable. It rested on experience in agriculture and horticulture in regard to improvements of races, and it was be- lieved that species in nature originated in the same manner. The re- 346 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. suit of breeding on such a large scale as that mentioned above was at the time unknown, and it was believed that the results could be ob- tained only by repeated selections. If by experiments on a large scale the varieties could be produced at once, the former view would evidently lose much of its value. The magnitude of Burbank's work excels anything that was ever done before, even by large firms in the course of generations. The number of fruits and flowers which he has improved is unequaled. Others confine themselves to one or two genera ; he takes hold of every- thing. The majority of breeders who became famous by their improve- ments of certain groups took up this work merely as an adjunct, as a means of widening their commercial relations, thus creating a greater demand for their nursery products. Burbank commenced in the same way, but as soon as he had obtained what he thought he required, the nursery business was abandoned, and he devoted himself exclusively to the improvement of flowers and fruit. It is to this resolution he owes his present fame. Another point of importance which is also evident from Burbank's work is that in many genera the development of hybrids seems to have reached its limit. In some cases neither Burbank nor any other breeder could produce something new. Apples, pears, peaches, straw- berries and a few other types are quite exhausted. The circumference of their form-circle, if I may be allowed to express myself this way, or, as Americans say, their possibilities, are already taken up in culti- vation. Inside that circle, of course, improvements are possible, and every one who eats canned apples, or pears, or peaches from California knows that progress in regard to these fruits is evident enough. But Burbank himself considers those species exhausted, and he asks for his improvements no higher rank than what already exists. He has added to them only greater productivity and the qualities required for pack- ing and shipping. It is, however, by just these qualities that a great deal of California's prosperity has been created and the fruit export to Europe increased, qualities which the consumer applauds as much as the European orchardists fear them. From a scientific point of view Burbank's varieties are but indi- vidual, by which I mean that the variety has been produced by one single individual, hence from one seed. That specimen has then been multiplied by vegetative propagation into the thousands, or probably millions, of plants which are in the market. As an individual the variety preserves the characters obtained through hybridizing. Exceptions to this rule are rare. Burbank has, however, obtained a few hybrids which are stable when raised from seeds. These are naturally crossings of stable species or at least stable hybrids. As an example I may mention the hybrid between the California dewberry A VISIT TO LUTHER BURBANK. 347 and the Siberian raspberry. Both have small and insignificant fruits, while the hybrid on this point greatly surpasses either parent. In Europe we have long known similar instances through the studies of wild hybrids by Kerner, and by Wichura, Janzewsky and many other writers regarding cultivated bastards. If the relationship between species is not close enough, all attempts to hybridize are frustrated. Either the crossing is a failure, and no seeds are produced, or hybrids are obtained which are infertile. In the case of flowers this is not of so much importance, but in regard to fruit trees such a result is a complete failure. It is evident that nature has here drawn a limit which man can not cross. This boundary line is, however, not marked, and consequently once in a while surprising re- sults are obtained. Hybrids which are infertile in thousands of cases may for once prove a success among hundreds of thousands. Burbank has an example of this in his crossing of Petunia with tobacco. From numberless hybrids he got one germinating from seed. He named this curiosity Nicotunia (from Nicotiana and Petunia). It was not very attractive and succumbed after one year, having flowered profusely, but failed to produce any seed. It is unfortunate that we can not see this limit of nature in advance, but have to learn it by experience. And this experience includes an almost incomprehensible amount of labor of which no one hears any- thing. 348 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. SOME PHASES OF THE EDUCATIONAL PROBLEMS IN CHINA. By WALTER NGON FONG, PRESIDENT OF LI SHING COLLEGE IN HONG KONG; FIRST CHINESE GRADUATE OF STANFORD UNIVERSITY. |~N dealing with any part of the educational problem, it is necessary -*- for us first to define our field. In this paper we shall consider the subject from the standpoint of one endeavoring to introduce ' western ' learning among the Chinese. The fact that the Chinese do want to adopt western ideas and learning does not facilitate the task of regenerating the Chinese mind to as great a degree as the casual observer might suppose. While the present conditions are, of course, much more favorable for the introduction of new things into the Chinese life than they were a few years ago, still innumerable obstacles and difficulties remain in the path of one who wishes to be of some real assistance to the ' Coming New China.' The ignorance of the students' parents and relatives or guardians is one of the most formidable enemies of modern education in southern China. As soon as the student reaches the age of sixteen or seven- teen his parents get him a wife. We might think that a student who can get a wife without bothering his head over the affair has the ad- vantage of saving the time which would be spent by a European or an American in courting. Still, to assume the responsibilities of mar- ried life at the age when he is just able to begin higher studies will prove an almost insurmountable barrier to the advance of the average student. Perhaps he is furnished with enough money to go to school, yet his wife must have some ' pin money,' and as she does not like to ask her father-in-law for every cent she needs, she soon begins to make demands upon her husband's slender purse. As the Chinese ' gentleman youth ' is not trained to do anything, he can not earn any money by doing ' odd jobs ' while in school. Therefore, he embraces the first opportunity to obtain a position of some sort and leaves school. His school career is now ended forever and his desire for higher learning gradually becomes extinguished. Very few Chinese realize that a useful education must be thorough and that to obtain a thorough education requires time. While they are willing to permit their boys to be crammed with obsolete classics for fifteen or twenty years with the hope of becoming Mandarins, yet they are not willing to let them study six or eight years in a modern EDUCATIONAL PROBLEMS IN CHINA. 349 institution of learning. All that they want their sons to obtain is a knowledge 'sufficient for the need/ By this expression they mean that as soon as their sons are able to take positions as clerks, their education is ' finished.' Their highest ambition is to have their sons become chief clerks or compradores in commercial houses, thus insuring comfortable livelihoods. Even the students who aim higher than 'business English' are anxious to find a short cut to learning and to obtain a general knowl- edge of science, philosophy or law in a very brief period. They are not willing to spend weeks, if need be, on a single point. They have no desire for original investigation; no craving for research work; no yearning to become wise above ' that which is written.' They are not willing to sacrifice time, pleasure and money and make everything subservient to the one aim of getting a thorough education. Filial piety, inculcated into them by generations of usage and en- forced upon them by their parents, is another great drawback. For instance, if a paternal relative is indisposed, the student must leave school and travel to his village to pay his respects to the sick one, thereby losing from a week to ten days' schooling. In the event of the marriage of a relative or of any other important festivity, the parents desire that the student be excused for another ten days or so, thus breaking into the continuity of his studies. The poor physical condition of most of the students is another hindrance to their progress, and necessitates many days of absence from classes. Having been accustomed under the old Chinese system of education to commit to memory what was written, many of the students, who enter an institution of foreign learning where they are required not to memorize but to reason out the cause and effect and to give explanation for all that they do, find the work very hard upon them physically. Their ability to think and reason has been dwarfed by their previous training, and the transitional period of their mental readjustment is a great strain upon their weakened constitutions. One might ask, ' How have their constitutions become weakened ? ' By the use of tobacco and by the conditions under which they have studied. In the Chinese schools they have sat at their books from dawn until dark and read far into the night, seven days a week almost the whole year round, without physical exercise or proper ventilation. Consequently, the physical condition of many of the most diligent students is most deplorable. Western education in China, like many pioneer undertakings else- where, has not had a proper start. Until recent 3rears, very few real educators have come to China to establish schools. Formerly, most of the schools in which western learning was taught were conducted by zealous missionaries; unfortunately, most of the missionaries were not 35o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. trained educators. Educational institutions are expensive and even the missionaries who were skilled in the art of teaching had no money for the necessary equipment. The main reason why no teachers of high standing, who could hold professorships in any of the reputable colleges at home, have been work- ing in China is the lack of money and facilities to induce them to come. When a scholar leaves civilization to go to regions far from home he must see some advantage in going. If he can go with a finan- cial gain or library and laboratory advantages, he is willing to sacrifice the comforts and conveniences of the homeland. But China did not have the money to pay for high-salaried teachers or to provide any library or laboratory inducements for the scholar. Nowadays we hear much of the colleges of western learning which the Chinese government proposes to establish in all parts of the empire. This calls to mind another difficulty, viz., the inability of the Chinese to manage a school properly. Most of the Chinese who try to start institutions of learning have no idea what a foreign college looks like. They have no means of knowing how to select men; neither are they capable of knowing whether the teachers whom they employ know how to give instruction. Formerly they thought that any foreigner could teach any or all of the subjects constituting ' western ' learning. There were always plenty of unscrupulous foreigners willing to take advantage of the ignorance of the Chinese regarding educational affairs and to pose as ' professors ' of anything or everything for the sake of the salaries. There were also numerous equally unscrupulous Chinese, who, having obtained a smattering of English in some foreign land, returned to China and undertook to give instruction in many branches. Experience with such impostors has taught the Chinese to be sus- picious of eve^body and everything concerning western learning. We can not blame them for this. Confused by such experiences and rein- forced by their profound ignorance of modern education, the Chinese school managers are exceedingly difficult to ' handle/ Notwithstand- ing their good intentions, they really do not know what they intend to do. As a result, the instructors whom they employ have to spend a large portion of their energy in managing the ' school-managers,' in- stead of being free to devote all of their attention to their school work proper. Most of the schools in China, present as well as past, have big names only, regulations by the volume and curricula which exist only on paper. With their characteristic power in imitation and their time- honored conservatism, the Chinese school trustees want to follow this or that school instead of leaving the instructors free to administer the affairs of each school in accordance with its own peculiar needs. What China needs to-day is not so much the higher theoretical EDUCATIONAL PROBLEMS IN CHINA. 351 education as some real, practical training. Her people are not ready for the former, but are badly in need of the latter. The first utility of education should be to enable those educated to earn a competency, without which we can hardly expect a man to go about discussing the nice points in law or in science, while a starving family awaits him at home and an empty stomach gnaws within. With her countless mil- lions of population, China has no workmen skilled in the production of any part of the furnishings for the comforts and conveniences of modern life. To-day China is using modern conveniences and appli- ances that she can not produce. This being the condition, practical manual training in the useful arts is her first necessity. If China wishes to become a member of the great family of civilized nations, she must be educated out of the idea that an educated gentleman should not perform any manual labor, and that learning and labor are divorced from each other. Though our path is thus strewn with difficulties and obstacles, yet we as educators do not labor without a bright ray of hope. The Chinese mind has all the elements of a good soil for the implantation of the seeds of learning; it only needs proper cultivation. For example, there are in the Li Shing Scientific and Industrial College at Hong Kong, young men and boys who, five months ago, had no idea of what science was, who can now perform chemical experiments understand- ing^ and discuss many scientific topics intelligently. Once having tasted the flavor of the new learning, some of the students try to devour the subjects with the eagerness of a starving dog that sees a piece of meat. When they are interested in their studies, they apply them- selves to their books with all the force of mind and body. This better class of students is very orderly, docile, impressionable and respectful. Although at first many of the students are slow to comprehend the methods and aims of a system of education so new to them, my experi- ence has been that after a few months some of those who were appa- rently indifferent suddenly take hold as if by inspiration. Having become interested, nothing can woo them from their books, and, instead of having to hold them to strict account for their daily work, we have to keep them back. I have in mind, in particular, one fourteen-year- old boy who, when he entered our school, was a very idle and playful scholar. He was so idle and unruly that he had to be kept standing by the teacher's desk the greater part of the time. Indeed, we had our doubts whether it was best to allow him to remain with us. After a few weeks his reasoning powers became unearthed and he took an ab- sorbing interest in chemistry. From that time forth there was no further occasion for reprimand ; there was a marked changed in all his work and his progress in English was very rapid. His ability to apply what he learns, his power to grasp new ideas and his faculty for 352 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. asking pointed questions are marvelous ; it takes a well informed, wide- awake teacher to cope with him. He is but one of the many for whom the modern institutions of learning recently established in China are throwing open the doors of true knowledge. When the Chinese youths have caught the student-spirit which dominates our western colleges, they become real ' digs/ and not even their physical weakness can deter them. Therefore, we have reason to hope that when their constitutions shall have been strengthened by the abstemious life, the hygienic surroundings and the physical exer- cises which are features of the new institutions, China will have stu- dents able to sit at the banquet of learning with those of foreign nations. The field being so great, the educators should not try to rival each other, but should rather endeavor to cooperate, in order to facilitate the enlightenment of this vast empire of the east. We can not at present expect to have real universities, where each institution shall have all the departments; therefore, the existing colleges should aim to supplement each other, each trying to establish some thoroughly equipped, special departments that the others do not have. Colleges established in China need strong men, who are not afraid of hard work or of difficulties, and who will not worry if they attract but few students; men who will endeavor to carry on their respective institutions on a modern educational basis, and who will form plans and policies suited to the demands of the time and place. Thus manned, colleges in China will be able to send forth graduates educated in the true sense of the word and fitted to be useful in society. These college-trained men will act as a leaven which in time will change the whole social fabric of Chinese life, thus removing many of the obstacles which now confront the educator. In this way, existing colleges will advertise themselves by the quality of their graduates much more effect- ively than by any amount of pomp and show; will serve as models worthy of imitation ; and will solve many of the present problems. SOCIAL PHASE OF AGRICULTURAL EDUCATION. 353 THE SOCIAL PHASE OF AGRICULTURAL EDUCATION.* By President KENYON L. BUTTERFIELD, RHODE ISLAND COLLEGE OF AGRICULTURE AND MECHANIC ARTS. I HAVE been asked to speak in behalf of the study of ' Rural Eco- nomics.' This term is, I presume, supposed to cover broadly those subjects which treat of the economic and social questions that concern farming and farmers. The whole range of social science as applied to rural conditions is thus apparently made legitimate territory for discussion. In view of the importance and character of this field of study, it seems wise to approach it if possible through the avenue of its underlying philosophy. Only in this way can the validity of the subject be established and its place in agricultural education be justi- fied. I have, therefore, chosen as a specific title, ' The Social Phase of Agricultural Education.' In the treatment of the topic an endeavor has been made to hold consistently in mind the point of view of the agricultural college. It is a principle in social science that the method and scope of any social institution depend upon its function. Therefore the organiza- tion, the methods and the courses of the agricultural college should be made with reference to the function of the college. What is this func- tion ? What is the college designed to accomplish ? What is its social purpose? Why does society need the agricultural college? Answers to these questions are of two kinds, those that explain the contemporary and passing functions of the college, and those that illustrate its per- manent and abiding service to society and particularly to the rural portion of society. The college of yesterday was obliged to train its own teachers and experimenters ; to-day it may add the task of training farm superintendents; to-morrow it may organize an adequate exten- sion department. Courses and methods will change as new contem- porary needs arise. But there remains always the abiding, final service of the agricultural college, its permanent function. This function will he defined in different ways by different men, but I venture to define it as follows : The permanent function of the agricultural college is to serve as a social organ or agency of first importance in helping to solve all phases of the rural problem. We shall not attempt at once to argue this proposition. We must, however, try to answer the question, What * Read November 2, at the eighteenth annual convention of the Associa- tion of American Agricultural Colleges and Experiment Stations, Des Moines, Iowa. vol. lxvtt. — 23. 354 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. is the rural problem? And in the answer may be revealed, without need of extended discussion, the mission of the college. 1. The days are going by when agriculture may be classed with the mining industries. Soil culture is supplanting pioneer farming. Skill is taking the place of empiricism. The despotism of the grandfather is passing. Applied science and business practise have been hitched to the plow. Yet the most obvious need of American agriculture is better farming. Improved farm land in the United States gives but nine dollars of gross return per acre ; the average yield per acre of corn is 23.5 bushels, whereas a very modest ideal would be double this amount; the wheat yield is 13.5 bushels per acre, in Germany nearly twice as much. These are crude but legitimate illustrations of our inferior farming. We must have greater yields of better products, secured at less cost per unit. The farm problem is, therefore, first of all a problem of increasing the technical skill of our farmers. Science unlocks the cabinet of nature's treasures, but only the artist-farmer can appreciate and use the storehouse thus opened to him. 2. But produce-growing is not the only aspect of the farm problem. Each effective pair of shears needs two blades; in this case produce- selling is the other blade. Mere productiveness does not solve the farm question. The farmer cares less for the second spear of grass than he does for a proper return from the first spear. Business skill must be added to better farming methods. The farm problem is also a business question. 3. The moment, however, we begin to discuss price we enter a realm where economic factors dominate. We commonly say demand and supply determine price; but effective demand and effective supply are the resultants of many forces. The supply of a given product is influ- enced by the cost of growing in various locations, by cost of transporta- tion, by competition of other countries. The demand is influenced by the state of wages, by standards of living, by effectiveness of distribu- tion. The farmer may not always control these conditions, but he must reckon with them. He must know the laws of economics as well as the laws of soil-fertility. The farm problem becomes then an indus- trial question; for the farmer's prosperity is influenced most pro- foundly by the economic life of the nation and of the world. And in a still wider sense is the rural question one of economics. The industry as a whole must prosper. It is of no great moment that here and there a farmer succeeds. The farming class must prosper. Of course indi- vidual success in the case of a sufficient number of farmers implies the success of the industry. But it is quite possible to have a stagnant industry alongside numerous individual successes. The farmers as a whole must be continually and speedily advancing to better economic- conditions. SOCIAL PHASE OF AGRICULTURAL EDUCATION. 355 4. Nor may we ignore the political factor in the rural problem. Doubtless the American farmer, like most Americans, places undue reliance upon legislation. But we can not disregard the profound industrial and social effects of either wise or foolish laws. The political efficiency of the farmer will have much to do in determining class progress. Furthermore, the political duties of farmers must be en- forced, their influence must continue to be exerted in behalf of the general policies of government. It is of vital consequence to our demo- cratic government that the American farmer shall in no wise lose his political instinct and effectiveness. 5. The consideration of the political phase of the question leads us to the heart of the farm problem. For it is conceivable that the farmers of this country may as a class be skilled growers of produce, successful sellers of what they grow, and indeed that the industry as a whole may be prosperous, and yet the farming class in its general social and intellectual power fail to keep pace with other classes. It is not impossible that a landlord-and-tenant system, or even a peasant system, should yield fairly satisfactory industrial conditions. But who for a moment would expect either system to develop the political and general social efficiency that American democratic ideals demand? Even if there is no immediate danger of either of these systems becoming estab- lished in America, we still desire that our farmers as a class shall secure for themselves the highest possible position not only in industry but in the political and social organization of American society. Indeed this is the ultimate American rural problem, to maintain the best possible status of the farming class. No other statement of the problem is satisfactory in theory. None other is explanatory of the struggles and ambitions of farmers themselves. The American farmer will be satis- fied with nothing less than securing for his class the highest possible class efficiency and largest class influence, industrially, politically, so- cially. It is true that industrial success is necessary to political and social power. But it is also true that social agencies are needed in order to develop in our American farmers the requisite technical skill, business method and industrial efficiency. The influence of such social forces as education, developed means of communication, the organiza- tion of farmers, and even the church, must be invoked before we can expect the best agricultural advancement. And the end is after all a social one. The maintenance of class status is that end. This analysis of the rural problem is necessarily brief, almost crude, but I hope that it reveals in some degree the scope and nature of the problem ; that it indicates that the farm question is not one merely of technique, fundamental as technical skill must be ; that it demonstrates that the problem is also one of profound economic, political and social significance. If this be so, do we need to argue the proposition that 356 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. the function of the agricultural college is to help solve all phases of the problem ? We all recognize the place of the college in assisting our farmers to greater technical skill. By what pleas shall we gainsay the mission of the college in ministering to rural betterment at all points, whether the conditions demand technical skill, business acumen, indus- trial prosperity, political power or general social elevation ? Why shall not the agricultural college be all things to all farmers ? Assuming that this statement of the permanent mission of the agri- cultural college is an acceptable one, the practical inquiry arises, does the college as now organized adequately fulfil its function, and, if not, by what means can the defect be remedied? The colleges are doubt- less serving the industrial and social need to some degree. But I be- lieve that it is not unjust to assert that the existing courses of study in agriculture, the organization of the college and the methods of work are not adequate if the college is to secure and maintain this supreme leadership all along the line of rural endeavor. This is not criticism of existing methods. The colleges are doing good work. But the present effort is partial, because the emphasis is placed upon the tech- nical and especially upon the individual phases of the problem. The industrial, the political and the social factors are not given due con- sideration. Our present-day agricultural course, on the vocational side, is chiefly concerned with teaching the future individual farmer how to apply the principles of science to the art of farming, and in training specialists who shall make further discoveries either in the realm of science or in the application of the scientific principle to the art. The technical element absolutely dominates the vocational portion of the agricultural course. Very slight attention is given to the discussion of other phases of the farm problem. To meet the needs of the future the whole spirit and method of the agricultural college must be ' social- ized ' — to use an overworked phrase for want of a better one. We must get away from the idea that the individual and the technical aspects of agricultural research and teaching are the sufficient solution of the farm problem. When we ask, what are the means for ' socializing ' the agricultural college, the expected answer may be, the study of rural social science or ' rural economy.' But I am pleading not merely for the addition of a few subjects to the course of study, but for an educational policy. The answer, therefore, will not be quite so simple. What then are the methods by which the college may more fully assume its function of helping to solve all phases of the farm problem ? 1. The indispensable requirement is that the college shall con- sciously purpose to stand as sponsor for the whole rural problem. It is to assume a place of leadership in the campaign for rural betterment. Whether or not it is to be the commander-in-chief of the armies of SOCIAL PHASE OF AGRICULTURAL EDUCATION. 357 rural progress, it should be the inspiration, the guide, the stimulator of all possible endeavors to improve farm and farmer. This attitude of mind is purely a matter of ideals, deliberately formed in the light of the abiding needs of the farming class. It is the intangible but per- vasive influence of an object which is perfectly definite even if avowedly spiritual. It is a question of atmosphere. It is a matter of insight. The college must have a vision of the rural problem in its entirety and in its relations. At the college we should find, if anywhere, the capacity to understand the ultimate question in agriculture. We know that this ultimate question in agriculture can not be expressed alone by the terms nitrogen, or balanced ration, or cost per bushel, but must be written also in terms of the human problem, the problem of the men and women of the farm. So we shall see the college consciously en- deavoring to make of itself a center where these men and women of the farm shall find light and inspiration and guidance in all the aspects of their struggle for a better livelihood and a broader life. The college must avow its intention of becoming all things to all farmers. Whether this means the study of fertility, of animal nutrition, of soil bacteri- ology, or whether it means the consideration of markets, of land laws, of transportation, of the country church, of pure government, the col- lege will lead the way to the truth. 2. As the first requisite is that of the conscious ideal or purpose, the second is one of organization. It seems to me that the socializa- tion of the college can not proceed very far until the principle of uni- versity extension is pretty fully recognized. The college must be in constant and vital touch with the farmers and their associations. Therefore each agricultural college should as rapidly as possible develop a definite tri-partite organization which reveals the college in its three- fold function as an organ of research, as an educator of students, and as a distributor of information to those who can not come to the college. These are really coordinate functions and should be so recognized. The college should unify them into one comprehensive scheme. The prin- ciple of such unity is perfectly clear ; for we have in research the quest for truth, in the education of students the incarnation of truth, and in extension work the democratization of truth. Until these three lines of effort are somewhat definitely recognized and organized, the college can not work as leader in solving the rural problem. 3. Thirdly, the social sciences, in their relation to the rural prob- lem particularly, must receive a consideration commensurate with the importance of the industrial, the political and the social phases of the farm question. In research, for instance, the colleges should make a study of the history and status of these aspects of agriculture. As a matter of fact, we know very little of these things. There have been but few scientific investigations of the economic features of the industry, 358 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. and practically nothing has been done in the more purely social ques- tions. Here is a great untilled field. How the various farm industries have developed, a comprehensive study of the agricultural market, the relation of transportation to the industry, the tendencies as to central- ization of farms and tenant-farming, the sociological questions of rural illiteracy, pauperism, insanity, health, education, the effects of rural life upon character, religious life in the country — a hundred subjects of importance in the solution of the farm problem are almost virgin soil for the scientific investigator. It is the business of the agricul- tural colleges to assist, if not to lead, in such work of research. It is work that must be done before the social phases of agricultural educa- tion can be fully developed. When we come to the course of study, we face a question difficult for some colleges because the agricultural curriculum is already over- crowded. I have not time to discuss this practical administrative ques- tion. I believe, however, that it can be worked out. What I wish to emphasize is the idea that in every agricultural course the social prob- lems of the farmers shall have due attention. We should not permit a person to graduate in such a course unless he has made a fairly ade- quate study of the history and status of agriculture, of the govern- mental j)roblems that have special bearing upon agricultural progress, of such questions in agricultural economics as markets, transportation, business cooperation, and of such phases of rural sociology as farmers' organizations, the country church, rural and agricultural education, and the conditions and movements of the rural population. For the college can not carry out the purpose we have ascribed to it, unless these sub- jects are given an important place in the course of study. We talk about the work of the college in training leaders, usually meaning by leaders men who are expert specialists or possibly farmers of extra- ordinary skill. Do we realize that the greatest need of American agri- culture to-day is its need of social leadership? Nothing can be more imperative than that the agricultural college shall send out to the farms both men and women who have not only the capacity to win business success, but who also have the social vision, who are moved to be of service to the farm community, and who have the training which will enable them to take intelligent leadership in institute, school, church, grange, and in all movements for rural progress. Upon the college is thrust the responsibility of training men and women to understand the whole rural problem and from the vantage ground of successful farming to be able to lead the way toward a higher status for all farmers. Possibly the argument for introducing rural social science into the agricultural course is chiefly a sociological one. But there is also in- volved a pedagogical question of most profound significance. For sev- SOCIAL PHASE OF AGRICULTURAL EDUCATION. 359 eral decades the educational camp has been sharply divided over the an- cient but recurring controversy between the Greek cultural ideal and the Eoman utilitarian ideal. I venture the opinion that these two forces of educational idealism will soon reach a compromise which for all practical purposes will take this question out of the pale of serious debate. The classicist will concede that the scope of the term culture may be greatly enlarged, and he may even allow a quite new definition of the cultivated man. It will be generally admitted, to use Professor Bailey's phrase, that ' every subject in which men are interested can be put into peda- gogic form and be a means of training the mind.' On the other hand, the technical educator will concede that a college graduate, in whatever course, should be a cultivated man and that there are certain studies with which all cultivated men should have some familiarity. The technical college will, moreover, be compelled to employ instructors who can so teach the technical subject that it shall not only give the knowl- edge and training desired, but shall also yield sound culture, become truly liberalizing and vision-giving. But a greater question remains. As society becomes more fully self-directive, the demand for social leadership increases. Almost instinctively we look to the college- trained man for such leadership. We expect him to understand and to help. answer the questions that society has to meet. It is not enough that he do his particular work well; he has a public duty. Only thus can he pay all his debt to society for the training he has had. Yet to-day our technical courses are largely engaged in training individuals who, barring some general culture, are highly specialized experts. What preparation, for instance, does the future engineer get in college for facing such a matter as the labor question? He is likely to be brought into close touch with this question. But as a rule he is not especially qualified to handle it. The point of view of the course he has pursued is technique, ever technique. He secures in college little incentive and less training for intelligent performance of his duty as citizen and as member of society. The problems of mathematics are not the problems of industry, and profound study of chemistry gives neither the premises nor the data for sound judgment upon social ques- tions. These public questions can not be left to social experts. A democratic society must insist that all its educated men shall be leaders in solving society's problems. But even the educated men can not lead unless they have first been taught. I believe society has more to fear from technical experts who either neglect their social duty or are ignorant of the social problem than it has from highly trained special- ists who have never studied Greek nor mastered Browning. Moreover, under modern conditions, have we a right to call that man cultivated who ignores the great social problems of the age? We face here one of the coming educational questions, how can the industrial course be 360 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. made to train men for the social leadership the new regime demands? I see no answer except that the course must be made truly and broadly vocational, and consequently that large place must be given to social studies, and particularly to the concrete problems of government, in- dustry and social life. If we examine our agricultural course from this standpoint, we shall have to admit that it has the flaw common to most industrial courses. It is too technical. It is not truly vocational. It does not present the social view-point. It does not stimulate the student to social activity. It does not give him a foundation for intelligent social service when he shall go to the farm. He should study agricultural economics and rural sociology, both because rural society needs leaders and because, in the arming of the man, the knowledge of society's prob- lems is just as vital as either expert information or personal culture. 4. To carry out the function of the agricultural college we need, finally, a vast enlargement of extension work among farmers. This work will not only be dignified by a standing in the college coordinate with research and the teaching of students, but it will rank as a distinct department, with a faculty of men whose chief business is to teach the people who can not come to the college. This department should man- age farmers' institutes, carry on cooperative experiments, give demon- strations in new methods, conduct courses of reading, offer series of extension lectures, assist the schools in developing agricultural instruc- tion, direct the work of rural young people's clubs, edit and distribute such compilations of practical information as now appear under the guise of experiment station bulletins, and eventually relieve the station of the bulk of its correspondence. Such a department will be prepared to incorporate into its work the economic, governmental and social prob- lems of agriculture. It will give the farmers light upon taxation as well as upon tree-pruning. The rural school will have as much atten- tion as corn-breeding. The subject of the market — the ' distributive half of farming,' as John M. Stahl calls it — will be given as much dis- cussion as the subjects bearing upon production. We shall find here a most fertile field for work. The farmers are ready for this step. They have, as a rule, appreciated the real nature of the farm problem more fully than have our agricultural educators. Perhaps at times they have placed undue reliance upon legislation. Perhaps in periods of depression they have overweighed the economic pressure as against the lack of skilled farming. But the great body of farmers has rightly estimated the importance of the economic, political and social questions as related to their ultimate prosperity. In grange meetings, for ex- ample, the subjects which arouse greatest interest are such themes as taxation, the rural telephone, the country school, business cooperation. The explanation of all the farmers' movements is that the farmers be- SOCIAL PHASE OF AGRICULTURAL EDUCATION. 361 lieve the farm problem to be much more than a question of technique. They want light on the whole problem. The college, chiefly through its socialized extension department, has a mission also to those professional people whose sphere of work is in the rural community. The rural educator, the country clergyman, the editor of the country paper, and even the lawyer and physician who deal with country people, should have a large share in helping to solve the farm problem. They, too, need to know what the rural problem is. They, too, need the eye that sees the necessary conditions of rural betterment and the heart that desires to help in rural progress. By some of the same methods that reach the farmers themselves can the college instruct and inspire these others. And, finally, the college will take its place as the ' social organ or agency of first importance in helping to solve the farm problem in all its phases.' The church, the school, the farmers' organization — all these social organs have their work to do. None can do the work of the others. But they should work together. Each should appreciate its own mission and its own limitations; each should recognize the function of the others, and all should intelligently unite their forces in a grand campaign for rural betterment. More properly than per- haps any other agency the socialized extension department of the agri- cultural college can act as mediator and unifier, serve as the clearing- house and directing spirit in a genuine federation of rural social forces. Inspired by the conscious purpose of the college to help at all points in the solution of the farm question, informed by the knowledge ac- quired through research into the economic and social problems of agri- culture, aided by a multitude of educated farmers trained in the colleges to know the rural problem and to lend a hand in its settlement, digni- fied by its status as a coordinate branch of the college activities, the extension department may well act as the chief agency of stimulation and unification in the social movements for rural advancement. In this discussion the practical details of carrying out the program advocated have not been touched upon. When once it becomes a dis- tinct policy of the college to assume leadership in the movement for rural betterment, such questions as subject-matter for study, text -books, qualified instructors and time in the curriculum will settle themselves. Neither has any attempt been made to give illustrations ; and, therefore, this paper may seem dogmatic if not academic, a prophecy rather than an outline of progress, the statement of an idea rather than a practi- cable program. But I think there is abundant evidence that a current is setting in toward the enlargement of the work of the agricultural college, along the social lines indicated. The rapid development of farmers' institutes, the growth of other phases of extension teaching, the sentiment of those in authority that the experiment station must 362 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. soon slough off its work of education and confine itself to research, the holding of occasional conferences for rural progress, in which country teachers and pastors join with the farmers, the initiative of the college in federating various state farmers' organizations into one grand com- mittee, the inauguration of several brief courses in agricultural eco- nomics and rural sociology, the cooperation of some of the colleges with the Carnegie Institution in an investigation into the history and con- ditions of agriculture in its economic and social phases, the pride with which a few of our colleges point to the increasing number of young men they are sending to the farms — all these facts seem clearly to indi- cate that the agricultural college will soon assert its function of leader in the endeavor to solve all phases of the rural problem. If the analysis thus offered is a correct one, the question of ' rural economics ' is far from being merely a matter of adding three or four subjects of study to the agricultural course. It involves the very func- tion and policy of the college itself. It alone gives proportion to the problem of agricultural education, because, while distinctly admitting the need of better farming and the consequently fundamental necessity of the technical training of farmers, it emphasizes the importance of the economic and political and social aspects of rural development. And it thereby indicates that only by a due recognition of these factors, in purpose, in organization, and in course of study, can the American agricultural college fulfil its mission to the American farmer. EDUCATION FOR EFFICIENCY. 363 EDUCATION FOR EFFICIENCY.* By Dr. W. H. MAXWELL, SUPERINTENDENT OF SCHOOLS OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK. n^HE National Educational Association meets in its forty-fourth -*■ annual convention at the moment when Japan has given the world another great object lesson in the value of education. Ever since Napoleon's retreat from Moscow, the world has stood in awe of that massive and mysterious power which we call Eussia. In that fateful campaign it was not the skill of the Russian commanders or the bravery of the Russian soldiers that wrought the catastrophe; it was the snowflakes — the arrows from the quiver of God — that over- whelmed the might of the invader. Ever since, Russia has gloried in a victory that was not of her own achieving. The world accepted her at her own valuation, and stood in awe. Wrapt in the glamor of an unearned renown, Russia pursued her aggressions practically unop- posed, until her empire stretched from the Baltic Sea to the Pacific Ocean. There her career of conquest has ended. There, once again, has broken out the irrepressible conflict between ignorance and enlight- enment. On the one side stand a people, almost countless in number and rich beyond knowledge in all natural wealth, but ignorant, devoid of initiative, and alienated from their rulers by despotism and cruelty. On the other side stand the Japanese, a people limited in numbers and confined in territory, but born again through the diffusion of knowl- edge and through the universal training for efficiency which has made their inherited patriotism invincible. Japan has but repeated at Port Arthur and at Mukden and on the Yellow Sea the lesson of history — the lesson of Marathon, of Zama, of the Invincible Armada, of the Heights of Abraham, of Waterloo, and of Sedan — the lesson that the race which gives its children the most effective training for life, sooner or later becomes a dominant race. Borrowing eagerly from western civilizations, Japan has adopted for her own whatever school exercise or method of teaching gives promise of training for efficiency. Nobly has she repaid her debt to Europe and America. She has demonstrated to the world that the training of the young to skill of hand, to accuracy of vision, to high physical development, to scientific knowledge, to accurate reasoning and to practical patriotism — for these are the staples of Japanese education — is the best and cheapest defense of nations. * Address of the President of the National Educational Association, As- bury Park and Ocean Grove, July 3, 1905. 36.4 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Such are the lessons of war. The history of peaceful industrial effort tells the same story. No nation is truly prosperous until every man has become not merely a consumer but a producer. As Emerson most truly said : A man fails to make his place good in the world, unless he not only pays his debt, but also adds something to the common wealth. Efficient universal education that makes men producers as well as consumers is the surest guarantee of progress in the arts of peace — is the mother of national prosperity. ' But/ exclaims an objector. ' this is gross materialism.' Not so. The history of the world shows that a nation improves morally and intellectually only as its physical condition is strengthened. The futility of religious missionary effort, when unaccompanied by physical betterment, is of itself sufficient to prove the thesis. Better shelter, better food, better clothing, are the necessary antecedents and accom- paniments of higher thinking, greater self-respect and more resolute independence. True, material prosperity too often brings with it a train of evils all its own; sensual indulgence or slothful ease, it may be; or the grasping at monopoly and ' man's inhumanity to man ' ; or a feverish pursuit of material things to the neglect of the. spiritual. True, enor- mous wealth is often accompanied, particularly in crowded centers of population, by extreme poverty. These, however, are but temporary reversions to barbarism — the price we must pay for progress. The best correctives of the evils generated by the accumulation of wealth are not anti-trust laws or other repressive legislation, but a system of schools which provides a training for all that is equal to the best which money can buy; which discovers and reveals genius born in low estate and enables it to fructify for the common good; and which guarantees to every child the full development of all his powers. The trained man will demand and will, in the long run, receive his due share. Education is a chief cause of wealth and the most certain corrective of its abuse. In a community in which every man was trained to his highest efficiency, monopoly and poverty would be alike impossible. In the light of these historic truths you will permit me, as a prelude to the addresses that are to be delivered before the meetings, general and departmental, of this convention, to state very briefly — I do not venture to say, discuss — a few of the burning educational questions of the day. The first of these questions is: What does education for efficiency mean? It does not mean that every man should be trained to be a soldier. True, the man who is well trained for the duties of peace is, in these days of scientific instruments of destruction, well prepared for war; but military prowess can never become the ideal of education among a great industrial people. It does not mean merely that each citizen should be able to read the newspapers and magazines so that EDUCATION FOR EFFICIENCY. 365 he may be familiar with political discussions and able to make an intelligent choice between candidates and policies. The imparting of such knowledge to each individual is essential in a democratic nation,* but it falls far short of the education needed to secure the highest efficiency of each unit of society. Still less does it mean that wretched travesty of education which would confine the work of the public schools to those exercises in reading, writing and ciphering which will enable a boy or a girl at the age of fourteen or earlier, to earn starvation wages in a store or factory. Education for efficiency means all of these things, but it means much more. It means the development of each citizen first as an individual and second as a member of society. It means bodies kept fit for service by appropriate exercise. It means that each student shall be taught to use his hands deftly, to observe accu- rately, to reason justly, to express himself clearly. It means that he shall learn ' to live cleanly, happily and helpfully, Math those around him ' ; that he shall learn to cooperate with his fellows for far-reaching and far-distant ends; that he shall learn the everlasting truth of the words uttered nearly two thousand years ago : ' No man liveth to him- self ' and e Bear ye one another's burdens.' Such, I take it, is the goal of American education. If this ideal of developing the highest individual and social effici- ency of each citizen is the goal of American education, obviously the curriculum of our schools becomes an object of extreme solicitude. Particularly is this the case with the elementary schools, for these con- tain over ninety per cent, of the children under instruction. During the last quarter of a century a great movement for the reform of the elementary curriculum has been gathering strength. The most prom- inent characteristics of this movement would seem to be the devel- opment of the imagination and the higher emotions through litera- ture, and art, and music; the training of the body and the executive powers of the mind through physical training, play and manual train- ing ; and the introduction of the child to the sources of material wealth, through the direct study of nature and of processes of manufacture. At first the movement seems to have been founded on a psychological basis. To-day the tendency is to seek a sociological foundation— to adjust the child to his environment of man and of nature. At various times during the past ten or fifteen years, and particu- larly during the past year, reactionary voices have been loudly raised against the new education, and in favor of the old. Such was to be expected. Eeactions follow inevitably in the wake of every reform, political and social. Analysis will show that the reactionary tend- encies in education arise from three chief sources: 1. The demagogic contentions of selfish politicians who see that it costs more money to teach the new subjects of the curriculum than the old, and that thus a large proportion of the public revenue is diverted 366 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. from the field of political spoils. These are the men who have in- vented the term ' fads and frills ' to designate art, manual training, music and nature study. It must be theirs to learn that it will require something more than a stupid alliteration to stem the tide of those irresistible forces that are making the modern school the faithful counterpart of the modern world and an adequate preparation for its activities. The saving common-sense of the common people, when deliberately appealed to, will always come to the rescue of the schools. 2. The reactionary tendency is due in part to an extremely con- servative element that still exists among the teaching force. For the most part, teachers who are extremely conservative were themselves brought up chiefly on the dry husks of a formal curriculum. They find it difficult to learn and to teach the new subjects. They dislike to be bothered by the assistance of special teachers. Accustomed to mass work both in learning and in teaching, they regret the introduc- tion into the school-room of arts which demand attention to individual pupils. 3. The reactionary tendency has its roots even among the more progressive teachers in a vague feeling of disappointment and regret that manual training, correlation and nature study have probably not accomplished all that their enthusiastic advocates promised ten to twenty years ago. The feeling of disappointment, we might say even of discontent, among the more thoughtful and progressive teachers, is what might have been anticipated. In the first place, public education has become a much more difficult thing than it was half a century ago. It has become more difficult for two reasons : 1. Because of the constantly increasing migration of population from the country to the cities. Children removed from rustic to urban life lose that most valuable education which comes from the work and the associations of the farm-yard and the fields. 2. Because of the enormous increase in immigration from abroad, and particularly because the character of the immigration has changed. Up to the middle of the last century the majority of our immigrants were of kindred blood with the American people and a large proportion spoke our language. Gradually, however, the tide of immigration, while swelling until it has now reached the enormous total of one million a year, has shifted its chief sources from the shores of the North and the Baltic Seas to the shores of the Mediterranean. The peoples of southern Europe, illiterate, accustomed to tyranny, without individual initiative, and habituated to a low standard of living, huddle themselves together in our large cities and factory towns under conditions inimical alike to morals, to physical well-being and to intellectual advancement. Teachers have a good right to complain that municipal authorities in permitting the over-crowding of immi- EDUCATION FOE EFFICIENCY. 367 grants in unsanitary quarters have aided the establishment of the most serious obstacle yet discovered to the upward progress of public education. In the second place, the feeling of disappointment with the results of the newer studies arises from the fact that these studies were intro- duced before the teachers were prepared to teach them; that for too long they were concerned chiefly with uninteresting formal processes rather than with interesting results; that they were not related to real needs of school and home ; and were not properly coordinated with other phases of the curriculum. Much yet remains to be done to assimilate the environment of the school to the environment of the world. And yet, while we may feel discontented with the situation, and regret the increased difficulties of our work, there is no reason for discouragement. I have no hesitation in saying that in general intel- ligence, in all-round efficiency, in power of initiative, the pupils whom I see are superior to those of a quarter of a century ago. If the ob- stacles before us are more . formidable, if the problems are more com- plicated than those presented to our predecessors, the teachers of America are better organized and better equipped to overcome the obstacles and to solve the problems. He who has sailed in a modern steamship through an ocean storm has seen the mighty vessel cleave the billows and scarcely slacken her speed in the teeth of the hurri- cane. Down in the depths of the ship men are piling coal on the furnaces and releasing a force — the imprisoned sun-power of uncounted ages — that baffles the waves and defies the whirlwind. And so it is with our ship of state. Come what storms of ignorance or wickedness there may, teachers are supplying the fuel of knowledge and releasing the force of intelligence that will hold our nation in the straight course of progress. And yet, the teachers of America are still far from satisfied with their achievements. They are dissatisfied with the elementary cur- riculum, because it seems crowded by the new studies that have been added without diminishing the number of the old. They are dis- satisfied with the high school curriculum because the old-style lan- guage, mathematics and science course, however suitable it may be for admission to college, does not precisely meet the needs of boys and girls who are going directly into life. They are dissatisfied with the specialized high school, because it seems lacking in some of those attributes of culture in which the old time school was strong. And they are dissatisfied with the college course, because the elective sys- tem which has taken the place of the old, prescribed course does not seem to give a strong, intellectual fiber to the weaker students who, too often, follow the path of least resistance. And they are dissatisfied because there is less intelligence, less efficiency and less helpfulness in 368 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. the world than the world needs. So far from feeling concerned at this widespread discontent, we should rejoice that it exists. There is nothing so blighting to educational enthusiasm as smug satisfaction with what is or what has been; there is nothing so stimulating to educational effort as a realizing sense of present imperfections and of higher possibilities. As to the curriculum of the higher schools and colleges, the prob- lem is really not what studies shall be inserted and what omitted, but how shall we make it possible for the student to get that culture, efficiency and power out of his studies which his development requires. This is really a question for psychology to answer. Well may we ask of our universities with their psychological laboratories and their sensitive apparatus for measuring mental reactions : Will psychology ever accomplish what phrenology once promised but has never per- formed— the determination of a young student's capabilities and of the line of work he ought to pursue ? As to the elementary curriculum, surely we shall not go far wrong if we apply to each study and even to each detail of each study these four questions: 1. Is this study or this exercise well within the comprehension of the child ? 2. Does it help to adjust him to the material and the spiritual environment of the age and the community in which he lives? 3. Does it combine with the other studies of the curriculum to render him more efficient in conquering nature and in getting along with his fellows, and thus to realize ideals that transcend environment ? 4. Does it accomplish these objects better than any other study that might be selected for these purposes? If these questions are answered in the affirmative, we may rea- sonably conclude that the study or the exercise in question is an im- portant element in education for efficiency. Examined from the view point established by these questions, every study will assume an aspect very different from that which it bears when taught without a well defined object. Take drawing, for example. Drawing may be so taught as not only to lay bare to seeing eyes new worlds of beauty, but to lead to that reverent appreciation of nature and the reapplication of her lessons to daily industrial art which is the way, as Euskin has said, in which the soul can most truly and wholesomely develop essential religion. Again, take the teaching of agriculture. While our soil seemed inexhaustible in fertility as in extent, the need of such teaching was not felt. Now, however, we are obliged to have recourse to lands that produce only under irrigation. The rural schools have added to our difficulties by teaching their pupils only what seemed most necessary for success when they should move to the city. The farms of New EDUCATION FOR EFFICIENCY. 369 England are, in large measure, deserted or are passing into alien hands. To retain the country boy on the land and to keep our soil from exhaustion, it is high .time that all our rural schools turned their attention, as some of them have done, to scientific agriculture. There is no study of greater importance. There is none more enter- taining. If every country boy could become, according to his ability, a Burbank, increasing the yield of the fruit tree, the grain field and the cotton plantation, producing food and clothing where before there was only waste, what riches would be added to our country, what happiness would be infused into life ! To obtain one plant that will metamorphose the field or the garden, ten thousand plants must be grown and destroyed. To find one Burbank, ten thousand boys must be trained, but unlike the plants, all the boys will have been benefited. The gain to the nation would be incalculable. Scientific Agriculture, practically taught, is as necessary for the rural school, as is manual training for the city school. Xor are our people going to rest satisfied with mere manual train- ing. The Mosely commissioners pointed out that the great defect in American education is the absence of trade schools. Trade schools will inevitably come. The sooner the better. They are demanded for individual and social efficiency. It is not in secondary schools alone, however, that efficiency de- mands highly differentiated types of schools. It is absurd to place the boy or girl, ten or twelve years of age, just landed from Italy, who can not read a word in his own language or speak a word of English, in the same class with American boys and girls five or six years old. For a time at least the foreigners should be segregated and should receive special treatment. Again, the studies that appeal to the normal boy only disgust the confirmed truant or the embryo criminal. Yet again, the mentally defective, the crippled and the physically weak children require special treatment. Unless all indi- cations fail, the demand for education for efficiency will lead in all our large cities to the organization of many widely differentiated types of elementary school. The problem of the curriculum, important as it is, is less important than the problem of the teacher. The born teacher, that is, the man or woman who has a genius for teaching, will teach well, in spite of any curriculum, however bad. Unfortunately, genius is as rare in the profession of teaching as it is in law, or medicine, or any other pro- fession. The great majority of us, as it needs must be, are very common-place persons, who are seeking for light and doing the best we can. Hence the supreme importance of training. And yet there is no part of our work to which so little thought and investigation have been given. Normal schools in this country are still very young — only a little over half a century old. The first normal schools were VOL. LXVII. — 24. j/' POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY high schools with a little pedagogy thrown in. The majority of them remain the same to this day. There is a strong movement, however, toward purely professional schools to which no student who has not had a reasonably liberal education is admitted, and in which he shall devote his entire time to learning how to teach— how to observe, under- stand and exercise children both mentally and physically. Welcome and necessary as this movement is, if all teachers are to train for efficiency, we are still far from precise scientific notions as to the best methods of training teachers. I commend this subject to the National Council as one of the next investigations it should undertake. To secure training for efficiency, the conditions of teaching must be such that each teacher shall be able to do his best work. By com- mon consent one of these conditions is that teachers shall not be sub- jected to the ignominy of seeking political or other influence, or cringing for the favor of any man, in order to secure appointment or promotion. During the past year, two events have occurred which seem to be full of promise for the establishment of this condition. The public school teachers of Philadelphia have been freed from the bondage to ward politicians in which they were held for well nigh a century; and the one-man power, beneficent as such a system proved under a Draper and a Jones in Cleveland, has been supplanted by a seemingly more rational system. Independence of thought and freedom of initiative are necessary to the teachers of a nation whose stability and welfare as a republic depend upon the independence, the intelligence and the free initiative of its citizens. Independence of thought and freedom of initiative may be throttled by bad laws, but under the best of laws they will be maintained only by the teachers themselves. By making it unprofessional to seek appointment or pro- motion through social, religious or political influence, the teachers of this country have it in their power to establish one of the most essen- tial conditions of education for efficiency. Under the conditions that confront us, particularly in the large cities, with the rapid increase and constant migration of our home population, with the influx of vast hordes of people from abroad, alien in language, alien in modes of thought, and alien in tradition, the character of our elementary work is undergoing a profound trans- formation. We are beginning to see that every school should be a model of good housekeeping and a model of good government through cooperative management. What more may the schools do ? They can provide knowledge and intellectual entertainment for adults as well as for children. They can keep their doors open summer as well as winter, evening as well as morning. They can make all welcome for reading, for instruction, for social intercourse, and for recreation. But I for one believe they may do still more. When I look upon the anemic faces and undeveloped bodies that mark so many of the children EDUCATION FOR EFFICIENCY. 371 of the tenements, when I read of the terrible ravages of tuberculosis in the same quarters, I can not but think that the city should provide wholesome food at the lowest possible cost in public school kitchens. To lay the legal burden of learning upon children whose blood is im- poverished and whose digestion is impaired by insufficient or unwhole- some feeding is not in accord with the boasted altruism of an ad- vanced civilization or with the Divine command: Feed the hungry. Is this not also a subject for investigation by our National Council? And should it some day come to pass that men will look upon corruption in public and corporate life, such as of late we have seen exposed in New York, Philadelphia and St. Louis, with the same loathing with which they regard crime in private life, it will be when the schools are in earnest about teaching our young people the funda- mental laws of ethics, that The ten commandments will not budge, And stealing still continues stealing. But economic perils and racial differences are the teacher's op- portunity. Here in this country are gathered the sons and daughters of all nations. Ours is the task not merelv of teaching them our language and respect for our laws, but of imbuing them with the spirit of self-direction, our precious inheritance from the Puritans; the spirit of initiative which comes to its from the pioneers who subdued a continent to the uses of mankind ;* and the spirit of cooperation which is symbolized by and embodied in the everlasting union of sovereign states to promote the common weal. And as, in my own city, I see the eagerness of foreigners to learn, and the skill and devotion of our teachers, I can not but think that we are overcoming our almost insur- mountable difficulties. There is perhaps no more striking moment in all history than that at which the Apostle Paul, standing on Mars Hill and pointing to the blue ^Egean, the center of the then known world, proclaimed the new but eternal doctrine: God hath made of one every nation of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth. Standing here as we do, on the border of the Atlantic Ocean, and beholding on the one side the dove of peace alighting from the hand of our President on the fields of carnage in the far east and on the other side the homes of peoples of all nationalities stretching from the Atlantic to the isles of the Pacific, under the protection of the American flag, may we not realize that we, as teachers, have a great part to perform in bringing a vast company to an understanding of the sublime truth that God has made all men one to dwell on the face of the earth — that their mission is not to defraud and to slay, but each to do his best for himself and to help his fellows. * Miinsterberg, The Americans, Chapter I. and XL 372 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY ADDEESS OF PEESIDENT EOOSEVELT BEFOEE THE NATIONAL EDUCATIONAL ASSOCIATION. I AM peculiarly pleased to have the chance of addressing this asso- ciation, for in all this democratic land there is no more genuinely democratic association than this. It is truly democratic, because here each member meets every other member as his peer without regard to whether he is the president of one of the great universities or the newest recruit to that high and honorable profession which has in its charge the upbringing and training of those boys and girls who in a few short years will themselves be settling the destinies of this nation. It is not too much to say that the most characteristic work of the republic is that done by the educators, by the teachers, for whatever our shortcomings as a nation may be — and we have certain shortcom- ings—we have at least firmly grasped the fact that we can not do our part in the difficult and all-important work of self-government, that we can not rule and govern ourselves unless we approach the task with developed minds, and with what counts for more even — with trained characters. You teachers make the whole world your debtors. Of your profession this can be said with more truth than of any other profession, barring only that of the minister of the Gospel him- self. If you — you teachers — did not do your work well this republic would not endure beyond the span of the generation. Moreover, as an incident to your avowed work, you render some well- nigh unbelievable services to the country. For instance, you render to the republic the prime, the vital service of amalgamating into one homo- geneous body the children alike of those who are born here and of those who come here from so many different lands lands abroad. You fur- nish a common training and common ideals for the children of all the mixed peoples who are being fused into one nationality. It is in no small degree due to you and to your efforts that we of this great Amer- ican republic form one people instead of a group of jarring peoples. The pupils, no matter where they or their parents were born, who are being educated in our public schools will be sure to become imbued with that mutual sympathy, that mutual respect and understanding, which is absolutely indispensable for the working out of the problems we as people have before us. And one service you render which I regard as wholly indispensable. In our country, where altogether too much prominence is given to the mere possession of wealth, we are under heavy obligations to such a body ADDRESS OF PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT. 373 as this, which substitutes for the ideal of accumulating money the in- finitely loftier, non-materialistic ideal of devotion to work worth doing simply for that work's sake. I do not in the least underestimate the need of having material prosperity as the basis of our civilization, but I most earnestly insist that if our civilization does not build a lofty superstructure on this basis, we can never rank among the really great peoples. A certain amount of money is of course a necessary thing, as much for the nation as for the individual; and there are few movements in which I more thoroughly believe than in the movement to secure better remuneration for our teachers. But, after all, the service you render is incalculable, because of the very fact that by your lives you show that you believe ideals to be worth sacrifice and that you are splendidly eager to do non-remunerative work if this work is of good to your fellow-men. To furnish in your lives such a realized high ideal is to do a great service to the country. The chief harm done by the men of swollen fortune to the community is not the harm that the demagogue is apt to depict as springing from their actions, but the fact that their success sets up a false standard, and so serves as a bad example for the rest of us. If we did not ourselves attach an exaggerated importance to the rich man who is distinguished only by his riches, this rich man would have a most insignificant influence over us. I want to interject something here that will make you keep your mind on the real meaning of my words. I am speaking of the rich man who thinks only of his riches, not of the rich man who uses his wealth rightly and regards it as means to an end. It is well, in this connection, to remember the explanation of the parable in the Bible about the difficulty encountered by the rich man who wants to get into heaven. It says that such entrance shall be difficult for ' the rich man who trusteth in his riches.' I am here talking just of rich men who trust in their riches, not of those who are good citizens and first-class men, for those of the latter class are entitled to the same respect as any other men. It is generally our own fault if he does damage to us, for he damages us chiefly by arousing our envy or by rendering us sour and discon- tented. In his actual business relations he is much more apt to benefit than harm the rest of us, and, though it is eminently right to take what- ever steps are necessary in order to prevent the exceptional members of his class from doing harm, it is wicked folly to let ourselves be drawn into any attack upon the wealthy man merely as such. Eemember that, you teachers. It is just as wicked to attack men of wealth as such as it is to attack the man of poverty as such. And, furthermore, the man rendered arrogant by the possession of wealth is precisely the man who, 374 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. if he did not have it, would hate with envious jealousy the man who had it. And remember, also, that both sides of this shield are true. The man roused into furious discontent and envy because he sees other men better off than himself would most decidedly misbehave him- self if he got wealth. Moreover, such an attack is in itself an excep- tionally crooked and ugly tribute to wealth, and therefore the proof of an exceptionally ugly and crooked state of mind in the man making the attack. Venomous envy of wealth is simply another form of the spirit which in one of its manifestations takes the form of cringing servility toward wealth, and in another the shape of brutal arrogance on the part of certain men of wealth. Each one of these states of mind, whether it be hatred, servility or arrogance, is in reality closely akin to the other two, for each of them springs from a fantastically twisted and exag- gerated idea of the importance of wealth as compared to other things. The clamor of the demagogue against wealth, the snobbery of the social columns of the newspapers which deal with the doings of the wealthy, and the misconduct of those men of wealth who act with brutal disregard of the rights of others seem superficially to have no fundamental relation; yet in reality they spring from shortcomings which are fundamentally the same, and one of these shortcomings is the failure to have proper ideals. The community that cherishes such ideals and that admires most the men who approximate most closely to those ideals — in that community we shall not find any of these un- healthy ideas of wealth. This failure must be remedied in large part by the actions of you and your fellow-teachers, your fellow-educators throughout this land. By your lives, no less than by your teachings, you show that, while you regard wealth as a good thing, you regard other things as still better. It is absolutely necessary to earn a certain amount of money; it is a man's first duty to those dependent upon him to earn enough for their support, but after a certain point has been reached money-making can never stand on the same plane with other and nobler forms of effort. The roll of American worthies numbers men like Washington and Lincoln, Grant and Farragut, Hawthorne and Poe, Fulton and Morse, St. Gaudens and MacMonnies ; it numbers statesmen and soldiers, men of letters, artists, sculptors, men of science, inventors, explorers, road- makers, bridge builders, philanthropists, moral leaders in great reforms ; it numbers all these and scores of others; it numbers men who have deserved well in any one of countless fields of activity; but of the rich men it numbers only those who have used their riches aright, who have treated wealth not as an end but as a means, who have shown good con- duct in acquiring it and not merely lavish generosity in disposing of it. And thrice fortunate are you to whom it is given to lead lives of resolute endeavor for the achievement of lofty ideals, and, furthermore, ADDRESS OF PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT. 375 to instill, both by your lives and by your teachings, these ideals into the minds of those who in the next generation will, as the men and women of that generation, determine the position which this nation is to hold in the history of mankind. And now, in closing, I want to speak to you of certain things that have occurred during the last week and of how those things emphasize what I have just said to you as to the importance of this country having within its limits men who put the realization of high ideals above any form of money making. During this week our country has lost a great statesman who was also a great man of letters, a man who occupied a peculiar and unique position in our community, a man of whose exist- ence we could each of us be proud because his life reflected upon each of us ; for the United States as a whole was better because John Hay lived. John Hay entered the public service as a young man just come of age, as the secretary of President Lincoln. He served in the war, he was a member of the Loyal Legion. He was trusted by and was intimate with Lincoln as hardly any other man was. He then went on rendering service after service, and of his merits this was one of them : He had the great advantage and great merit of always being able at any moment to go back to private life unless he could continue in public life on his own terms. He went on rendering service after service to the country until as the climax of his career he served for some six years as secretary of state in two successive administrations, and by what he did and by what he was contributed in no small degree to achieve for this republic the respect of the nations of mankind. Such service as that could not have been rendered save by a man Avho had before him ideals as far above as the poles from those ideals which have in them any taint of what is base or sordid. I wished to get for John Hay's successor the man whom I regarded as of all the men in the country that one best fitted to be such successor. In asking him to accept the position of secretary of state I was asking him to submit to a very great pecuniary sacrifice, and I never even thought of that aspect of the question, for I knew he wouldn't, either. I knew that whatever other consideration he had to waive for and against taking the position, the consideration of how it would affect his personal fortune would not be taken into account by Elihu Eoot. And he has accepted. And now I am not speaking of Hay and Eoot as solitary exceptions. On the contrary, I am speaking of them as typical of a large class of men in public life, and when we hear so much criticism of certain aspects of our public life and of certain of our public servants, criticism which I regret to state is in many cases deserved, it is well for us to remember also the other side of the picture, to remember that here in America we now have and alwavs have had at the command of the 376 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. nation in any crisis, in any emergency, the very best ability to be found within the nation, and that ability given with the utmost freedom, given lavishly and generously, although to the great pecuniary loss of the man giving it. There is not in my cabinet a man to whose financial disadvantage it is not to sit in the cabinet. There is not in my cabinet one man who does not have to give up something substantial, very largely substantial sometimes, that it is a very real hardship for him to give up, in order that he may continue in the service of the nation, and have the only reward for which he looks or for which he cares, the consciousness of having done service that is worth rendering. And I hope more and more throughout this nation to see the spirit grow which makes such service possible. I hope more and more to see the sentiment of the community as a whole become such that each man shall feel it borne in on him, whether he is in public life or in private life — mind you, some of the very greatest public services can be best rendered by those who are not in public life — that the chance to do good work is the greatest chance that can come to any man or any woman in our generation, or in any other generation. That if such work can be well done it is in itself the amplest reward and the amplest prize. THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE. 377 THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE. THE NATIONAL EDUCATIONAL ASSOCIATION. The National Educational Associa- tion held one of its great assemblages on the New Jersey coast during the first week of July. No official report •of the registration was given out, but the attendance was estimated at 15,000, some newspapers placing it as high as 20,000. The association has been called an institute for the promotion of sum- mer travel, and this is certainly one •of its functions. Favorable arrange- ments are made with the railways, and teachers with their relations and friends are thus enabled to enjoy a trip of which the meeting is only an inci- dent. Under these conditions the at- tendance has increased in an extra- ordinary manner. The registration was only 625 at the Saratoga meeting •of 1885. At the previous Asbury Park meeting of 1894 it was 5,915. At the subsequent meetings it has been as fol- lows. Denver, 11,297; Buffalo, 9,072 Milwaukee, 7,111; Washington, 10,533 Los Angeles, 13,056; Charleston, 4,641 Detroit, 10,182; Minneapolis, 10,350 Boston, 34,9S4; St. Louis, 8,109. Asbury Park and Ocean Grove offered •an attractive place of meeting to those who wished to visit the cities, the sea- side or the mountains of the Atlantic seaboard, and in addition to the usual features of the program, addresses were made by the mayor of New York City and the president of the United States. Dr. W. 11. Maxwell delivered on the ffrst day the presidential address, which we are able to print in advance of its publication in the proceedings. Dr. Maxwell, who came to this country from Ireland at the age of twenty-two, was assistant superintendent and then superintendent of the Brooklyn schools, and has since 1898 been head of the public school system of Greater New York. This is the most responsible educational position in the country. There are in New York City nearly one million children of school age, and the annual budget for the public schools is about $30,000,000. Compared with the vast responsibility of administering this system, the presidency of Harvard University or the commissionership of education is comparatively unimpor- tant. The responsibility is obviously increased by the political conditions and by the fact that in New York City are enormously emphasized the two increasing difficulties of education, to which Dr. Maxwell referred in his address — the crowding into cities and the quantity and quality of immigra- tion. In addition to addresses by the presi- dent of the association, by President Roosevelt and by Mayor McClellan, there were a number of papers pre- sented before the general sessions. Dr. W. T. Harris, U. S. Commissioner of Education, without whom a meeting of the association would be incomplete, read a paper on ' The Future of Teach- ers' Salaries ' ; Dr. Andrew S. Draper, state commissioner of education, spoke of 'The Nation's Educational Purpose'; Mr. William Barclay Parsons, the eminent New York engineer, discussed ' The Practical Utility of Manual and Technical Training'; the question of child labor and compulsory education was treated by Mr. George H. Martin, secretary of the Massachusetts State Board of Education, and by Dr. Frank- lin P. Giddings, professor of sociology at Columbia University, who considered the perplexing topic of the relation of compulsory education and the prohibi- 178 POPULAR SCIEXCE MONTHLY William Henry Maxwell, Superintendent of Schools, the City of New York, President of the National Educational Association. tion of child labor to the decrease of the birth rate. In addition to the general sessions, there was the usual meeting of the National Council of Education, which consists of sixty of the more active members of the association and holds sessions of general interest. There are, further, departments of kinder- garten education, elementary education, secondary education, higher education, normal schools, manual training, art training, musical training, business training, child-study, science instruc- tion, physical education, school admin- istration, library, special education and Indian education, all of which pre- sented programs. At the meetings of the National Edu- cational Association there is a vast flood of platitudes annually poured out, but when there are practical questions to be discussed, the proceedings become at once more interesting and more sci- entific. The teachers are taking an in- creasing interest in all questions con- THE PRO GEE SS OF SCIENCE. 379 nected with administration, and per- haps more especially in those relating to salaries, tenure of office, pensions and the like. At the recent meeting Presi- dent Carroll D. Wright, of Clark Col- lege, presented the report of the com- mittee appointed to consider these ques- tions, giving valuable statistics shortly to be published. There are in the United States nearly 000,000 teachers, and it appears not unlikely that the National Educational Association will develop into a trades union representing their interests. The average salary, including the highest paid for super- vision and the like, is said to be $300 a year. President Roosevelt, in his address which is printed above, told his audience of 10,000 teachers that they were performing an incalculable serv- ice by the very fact that they be- lieved ideals to be worth sacrifice and that they were eager to do non-remun- erative work. The speaker prefaced these remarks with tne statement that he believed in the movement to secure better remuneration for teachers. The rhetorical effect would have been better if the order of the sentiments had been reversed, for the audience cheered con- tinuously for several minutes the first statement, while they listened to the latter in silence; and we are inclined to think that the teachers are right. The illustrations of men such as John Hay and Mr. Elihu Root, who were stated by the president to have sacri- ficed their material interests for the nation, can only carry a limited weight, when the teachers reflect on the great wealth acquired by these men, in part, at least, as the result of political affilia- tions. The Rev. Dr. Nathan C. Schaeffer, state superintendent of public instruc- tion in Pennsylvania, was elected presi- dent of the association, and it is ex- pected that the place of meeting next year will be San Francisco. It is un- derstood that in this case the group that manages the association was de- feated; there is naturally a certain amount of politics in such an institu- tion. Sonic complaints are heard that the association is not sufficiently demo- cratic, and that the present methods of administration will be made permanent by the charter that it was voted to se- cure from congress. It is inevitable that an association of this character should be managed by a small group who maintain a permanent interest in the work, and it is also probable that one man will be dominant. So far as we are aware, the group in control has acted wisely, and the democratic character of the association is main- tained so long as this group can be de- feated or a new group placed in power, should this meet the wishes of the majority. The constitution, which it will be extremely difficult to alter if once adopted as a bill passed by con- gress, lodges the control in a board of directors, which consists of the officers, the past presidents, certain life-direc- tors, who we believe purchased the posi- tion for $100, and one member elected from each state. These officers are nominated by a committee containing one representative from each state or territory, elected by the active mem- bers of each state. There is, however, at least one state with only two active members, and it does not seem entirely democratic to place such a state against the hundreds of members representing New York or Illinois. Further, if a mem- ber is not elected by the state, the ap- pointment is made by the president, and hitherto the constitution of the nomi- nating committee and of the board of directors has been dictated by a small group of men. A more democratic form of government would probably be se- cured if the active members elected their representatives by ballot, which could be sent through the mail, and if the number of representatives were pro- portionate to the number of active members in each state. 38o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY - R P m a> £ a 4) J3 3 t g & <) CO j a Is Is z o H ■- o en 23 H M en 73 a * . a> o fc MO 03 _ o o •- W> gij »r O ™ O O _ O cS ■S "S t» eft O ^3 .. a a s 2-3 .9 a >- t- a> o GO <1) *" 03 0 <£ cj CO "S a; « 2 GO "^ 03 «m - o 3 2 53 3 O a> 4-> 03 CO Q> s o a o o3 a H O © CO B .a g ° a i .5 B. t_ .~ a; o <" B. o o ,*2 ja CO O *5 THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE. 381 THE COLLEGE COURSE. I for both the professional and college That the question of the college degrees, and the college course may be course is not solved is proved by the ! completed in three years. The Sheffield changes continually being made in the Scientific School offers both liberal and programs of studies. The seven leading engineering courses. Curiously enough, universities in the east are Harvard, : Latin is required for entrance, the Yale, Columbia, Cornell, Princeton, ' course is three years, and the degree Pennsylvania and Johns Hopkins. Har- of bachelor of philosophy is awarded. yard has consistently maintained the ; Princeton has this year adopted an free elective system and Johns Hop- ' entirely new program of studies. A kins the group system, but the other third degree, Litt.B., has been added. five institutions have recently revised \ The arrangement is logical, in so far as their requirements for the undergrad- uate course and the bachelor's degree. Cornell has formed one college of arts and sciences and gives the A.B. degree to all students for a free elective course extending through four years. The an- cient languages are not required either before or after entrance, and Cornell is thus more consistent than Harvard, where the A.B. degree means that Latin was studied in the preparatory school and the B.S. that it was not. Cornell requires sixty hours of work and in- sists on four years of residence; Har- vard requires fifty-four hours and rather favors three years of residence; Harvard requires the bachelor's degree for entrance to its professional schools; Cornell permits students to take the fcurth year of the college course as the first year in the medical or law course. Pennsylvania now confers the A.B. degree only on students who take both Latin and Greek for one year in college and the B.S. degree on the others. It requires sixty hours' attendance, which may be accomplished in three or four years. Of these hours twenty-two are required, eighteen are group studies and twenty are free electives. One half year of college work may be in the department of medicine. Like Pennsyl- vania, Yale has altered its program of studies in the direction of the group system. Students of the college must ofl'er Latin at entrance, but need not continue its study. Sixty hours are required for the degree, and they must include two ' majors ' and three ' mi- nors.' One year of work may count candidates for the A.B. degree must take Latin and Greek for two years, candidates for the B.S. degree must specialize in science and candidates for the Litt.B. degree in languages, phi- losophy, history or art. Latin is re- quired for entrance to all courses. The studies of the freshman year are com- pletely, and those of the sophomore year are partly, prescribed, and the rest of the four years' course is ar- ranged on a group system. The tutor- ial system of the English colleges is to be introduced. Princeton aims to return to the old-fashioned college, and may be congratulated on the fairly con- sistent methods that it has adopted. The experiment in one of our larger institutions will be followed with in- terest. Columbia has also adopted a new program of studies. A B.S. degree has been established for students who enter without Latin, but no plans have been made for a course in the sciences. The B.S. students take one course in sci- ence in place of a course in Latin, but as nearly all A.B. students elect a course in science and very few of them elect any course in Latin or Greek, the only distinction between the A.B. candidates and the B.S. candidates is that the former have probably forgotten the small Latin they once learned, whereas the latter have probably never learned any Latin. An extreme form of the table d'hote system is adopted in the first two years, all freshmen being required to take seven unrelated stud- ies; while in the last two years an 3S2 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY extreme form of the d la carte system . is adopted, no groups being required except in the professional schools, even the graduation theses being abol- . ished. Students may take the last two i years of the bachelor's course in the professional school, and as they may enter at mid-year and receive a credit of one half year on the entrance exam- inations, they may obtain the A.B. degree for a college residence of one and a half years. Students receive extra credits for high standing and deductions for low standing, the ex- cellent system being thus introduced of letting quality of work as well as hours of attendance count for the de- gree. The unstable equilibrium of the college course is doubtless an indi- cation of progress. There is no rea- son why an institution such as Har- vard or Columbia should not adopt the different programs which are supported by good educational authority and maintain them side by side. At the English universities, a student may take the ' poll ' course or an honors course ; he may specialize to any extent or elect freely; he may follow a fixed course of tuition or engage in research ; he may receive the B.A. degree for work in medicine or engineering; he may be in residence three years or five. There is no obvious objection to maintaining in the same institution the free elective system of Harvard, the culture group system of Princeton, and the special group system of the Johns Hopkins. THE CUTIVATION OF MARINE AND FRESHWATER ANIMALS IN JAPAN. Professor Mitsukuri, of the Im- perial University of Tokyo, presented before the International Congress of Arts and Science a paper on the culti- vation of marine and freshwater ani- mals in Japan, which has now been printed by the Bureau of Fisheries. Professor Mitsukuri calls attention to the fact that the cultivation of aquatic animals is not only a matter that will have increasing economic impoi-tance, Varieties of Gold-Fisii (from Japanese Paintings). Lower left, wakin ; lower right (group of three), deme, ryukin, ranchu ; upper left (two), ranchu ; upper middle and right, oranda shishigashira. THE PEOGBESS OF SCIENCE. 383 but also opens an opportunity for valuable scientific investigation. Dis- section in the laboratory and histo- logical examination can not tell us all that we need to know about animals. This we can easily realize if we con- sider what our knowledge of man I would be if it were confined to the re- 1 suits of the dissecting room. Our bureau of fisheries is in many ways setting an example to other nations, but we shall probably find that in the near future Japan will surpass us and every other nation in the intensive breeding 1S74 the number reached fifty, and in the following year breeding was begun. Over one hundred young were hatched the first year, but nearly all of them were devoured by their parents. It thus became necessary to have separate ponds for the young of the first year and of the second year, while those of the third, fourth and fifth years might be mixed. Last year the farm raised about 70,000 turtles, and it is expected that about 60,000 of them will be reared. When three years old, they are sold in the markets of Tokyo for View of a Turtle Farm, Fukagawa, Tokyo, Japan. and rearing of animals living in the water. Indeed, in some ways they ap- pear already to have accomplished this. For example, there are complaints of the disappearance of the diamond-back terrapin, but apparently no efforts are made to rear it. In Japan the soft- shelled turtle is reared and sold in large numbers. The accompanying il- lustration shows the turtle farm of the Hattori family, near Tokyo. In 1SGG the first large turtle was caught; by a price in the neighborhood of forty cents each. Goldfish have for a long time been bred in Japan, being perhaps the most characteristic oriental fish. The ac- companying illustration shows some of the types raised, as depicted by Japa- nese artists. The extreme plasticity of this fish and the types that are developed by selection are of very considerable scientific interest and would doubtless serve well for the 3§4 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. study of Mendel's law and the muta- tions of de Vries. The monograph de- scribes the breeding of the eel, the gray mullet, the oyster and other forms. As Professor Mitsukuri says : " While the pasturage of cattle and the cultiva- tion of plants marked very early steps in man's advancement toward civiliza- tion, the raising of aquatic animals and plants, on any extensive scale at all events, seems to belong to much later stages of human development. In fact, the cultivation of some marine animals has been rendered possible only by utilizing the most recent discoveries and methods of science. I believe, how- ever, the time is now fast approaching when the increase of population on the earth, and the question of food supply which must arise as a necessary conse- quence, will compel us to pay most serious attention to the utilization for this purpose of what has been termed the ' watery waste.' For man to over- fish and then to wait for the bounty of nature to replenish, or, failing that, j to seek new fishing grounds, is, it seems to me, an act to be put in the same category with the doings of nomadic peoples wandering from place to place in search of pastures. Hereafter, streams, rivers, lakes and seas will have, so to speak, to be pushed to a more efficient degree of cultivation and made to yield their utmost for us. It is, perhaps, superfluous for me to state this before an audience in America, for 1 think all candid persons will admit that the United States, with her Bu- \ reau of Fisheries, is leading other na- tions in bold scientific attempts in this direction." SCIENTIFIC ITEMS. We regret to record the death of Dr. Win. Thos. Blanford, F.R.S., the well-known British geologist, and of I Mr. Geo. H. Eldridge, geologist of the J U. S. Geological Survey. The Berlin municipality has appro- priated $20,000 to erect a statue in honor of Rudolf Virchow, which will be placed on the Karlsplatz, close to the Charity Hospital. — The faculty and students of the medical and dental de- partments of the George Washington University have erected, in the main hall of the department of medicine, a bronze tablet to the memory of their late dean and professor of chemistry and toxicology, Dr. Emil Alexander de Schweinitz. At a meeting of the General Educa- tion Board, held on June 30, a gift of ten million dollars was announced from Mr. John D. Rockefeller, as an endow- ment for higher education in the United States. The announcement of the gift was made in a letter from Mr. Fred- erick T. Gates, Mr. Rockefeller's rep- resentative, which reads as follows: I am authorized by Mr. John D. Rockefeller to say that he will contribute to the General Educational Board the sum of 810,000,000 to be paid October 1 next in cash, or, at his option, in income pro lucing securities, at their market value, the principal to be held in perpetuity as a foundation for education, the income, above expenses and administration, to be distributed to or used for the benefit of such institutions of learning at such times, in such amounts, for such purposes and under such conditions, or employed in such other ways as the Board may deem best adapted to promote a comprehen- sive system of higher education in the Uhite^ States. Mr. Rockefeller has also given one mil- lion dollars to Yale University. VOL. LXVII. — 25. o z o 'A o td a OJ • m d .a a <•- a o> en Z^ V fl £3 u »- (M oj o -*^ c M oj o 01 — < CJ M a H a 'E. a - o OJ — 3 en o w a a a a m ■^ w a >d 3 q O oj p. be OJ C a -W w a >> ,a fl L* ■a OQ ■9 oj _ CJ 4-- a O > 60 □ a u O a 0Q o i- OJ S-» 0 o 5 a o o a OJ co a -S3 H *-> a ■ o 2 Fh «-H n o a £ OJ OJ a.' 00 .3 CO *j a t*4 _ o Sri 91 a M 0 o M p. CO 4^ 03 (3 ai o ej 3 OJ <« o OJ A *-> CJ tv- <*- o 2 a> 2 a o o OJ m ^ *J Ut o *■ „ A .2 o a) CJ S3 > H THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. SEPTEMBER, 1905. CHINA'S KENAISSANCE. Bv CHARLES KEYSER EDMUNDS, Ph.D.. CANTON CHRISTIAN COLLEGE. SO long as constant forces and invariable conditions characterize a phenomenon, it is more or less easy to determine its course. But no matter how regular any known part of the representative curve of coordinates may be, extrapolation is always precarious and fraught with uncertainties. The careful observer is ever on the watch for so- called ' critical points/ times or places when or where entirely new and extraneous forces or hitherto latent internal potentialities begin to operate, and for a time at least, if not henceforth, to dominate the course of events. It is generally true that a comprehensive knowledge of such critical points is far more illuminating as to the real nature of the phenomenon in question than that of any other part of the curve, though of course it is essential to be familiar with the ' normal trend ' as well. Many examples could be cited in the realm of physical science, but the one to which this series of papers attempts to call attention is of far more lively interest and pregnant with the destinies of the whole human race. That China is facing a crisis amid the tramping of armies on her north and amid the increasing murmur of a discontented people within her own borders is clear to all close observers of the empire. The oldest, largest and most conservative nation of the world, with its home in the orient, is awakening under the impact of western ideas in trade, religion and education. Albeit that from the start there could be but one final issue, the progress of events well repays careful study. This impact began along entirely commercial lines, then religious and hence educational, and finally because of the growth and future 388 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. A Contrast: Two Conspicuous Landmarks of Canton. The French Cathderal, Canton. Built in 18(i0 on the site of the native Governor-General'* residence, which was destroyed and the ground seized at the close of the Franco-Chinese war, 1856. The steel frame and the windows were brought Jroni Paris. The Five-storv Pagoda on the Wall of Canton. Built some five hundred years ago as a huge watchtower to aid in keeping back the Tartars. Constructed of sawn blocks of red sand- stone and hardwood columns and timbers — well preserved to-day. Foreign troops wt re garri- soned here at the time of China's war with England and France. CHINA'S RENAISSANCE. 389 possibilities of the first, it has become of wide political import. After noting briefly in this paper the period of beginnings and indicating the present-day aspects of this threefold renaissance, we shall in subsequent papers confine ourselves to a consideration of the educa- tional factors. The intercourse between China and the West began when the Portu- guese sent their first trading vessel to her southern ports, of which Canton is the chief, in 1516, and till 1812 it was a purely commercial relation in which the power and civilization of Europe were represented for the most part by the East India Company, seeking only for the A typical Street Scene in Victoria, Hongkong. advantages of trade and persistently opposing all efforts designed to enlighten the people with whom they dealt. " The attitude of official China during this period was that of supercilious arrogance. China sought no intercourse with outsiders. If they sought trade with her, it was granted as a gracious favor by an officialdom which despised trade and traders too much to attend seriously to the details involved until they became matters threatening international rupture." The event which began the new order of things was the ' opium war' between Great Britain and China, which, though little to the credit of a righteous nation, nevertheless has served as the origin of what must ultimately be of immeasurable benefit to the more benighted land. By the treaty of peace of 1812 British subjects were permitted to reside at certain important ports along the eastern coast and to trade 39° POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. with whom they pleased. This was soon extended to subjects of the United States and France, and since then the rights of foreigners in China have .steadily increased. There are now over thirty ' treaty ports/ the gateways of Western trade and influence. American commerce with China began in 1784, the first ship leaving New York on Washington's birthday of that year, and taking fifteen months for the round trip. Our trade with China has been successful from the start, and is greater in importance and value than that of any other nation except Great Britain. With all the rapid developments of modern commerce and the pressure which every commercial nation is exerting in that quarter, our sales to China have quadrupled in the last decade. This rapid growth, together with other recent events in the far east, has warranted the U. S. Department of Commerce and Labor in publishing a quarto volume of some hundred and twenty pages on ' Commercial China in 190-t.' Some of the introductory sentences of this monograph are significant in the present connection : With an area of 4.000,000 square miles and a population of 400,000.000 people, its written history, covering thousands of years, shows that its doors have been firmly closed against foreign trade until within the memory of the present generation, while during the short time in which foreigners have been admitted to its commerce no period has been so marked with important com- mercial developments as that of the past three years. With hundreds of miles of railway now in operation and thousands of miles projected; with telegraphs connecting its capital with every province and even its far away dependencies and also with the outside world; with steam navigation and foreign vessels penetrating to the very head of its many navigable waterways; with new treaty ports opening upon the coast and far inland, and with foreigners permitted to travel for business or pleasure to the remotest corners of the Empire and carry with them their merchandise and the machinery with which it is manufactured, the changes in conditions are such as to attract unusual attention. The expansion of the great powers of the world has culminated in the armed strife on China's northern border which is holding the atten- tion of the civilized world. The issue in the east may be briefly stated, but it concerns hundreds of millions of the human race. ' Shall Japan,' Siam, Korea and China be free to work out their own national destinies ? ' * Japan and Siam have already made great strides, but while they may seem to be beyond outside domination, their fate is still involved in no small measure with that of China. The issue in the orient is sharply drawn : ' independent national development for China, and continued progress of the other two free Asiatic states ; or the sub- jection of China, and the endangering of all free nationality in Asia. ' The loss of free nationality in Asia would probably be a calamity to mankind. However justly the occidental may pride himself on his mastery of the art of living, however truly he may rejoice in his achieve- ment throughout the whole reach of life, a sane modesty, taught him by his own science, should keep him from regarding western peoples as the * See ' To Save the Chinese Empire,' by O. D. Wannamaker, The South China Collegian, Canton, China, Julv, 1904. CHINA'S EENAISSA NCE. 391 Modern Harbor of Canton, where foreign commerce with China first began, (a) Looking from Honam across the Canton River towards the city. Customs station promi- nent near center of river front as shown. The tall buildings are pawnshops. White Cloud Mountain appears to the north. C- (6) In the rear of a departing river steamer bound for Hong Kong ninety miles away. Native sampans ('three-board') and ma lung tenas ('slipper '-boats) in great profusion and confusion. Note the water-carriers drawing the city's main water-supply. The only pure water obtainable, except raiu water, is that brought in buckets from near the top of White Cloud Mountain. Deep artesian wells have not as yet been sunk. This in a city of two million people ! 392 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY •f**fAfl£fl» =32 Class-room work at Girls' Academy, Methodist Mission, Chinkiang. A significant indicator of China's true and inevitable renaissance, showing the advanced training afforded the long-neglected daughters of the race and eagerly sought by them. CHINA'S RENAISSANCE. 393 whole race of man, or from looking with scorn upon entire divisions of the race whom his training has not fitted him to appreciate. " A proper reverence for humanity will not allow him to exalt his own position at the expense of the entire east, or to attempt crudely to force upon a whole continent external domination or those forms of civilization which are the product in some part of himself." From the higher level of human development, expansion and domination we may well feel that the world is destined to profit greatly by present events in the far east if they result in restoring to humanity the whole continent of Asia, free to join in making the history of the next hundred years, free to be itself and to supplement, with all of good there is manifest or dormant in it, the strength and goodness of the west. The shortest road to a partial success in this endeavor to preserve free nationality in Asia is the development of China's material re- sources, which will not only enrich China and the world, but will help to arouse the people from their age-long sleep ; and it may be that mili- tary development consequent upon this awakening will serve to main- tain the empire's independence. But China's independence should concern her friends in the west chiefly because such independence is essential to something far more important : true freedom for the Chinese people. " The dormant powers now awaking in this race and promising such a future for it in the commercial and political affairs of the world demand imperatively that there be set in motion, side by side with this material transforma- tion, forces far more subtle that shall bring about a true renaissance of the nation by influencing profoundly the intellect and the soul of the race. Only so can the Chinese people be speedily restored to the mod- ern world." Without books, newspapers, the pulpit, political debate, general assemblies, etc., China's people have long been groping in the dark. An ignorant people can not be patriotic, nor can there be any steady progress in commerce, agriculture or manufactures among them. These are not due to any extent to differences in government. Democracy among an ignorant people is impossible, or at least dangerous. Al- though China's scholars of the old school have a superior education in some respects, it is after all too narrow to fit them for lives of service to their fellows. The literati oppose changes because they are ignorant and fear to tread a new path in the dark. But the ignorance of the people in general or of the literati is not the most dangerous part of China's ignorance; it is the blatant and conceited ignorance of those young men who know little of the founda- tions of China's civilization and less of western institutions, who wish to tear down the old without knowing how to build up the new. Ignorant of what it means to govern so great a nation as China and to a z < z H •< ►J O O W z 85 D CHINA'S RENAISSANCE. 395 adjust her relations with the world, they wish to plunge at once into anarchy. They are too willing to move because they do not know China, while the literati are unwilling to move because they do not know the world. China needs men who know the institutions of both China and the west, who see clearly the foundations of all real civilizations, and hence can help their nation forward. From the very beginning of foreign intercourse with China, men have not been wanting whose vision was clear and disinterested enough to lead them to devote untiring energy to dispel the darkness of China's ignorance and superstition. With the opening of the nineteenth cen- tury the missionary societies began trying to find an entrance for Christianity and modern civilization into the Celestial Empire, but they were obliged, on account of the repellent forces still operative, to content themselves with such work as could be carried on among the emigrant Chinese in the vicinity of the Malay Peninsula, so that during the first period of large commercial intercourse with China (1677-1841), there was no modern educational effort within the confines of the empire. Through the work of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowl- edge in China, founded in 1831, a beginning of western education within the borders of China was made by the printed page, while as yet the founding of schools within the country was impracticable. Parallel with official China's arrogance with regard to trade was literary China's proud confidence in the axiom, " What Confucius teaches is true ; what is contrary to his teaching is false ; what he does not teach is unnecessary." " Confucius lived 2,400 years ago. Theirs was an assurance rooted in undisputed tradition, and fortified by the accumulated conservatism of two and a half millenniums of undisturbed conformity."* The problem was how to teach a nation that had no desire to learn ; no desire, not from lack of interest in learning so much as because they believed themselves to have a monopoly of valuable knowledge. Effective contact of western thought with this colossus of conceited ignorance began on the cession of Hongkong to the British in 1842, when the British government assumed responsibility for the education of the Chinese population of the island. Though numbering only 5,000 at the start, it has since multiplied to 270,000, and considerably more than half a million Chinese pass annually between Hongkong and various parts of the mainland, so that the importance of Hongkong as a distributing center of ideas as well as of material products must not be underestimated, though a frank observer is somewhat disappointed at the inadequate way in which the opportunities for higher education are being improved. * See ' Western Education in South China,' O. F. Wisner. ' East of Asia,' Special Educational Number, Shanghai, June, 1004. >-? o o a o CO w W H -J 3 w W 3 o CHINA'S RENAISSANCE. 397 Encouraged by the more liberal atmosphere created by the colonial government and by the contiguity to the great empire to be influenced, the Morrison school, started four years before in Macao, was removed to Hongkong in 1843, followed in 18-14 by the Anglo-Chinese College of Mallaca (founded also by Morrison in 1818). Many educational enterprises have since developed in Hongkong, though the results do not measure up to those in most of the schools in central and north China. Educational work within the actual borders of China began when the treaty ports provided for in 1842 were opened up. Canton was the chief of these, and there as early as 1835 Dr. Peter Parker had opened the Canton Hospital, and this together with other benevolent medical work helped to pave the way for more extensive evangelistic and educa- tional activities by creating a more friendly feeling towards foreigners among the Chinese. Though having its beginnings in the south, this educational work rapidly spread, and there is now scarcely a mission from Canton to Peking without its primary school, day school, inter- mediate school, night school or college. There are about 2,000 day schools with 35,400 pupils, and 170 higher schools with some 5,000 or more students. A few of these are girls' academies, in which there are courses of study equal to those of schools of a like grade in the United States, and pursued with equal credit. The oldest of these boarding schools for girls is that begun by the Wesleyan mission at Canton in 1861. Among the leading christian colleges, the one which has had the most graduates and the widest influence is the Shangtung College, founded at Tengchou (now at Weihsien) by the Presbyterians in 1864, under Dr. Calvin W. Mateer. The work of this body of christian educators, small as it has been, has had an immeasurable effect. Awakened under the influence of this silent agency, and more rudely by the results of the China-Japan war and the events of 1899-1900, China's leaders have been made to see that the trouble lies in their faulty system and ideals of education ; and have in nearly every case of educational reform called to their aid men hitherto prominent in educational missions. One of the most remark- able indications of the change that is coming over China is the spectacle of such eminent officials and scholars as Chang Chih Tung and Yuan Shih Kai urging upon the younger scholars the necessity of studying western sciences and becoming acquainted with the accomplishments of other nations. The government has begun to adopt measures to facili- tate this course. In 1901, while the court was still in exile, a series of edicts was issued commanding a reorganization of the educational system of the empire, calling for changes in the examination system hitherto in vogue, for the establishment of an Imperial University at Peking and a large number of other high-grade institutions in all parts 398 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. of the empire. Although the active response of the provincial officials has been somewhat tardy and inadequate in many instances, there are abundant signs that, without doubt, the renovation of the worn-out system of education is at hand. Just what the efforts of the govern- ment have been and the results they are producing will be noticed in more detail in a later paper ; suffice it* now to point out that whereas at first it was a problem of how to educate a people who did not desire enlightenment because they fondly thought they already possessed all useful knowledge, the present problem is how to pass from old ways to radically new ones with the least friction among a people still in great part thoroughly conservative, but embracing numerous individuals thirsting for the newer learning. For realizing that the complete refutation of the age-long methods of the past is China herself, the most progressive officials and many of the young men are becoming sensible not only of the precarious position of their nation, but of their indi- vidual poverty and need of education. During 1903 the new publications of the Society for the Diffusion of Christian and General Knowledge among the Chinese amounted to 11,434,600 pages, while The Review of the Times, a Chinese monthly, edited by Dr. Young J. Allen, published 54,400 copies. The corre- sponding figures for 1904 are 19,256,800 pages of new publications, 45,500 copies of The Review of the Times and 80,000 copies of The Chinese Weekly, edited by W. A. Cornaby. The total of reprints and new publications has grown from 25,353,880 pages in 1903 to 30,681,- 800 pages in 1904. Moreover, a conservative estimate puts the piracy of all the best books of this society by various native presses at five times the direct output of the society ! During 1903 the Diffusion Society sold 35 complete sets and four supplements of the ' Encyclo- paedia Britannica " in English, while hundreds applied for it in Chinese. Several legitimate native publishing houses have recently sprung up, the chief of which, the Commercial Press of Shanghai, is literally send- ing forth volume after volume of new literature, mostly translations of works that have proved their usefulness among other nations. That the high officials are being influenced by the translations of the Diffu- sion Society is clear from the remarkable changes in the questions set throughout the empire for the literary examinations for the second degree, samples of which will be fully treated in a later article. THE SCIENCE OF PLANT PATHOLOGY. 399 THE SCIENCE OF PLANT PATHOLOGY. By Professor FRANK LINCOLN STEVENS, Ph.D., NORTH CAROLINA COLLEGE OF AGRICULTURE. TpKOM the time men first had interest in plants, knowledge of -■- their imperfections or premature death has existed, without, however, definite conception that the imperfections in question really constitute a condition of disease. The P)ible and the early writings of the Greeks and Eomans con- tain references to what we now recognize as wheat rust, fig blight, insect galls and other of the more strikingly conspicuous plant ailments. Such references are more abundant in the literature of the seventeenth century, and in the latter part of that and the eighteenth century a few papers giving careful descriptions of malformations due to insect invasion appeared. Even the law was invoked to aid in combating the wheat rust in France as early as 1660. Prior to the nineteenth century, however, knowledge of plant diseases can hardly be said to consist of more than mere observation of the fact that such diseases occur, and the little real knowledge that did exist was swamped by rampant superstition. It is natural that the first attempts to explain imperfections were founded upon climatic and soil relations. Vestigial beliefs prevail to this day throughout the country among the untutored to the effect that the various blights, rusts, rots, mildews, etc., are caused solely by untoward conditions of weather, or the unpropitious position of celestial bodies or some other occult influence. The significance of one great factor in the production of plant dis- ease, namely the parasitic fungi, remained quite unrecognized until the second decade of the nineteenth century. Fungi had been seen upon the plant and had been described in some detail during the preceding decade, but instead of being recognized as causal agents of disease they were, as was the fate of bacteria in the case of animal diseases, by many regarded as products of disease. Before the study of plant diseases could be scientifically undertaken, the basic facts of plant nutrition were to be discovered, the parasitic habit of the fungi proved, the minute anatomy of the plant disclosed. Epoch-making in the disclosure of these desiderata, which may be said to have given birth to plant pathology as a science in the second decade of the nineteenth century were the investigations of the early Dutch, French, German and English botanists. Like bacteriology, plant pathology is an infant science of the last century, owing its being to the perfection of the microscope. 4oo POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. In the last two decades of the last centurv, scientific effort concerned itself chiefly with accumulating knowledge concerning fungi and in- sects. Vast numbers of these were classified, catalogued and described. In other words, the means of diagnosis were perfected and diseases were grouped into natural classes according to their causal agents. Attempts toward the development of methods of treatment by the use of various sprays were more or less effective. Indeed, spraying had been advocated to some slight extent for a century or more as a remedy for insect and other plant diseases. The variety of spraying sub- stances recommended ranged from clay, ashes and cow manure to sulphur, lime, salt, etc. One writer recommended " The applying around the base of the tree; flax, rubbish, sea weed, ashes, lime, sea shells, sea sand, mortar, clay, tanner's bark, leather scraps, etc." — evi- dently not a homeopathic prescription. The variety of substances recommended raises suspicion that the efficiency of no formula was demonstrated. In 1787 we find the heroic advice, 'just wet the trees infested with lice, then rub flowers of sulphur upon the insects, and it will cause them all to burst.' Some decided progress was, however, made. As early as 1842, a whale soap was used and retained favor; quassi, hellebore and tobacco were standard insecticides as early as 1855. Sulphur was used for the mildews and bluestone for wheat smut. The last twenty years of the nineteenth century mark the beginning of a new epoch in plant protection. For this there are three reasons: first the increased aggressiveness of a certain fungous disease, the grape mildew, in Europe; second, the rapid spread of the potato bug, somewhat pedantically termed the Colorado beetle, and, third, resulting from these two, revolutionary changes in materials and methods for treating plant diseases, both fungous and insect, in the new world and in the old. It is a matter not entirely without interest that the revolu- tion in European methods may be definitely traced to typical Ameri- can aggressiveness, inasmuch as the activity arousing fungus was of American importation. In Europe the invasion of the downy mildew of the grape in 1878 was unchecked by the most vigorous fungicides then used. All are familiar with the story of the great benefit conferred upon humanity through the predatory habits of the French boys in the vineyards that produce the famous Bordeaux wines. The rows lying nearest the roadway were sprinkled with verdigris or a mixture of lime and blue- stone, to give the impression that the fruit was poisoned. In 1882 Millardet, of the faculty of the sciences, noticed that the vines thus treated held their leaves while others succumbed to the mildew. He ascribed this effect to its proper cause, and conducted carefully sys- tematized experiments, which resulted in giving to the world bouillie THE SCIENCE OF PLANT PATHOLOGY. 401 lordelaise, Bordelaiser Brulie, or Bordeaux mixture, a proved fungi- cide of great efficiency ; one that has not yet been surpassed. In the new world the extension of the potato belt westward con- nected the eastern potato belt with the region of the native food plant of the familiar potato bug. Finding the potato plant a more abundant and wholesome food than the wild solonaceous plants that it had form- erly fed upon, the potato bug began its eastern migration. In 1859 it was found east of Omaha City, in 1868 it had reached Illinois, in 3870 Ontario, in 1872 New York and in 1874 it was upon the Atlantic seaboard. The potato bug ate ravenously and man was stimulated to new activity in the search for more effective means to overcome insect pests. The use of Paris green and London purple followed as a direct result of this stimulus. The development of efficient fungicides and insecticides in Europe and America led naturally to the perfection of the machines used in applying these mixtures, and not the least important part played in the development of a practical plant pathology is concerned with the evolution of spraying machines. The first sprayer consisted of a bunch of switches. This was dipped into the spraying mixture which was distributed over the foliage by vigorous shaking. It gave place to an improved spraying broom or brush with hollow handle, the liquid flowing from a reservoir to the brush, from which it was ap- plied to the leaves. Sprayers and pumps followed in turn. Then came the improvement of the nozzle. We may recognize two periods in the development of plant pathol- ogy: the first or embryonic period extending from prehistoric times to the beginning of the truly scientific investigations in the middle of the eighteenth century, and contributing chiefly observations, collections, descriptions; the second or formative period, during which the founda- tions of the science were laid, the chief factors of it determined, and the chief lines of future progress marked out. It is in no way my purpose to call attention to the part the Caro- linas have played in botany as a science, yet I can not refrain in passing from mentioning that prominent place in the history of American mycology is assured to de Schweinitz, a minister of Salem, N. C., who in 1818 published the first important paper on American fungi; to M. A. Curtis, a tutor in Wilmington, N. C, who in 1830, with Berkeley in England, described many fungi of the Carolinas; to Eavenal, of South Carolina, the first to publish exsiccati of American fungi, and to Louis Bosc, of South Carolina, who published a de- scriptive list in 1811. The embryonic and formative period prepared the way for the third period, beginning about 1885, which may be called the period of growth. It is marked by the development and perfection of the vol. i/xvn. — 26. 402 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. rudimentary principles and discoveries of the preceding periods. It was during this period that the most spectacular conquests were made ; that popularization and extension of methods occurred. So great, so numerous, so wonderful were the advances made during the past decade, that we frequently see the statement that little or no progress had been made in plant pathology prior to 1885. The present day student should, however, bear in mind that it was the persistent, arduous, patient work of the preceding years that rendered possible the progress of the closing years of the century. My denomination of this period as ' the period of growth ' indicates the nature of the changes which it inaugurates; growth in every direc- tion and concerning every phase of the subject. There has been growth in the list of plant maladies. New diseases have been discovered by scores, and old diseases have been found to affect new plants, and diseases hitherto insignificant have taken prominent places as dangerous foes. The alteration of the plant constitution by high selection and breeding, the bringing of plants into new climatic or soil relations, the more intensive cultivation, the bringing of a susceptible plant into a region where a parasite is already growing upon one of its botanical relatives, thus exposing it to a possible new foe, are conditions that operate to admit of the evolution of new dis- eases. The growing of plants in large quantities in solid blocks, rather than sparingly in scattered gardens, brings about a congested condition comparable with the crowding of our cities, and favors the development of epidemics* by furnishing abundant material for the parasitic organisms to attack, abundant nutriment upon which they may multiply, and abundant opportunity for them to reach new hosts and spread the contagion. With potatoes, for example, raised merely as garden crops, the probability of an epidemic affecting the majority of gardens is not so great as when potatoes are raised in vast fields. A single field crop, once infested, so contaminates the air with spores that other fields are almost sure to become infected. The contagium becomes sufficiently multiplied to break the quarantine, and a general epidemic results. Any factor which tends to increase the occurrence of epidemics may quickly raise a given disease from obscurity to a position of commanding importance. So too does the increase in value of hitherto comparatively insignificant crops. The pecan and cranberry are at present objects of particular solicitude by the plant physician. With the importation of plants from foreign countries and the transportation of plants from one part of the country to another comes * The use of the word epidemic in relation to plant diseases while etymo- logically incorrect, seems justified since no other word conveys the desired meaning and the meaning of this word is clear to all. THE SCIENCE OF PLANT PATHOLOGY. 403 the possibility of increased disease transference. Eecent years have seen the San Jose scale spread from the Pacific to the Atlantic; the asparagus rust from the Atlantic to the Pacific; the hollyhock rust has invaded us from Europe ; the chrysanthemum rust from the Orient ; the watermelon wilt is now moving northward and the peach yellows southward. In nearly all cases where the soil is diseased the affected region is annually enlarging, so that soil diseases a decade ago insig- nificant in the territory of their occupation are fast assuming control of alarmingly large regions. The growing of plants in larger quan- tities also increases the amount of germ-bearing refuse to the ultimate end that the very air and soil become germ laden. Civilization, higher culture and community life, especially if it verge upon congestion of population, exacts an inevitable forfeiture by increased mortality. Thus does the list of diseases that comes within the horizon of the practical men enlarge. Wonder, often skepticism, is expressed at the existence of unfamiliar diseases of man, other animals and plants, as though these afflictions were conjured up by the imagination of the over zealous practitioner. The increase of affliction is more apparent than real, as it is in the case of appendicitis, which is now recognized, named and cured, consequently, heard of, whereas under the old regime it was not recognized as a distinct dis- ease, therefore it was unheard of, though the patient died. Parallel cases might be cited among the plants. The work of DeBary on polymorphism among the fungi is being extended. Knowledge of the life histories of various pathogenic fungi is being slowly expanded. Summer forms are connected with winter forms, and thereby the hibernating condition, often the most vulnerable point of attack, exposed. The discovery of heteroecism in the rusts, the alternation from wheat to barberry, from apple to juniper is of classic antiquity in the annals of plant pathology. It emphasized the need of close study of life histories of all parasites. Such study has given abundant fruit, notably in disclosing the relation between the apple cankers and the ripe and bitter rot of the apple, and revealing the winter condition of the brown rot of the peach. The lead so fortunately made in the discovery of the Bordeaux mixture has been assiduously prosecuted. The original Bordeaux mixture has been greatly modified, changed, indeed, from a thick paste to a thin solu- tion, and so thoroughly tested in all its modifications, that it has now probably reached its ultimate perfection. Hundreds of other chem- icals, both dry and wet, have been tested as fungicides, with the adop- tion of a few adapted to special conditions, e. g., sulphur and sulphides for powdery mildews and the ammoniacal copper carbonate for use as the fruit ripens, thus avoiding unsightly spotting. A happy combi- nation of insecticide and fungicide has been found in the various 404 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. sulphur washes. There has been very remarkable growth in the per- fection of spraying appliances; pumps and dusters of many kinds are upon the market. Particularly is the improvement in nozzles to be noted. Nozzles constructed upon scientific principles, capable of applying the liquid in the form of the finest spray to the tops of the highest trees. In the place of the old hand pump and pail, we find barrel pumps on wheels, tanks on wheels with pumps operated by gearing attached to the wheels, and finally for the larger fruit farms and for municipal care of shade trees are multiple pumps driven by steam power. The treatment of seeds to kill adhering spores has been improved upon in many details. It illustrates especially well the nature of the development during the present epoch of plant pathology. Originally the treatment for wheat smut was based purely upon superstition. Pliny, for example, says that c if branches of laurel are fixed in the ground the disease will pass from the field into the leaves of the laurel.' Tull in 1730 says that there are but two remedies proposed, brining and chan- ging the seed. The avoidance of certain kinds of manure because of their effect upon the host plant and because they carried the smut spores was also advocated about that time. The scientific demonstration by Bref eld that the plant is susceptible only when very small, gave rise to the thought that by hastening the early growth the period of susceptibility could be shortened, and methods of planting and tilling in accord with that idea were advocated. In addition to cultural methods mechanical treatment of seeds, such as passing the wheat loosely between millstones, violent fanning, etc., were suggested about 1786. The chemical treat- ment of seeds, says Tull, was accidentally discovered about 1660 by the sinking of a shipload of wheat at Bristol, and afterwards, finding it unfit for breadmaking, it was used for seed wheat. The following harvest in England was very smutty except in the case of this acci- dentally brined seed, which made a clean crop. Then followed brining with liming and liming without brining, soaking in lime, arsenic, salt, arsenic and lye, and various other treatments, none of which, however, came into general use. Accident coupled with acumen again aided in hastening a discovery. Provost while attempting to germinate some spores placed some of them in water distilled in a copper vessel. These failed to germinate, though similar spores placed in water which had not touched copper germinated well. Following this lead he and numerous other investigators experimented extensively with copper compounds during succeeding years. Such is the history of the development of a treatment effective for smut of wheat and barley, but not for that of oats. The next marked advance was made by Jensen, a Dane, who in 1887 developed the famous Jensen hot water treatment, a treatment which though re- THE SCIENCE OF PLANT PATHOLOGY. 405 quiring considerable accuracy of manipulation was thoroughly effective. This method, if no easier were to be had, was well worth to practical agriculture all that the experiment stations of the world have ever cost. "Within only a few years, however, the Jensen treatment was supplanted by the formalin treatment; a treatment so simple, inex- pensive and effective that, save for minor improvements of detail, the end seems to have been reached in the search for preventives for the particular diseases to which the method applies. Growth of knowledge concerning bacterial diseases has occurred, beginning with the pear blight which baffled all horticulture prior to the assertion of its bacterial nature by Professor Burrill. The proof that bacteria can and do cause plant diseases has been definitely ad- duced, and a large number of such diseases have been recognized upon many plants. Not only from the scientific side have these ailments been studied, but from the practical as well, and preventive and palli- ative measures have in many instances been found. The soil is often spoken of as the living earth. Not only may it live, but it also partakes of those chief accompaniments of life, viz., health, sickness and death. A healthy soil may, from an agricultural point of view, be regarded as one capable of fulfilling all its vital functions; a sick soil, one in which some such functions are impaired. •Of only one class of soil sickness may I speak, namely, that which results in producing sick plants by harboring pathogenic germs. The cotton wilt, the Texas root rot, the watermelon, tobacco, tomato and cabbage wilts, the cabbage club foot and the onion smut are conspicu- ous examples of disease so propagated. Diseases of this type not only destroy the crop, but they preclude the possibility of successful culture of the plant in question, or of its close botanical relatives for many years. Such foes to agriculture have completely destroyed the possi- bility of tobacco growing on many farms otherwise eminently adapted to this crop and ill adapted to any other, resulting in great depreciation in the value of the land. This encroachment upon valuable soil will proceed yearly, and with geometrically increasing rapidity, until means of prevention are discovered, as they have now been in some instances, and the method of prevention becomes common knowledge. Soil dis- eases, the most dreaded of all dangers to the plant, are prevalent to much greater extent in the south than in the north. One field is known to exist in South Carolina upon which neither melons, cotton nor cow- peas can be grown. It is conceivable that many other germs could infest one and the same field, but no greater affliction concerning such staple crops seems possible. Growth in popular appreciation of the importance of plant diseases and of the value of remedial and prophylactic measures is perhaps the most striking characteristic of plant pathology in the last twenty years. 4o6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. At the beginning of this period spraying was in no wise general. It was of rare occurrence. Man suffered unresistingly the attacks of the molds, mildews, rots and blights. The circulation of thousands of state experiment station bulletins and similar bulletins from the na- tional department of agriculture, the vigorous campaign of farmers' institutes, farmers' reading circles, farmers' extension courses, and the extended use of farmers' periodicals and agricultural papers have served to bring the latest discoveries of science to the use of him who will heed. As is to be expected, it is the man who most closely studies his business, he who has most at stake, the large specialist in the cul- ture of any crop, who first embraces the offered aid. The large orchardist or vineyardist leads the way in the adoption of new methods and new machinery. The revolution looking toward recognition of the value of plant treatment is now so thoroughly inaugurated that the treatment of such diseases, both insect and fungous, in the case of fruit and trucking crops is of general occurrence. The movement, too, is world-wide. The practical outcome of all the investigation and propaganda up to the present time is that many hundreds of plant diseases have been recognized; for a hundred or more have been prescribed remedial or preventive measures, many of which are eminently successful; witness, the treatment of cereal smuts, the peach curl, the grape black rot, the powdery mildews. The saving occasioned by any one of these, as is true of scores of others, would amply suffice to pay all the expense of investigation and propaganda incurred in the development of the whole field of plant pathology. By oat smut alone the estimated damage in the United States yearly is $26,766,166, a loss avoidable by an annual expenditure of less than four cents an acre. The saving actually made in Dakota, Minnesota and Wisconsin in one year is placed at $5,000,000. The future problems of plant pathology are manifold. The period of growth must continue long before the work now undertaken is done. Many diseases of even the cultivated plants are not yet recognized. The diseases of wild plants, particularly the weeds, must too be studied to ascertain the possibility of intercommunication of diseases between weeds and crop plants. The life histories of all disease producing fungi must be closely studied, particularly to determine their hibernating con- dition. As yet the merest beginning has been made. The interrelation of host and parasite must be studied, the periods, points and modes of infection made known. The biology of the fungi, their life habits, con- ditions of spore formation, characters of growth, relation to light, heat, moisture, nutriment, etc.; their resistance to adverse conditions, their longevity under various conditions of environment are all problems of ultimate practicality. The question of species is unsettled and the THE SCIENCE OF PLANT PATHOLOGY. 407 recent demonstration of biologic varieties among the rusts, mildews and fusariums opens a large and important field of research. The agencies operating as disease distributors, the wind, insects, soil, man, water or what not must be known that such distribution be more readily con- trolled. The causes of resistance and susceptibility to certain diseases rest in obscurity, except in a few cases where the responsibility has been fixed upon some particular structure or chemical. The breeding of plants resistant to specific diseases not readily amenable to other means of control must proceed. Such work is now in progress with cotton, melons, tomatoes, tobacco, grains, flax and other plants. The relation existing between many root fungi and bacteria and the roots they inhabit remains to be studied. Aside from parasitism there is also mutualism, a kind of beneficial disease falling to the province of plant pathology. It needs much further study. Specific problems also abound, the peach yellows and rosette, the mycoplasm theory of rusts, the grape Brunnisure. Differences of opin- ion now exist or the technique or scientific data are insufficient for an adequate solution of these questions and many other similar ones. Work on timber protection, while not strictly a question of disease, but rather a post-mortem problem, falls to the lot of the pathologist for the want of a more appropriate place. That intensive study of a dis- ease, however thoroughly it may seem to have been studied before, may lead to important development is well illustrated in the case of the familiar pear blight, which, though known for ages and the topic of masterly classic research, has recently, under trained observation and critical interpretation and experimentation, revealed new secrets lead- ing to more masterful and complete control. The large fields of plant pathology, grouped under the term ' physiological disorders/ are still practically unworked; diseases due to false nutrition, absorption or assimilation, or to impaired carbon assimilation owing to improper environment, to crowding or shading or to hereditary inabilities. A start has been made sufficient to show the importance of the results awaiting. The recent discovery of the so-called ultramicroscopic organisms or filterable enzymes which has robbed the bacteria of the distinction of being the smallest of living things opens a new field in both plant and animal pathology comparable in kind, though probably not in magnitude, with the creation of bacteriology by Pasteur. It is yet unknown whether we have to do here with organisms or enzymes, and contemplation of the problems awaiting in this realm places us in a position to appreciate more fully than ever before the great controversy of spontaneous generation as fought in the sixties. The announcement in a recent periodical of the discovery of soluble protoplasm empha- sizes the existence of a vast unknown covered by the words protoplasm, 4o8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. enzymes, invisible organisms. Is it coincidence of fate that with the growing importance of the problem of the invisible organism there comes the invention of a microscope of surpassing excellence with which the seeing of molecules is a hoped for possibility ? The science of plant pathology is indeed young. It has yielded much, and it is still full of promise. In the achievement of the results to come draught will be made upon the sister sciences even more than in the past. Plant physiology waits upon chemistry; plant pathology upon plant physiology, and chemistry in return receives valuable con- tribution from both. Mathematics, physics and geology all contribute to the general upbuilding. The sciences, though becoming more di- vergent instead of becoming more independent, are yearly becoming more dependent, each using the discoveries of the others to gain new foothold or new tools in the search for truth. Often it is the frontier territory lying between two sciences which, belonging distinctively to neither, is least worked, and therefore presents most promising terri- tory for conquest. Such is the history of the comparatively new sci- ences of physical chemistry, physiological chemistry and biometrics. Nor does the field belong exclusively to either the devotee of pure science, so-called, or of applied science. The study of problems seem- ingly most remote from any practical ends has often proved funda- mental in the upbuilding of vast industrial growth. Bacteriology was born of crystallography. The father of galvanic electricity was derided as the frog's dancing master. Nor does the avowed object in view give a sure key to the ultimate outcome. Alchemy, though never attaining the end sought, hastened immeasurably the era of industrial chemistry. Nor may it be said that applied science is inferior, for without the application the fundamental principles are of no avail in the promotion of the welfare of man. Intensive laboratory study with no object other than the increase of knowledge of molecular construction has led to the commercial production of many important compounds. The present oat smut treatment by formalin owes its practicability equally to pure science in the chemical study that rendered the production of formalin prac- ticable at moderate cost, and to pure science of the botanist who from mere interest in fungous growth discovered the nature of parasitism, and to the practical scientist who applied the knowledge of the chemist and the botanist to the solution of a definite agricultural problem. The distinction between pure science and applied science is invidious. It is not a difference based upon the nature of the knowledge; rather upon the motive of the worker. All true science is practical, either remotely or directly, and the man of applied science is but completing the work of the pure scientist. Especially does the future of plant pathology rest with both. SLEEP AND ITS REGULATION. 4°9 SLEEP AND ITS REGULATION. By Dr. J. MADISON TAYLOR, PHILADELPHIA, PA. SLEEP as a factor in physical economics ranks in importance with respiration and digestion. Those who live normally, who throughout all ordinary exigencies maintain a natural attitude toward life, its strains and reponsibilities, may expect to enjoy a full measure of this restorative function. How much each one needs is not to be determined by dogmatic rules or precedents, nor does each one require the same amount under every condition or circumstance. There must be enough, daily and weekly, and of suitable character, to restore the balance of neural energy reduced by whatsoever of fatigue follows upon daily activities; otherwise the sensorium resents this deprivation in one way or another. Individual needs vary and can only be deter- mined inferentially, giving due weight to generally accepted require- ments. Sleep, being the completest form of rest, is needed most by the youngest and least by the oldest. Most sleep is required by the weakest and least by the strongest. During childhood and exhaustive states too much sleep is rarely possible. Eor those in full tide of vigor too much sleep is often distinctly hurtful. Many modifications will immediately suggest themselves to those who are wise or learned in the science of bodily growth, development and disorders. Experience always counts for much. Variants, sometimes wide, are often permis- sible. Large errors will arise when these qualifications are marred by caprice, taste, prejudice; and harm follows, of one sort or another, sometimes of serious degree, by obscuration of sane reasoning on what may seem to be obvious and simple facts. Physical efficiency depends chiefly upon the kind and amount of effort expended. Rest is an inevitable corollary. Relaxation is the starting point of all effort. For example, the strongest blows, the most accurate thrusts, can only proceed from an arm in thorough equipoise. Equipoise presupposes a full quantum of energy. Animal energy depends upon adequate rest as much as on force-giving foods. Complex acts, conditional always upon harmonies between intact central nervous dynamos, and well-adjusted mechanisms, can only be performed in their completeness when forces are at the norm. Sleep is an absolute necessity for conscious beings. There are those who oppose this view, and some require relatively little, and that, 4i o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. too, for long periods. Some sleep lightly, retaining in greater part their consciousness. Occasionally we hear of an individual who has lived for a long time without sleep, so far as can be determined, and yet has continued to maintain good health. Sufferers from one form or another of nervous exhaustion are often compelled to forego sleep temporarily. Vigorous persons of pronounced personality and highly developed consciousness have the least need for sleep, at least while at the zenith of their powers and in the full flower of energizing. The maintenance of conscious life demands an expenditure of energy so intense that the processes of nutrition and reconstruction of cellular waste can not be carried on without sleep. Complete repose of the consciousness is demanded for the plastic nutrition of the organism and the accomplishment of vegetative life. Consciousness is the highest of our faculties, rendering possible moral and scientific ideation; it demands the greatest efforts of our organism. In its absence sleep is less required. All the internal organs are, during sleep, relatively less filled with blood because then the skin is in a state of hyperemia or gorged with blood. The sweat glands act more energetically at night whether we are asleep or awake, hence the danger of chills is then greater. All the organic activities continue, but are less vigorous at night, and during sleep, whereas during sleep in daylight hours these proceed with little alteration. When animals or men feel the desire to sleep they instinctively seek a quiet sheltered spot, as free as possible from light and noise, thus avoiding whatever impressions from the external world are liable to be subjectively translated into sensations. The eyelids are lowered; a position is sought wherein the muscles can be fully relaxed. The sensorial organs are capable of acting during sleep and continue to transmit impressions into conscious sensations. With the pallor of the brain, which occurs in sleeping animals, the cortex ceases to react so readily to mechanical, photic, electric or other stimuli. The spinal cord and sensory nerves do not sleep, yet sensations of pain are then lowered. The nerves transmit painful impressions, but the consciousness of the sleeper perceives them incom- pletely. The voluntary muscles become quiescent during sleep, but retain their power, as shown by the normal subject in changing posi- tion, arranging the bedclothes, even walking; soldiers are able to march or ride while asleep. The brain is the chief part which sleeps, but it is not wholly inactive, exciting inhibitions which check the forma- tion of reflex movements. If stimuli are applied of sufficient intensity to overcome the protective states of the somnolent consciousness the subject awakes, recognizing the cause more or less certainly. Sleep is not an absolute arrest of cerebral activity; the brain then retains always partial energy. In deprivation of sleep it is the brain SLEEP AND ITS REGULATION. 41 1 which suffers most, while in deprivation of food it is the brain which preserves longest the integrity of its structure and function. In young animals, abundantly fed and cared for but kept awake, there follows serious lesions of the organism which soon become irreparable, and death results. There have been many theories and hypotheses advanced to explain the phenomena of somnolence. The physiologists have here, as so frequently elsewhere, exhibited far more academic than practical in- terest in the matter. There is no subject, however, of greater impor- tance, since it is a prime factor in all the reparative phenomena of life, standing at the foundation of nutrition; yet no research work has been done on the nature of sleep commensurate with the gravity of the subject. Psychologists have written extensively on one phe- nomenon of sleep, viz., dreams. Normal sleep has attracted so little attention that we do not know exactly how to modify it in accordance with common conditions of bodily derangements. Inferentially cer- tain facts seem established which not only account for the phenomena of sleep, but enable us to reason from them and thus to regulate the state in great measure; sometimes sufficiently. It is probable that during sleep there is a diminished resistance in the surface vessels, inducing lowered blood pressure, hence smaller amounts of blood pass through the brain. As sleep approaches the cerebral vessels grow relatively less filled with blood for an hour or more after full som- nolence has come. After reaching its minimum tension the brain circulation remains practically constant for one or two hours or more, gradually returning to normal as the time for awakening nears. After having attained a fair idea of what sleep is, whereby we can better appreciate a reasoning from our individual standpoint, we may proceed to discuss its regulation. For the young, who may be assumed to be in possession of full neural and circulatory balance, whether in or out of health, the regulation of sleep is a simple matter, one which will in most instances adjust itself if the subject be placed under normal conditions. We may fix our attention most profitably upon the status of sleep in those of middle or late life. Here a number of causes conspire to disturb equilibrium of body cells, sometimes slightly, and at others it will be found that effects have been insidiously wrought which may suddenly obtrude upon our attention, causing great distress, often impairing the integrity of our judgment, hence our working efficiency. Therefore a double peril assails. Mere inability to sleep naturally, or as heretofore, or as each one assumes as a right, is, especially among men (who shrink from admission of physical weakness), seldom re- garded as worth their seeking the advice of a physician. Whereupon the simplest remedy is to hunt about for something which will obtund 4i2 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. the consciousness. Often this is a form of alcohol. A friend will advise a glass of whiskey at bedtime, may be two or more; beer is popular for this purpose; some special form of wine is often recom- mended, and (deplorable as it may seem) too often by the physician. The entering wedge is so easy, and in the main agreeable in its primary effects, that the habit of tippling is thus readily established. Or again the chemists' shops are filled with ' simple harmless remedies for insomnia.' The sign boards in all public places glisten with advice. Every acquaintance is ready with counsel, especially those numerous well intentioned women with little else to do but to prattle of their shallow convictions on matters coming within the narrow range of their experience, medical, spiritual or social. It is never safe to play with drugs; to trifle with agencies often hurtful to a pro- found degree in their ultimate effects. Idiosyncracies exist, too, whereby what may harm one not at all produces in another far-reaching derangements of vital organs. One of the most dangerous lunatics I ever saw was a man possessed by sudden homicidal tendencies. He would have remained so had not it been discovered, by providential accident, that he was accustomed to use habitually moderately large doses of some bromide. The obsession promptly and permanently disappeared by total withdrawal and the use of an antidote. We physicians, especially those who see many instances of nervous derange- ments, are constantly coming in contact with the deplorable derange- ments caused by hypnotic drugs, many of which are ordinarily classed as innocent. The action of narcotics presents none of the character- istics of normal sleep except the temporary arrest of consciousness; hence narcosis is not true sleep. It does not refresh and regenerate vigor as does normal sleep. To be sure, drug unconsciousness may and often does pass into sleep. Again there are those who have be- come so accustomed to narcotics that, when deprived of them, they can not sleep. This would seem to prove a sort of antagonism be- tween the drug effect and natural sleep. In brief, whatever agents inhibit cerebral activity, inducing local anemia, hence permitting sleep or narcosis, are harmless provided they do not derange nutrition or cause other ill effects. All narcotic drugs invite these evil effects in varying degrees and hence are to be avoided, and only used in extreme cases and under guidance of a competent physician. The other peril lies in the fact that derangements of sleep often foreshadow serious structural damage of the heart, arteries or other organs or tissues. Hence unless the phenomena be estimated intel- ligently, in the light of other than obvious data only to be secured through careful medical examination, a deadly disease process may escape detection until too late to accomplish full repair. To secure regular consecutive sleep it is best to assume that posi- SLEEP AND ITS REGULATION. 413 tion which is most natural and best suited to invite the least disturb- ance of the functions of the great organs. To use the analogy of the four-footed animals, and by such facts we can secure the safest guidance, the best position is on the abdomen or nearly so. Habits may, and do, vitiate our instincts here as elsewhere, and we can ac- custom ourselves to many departures from natural and advisable operations. This is especially forceful while in vigorous health, but we are speaking here of securing the best rest with the least tax upon our organism, hence it is well to determine those means which are normal, and employ them. The body should lie as nearly as possible on a level, head and feet as well as body, on the side inclined toward the abdomen, adjusting arms and legs in such a fashion as shall not permit undue pressure upon nerves and bloodvessels, direct or indirect. To lie on the back is objectionable for the reason that long con- tinued pressure on the tissues adjacent to the vertebral column, which are innervated by the posterior primary divisions of the spinal nerves, exerts a continued irritation through vasomotor connections to the viscera, disturbing the circulation in the segments. Here are the cell bodies of the vasomotor nerves, which thence pass to the organs and beyond parts, thereby governing function. Thus, dilatation is induced and maintained in the blood vessels of the viscera. Also certain results follow directly by effect of gravity. Pressure on the abdominal organs, and their varying contents, is exerted upon the great vessels, arterial, venous and lymphatic, the sympathetic plexuses, and the ebb and flow of fluid in them is deranged. Hence function and nutrition of these structures are influenced unfavorably. Man is the only animal which sleeps on the back. This attitude should only be as- sumed for short periods. During extreme weakness this position is often taken, but it is the duty of attendants to urge a frequent change to the side, otherwise several hurtful effects may follow, among which the least grave are nightmare and evil dreams. The poisons of katabolism circulating in the blood tend to be deposited in the outlying tissues ; hence arise pneumonia and bedsores. Not only is this true for those who are suffering from one or another form of disability, but for those in robust health, especially when sleeping on the back after full meals. Many obscure forms of digestive or circulatory disorders may have been initiated in infancy through lying too long upon the back. In animals, among whom such disorders are rare and whose spinal column is constantly horizontal, there is little or no change in the rela- tive positions of the great organs at any time. In man, who is con- stantly altering the relationships of these viscera by lying, standing, stooping, the blood supply and venous return are subject to frequent interruptions, and strains are exerted upon the supporting structures 4i4 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. of the blood vessels and thus the vasomotor mechanisms are taxed heavily. The head should be permitted to rest as nearly upon a level as the feet, though most people prefer some support. The blood should be encouraged to reach all parts of the body equally, hence the limbs had best be extended, not flexed ; the habit of extending the arms above the head is a particularly bad one. To secure the most perfect repose the temperature of all parts should be equalized before retiring. Cold feet induce delay in securing sleep and it is then shallow when attained. The bladder and bowels by weight of their contents will interfere with repose, hence they should be previously emptied. It is most unwise to overfill the stomach before retiring; this disturbs sleep almost as much as hunger, but moderate eating before sleeping is not hurtful, and is often salutary. Sleep is only a function; therefore, whatever disturbs it depends on structural derangement of some sort. Disorders of sleep are mani- fold. The commonest are psychic exaltations or depressions, worries, brooding on the cares of the day, continuing to dwell on the waking problems. Habit is ever forceful. A well-trained mind will promptly shut off or readily let go of the thought processes. Unnatural activity of the sensory and association centers causes dreams ; that of the motor centers results in shocks, starts and spasmodic phenomena. Control of the visceral centers may become inhibited, permitting unconscious dis- charges from the bladder, intestines or sexual organs; innervation of the lungs or heart being thus deranged, palpitation or dyspnoea is induced. Sensory centers being over-stimulated, sensations of light follow, or of sound, also pain or vertigo. " In fine, the ordinary smooth current of the subconscious activities breaks against some pa- thologic states and now one symptom, now another, is thrust out and so unpleasantly that the sleeper awakens" (C. L. Dana). A review of Dana's remarks on the disorders of sleep will be useful to achieve an understanding of the varieties and phenomena of in- somnia; a better term perhaps would be difficulties of sleep. Some people, especially those of middle age, fall asleep easily, but wake in the small hours and thereafter only doze fitfully. This may be due to beginning degenerative changes in the arteries, connected with the effects of worries and strains, or only a habit, or echo of youthful customs of early rising, or an acquired weakness or irritability of the heart. Others fall asleep readily, but are soon disturbed by little explosions of motor, sensory or psychic forces. The body or limbs start or jerk; sleep follows, but these nervous explosions may be repeated two or three times. It is usually the result of exhaustion, psychic or muscular over-tension, physiologic irritability, indigestion, nervous fatigue, or may foreshadow some serious derangement. Sudden awakenings often betray emotional distress, fear or disorders of ideation. SLEEP AND ITS REGULATION. 415 Weir Mitchell has written fascinatingly of disorders of sleep, making absorbing reading for the profession as well as the laity. He it was who described first the sensory shocks, strange feelings passing along the body, culminating in some abrupt explosion, noise, odor or vision. Vertigo is occasionally thus experienced, especially by those who have felt it before. That mysterious malady called ' migraine' sometimes occurs suddenly while asleep ' and hales the sufferer from profound sleep to waking hours of misery.' Morbid or perverted sensations, numbness, ' pins and needles ' for- mications and such like mild neuroses appear at times during sleep. Limbs may seem ' dead,' sensation being temporarily lost and not in any way which follows upon marked pressure interrupting the flow of nervous impulses, but purely a phenomenon of sleep. These are more common in the later hours of night, when the motor cells are restored in part, losing irritability, the sensory cells being still excitable. These discomforts may be referred to interruptions in the conductivity of the spinal cord. Nocturnal psychoses, the night terrors of children, nightmare, strange mental vagaries, changes in intellectual and emo- tional balance, are of such wide variety that they can only be alluded to ; each person of rich experience is able to recall instances. In these conditions of distress much folly can be committed, and frequently is; evil thoughts are thus engendered, which too often influence action later. Sometimes imperative impulses arising in slumber drive one to commit questionable or silly deeds. The imagination in some is thus stimulated to utter weird statements, or to put on record what are falsely estimated to be thoughts of deep significance. I recall reading an incident in the early official life of Bismarck, who often thus wakened in the night with the conviction that he had solved perplexing prob- lems. On reducing to writing the ideas thus excited he found, on perusal next day, that they were altogether fanciful. It is true, valu- able ideas do come in dreams or in real temporary waking states. The sleep of early life is peculiarly sensitive to irritations of the organs below the diaphragm, digestive or genital ; in later life to those above, of the heart, blood vessels or lungs. In this connection we may refer to dreams. The suspension of brain activity in sleep is only partial; there prevails a certain amount of psychic life. Every nerv- ous stimulus, sensation or idea leaves an impression, a trace, in the cerebro-spinal system. Obscure motions, influences, irritants generated in the organism, may afterward revive temporarily under some im- pulsation of consciousness, as by afflux of blood. Each cell of the body is endowed with more or less memory (Henle), for by this means are preserved hereditary influences, the transmission of psychic and mental characteristics, the after images of sensations. In this manner many sounds, sights, feelings, which are partially conveyed to the sensorium, 4i 6 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. may become revived and variously interpreted to the consciousness. Predormitial sensations, thoughts and movements are thus capable of inducing multiplication and diverse auto-interpretation. Dreams grow luxuriantly when the state is one of partial wakefulness. The influ- ences of the day are then woven into fanciful pictures more or less reflecting actual life. If sleep be profound the imagination is no longer dominated by actualities and there arises the phenomenon of a special world, that of dreams. Mental activity is really physical activity; hence we may experience consequential fatigue. At the bottom of the emotion may be found a subjective excitation of the peripheral nervous apparatus. This form of reflected life constitutes the basis of dreaming, the imagination, hallucinations, the realm of fancy. Dreams have their origin in those parts of the organism most active in the waking state, in eyes, ears, the tactile, temperature and muscular sense. The same obtains as to hallucinations in the insane. A very deep sleep does not permit of dreams, or the waking memory can not recall them, whereas in very light sleep dreams are frequent and can be remembered. Dreams are more numerous and picturesque among intellectual people, and during certain exhaustive states, and less among those of lower mentality. The more primitive, young and intellectual the per- son, the more illogical, disjointed and elementary are the dreams. In old age, and profound depressive states, dreams are most rare; they serve many useful purposes. To the physician certain features of dreams possess a valuable significance. They exercise a salutary influ- ence upon otherwise unused areas of the brain and permit the excur- sions, or, may be, formation, of the faculty of imagination (Manaciene). They act as a defense against the monotonies and trivialties of real life, for without them we should grow old much more rapidly (Novalis). Many writers, poets, scientists, philosophers, musicians, etc., testify to the value of dreams in piecing out their concepts, idealizations, weaving a woof of imagination invaluable to the completed thought. It will be seen that the regulation of impaired sleep reaches back to causes most varied. Some are slight and superficial; others are due to deep-seated derangements or lesions, beginning or established. In practise, however, certain plain simple procedures usually suffice to bring about happy results. Beyond what these can accomplish, skilled medical aid should be sought and a careful search made for definite disorders, and systematic measures instituted to remove them consonant with the difficulties encountered. It is well to remember that the causes of wakefulness may be highly complex; slight factors often acting with equal forcefulness with those which theoretically should be greatest. We are concerned in our efforts to regulate the resting period of SLEEP AND ITS REGULATION. 417 the consciousness, with possible morbidity in two directions; too much or too little. Ordinarily it is assumed that the more one gets of sleep the better. This view is so generally accepted that the custom of some physicians, especially those who see much of illness in the extreme periods of life, to order food or employ active measures at regular hours, involving the waking of the patient, verges upon the danger line. Judg- ment must be exercised, and is well within the capabilities of a good nurse. Serious exhaustion has often followed needless interruptions of repose during exhaustive states. It is entirely demonstrable that a variety of disorders may result from, or are indicated by, excessive somnolence, partly of developmental and partly of degenerative origin. During infancy sleeping must predominate over waking states, the unconscious reflex life over the conscious intellectual life. It should be remembered, however, that consciousness requires exercise for development. Monotonous meas- ures, such as rocking, swinging, unmusical lullabies, may serve a salutary purpose occasionally, but can readily be carried too far, to the point of lowering normal temperature, inducing excessive anemia of the brain and disturbances of circulation. Sleep should come by op- portunity, comfortable position and customary environment. Habits should be formed sufficient in themselves to invite repose. It ought not to be interrupted needlessly, nor forced by measures or drugs which obtund the consciousness. Normality of sleeping capacity is the prod- uct of intellectual equipoise. Stupid folk are proverbially dull, le- thargic, with large capacities for deep sleep. Some part of this is no doubt the result of over indulgence. The consciousness is often en- feebled by disuse in young or old. In the young the impetus to exercise the faculties demands encouragement; also, as age enfeebles the brain structures, mental stagnation, hence degeneration, is invited by over- much time spent in unconsciousness. Nutritive balance, the expendi- ture of energy, can not be maintained indefinitely. Eenewals must occur, and it is shown that inordinate somnolence makes for exhaustion of body and mind; the kidneys suffer, their vessels become distended and hence enfeebled. In the aged the tone of the tissues, especially of the vessel walls, tends to become devitalized, leading to a stasis in lymph and blood vessels and to various forms of organic derangement. In deep sleep, long continued, this stasis of blood and lymph is unduly encouraged, sometimes to the point of paralysis. The bile becomes thickened, stagnated; the bowels, the intestines, suffer from a surfeit of sleep, impairing the machinery of peristalsis, hence follows consti- pation. The urinary organs also share in this derangement of elimina- tion and gravel, calculi, may form. Anemias are often unaccountable, but it will be found that chlorotics usually sleep too much and are the better for its regulation. VOL. LXVII. — 27. 4i 8 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. There is no simple fact more forcefully borne in upon the writer than that early rising and movement in the open air before breakfast is a measure of vast importance in a large array of chronic ailments, especially those involving gout, dyspepsia, constipation, obesity and disorders of the sense organs. Many people aver that they are made miserable by rising early, stirring about before taking food, and conse- quently suffer from headaches, nausea, prostration and the like. These phenomena are the results of some derangements in the circulatory balance, most probably due to a morbid quality of sleep, which for the most part is remediable. In proof of this statement is the fact, usually clearly demonstrable, that if the physician can secure fair cooperation, with persistence all this wretchedness will disappear. Particularly is this shown if circumstances compel the patient to alter his habits for the better. Abundant illustrative instances could be cited. Weir Mitchell in his recommendations for the rest treatment, so valuable in the repair of profound conditions of exhaustion, compels a fixed hour for wakening, usually seven a.m. Often it has been the writer's duty to soothe and explain to Dr. Mitchell's patients, who resented being awakened, the reason for this regulation. Disuse of muscle is followed by atrophy; so of other tissues. Strength can only grow by judicious, continued use. Witness the piti- able spectacle of steady degeneration in the tissues, in mental and physical aptitudes, commonly displayed in those of advancing years, who, through withdrawal of normal stimuli to exertion, permit their organs and their structures to fall into disuse. Prosperity, interpreted so often to mean cessation of energies, is often fatal to physical and mental efficiency. The antidote is simple and most effective, the reten- tion of habits of usefulness applied all along the whole line of normal activities. The whole range of bodily derangements and diseases can be inter- preted through variations in the blood supply. This again depends upon the incidence of diverse irritants, infections from without or poisons generated within ; or such as are the products of changes in the blood plasma effecting oxygenation. Sleep being the relaxation, suspension, of the consciousness, the brain being the center of consciousness, it naturally follows that, as evidence shows, the circulation in the brain is, during sleep, at the lowest normal tension. Whatever disturbs sleep, therefore, probably induces an afflux of blood to the brain. It is evident that to sleep peacefully and continually it is important that the blood pressure shall be as nearly as possible normal. If this be markedly above or below par sleep is interfered with. Plethoric folk, however, supposedly of over-tense vessels, often sleep better than the feeble and weakly; yet they are more likely to slumber heavily, are difficult to wake, and on SLEEP AND ITS REGULATION. 419 waking suffer from morning confusion and headache; in short, are far less refreshed by their slumber and require longer to acquire waking balance than frail beings whose sleep is shallow, interrupted and seem- ingly insufficient. All these facts and reasonings from vascular tone constitute a long, somewhat technical, story ; suffice it to say that, in order to secure com- fortable natural sleep there is demanded a careful regulation of blood supply and distribution. Where a careful regulation of life fails to accomplish this, help must be sought of a wise physician, who will promptly determine what is amiss. The difficulty may be found to be due to faulty skin action, cold extremities, intestinal accumulations, or visceral poisons, organic derangements, a weak heart, an overtired bocty, an overwrought brain or other physical disorders, the province of the physician. Interference with matters out of the realm of our experience is usually followed by punishment. Among the most dangerous things a person can do is to take a shot in the dark dn medical procedures, swallowing medicines on blind guesses. Damage must almost inevitably result, first by deranging digestion, perhaps already at fault, and next achieving stupor, not true sleep, or en- couraging the brain to demand meretricious, unsuitable soporifics. While it is most desirable that sleep should be taken in regular amounts, at a suitable time, and this during the hours of darkness and continuously, still it is possible that various habits may be formed, seemingly peculiar, which suffice for ordinary requirements. These may be acquired to meet some temporary demand, or become habitual for years. For instance, mothers of young babies commonly form the habit of sleeping and waking readily and frequently, and yet continue to enjoy excellent health. Trained nurses acquire even more complex, yet systematic, habits of sleep and wakefulness; a regular irregularity, yet productive of little or no exhaustion, at least for a time. Persons engaged in diverse strenuous occupations secure a power of seizing sleep when they can get it, notably sailor men by ' watches ' of four hours each, twice a day. Sleep, being the chief restorative agency for the consciousness, the desideratum is chiefly to achieve enough repose in sufficient complete- ness to effect repair of brain cells and other centers of energy. In those whose lives are full of repeated and emphatic demands upon them for concentration of attention, the habit of taking short naps is found to be most refreshing and invigorating. Many physicians, some lawyers, and other professional men who pursue literary work, find it satisfactory to secure a brief sleep some time during the day, often in the middle of operations, when an opportunity offers. Thus a short sleep in a chair, or preferably lying down on the back on a bench or lounge, will rejuvenate the powers and permit intellectual work far 42o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. into the night. While a certain number of hours of consecutive sleep are imperative for full health, these can not be dogmatically determined except by carefully weighing circumstances, which vary. Lumber men on the ' drive ' maintain excellent health on the smallest amount of sleep, during the most trying circumstances, after intense physical exertion so long as the spring daylight lasts, often wet to the skin, with little or no bedclothes or protection at night from freezing weather and fed irregularly, often insufficiently. Armies, exploring parties and others have similar experiences, and suffer no distress for days and weeks, the men often actually gaining in health, seldom losing. If the circumstances be cheerful, such competition, overcom- ing the forces of nature, is salutary. If peril, strained attention or tyrannous officers complicate the conditions, ill health may appear early and is then often severe. When to sleep is again a matter of opinion. Early rising is by common consent a salutary custom, especially when the day comes early, not otherwise. It is agreed that more sleep is required in winter than in summer. The best sleep is had during the hours of darkness. The mind is clearest in the early morning, and those who can utilize this period for intellectual work are capable of turning out the best products. Some can not do so, or think they can not, and yet furnish excellent results. The sleeping room should be cool, abundant air being always ad- mitted. This should not be interpreted to mean that the room may safely remain intensely cold. In the modern treatment of tuberculosis fresh air is recognized to be imperatively needed all day and all night. Artificial heat can, and should, be supplied along with the fresh air, till the temperature of the room be at or near 50° F. or 55° F., for some even 60° F. Above this no one in health is likely to sleep in perfect comfort. Babies and invalids need a heat of from 60° F. to 70° F., even more at times, yet all require the fresh air, or fullest ventilation. Fever patients, even those suffering from pneumonia or bronchitis, may sleep with safety and great advantage in a thoroughly ventilated cool room and with no more covering on them than is needed for protection from sudden changes of temperature which might send their body heat down below normal. It is needless to particularize as to the offensiveness, deleteriousness, of the body and lung exhalations emitted by those asleep. This is more than apparent, it is actually greater by far than when awake, and demands prompt removal and an abundance of good air to replace that which is vitiated. There are those who still cling to the shred of demon influence which causes them to ' dread the night air ' when spirits range and goblins weave evil spells; when diseases come wafting in at open windows, keyholes SLEEP AND ITS REGULATION. 421 and other joints in the harness of defense. Since the pestiferous mosquito has been proved the chief carrier of mephitic paludal dis- eases, insect nettings are deemed sufficient to ward off evil nocturnal influences. Sleeping in a close exhausted atmosphere is so promptly and painfully punished by discomforts, that it would seem there could not be two minds on the matter. Yet many refined and educated folk still prefer the shut windows. Curiously enough some woods- men, farmers and others who live much in the open air incline to a hot room for sleeping. To my sorrow, I have often been compelled to experience this prejudice. Body clothing at night should be loose, not dense, permitting the ready passage of air, never of wool next to the skin. Bed clothing should not be too close of texture, blankets being preferable to dense ' com- fortables ' and not ' tucked in ' too closely. Air should be allowed to pass occasionally under the sides at least as one turns about more or less freely. I have proved this in open camps in bitter tempera- tures, thus using less clothing than those who slept in bags. Indian guides often sleep Avith their heads covered and their feet bare to the fire. Even on the long trail I prefer pajamas to close fitting day underwear at night. Under these circumstances, too, occasionally rising and warming by a fire gives better rest than to stay close in a sleeping bag all night long. As to beds the firm mattress with springs is vastly better than soft clinging surfaces. Some people sleep with a profundity, a completeness, from which they can only be aroused with difficulty. They occasionally wake unrefreshed with confusion, headaches, stiffness and soreness of limbs. This is unfortunate and usually betokens some abnormality in health which should be corrected. Such deep somnolence is not so restorative as the lighter forms of slumber. Again limbs become cramped, hence nerves and blood vessels suffer hurtful pressure, by long remaining in one position; the integrity of the internal organs likewise is im- perilled. Sleep is invited by darkness. Light, even though the eyes be closed, penetrates the lids and stirs the consciousness through these most delicate of sense organs. Hence it is wise to exclude light if one must sleep after the sun has risen. A useful device is to cover the eyes with black cloth or even a handkerchief folded, or use a screen, rather than to exclude daylight from the entire room, which too often means exclusion of air as well. Those whose heart and arteries lack tone may give attention to this to secure or to maintain sleep. Day drowsiness and night wakefulness indicate often a cardiac weakness demanding attention. Conversely, high pulse is usually present in those who sleep over heavily. A complete circulatory balance is needed for those who would sleep most refreshingly. One of the best means to secure this is by exercise 422 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. at bedtime, enough to distribute the blood to the surface and muscles, hence to relieve the tension in the vessels of the brain. High vascular tension is often a cause of insomnia ; it may be continuous or only due to psychic causes, worries, morbid tension, over-excited circulation or toxins. Hence the common device of the hot foot bath, hot entire bath, or even a cold bath inducing reaction, may suffice. To execute some systematic movements with little or no clothing on is better; in cold weather with extra clothing on, such as a sweater. Certain movements, especially those of the neck and shoulders, are particularly useful. A series of movements I devised in treating a chronic neurosis put many patients promptly to sleep. Also certain manipula- tions of the neck, especially a distributed pressure over the posterior occipital nerves, have in certain cases of obstinate insomnia in my hands been followed by complete cure. One man who claimed he had not slept a full night for thirty years was thus put to sleep in my office and after a course of treatment he remained free from this distress. That admirable instrument, now unfortunately out of fashion, the bicycle, cured scores of insomniacs by affording patients the means of prompt lowering of blood pressure by a ride just before bedtime. Few measures are more prompt, certain and permanent. Eating some light food is often of value, but the overfull stomach is frequently a cause of shallow or distressed sleep. There are many forms of digestive derangement, liver troubles, toxemias, etc., which impair sleep in those who are under the impression they have powerful digestions. Nothing wakes some people so certainly at evil hours as an over-acid stomach, relievable by a simple alkali or charcoal. The bowels are best evacuated before bedtime; if full they may cause much loss of sleep. In short, as Emerson says of all health, of which sleep is a major item, it is not to be bought, it must be earned; and wisdom, frugality, self restraint, industry, perhaps all cardinal virtues, con- tribute to this boon. STATE UNIVERSITY SALARIES. 4*3 STATE UNIVEESITY SALAEIES. By C. W. FOULK and r. f. earhart. FEOM time to time the question of the relatively low pay of mem- bers of the teaching profession is brought to the foreground in the public press. The statements made are as a rule only general in character, or if any actual figures are given for a large group of teachers they usually relate to those in the public schools. It has happened, however, that during the last half year certain comments have been made on the remuneration of college and university professors. Sir William Eamsay, the eminent English chemist, remarked during a recent visit to this country on the absence here of any great academic prizes, positions of high standing and large salary together with leisure for carrying on research. An article in the New York Evening Post of recent date has also been widely quoted. This purports to give a brief account of the salaries paid at Harvard. From it one learns that, roughly speaking, the average salary of a professor there is $4,000, of an associate professor $3,000, of an assistant professor $2,000, of an instructor $1,000, while an assistant must content him- self with from $250 to $400. The Post intimates that the situation at Harvard is better than at any other American university. Whatever may be the real state of affairs, these figures may certainly be looked upon as being among the highest. Indeed, to anticipate one of the chief items in the statistical part of this paper, it may be said that the average salary of the professors in the state universities of the middle west is $2,315. This, whether it be too low or not, is certainly lower than $4,000. The question at Harvard is receiving its full share of attention, for it has been noted in a recent number of Science that $1,800,000 of a fund of $2,500,000 has been raised to be devoted ' to increase the present totally inadequate amount available for the salaries of the teach- ing staff.' The Carnegie pension fund is another item of interest in the matter. In The Popular Science Monthly of December, 1904, an article under the title ' Status of the American College Professor ' has much to say of the financial side, and in the Atlantic Monthly for May of this year an anonymous writer discusses in detail the necessary expenses of a college professor. These exceedingly pithy articles will be found to have an added interest in the light of the statistics brought out in this paper. But if this question of university salaries is to be discussed at all 424 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 31/VOON STATE UNIVERSITY SALARIES. 425 intelligently, the starting point must be comprehensive statistics show- ing exactly what the situation is. To get such statistics is not an easy task. Though most institutions of learning have published re- ports giving details of their business management, these reports are not always easy to find, and, when found, certain kinds of informa- tion are not always easy to obtain from their pages. In taking up the matter, the authors saw that with the time at their disposal only a limited number of institutions could be studied. In selecting this small number, it seemed desirable to take a representative group of some well denned type so that the figures would have wider applica- tion. In choosing the type the state university of the Middle West was selected, for the reason that in this large section of the country it is the most important type, not in numbers, for in this particular the small denominational college outranks it thirty to one, but in wealth, number of students and rapid rate of growth. The actual group of which a discussion is to be found in the fol- lowing pages consists of the universities of Wisconsin, Minnesota, Nebraska, Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana and Ohio. Effort was also made to secure similar data from the universities of Iowa and Michigan, but without success. These eight universities may certainly be looked upon as repre- sentative. They have shared in the development of the region in which they lie. The equipment, the attendance and the number of instructors have increased to a remarkable extent, and, finally, there is in them an almost entire absence of traditions of the past. In such institutions, if anywhere, one would expect to find the normal salary and the normal rate of change of salary. That is, the increase in the incomes of these schools, as well as other conditions of a secondary influence, has been such that a greater or less increase in the salaries paid has been largely a matter of policy, to be followed or not as their various boards of trustees have seen fit; and it is therefore reasonable to suppose that whatever state of affairs in regard to salaries exists in these institutions more nearly represents the rating of the positions on the part of the people than can be found in other universities and colleges. In the following pages then will be found an account of the salaries paid at these eight institutions. No discussion of the conditions pre- vailing at the several schools will in any sense be attempted. The data as obtained from the published, or soon to be published, reports are given and the important items are pointed out by references in the text. Whatever local conditions may exist for explaining this or that peculiarity are beyond the scope of the paper, which aims solely at a presentation of the facts in this group of representative institu- tions, the authors believing that such a presentation should be pre- liminary to any change that may come. 426 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. « u < j Q. AUV-IVS STATE UNIVERSITY SALARIES. 427 A graphical scheme has been chosen as this presents at a glance the general situation from year to year. A large amount of data was, however, collected that will not admit of simple graphical treatment; for instance, the maximum and minimum salaries, the number of men of a given rank from year to year, the number receiving a given salary, etc. To have presented all this would have multiplied unduly the number of plates, and therefore no such presentation will be attempted. Most of these figures, as was mentioned above, were obtained from the published reports of the institutions. Those for the last two years, however, were kindly furnished by the executive departments of the universities.* In addition, all the data for each university were referred back for correction, if necessary, and therefore may be looked upon as official. Only data relating to the salaries of pro- fessors, associate professors and assistant professors are given, for the reason that to have included the large number of instructors, assistants, etc., would have demanded too much time. This shows the total income of each university during the past twelve years, that for the current year being, of course, estimated. At present Minnesota heads the list with an income of approximately $800,000. Ohio, Wisconsin, Missouri, Nebraska and Kansas follow in the order named, with Indiana and Illlinois not given. In connection with this it ought to be said that both Kansas and Indiana support two institutions of higher learning; each state having in addition to the university an agricultural and mechanical college. In the other states these subjects are not given in separate schools, but make a part of the university curriculum. In this paper only those institutions officially designated as state universities are consid- ered. This of course will greatly affect the relative income, but should in no sense affect the salaries. This shows the average salary from year to year paid at each of the universities to men holding the rank of professor. The heavy line on this plate marked ' average ' gives the average salary of pro- fessors in the eight institutions. It was obtained by treating the eight universities as one and dividing the total amount paid each year to professors by the number of men of this rank in the eight schools. Two notes of explanation are required in regard to this plate: ( 1 ) Many men in the professional schools of law and medicine hold the rank of professor, but inasmuch as they give only a small part of their time to teaching they receive relatively low salaries. Obviously they represent professions other than that of teacher, and all such are * The authors wish in this place to thank the presidents of these eight universities for their ready aid, which made possible the collection of the data for the more recent years. They feel especially indebted to Dr. W. O. Thomp- son, of Ohio, through whose kind assistance the interest of the others was enlisted. 428 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. accordingly omitted. (2) In some places the deans of the several colleges in the university receive extra compensation owing to the executive work required of them. They have, however, been included in the averages because their work is entirely within the university and educational in character. This paper aims solely at a discussion of the pecuniary side of the positions in these state universities, aside from that of president, and therefore it seemed fitting to rate the deans with the professors, rather than to make a separate list. The noticeable features in the average salary curve are the high points at the years 1896-7 and 1897-8, the sudden drop at 1898-9 and the steady upward trend from that time to the present. An inspection of the tabulated data from which the curves were compiled shows that during the year 1895-6 there were in the eight universities 187 pro- fessors at an average salary of $2,139. In 1896-7 the number increased to 196, but increases in salary raised the average to $2,193. During the next year, 1897-8, the number rose to 202, while the average salary reached $2,202. In the next year, 1898-9, however, something seemed to happen. There appears to be evidence that in some institutions, at any rate, salaries were actually cut. The number of professors reached 224. The average salary fell in four universities, remained constant at a very low mark in one and rose in three. This was the low water mark, for from that lean year to the present there has been a steady increase, the curve being almost a straight line. Great differ- ences are, however, to be noted during this period in the several uni- versities. In four of them, Wisconsin, Illinois, Kansas and Missouri, the rate of increase in the average salary is more rapid than that of the general average for the eight. In two of them, Indiana and Minnesota, there is an increase, but at a less rapid rate than the average for all. One of them, Nebraska, increased rapidly during the first three years and then suddenly declined. One of them, Ohio, shows a decline since 1899-1900. Advance reports of the Ohio salary list for 1905-6 show an upward trend, the averages for that year being as follows: professors, $2,200; associate professors, $1,580; and assistant professors, $1,347. In 1898-9 the average salary was $2,106. At present, 1904-5, it is $2,315. This period of seven years, beginning with 1898-9 and ending with the present academic year, is peculiarly suited to a study of the salary question. During this period, times in general have been good and the universities themselves have prospered, as an inspection of Plate I. will show. The time embraced is sufficiently long to warrant gen- eral conclusions, and it is therefore reasonable to suppose that what- ever changes may have taken place may be looked upon as more nearly normal than in the preceding period. It is gratifying to note that the average salary has increased in a substantial manner, it being now practically ten per cent, more STATE UNIVERSITY SALARIES. 429 than in 1898-9. The increased cost of living, however, during this time should be taken into consideration before a final conclusion is reached in regard to the real state of affairs. Before leaving the discussion of this the most important of the plates, the reader should be warned against ascribing too great signifi- cance to the ordinary ups and downs of the curves. In the first place, the arithmetical mean leaves much to be desired as a single expression for giving an idea of a set of numbers that differ much among them- selves. Secondly a rather slight change in number and salaries of the professorial staff of an institution will in some cases change the average out of proportion to the actual change. The scheme of giving the averages is, however, the best that can be used, and when the trend of the curves for a period of years is taken into consideration, it is believed that they very fairly represent the situation. Naturally an inspection of the complete data from which the curves were plotted reveals many interesting and important points which the curves themselves fail to show. For instance, one interesting feature that presents itself is that in the majority of the institutions there appears to be a ' normal ' salary for men of full professorial rank ; that is, a sum which all professors receive unless there be a special reason for their getting more or less. This is inferred from the following figures taken from the data for 1904-5, but typical of the whole period: In Kansas 57 per cent, of the professors are receiving $2,200 each; in Nebraska 47 per cent, receive $2,100; in Minnesota 48 per cent, receive $2,400; Indiana pays 53 per cent. $2,500; and in Ohio 40 per cent, get $2,250. (In 1905-6, 36 per cent, will receive $2,500.) In Wisconsin 33 per cent, receive $2,500 and 20 per cent. $2,000. Wisconsin has apparently two ' normal ' salaries, a condition not presented by any of the others. In the cases of Missouri and Illinois no considerable proportion of the faculty receive the same salary. These so-called ' normal ' salaries do not coincide with the average salary, they being sometimes higher and sometimes lower and differing in maximum by over $200 from the average. In regard to high salaries, Wisconsin heads the list. In this institution, in 1904—5, ten deans and professors are receiving from $3,000 to $4,500. The lowest recorded salary, $1,000, is also on Wisconsin's list. Illinois and Missouri are the only other univer- sities of the eight that pay a professor more than $3,000. All of them are paying some men $2,500 and in four of them this is the highest salary paid. All but one, Indiana, pay some of their pro- fessors less than $2,000. It should be borne in mind that these figures refer to salaries of men of full professorial rank and do not include associate and assistant professors. Taking the period beginning with 1898-9 and closing with the present academic year, 1904—5, it is seen from the complete data that 43° POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. STATE UNIVERSITY SALARIES. 431 in these eight universities the number of professors receiving $2,500 or more has increased from 40 out of a total of 224, or about 18 per cent., to 89 out of a total of 285, or 31 per cent. On the other hand, the number receiving less than $2,000 has decreased from 21 per cent, in 1898-9 to less than 12 per cent, at present. Among the several universities there are very great differences. At present Wisconsin pays 60 per cent, of her professors $2,500 or more; Indiana, 53 per cent.; Missouri, 44 per cent.; Illinois, 43 per cent.; Nebraska, 16 per cent.; Kansas, 10 per cent.; and Ohio 5 per cent. In 1905-6, Ohio will pay 36 per cent., $2,500. As to the number receiving less than $2,000, the percentage ranges from 0 in Indiana to 31 in Ohio. Here is shown in a manner similar to that for professors the aver- ages for associate professors. This title does not exist in the University of Missouri, and at Wisconsin there have been periods — indicated by the omitted parts of the curve — when no one held it. The University of Minnesota, in sending data, classed associate professors and professors together. The interesting feature brought out by an inspection of the data is the relatively small number of men holding this title. It has, however, increased with fair uniformity from 18 in 1893-4 to 49 in 1904-5. Among the several institutions there are great differences, Ohio and Kansas being in the lead. The figures for 1903-4 repre- sent very well the relative numbers during the last five or six years and are accordingly given. In that year Wisconsin had 1 ; Minnesota, 0; Nebraska, 6; Illinois, 3; Indiana, 9; Missouri, 0; Kansas, 14; and Ohio, 19 associate professors. In a general way the average salary curve for men of this title follows the trend of the curve for professors. At present it is $1,600. This gives the averages for assistant professors. These have in- creased steadily in number from 61 in 1893-4 to 159 in 1904—5. The general average curve shows the same trend as the preceding ones, the average salary being now $1,374. Previous to 1901 the title of assistant professor did not exist in the University of Nebraska, the lowest professorial grade being adjunct professor. Since 1901, however, assistant professors have been added, thus making four grades with the title of professor. Inasmuch, however, as the adjunct professors represented the third grade of professorial rank which in position at least corresponds to assistant professor in the other institution, they were rated as such on Plate IV. until 1900-1, the advent of the assistant professor. The Nebraska curve then is really that of the adjunct professors till 1900-01, after which it refers to the assistant professors. Having now obtained the exact data in regard to salaries, the ques- tion may arise as to whether the professorial position does not carry 432 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY ^hiVIVS STATE UNIVERSITY SALARIES. 433 with it, in many cases at least, certain perquisites in the way of rooms, board, etc., in the university buildings; and if in an indirect way op- portunities are not offered for large fees for expert consultation work, etc., thus very materially raising the real income. In regard to the first of these items relating to house and board, it may be said to be entirely negligible. In some of these eight institu- tions the president receives his house in addition to his salary, but no professor is thus favored. A discussion of the second item, sources of income attracted by the position, is impossible because of lack of data. Some few professors do receive at times large fees for expert work. Others, to eke out a meager salary, do a certain amount of routine work. Still others receive something in the way of royalties on their books. An estimate of the general average addition to the income through these sources would, however, be nothing but a guess and will therefore not be attempted. It should be said, though, in regard to all such work, that it is done in addition to the regular duties and is to be looked upon as that much extra labor accomplished ofttimes by taking time from much needed vacation periods. Looking back over the above figures, it is seen that the average pecuniary attraction in the field of state university work is $2,315 per year plus an indefinite amount that may be made by extra work. It is further seen that this sum is increasing, but at such a slow rate as to leave it an open question as to whether the increase is keeping pace with the increased cost of living. In comparison with the salaries or in- comes of men of like training, age and experience in other professional lines such as law, medicine, engineering, etc., it is small, being perhaps not more than one third or one fourth as much. Some of this great difference might be accounted for by the fact that the university man enjoys longer vacations; but, assuming that no work at all is done during the time the university is not in session, and that the vacation time includes one fourth of the year, the salary of the professor would still be small in comparison with that of other professional men. In making these comparisons, it will possibly be objected by some that the average of the whole number of professors is compared with the incomes of the more successful men in other lines. To this it may be said that the salaries of all professors are not so compared. These eight universities are all large and rich institutions. Were one to collect statistics of the 150 to 200 small colleges in this region where the salaries are far lower than in the state universities, the general average professorial salary would undoubtedly drop to less than $1,800. It must be borne in mind then that it is entirely fair to compare the salary of the state university man with that of the more successful men in other lines. VOL. LXVII. — 28. 434 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. In very intimate relation with the income to be expected is the cost of preparation. It is doubtful if in any other line so much is spent in preparing for the work. After completing the four years under- graduate course the aspirant for professorial honors must spend at least two or three years in graduate work in some large university. On com- pleting this he will be fortunate if he obtains even an assistant pro- fessorship. More usually he becomes an assistant or instructor at $600 to $700 a year. The manner of living required in any position is also closely related to income received. Here, too, the professor has nothing to his advan- tage, for he is compelled to keep up appearances. He must dress well, and his house must be in a good neighborhood. In order to meet other men in his line he must attend the meetings of technical societies, where these men come together. Finally he is supposed to be a patron of the arts and sciences and the owner of a fine library, all of which costs money. The sentimental side of the question, the compensations coming from love of the work, seeking for truth, pursuit of ideals, in short, the things that are worth more than money, the authors will not dis- cuss, feeling that it would be without the scope of the paper. They do not wish to be understood, however, as taking so sordid a view as to place money compensation above everything else. Still, the subject can not be left without this reflection : other professions also have their ideals. Because the lawyer or surgeon or engineer receives more salary, it scarcely follows that he has no ideals, does not love his work and takes no thought of service to his fellow men. Can it be shown that these are not worth as much as the ideals of the teacher? If it can not, it follows that the teacher pays too high a price for the privilege of following his chosen work. Finally, one other question will be raised. Does not the low salary exert an influence on the kind of men who go into the profession of university teaching? It is sometimes flatly stated that the best men do not enter the profession because of this fact. This point, also, the authors, who are just entering the professorial ranks themselves, obvi- ously do not want to discuss, hoping that in presenting the facts of the situation they have contributed their share and made the way easier for wiser minds to follow. NATURE AND MAN. 435 NATURE AND MAN.* BY EDWIN RAY LANKESTER, M.A., HON. D.Sc, F.R.S., HON. FELLOW OF EXETER COLLEGE, DIRECTOR OF THE NATURAL HISTORY DEPARTMENTS OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM, LATE LINACRE PROFESSOR IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. IT is the pride of our ancient universities that they are largely, if not exclusively, frequented by young men of the class who are going to take an active part in the public affairs of the country — either as politicians and statesmen, as governors of remote colonies, or as leaders of the great professions of the church, the law and medicine. It would seem, then, that if these universities attached a greater, even a predominant, importance to the studies which lead to the knowledge and control of nature, the schools would follow their example, and that the governing class of the country would become acquainted with the urgent need for more knowledge of the kind, and for the immediate application in public affairs of that knowledge which exists. It would seem that in Great Britain, at any rate, it would not be necessary, were the universities alive to the situation, to await the pressure of democracy, but that a better and more rapid mode of de- velopment would obtain; the influential and trusted leaders of the community would set the example in seeking and using for the good of the state the new knowledge of nature. The world has seen with admiration and astonishment the entire people of Japan follow the example of its governing class in the almost sudden adoption of the knowledge and control of nature as the purpose of national education and the guide of state administration. It is possible that in a less rapid and startling manner our old universities may, at no distant date, influence the intellectual life of the more fortunate of our fellow citizens, and consequently of the entire community. The weariness which is so largely expressed at the present day in regard to human effort — whether it be in the field of politics, of literature, or of other art, or in relation to the improvement of social organization and the individual life — is possibly due to the fact that we have exhausted the old sources of inspiration, and have not yet learnt to believe in the new. The ' return to nature,' which is sometimes vaguely put for- ward as a cure for the all-pervading ' taedium ' of this age, is perhaps an imperfect expression of the truth that it is time for civilized man not to return to the ' state of nature/ but to abandon his retrospective * Concluding part of the Romanes Lecture, delivered in the Sheldonian Theatre, Oxford, on June 14, 1905. 436 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. attitude and to take up whole-heartedly the kingdom of nature which it is his destiny to rule. New hope, new life will, when he does this, be infused into every line of human activity: art will acquire a new impulse, and politics become real and interesting. To a community which believes in the destiny of man as the controller of nature, and has consciously entered upon its fulfillment, there can be none of the weariness and even despair which comes from an exclusive worship of the past. There can only be encouragement in every victory gained, hope and the realization of hope. Even in the face of the overwhelm- ing opposition and incredulity which now unhappily have the upper hand, the believer in the predestined triumph of man over nature can exert himself to place a contribution, however small, in the great edifice of nature-knowledge, happy in the conviction that his life has been worth living, has counted to the good in the imperishable result. If I venture now to consider more specifically the influence exer- cised by the University of Oxford upon the welfare of the state and of the human community in general, in view of the conclusions which have been set forth in what has preceded, I beg to say that I do so with the greatest respect to the opinions of others who differ from me. When I say this I am not using an empty formula. I mean that I believe that there must be many here present who are fair-minded and disinterested, and have given special attention to the matter of which I wish to speak, and who are yet very far from agreeing with me. I ask them to consider what I have said, and what I have further to say, in the same spirit as that in which I approach them. It seems to me — and when I speak of myself I would point out that I am presenting the opinions of a large number of educated men, and that it will be better for me to avoid an egotistical attitude — it seems to us (I prefer to say) that the University of Oxford by its present action in regard to the choice and direction of subjects of study is exercising an injurious influence upon the education of the country, and especially upon the education of those who will hereafter occupy positions of influence, and will largely determine both the action of the state and the education and opinions of those who will in turn succeed them. The question has been recently raised as to whether the acquirement of a certain elementary knowledge of the Greek lan- guage should be required of all those who desire to pursue their studies in this university, and accordingly whether the teaching of the elements of this language should form a prominent feature in the great schools of this country. It seems to us that this is only part of a much larger question ; namely, whether it is desirable to continue to make the study of two dead languages — and of the story of the deeds of great men in the past — the main if not the exclusive matter to which the minds of the youth of the well-to-do class are directed by our schools and uni- versities. We have come to the conclusion that this form of educa- NATURE AND MAN. 437 tion is a mistaken and injurious one. We desire to make the chief subject of education both in school and in college a knowledge of nature as set forth in the sciences which are spoken of as physics, chem- istry, geology and biology. We think that all education should consist in the first place of this kind of knowledge, on account of its com- manding importance both to the individual and to the community. We think that every man of even a moderate amount of education should have acquired a sufficient knowledge of these subjects to enable him at any rate to appreciate their value, and to take an interest in their progress and application to human life. And we think further that the ablest youth of the country should be encouraged to proceed to the extreme limit of present knowledge in one or other branch of this knowledge of nature so as to become makers of new knowledge, and the possible discoverers of enduring improvements in man's con- trol of nature. No one should be educated so as to be ignorant of the importance of these things; and it should not be possible for the greatest talent and mental power to be diverted to other fields of activity through the fact that the necessary education and opportunity in the pursuit of the knowledge of nature are withheld. The strongest inducements in the way of reward and consideration ought, we believe, to be placed before a young man in the direction of nature-knowledge rather than in the direction of other and far less important subjects of study. In fact, we should wish to see the classical and historical scheme of education entirely abandoned, and its place taken by a scheme of education in the knowledge of nature. At the same time let me hasten to say that few, if any of us — and certainly not he who now addresses you — would wish to remove the acquirement of the use of languages, the training in the knowledge and perception of beauty in literary art, and the feeding of the mind with the great stories of the past, from a high and necessary position in every grade of education. It is a sad and apparently inevitable accompaniment of all discus- sion of this matter that those who advocate a great and leading position for the knowledge of nature in education are accused of desiring to abolish all study of literature, history and philosophy. This is, in reality, so far from being the case that we should most of us wish to see a serviceable knowledge of foreign languages, and a real acquaint- ance with the beauties of English and other literature, substituted for the present unsuccessful efforts to teach effectively either the language or literature of the Greeks and Eomans. It should not be for one moment supposed that those who attach the vast importance which we do to the knowledge of nature imagine that man's spirit can be satisfied by exclusive occupation with that knowledge. We know, as well as any, that man does not live by bread 438 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. alone. Though the study of nature is fitted to develop great mental qualities — perseverance, honesty, judgment and initiative — we do not suppose that it completes man's mental equipment. Though the knowledge of nature calls upon, excites and gratifies the imagination to a degree and in a way which is peculiar to itself, we do not suppose that it furnishes the opportunity for all forms of mental activity. The great joys of art, the delights and entertainment to be derived from the romance and history of human character, are not parts of it. They must never be neglected. But are we not justified in asserting that, for some two hundred years or more, these ' entertainments ' have been pursued in the name, of the highest education and study to the exclusion of the far weightier and more necessary knowledge of nature ? ' This should ye have done, and yet not left the other undone,' may justly be said to those who have conducted the education of our higher schools and universities along the pleasant lines of literature and his- tory, to the neglect of the urgently-needed ' improvement of natural knowledge.' Nero was probably a musician of taste and training, and it was artistic and high-class music which he played while Eome was burning: so too the studies of the past carried on at Oxford have been charming and full of beauty, whilst England has lain, and lies, in mortal peril for lack of knowledge of nature. It seems to be beyond dispute that the study, firstly of Latin, and much more recently of Greek, was followed in this university and in grammar schools, not as educational exercises in the use of language, but as keys to unlock the store-rooms — the books — in which the knowl- edge of the ancients was contained. So long as these keys were needed, it was reasonable enough that every well-educated man should spend such time as was necessary in providing himself with the key. But now that the store-rooms are empty — now that their contents have been appropriated and scattered far and wide — in all languages of civilization, it seems to be merely an unreasoning continuation of superannuated custom to go on with the provision of these keys. Such, however, is the force of habit that it continues: new and ingenious reasons for the practise are put forward, whilst its original object is entirely forgotten. In the first place, it has come to be regarded as a mark of good breeding, and thus an end in itself, for a man to have some first-hand acquaintance with Latin and Greek authors, even when he knows no other literature. It is a fashion, like the wearing of a court dress. This can not be held to justify the emploj-ment of most of the time and energy of youth in its acquirement. A second reason which is now put forward for the practise is that the effort and labor expended on the provision of these keys — even though it is admitted that they are useless — is a wonderful and incom- parably fine exercise of the mind, fitting it for all sorts of work. A NATURE AND HAN. 439 theory of education has been enunciated which fits in with this defence of the continued attempt to compel young men to acquire a knowledge, however imperfect, of the Latin and Greek languages. It is held that what is called ' training the mind ' is the chief, if not the only proper, aim of education; and it is declared that the continuation of the study of those once useful, but now useless, keys — Latin and Greek — is an all-sufficient training. If this theory were in accordance with the facts, the conclusion in favor of giving a very high place to the study so recommended would be inevitable. But the facts do not support this theory. Clever youths are taken and pressed into the study of Greek and Latin, and we are asked to conclude that their cleverness is due to these studies. On the other hand, we maintain that though the study of grammar may be, when properly carried out, a valuable exercise, yet that it is easily converted into a worthless one, and can never in any case take the place of various other forms of mental training, such as the observation of natural objects, the following out of experimental demonstration of the qualities and relations of natural bodies, and the devising and execution of experiment as the test of hypothesis. Apart from * training ' there is the need for providing the mind with information as well as method. The knowledge of nature is eagerly assimilated by young people, and no training in mental gymnastics can be a substitute for it or an excuse for depriving the young of what is of inestimable value and instinctively desired. The prominence which is assigned to a familiarity with the details of history, more especially of what may be called biographical history, in the educational system favored by Oxford, seems to depend on the same causes as those which have led to the maintenance of the study of Greek and Latin. To read history is a pleasant occupation which has become a habit and tradition. At one time men believed that history repeats itself, and it was thought to be a proper and useful train- ing for one who would take part in public affairs to store his mind with precedents and picturesque narratives of prominent statesmen and rulers in far-off days and distant lands. As a matter of fact it can not be shown that any statesman, or even the humblest politician, has ever been guided to useful action by such knowledge. History does not repeat itself, and the man who thinks that it does will be led by his fragmentary knowledge of stories of the past into serious blunders. To the fashionable journalist such biographical history furnishes the seasoning for his essays on political questions of the day. But this does not seem to be a sufficient reason for assigning so prominent a place in university studies to this kind of history as is at present the case. The reason, perhaps, of the favor which it re- ceives, is that it is one of the few subjects which a man of purely classical education can pursue without commencing his education in elementary matters afresh. 44o POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. It would be a serious mistake to suppose that those who would give a complete supremacy to the study of nature, in our educational sys- tem, do not value and enjoy biographical history for what it is worth as an entertainment; or further, that they do not set great value upon the scientific study of the history of the struggles of the races and nations of mankind, as a portion of the knowledge of the evolution of man, capable of giving conclusions of great value when it has been further and more thoroughly treated as a department of anthropology. What seems to us undesirable is, that mere stories and bald records of certain peoples should be put forward as matter with which the minds of children and young men are to be occupied, to the exclusion of the all-important matters comprised in the knowledge of nature. There are, it is well known, not a few who regard the present institution of Latin and Greek and so-called history, in the preeminent place which they occupy in Oxford and the great schools of the country, as something of so ancient and fundamental a character that to ques- tion the wisdom of that institution seems an odious proceeding, par- taking of the nature of blasphemy. This state of mind takes its origin in a common error, due to the fact that a straightforward ac- count of the studies pursued in the university during the last five hundred years has never been written. Our present curriculum is a mere mushroom growth of the last century, and has no claim whatever to veneration. Greek was studied by but a dozen or two specialists in Oxford two hundred and fifty years ago. In those days, in proportion to what had been ascertained in that subject and could be taught, there was a great and general interest in the university in the knowl- edge of nature, such as we should gladly see revived at the present day. As a matter of fact, it is only within the last hundred years that the dogma of compulsory Greek, and the value of what is now called a classical education, has been promulgated. These things are not his- torically of ancient date; they are not essentials of Oxford. We are therefore well within our right in questioning the wisdom of their continuance in so favored a position, and we are warranted in ex- pressing the hope that those who can change the policy of the univer- sity and colleges in this matter will, at no distant day, do so. It is sometimes urged that Oxford should contentedly resign her- self to the overwhelming predominance given to the study of ancient elegance and historic wisdom within her walls. It is said that she may well be reserved for these delightful pursuits, whilst newer institutions should do the hard work of aiding man in his conquest of nature. At first sight such a proposal has a tempting character : we are charmed with the suggestion that our beautiful Oxford should be enclosed by a ring fence and cut off for ever from the contamination of the world. But a few moments' reflection must convince most of us that such a treatment of Oxford is an insult to her and an impossibility. Oxford NATURE AND MAN. 441 is not dead. Only a few decades have passed — a mere fraction of her lifetime — since she was free from the oppression of grammar-school studies, and sent forth Eobert Boyle and Christopher Wren to estab- lish the new philosophy of the invisible college in London. She seems, to some of us, to have been used not quite wisely, perhaps not quite fairly, in the brief period which has elapsed since that time. Why should she not shake herself free again, and give, hereafter, most, if not the whole, of her wealth and strength to the urgent work which is actually pursued in every other university of the world as a chief aim and duty? The fact that Oxford attracts the youth of the country to her, and so determines the education offered in the great schools, is a sufficient answer to those who wish to perpetuate the present employment of her resources in the subvention and encouragement of comparatively unimportant, though fascinating (even too fascinating), studies, to the neglect of the pressing necessary knowledge of nature. Those who enjoy great influence in the affairs of the university tell us with pride that Oxford not only determines what our best schools shall teach, but has, as a main preoccupation, the education of statesmen, pro-consuls, leaders of the learned professions, and members of parlia- ment ! Undoubtedly this claim is well-founded, and its truth is the reason why we can not be content with the maintenance by the uni- versity of the compulsory study of Greek and Latin, and the neglect to make the study of nature an integral and predominant part of every man's education. To return to my original contention — the knowledge and control of nature is man's destiny and his greatest need. To enable future leaders of the community to comprehend this, to perceive what the knowledge and control of nature are, and what are the steps by which they are gained and increased, is the duty of a great university. To neglect this is to retard the approach of well-being and happiness, and to injure humanity. I beg, finally, for toleration from those who do not share my opinions. I am well aware that they are open to the objection that they partake more of the nature of dreams of the future than of practical proposals. That, perhaps, may be accepted as my excuse for indulging in them on such an occasion as the present. There are, and always have been, dreamers in Oxford, and beautiful dreams they have dreamed — some of the past, and some of the future. The most fasci- nating dreams are not, unfortunately, always realized; but it is some- times worth while to tell one's dream, for that may bring it a step nearer to ' coming true.' 442 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. GENERAL EDUCATION FOR ENGINEERS. By Professor CHAS. D. MARX, STANFORD UNIVERSITY. rpHERE has been of late years a large increase in the number of -*- students of engineering in our colleges and universities. An investigation made by Professor Raymond, of the Iowa State Uni- versity, shows that the attendance in arts and science courses has increased in four years 15 per cent., in engineering courses 102 per cent. This tendency on the part of the young men to take up the study of the more practical lines of work in preference to the so-called more liberalizing studies is viewed with grave concern by some. ' Are we to be merely a nation of shopkeepers and engineers ? ' has been asked from this platform. While not sharing the fear implied in this ques- tion, I must admit that because of the tendency of the young men of the country to take up engineering studies, the proper training of the engineer is a matter of vital importance to the commonwealth. The extent to which engineering enters into some of the most vexing prob- lems of our national and municipal life is perhaps fully realized only by men who have an engineering training. The correct solution of these problems can in many cases be given only by engineers ; but these must be men trained on broad lines. The charge is brought not in- frequently that the professional structure which we rear on the founda- tion laid in our public schools is a narrow one, lacking in windows from which to gain the necessary outlook for surveying even one's own field, let alone that of one's neighbor. The charge is well founded, but may with equal justice be brought against students in other lines of work. The graduate from a high school who takes up engineering studies should be required to broaden his intellectual horizon before beginning his professional work. The difficulty of bringing this about is great, and the introduction of the elective system has certainly not helped matters. The tendency toward early specialization is constantly in- creasing, and one-sided narrow linguists, historians and scientists are as much a menace to the commonwealth as one-sided engineers. For it must be borne in mind that the work which the engineer is called upon to do is in the world, implies contact with men and things and is in its nature broadening. It is cultural in the best sense of the word, and must, therefore, react on him. This does not hold true to the same extent for the other lines of work mentioned. In a democracy GENERAL EDUCATION FOB ENGINEERS. 443 it is of the highest importance that every man realize that the noble duties of citizenship devolve upon him, that he has responsibilities other than those of merely providing the daily bread for himself and his. We have a community of interests only as long as we have com- mon points of contact; we have the latter only as we have a broad common subsidiary training. Admitting that the high school course of the embryo engineer should be rounded out with additional work in language, science, his- tory and economics, the question arises where shall this knowledge be acquired ? For the training of our engineers we have, broadly speaking, two types of schools in this country — technical schools pure and simple, such as the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute and others, and engineering departments either in our colleges of engineering and mechanic arts, or in our universities. I group the last two named, because in both of them some of the gen- eral culture studies mentioned as necessary for the broadening of the engineer's training are presented merely from the standpoint of the specialist. In the schools of the first type there is a recognition of the fact that the general culture courses must be adapted to the needs of the technical student. There is a frank acknowledgment that these broad- ening studies may be made to serve a useful purpose, even when they are not an end to themselves, and that this does not detract from their value. The fact is recognized by teachers of these subjects in purely technical schools, that because the student is to be a specialist in some line of engineering, he can not at the same time be a specialist in ancient and modern languages, in history, economics and the pure sciences. From the engineer's standpoint, as regards the acquirement of this supplementary general training, there is much to be said in favor of the autonomy of technical schools. This, too, is the view at which the German Society of Engineers has arrived. As in this coun- try, there has been a very large increase in the number of students in the technical courses in Germany. So large has this increase been that for a time at least foreign students in mechanical engineering were barred at Berlin. Existing institutions are still so crowded that the establishment of new technical schools is contemplated. The suggestion was made, that in those places where universities existed and technical schools were needed, the latter might well be incorporated in the uni- versity. At a meeting held in Munich in September, 1904, which was attended by representative teachers from the technical schools, the universities, the preparatory schools and by engineers of standing in practise, the following resolution was submitted : " It is not desirable in place of establishing new technical high schools, to add technical facul- 444 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. ties to existing universities, because both institutions differ in their character and method of instruction." Those assembled, after laying stress on the fact that members of the engineering profession should be judged by the same educational standards as other educated pro- fessional men, adopted the above resolution in substance, but, in defer- ence to the university men, the last clause of the resolution was not emphasized; I think, though, that the correctness of the statement is generally admitted. In spite of these conclusions we find in this country at least a tend- ency in the opposite direction. In our strongest state universities and in others built on private foundations, we find either engineering de- partments or colleges. The union of Harvard University and the Institute of Technology is under consideration. Something can, there- fore, undoubtedly be said in favor of this arrangement. Of course, the presence of the ' sublimated tinker ' in the university has been depre- cated, but not by the leaders of educational thought in America. It is recognized that the presence of a body of hard working, straight thinking young men in a university, even if they intend to make some practical use of their education, is a good antidote for intellectual snobbishness. On the other hand, it must be conceded that the technical student, too, is benefited by being thrown in contact with men in other lines of work, many of which have no direct practical application. Students become acquainted with one another, learn to appreciate one another's point of view, and mutual respect and good- will result. While fully recognizing the benefits which come in a general way to the engineering student from this environment, it must, nevertheless, be asserted that, as our universities in their development follow in the wake of the German universities, they too, like them, become unfitted for doing the general culture work, not only for engineering students, but for all students. The tendency toward specialization in subjects and subdivisions of subjects leads to the offering of many undoubtedly valuable courses. But they are courses for the specialist, fitted for his needs, and capable of being understood by but few. The giving of general culture courses is discouraged; and there is some justification, as long as the aim of many so-called students is merely to get hours enough to graduate. The summing up of the results in any given line of work and its presentation, so that the non-specialist may get a general view of the field, are dangerous, because of the ' little learning ' thus imparted, which, of course, is ' a dangerous thing.' Even in poetry : " The learned guardians of these treasures insist that they can not be appreciated unless there has been much prelim- inary wrestling with a ' critical apparatus ' and much delving among ( original sources.' " GENERAL EDUCATION FOR ENGINEERS. 445 If the engineering student is to acquire that general cultural train- ing the lack of which is often made a reproach to him, and if the tech- nical school is to find its full development in the university and not as a separate institution, then the university must make provision for this much needed instruction, unless it can be provided for all students elsewhere. It will and should lead to the giving of courses differing in character and differing in method of presentation from those now offered to the specialist, but they may be none the less both useful and inspiring. It is necessary for the specialist to know the methods of study of his specialty ; it is necessary for the general student to know the results of such study. Therefore, to be both useful and inspiring, such courses must be given by men who are past masters in their line of work. This will be held by many to be a plea in favor of superficiality, and if getting a general view of another line of work is superficiality, why it is a superficiality of which many specialists might well be guilty. The objectors to this kind of general knowledge lose sight of the fact that no one who is thoroughly grounded in his own line of work is likely to be damaged intellectually by such general information. Con- scious of the limitations of his knowledge in his own field after years of study, he is not likely to assume that he has mastered another field as the result of a general lecture course in that subject. The chances are, however, that the effect will be to broaden his views, to enlarge his sympathetic understanding of the work of the specialist and to create an atmosphere of mutual respect and consideration for one another's line of work. In order to give such courses there must be an increase in the teaching force in the various lines of work in our universities. Certainly the work of the specialist, upon which progress in any given field depends, must not be stinted for the sake of the seeker after gen- eral knowledge. This is one reason why consolidation of the technical school with the university, if the tendency toward specialization in the latter continues, can not bring about economy in instruction. Justifi- cation for such consolidation must be sought elsewhere, as shown above. Not only engineering students, but all students pursuing special studies in a university need general courses, and though it may not be possible for us to become a nation of engineers, it is eminently desirable that all educated persons should have at least some general knowledge of engineering. Surely he can not be held to be truly educated who is ignorant of the conditions which surround him, of the methods by which his daily intellectual and physical needs are met. This training is not for the purpose of making more half-baked experts, prepared to pass snap judgments on matters beyond their ken, but for the purpose of teaching them the importance of solving the problems of manufac- ture, distribution and transportation correctly. These problems trans- 446 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. lated stand for the providing of material and mental food for the masses, the betterment of their conditions of living, for healthy homes, for the pure air, the pure earth, the pure water of the sanitarian, for the intellectual growth which is made possible by freeing man from soul- and mind-killing drudgery. Public service is what engineerng stands for, and perhaps the cultural effect of such work will be ad- mitted. The work is as altruistic as that of the physician, as that of the minister. For the spirit of acquisition, for corporate greed the profession of engineering is not responsible. There has been no fear expressed of our becoming a nation of physicians or even of lawyers. The danger to the commonwealth from a superabundance of lawyers may be greater than that from a superabundance of engineers. There need be no danger from either if the lawyers and engineers are men of the right stamp. Moral integrity does not necessarily go with cultural training so called. Men with the broadest of cultural training may be found in the pay of corporations striving for illegal franchises. Political bosses with no cultural training may be found abetting them. Engineers may probably be called upon to carry out the work. The danger to the community lies not in the character of the work, but in the character of the man ; and a nation is in no danger even if it be largely a nation of engineers, as long as these men are men of character. Such men our engineering schools are trying to train and send out into the world. Some of them as yet may be lacking in general training, but no one feels this shortcoming more keenly than these very men. If others were as conscious of their own shortcomings, of their woful lack of knowledge of the engineering of to-day, it would be well indeed. That these engineers, sent out by our schools, are making their pres- ence felt in the world can not be gainsaid; that they have contributed to the mental and moral uplifting of this nation, no one who thinks deeply will deny. QUACKERY. 447 QUACKEKY.* BY DUDLEY F. SICHER, YALE UNIVERSITY. WHAT impresses one in reviewing the literature, is the extent and ancient origin of quackery, and the ineffectual fight against it. Eight pages of the 'Index Catalogue of the Library of the Surgeon-General's Office ' are taken up with a bare list of books, pamphlets and addresses, exploiting quackery or aiming at last to deal it the long-evaded death-blow. As early as 1605 we find good Dr. Guybon riding out to the charge with ' Beware of Pickpockets. Or a Caveat to sick folkes to take heede of unlearned phisitions and un- skilf ull chyrurgians ' ; but neither this heavy artillery nor the un- broken fire of subsequent English doctors could daunt the brave hosts of mountebanks who have marched on through the decades, healing the well and making the sick remember their pains. English sover- eigns down through Queen Anne continued to exercise the ' Eoyal Touch'; in 1665 one Valentine Greatrakes successfully laid claim to this same healing power; a certain Dr. John Ward gloriously hum- bugged King George the Second; somewhat later, Elisha Perkins (1741-1799), of Norwich, Conn., son and father of Yale graduates, enthralled two continents — laity and physicians alike — with his Metal- lie Tractors. Then, in the early nineteenth century, floruit (on pick- ings estimated at fifteen thousand pounds per annum) suave John St. John Long, of whom Dr. Francis E. Packard says : ' The list of his patients reads like a directory to the fashionable quarter of London.' These are only a few, the more gigantic, vermin from out the dirty swarm. Everywhere and everywhen we meet with exploiters of secret remedies, unfailing panaceas, advanced treatment {sic), and all other alleged cures which stand as quackery (in the words of Dr. A. T. Schofield) ' when used by unqualified men, or if they are advertised or puffed unprofessionally, or connected with any fraud or wilful ex- aggeration.' But it was left for the modern era to furnish that strangest chapter — of an enormous spread of quacker}r, along with progress in scientific medicine and the growth of education. Berlin, capital city of the world's least hysterical people, reports an increase of 1,600 per cent, in the number of resident quacks since 1874. For England the roll-call is answered by The British Medical Journal * Paper read before the Yale Biological Club, March 23, 1905. 448 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. thus : " John Bull, for all his boasted common sense and hatred of humbug, is still more quack-ridden than any member of the human family except his cute Cousin Jonathan/' And as for ' cute Cousin Jonathan's' America — Champe S. Andrews, counsel exclusively re- tained by the Medical Society of the County of New York to expose medical frauds, is authority for the estimate that in New York City alone there are, against six thousand regular practitioners, twenty thousand quacks. In view, therefore, of its ancient origin, persistence and recent spread, it is not enough to account for quackery on the basis of the Irishman's observation that ' there were always fools in this world; in fact, there must have been some lying around, waiting for the world to begin.' . . . Rather is quackery a well-defined phe- nomenon, grounded on effective causes. Why it should exist at all, how the worst empiric enjoys custom, often from the cultured, and what measures may be aimed against this social evil are questions which invite examination. At the very bottom lies the insufficiency of orthodox medicine. Not even the long strides of the last century have brought it to the full rank of an exact science. The doctor must stand by, and, only half intelligently, assist vis mediatrix naturce; until quite recently at least, he could in no wise control her, like the chemist and the engineer. Rather has he been somewhat in the position of the philosopher, who must work, more or less, in the mist, and between uncertain boundaries. That explains not only the early rites of the medicine-man, but the whole belief in proffered panaceas. The alchemist sought the one agent which should turn all the baser metals into gold ; the philosopher still seeks the one truth which shall uncover heaven's mysteries. Is it not equally natural that men should lend a credulous ear to every announcer of the much-sought cure-all ? Then, to this prospect of a universal medicine we must add the call of the new — always so strong in unsettled provinces. I mean, that something in a wide-awake community or a growing sphere of knowledge which sees salvation in the novel. We recognize this tend- ency in the fad-worship of Indian occultists, in the rapid succession of new systems of philosophy, in the passing dominance of scientific theories and in the brief vogue of methods in therapeutics. Out of this same phenomenon grows the ready acceptance of Quack A's ' Abso- lutely New Method of Treatment. No Drugs. No Knife ' or Empiric B's ' Radical Invention. All Diseases banished without Fail.' Remember, moreover, the omnipresence of disease, its agonies and the common dread of it. With this monster the doctor is asked to triumphantly close, whereas he can only pelt it at a distance. When the suit is lost, it is usually the law, not the lawyer, on which the vials of bitterness are poured; how seldom comes a fatal sickness for whose QUACKERY. 449 sad issue some doctor isn't blamed! Consider what large proportion of quack remedies is for cancer and incurable female complaints: ' The doctors all gave me up/ writes Figment A ; ' I know you have tried the physicians in vain/ blares Humbug Z. It is here, upon affec- tions which scientific medicine confesses it can not help, and also upon maladies born of shrewd playing on one's fear of disease, that the empiric waxes fat. Why shouldn't the invalid take heart and believe? Often the loud assurances act as anodyne; occasionally, they even effect a cure. Or, how can the neuropath and the valetudinarian escape the hypnotism of the quack's terrorizing? For the quack wields a deadly weapon in what psychiatrists recognize as ' the power of the uncon- scious mind over the body.' He forces credence by calculated emphasis and careful insinuation. He works you into a mood where the mind ' autosuggests/ at times the throwing off of a disease, more usually, belief in a cure or the assumption of imaginary sickness. It is, of course, a familiar fact that the typical medical student goes through the whole calendar of diseases. ' Autosuggestion ' is the technical word for this mysterious process ; it is what the hypnotist employs, but never to stronger purpose than the superior quack. Given, on the one hand, this set of causes — the limitations of sci- entific medicine, the pain and dread of disease, and the power of ' auto- suggestion/ and, on the other hand, depraved humanity, hard-driven in the struggle for existence, but cunning in the knowledge of men, and you have the essential parts which, with a few minor pieces, make up into the smooth engine of quackery. Every newspaper and magazine reader knows how well the quack makes capital out of the limitations of scientific medicine. When the regular practitioner is puzzled, he admits, or when the case transcends cure, he gravely shakes his head. The quack now steps in and begins where the other left off. He e especially solicits obstinate cases ' ; ' welcomes the doubter and the skeptic' He realizes the persuasive value of bold assertion and big promises; how the exclamation-point and the period may appeal more strongly than the careful interroga- tions of the honest physician. He talks much of the ' thousands who testify to its success/ and thus swaggers himself into the confidence of the poor invalid, whom the doctors, in good conscience, must acknowl- edge beyond their aid. With so many broken-hearted witnesses of the insufficiency of evolved therapeutics, almost any knave can steal a living by brazenly opposing some dominant practise in medicine — as surgery or the use of drugs. These ' methods ' nowadays have a pseudo- physiological basis; with a speciousness it is often hard to confute, tracing all disease back to l inside nerves/ e sluggish circulation/ and the like, they impress by the sweep of their assertion and their tone VOL. LXVII. — 29. 45° POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. of scientific explanation. It is scant wonder that the pompous logic moves the incurable, whom neither ' knife ' nor ' drugs ' can save, vapid ladies of fashion, and the smart shallowpate of ' a little learning/ But the quack does not depend solely on the agony of disease and the inability of scientific medicine completely to cope with it. He swells the total of victims by magnifying minor ailments and imposing imaginary ones. By cooked mortality statistics he frightens the indi- vidual into noticing and treating some indisposition, which the family doctor, generally to no effect, laughingly pronounces not worth bother- ing about ; and then, conversely, by the same process of ' autosugges- tion/ a few months' trustful application of the vaunted nostrum brings back the patient's assurance and draws his mind from the ailment. Or, the quack will address himself to the social weakling, and by skilful insistence ascribe failure to ' pelvic disease/ ' nerve exhaustion/ ' and all that' as Pope says. The poor numskull and the unattractive girl are quick to seize the hope ; yes, not deficient endowments, but dissipa- tion or insidious disease has caused their defeat — good Doctor Slyfox, A.B., M.D., member of six medical institutes and nineteen learned societies, will raise them out of the slough. Again, along this same line of ' autosuggestion/ the quack enlarges his levee by invitations to self-diagnosis. With a subtle mastery of rhetoric he sets forth such an array of ' symptoms ' that no diligent pupil need feel he is cast into outer darkness. Follow the fraudulent guide — and yesterday you had consumption; to-day varicocele fastens you in its fangs; to-morrow your kidneys will be fatally weak — and so the falsehood runs. It may be supposed that caution so palpably absurd would rouse more ridicule than credence. But the hypochondriac, the neuropath, the person of weak judgment (ignorance is no indispensable factor) do not reason in such matters. We are almost led to accept as genuine the testimonial in which it is written, ' I had tried all the medicines/ With such people, the high-sounding swagger, pretended altruism and adroit description of past achievements drown out the voices of com- mon sense. Even the normal reader can hardly turn to the quack's advertisement day after day, in a non-critical mood, without experi- encing at least a passing influence. The fulsome notices of books and plays, in fact, the whole psychology of advertising, rest on this very principle of ' autosuggestion.' So all the quack requires is a hearing. Given a hook-and-line and a pond of fish, he understands baiting too well, not to land a heavy catch. Of course, there are contributory factors. The quack has other resources. Notable is his use of that universal weakness, the basis of get-rich-quick schemes and the shopper's bargain, — I mean the fascina- tion of getting something for nothing. The doctor will send you a heavy bill on the first of January or July ; the quack offers : ' No Pay QUACKERY. 451 till Cured/ ' Send for Sample Bottle. Free.' How the charlatan manages never to lose out would make a realistic novel in itself. Suffice it to indicate his crafty reliance on creating ' the habit ' ; one bottle with its high content of alcohol will inevitably ' tone you up/ or admixed opiates may be the ' irresistible pain-killer/ to which you will want to turn again. Quacks are among the largest customers of wineries and distilleries. Eecent analyses (by the Massachusetts State Board of Inquiry) have developed the possibility that the druggist's show-case may hold more alcohol than the cellar of the saloon opposite, and many a temperance advocate, quite unknowingly, has drawn in- spiration for his lecture from that after-dinner glass of nerve tonic or stomach bitters. With such instruments at his disposal, restrained by no Hippo- cratian oath or sacred reputation, left free to run riot, by criminally lax laws, deliberately dead-lettered, the genus Quack swarms out over the land. Its species are unnumbered, being marked by every device deceitful ingenuity can conceive. Psycho-therapeutics and knowledge of human nature constitute the quack's entire outfit; all he really needs is moral atrophy and the instincts of a cheap drummer. Such is the baleful etiology of medical quackery. If confirmation of this diagnosis is desired, it may be sought in the recent spread of quackery and its especial vogue in America. Para- doxical as it sounds, the growth of education, while compelling the quack to improve his methods, has greatly extended his field. For- merly, he seldom worked farther than his voice or circular might carry; now, every literate is a potential victim. His wares are dis- played in almost every piece of print that strikes your eye; for the publisher and fthe press' he has subsidized and suborned. So-called family magazines (messes of popular fiction and indecent advertise- ments) are distributed gratis at the instance and backing of the quack, for whom they are so much purchased propaganda. To the same end he sustains the whole modern plethora of magazines and newspapers. Without his lucrative patronage periodicals, representing the real excess of supply over demand, would end their artificial existence, and so, wherever there is a struggling paper, manhood slumbers and the editor accepts the proffered bribe. How else explain the significant truth that the sectarian press ranks among the worst offenders ? The 'yellies/ too, depend as much upon the quack as upon scandal; and the most prosperous of them all affords the grossest example. The editorial columns of a certain evening journal will, no doubt, to-night, blare its owner's championship of the people, while almost every page invites the trust-ground toiler to hand up his savings to swindling men specialists and venders of alcoholic cure-alls. In fact, with a few notable exceptions, such as The Outlook, Life and The New York 452 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Evening Post,, the whole press unblushingly sprinkles its columns with the charlatan's cards. Nearly every New York daily on January 24 reported, at lengths inversely proportional to its abetment of quackery, the expose of Dr. Henry Kane's Eadium-Cure swindle ; in the January 22 issue of one of the most reputable of them, I find a conspicuous advertisement of this same discomfited wonder-worker. Shameless self-interest never could have played so slavishly into the quack's hands until the growth of education made publishing a fiercely competitive business. At the same time, not only has the growth of education placed a megaphone to the empiric's lips, but it has sensitized the public to his call. There is a wider interest in hygiene and therapeutics; people think more about their health and more readily take alarm. ' Health journals ' enjoy large circulations ; too often nothing more than elab- orate handbills of the editor's particular book, ' system/ or hygienic contrivance, and, at best, running wild with ' hints to health ' and philippics against the doctors, these magazines only succeed in leaving their readers the shuttlecock of every battledore in quackdom. Sim- ilarly, the broadcast discussion of medical problems, in response to the interests of an educated public, creates a kind of diathesis to imaginary disease. Then, vaguely bound up, perhaps, in widespread education is the modern stress of life, hysteria, high nervous tension and suscepti- bility to fads. As a final (undetached) cause we must recognize the passion for untrammeled personal freedom, so characteristic of latter days, espe- cially in England and America. It is that attitude which one writer savagely describes as ' jealously safeguarding to every citizen the sacred right of going to the devil in his own way.' Fearing to dispense undue privileges and unjust fetters, framers and executors of the law, notably in the United States, have virtually thrown open the delicate art of healing to almost any person too crack-brained or dishonest to earn an honorable living. Not only does quackery thus recruit directly, but wild-eat schools are permitted to dump upon an overcrowded profession graduates sadly lacking in capacity and training. Most of these must end up as charlatans, in much the same way as the manufacturer, shut out from the restricted trade in the genuine article, caters to the public taste with cheap and tinsel imitations; or, at best, such half-baked doctors impair the efficiency of their brotherhood and shake confidence in it. It is not bare accident that America is at once the 'home of quackery ' and the ' home of the free.' These, therefore — growth of education and the modern spirit of liberty — are the specific forces behind the recent spread of quackery; and America stands as arch-victim, just because they have been at their strongest here. QUACKERY. 453 Even from the foregoing generalizations it must appear that quackery is a seated evil, which the community, in self-defense, ought promptly to weed out. Yet the roots, as we have seen, spread out so variously, that past effort has been without effect, and the future will do no better unless exceptional measures are applied. In this case, it seems, diagnosis is easier than treatment, for the social physician is blocked on every side. Surely, the requirements should be everywhere approximately as high as the better states and countries have set, yet every step towards restriction of practise, even to the safety-point, meets with wrangling opposition. The cry of paternalism is raised, and even the disinterested see in such measures only an attempt at extending the alleged ' Medical Trust.' Quarantine is proper; government exposure of food adulteration is only right; of course, the state should protect its citizens against fraudulent investment schemes, and every enforcement of these safe- guards calls out general praise. But it is ruinous paternalism to save the unwary public from unconscious alcoholism, medical extortion and dangerous malpractise ! Of the same caliber, it seems to me, is that other plea against state interference, to the effect that variance from orthodox practise is not enough to brand a method as quackery. It is urged that progress con- sists in dissidence, and that the traditional school has no right to sit in judgment. ' The prophet is never believed in his own country,' you know. Such argument — and it is very common — sounds too much like the prattle of those ' advanced thinkers ' who would do away with the moral code on the ground that all standards are relative and arbitrary. Further, the records fail to show a single instance where scientific medicine has drawn profit from quackery, nor is the modern broad and progressive attitude likely to cheat any honest radical of an adequate hearing. Just so long, however, as this repugnance for state interference with medical quackery obtains, it is folly to seek help in that quarter. Existing postal laws and statutes on fraud are themselves sufficient to blackeye quackery, and their total failure stands as a pathetic proof of the scant likelihood of ending quackery through the toils of the law. Mr. Andrews reports that a wellnigh insuperable obstacle to his vigor- ous work is the difficulty of obtaining witnesses; persons are rather diffident about exposing frauds of which they have been the stupid victims. Besides, even in clear cases of fraud, it is often impossible to lay hands on the real culprit; or, if caught, after paying his fine or serving his sentence, the quack can start up the old business in another section under another name; the salutary restraints of public opinion play no part with him. After all, what boots it to crush a dozen or even fifty out of the unnumbered swarm? The press will not em* 454 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. phasize the prosecutions, and so their effect is lost. Similarly, the postal department could, quite legally, I believe, stamp out the evil alone, if it dared exclude from the mails every periodical containing a single fraudulent quack advertisement; hut how prove its case, and where is the administration which could survive the ensuing clatter about ' usurpation of authority ' and ' freedom of the press ' ? Legislation, therefore, can only be secondary to ventilation and the education of public opinion. But how educate public opinion, when its educator, the press, is itself irretrievably allied with the forces of evil? First, obviously, such papers as have not prostituted themselves must agitate ; they should expose their brothers' shame and the people's consequent losses. Editor Bolt's recent appeal (in The Ladies' Home Journal) to the women of the land not to let their babies suck in with their milk the alcohol or opium of ' motherhood ' nostrums, and to tear down from fence and barn the quack's advertisement, is the kind of measure that counts. Here, too, is a chance for those wealthy yel- low journals, forever bruiting their own altruism, to whom a ' scoop ' is more necessary than the quack's gold, to expose typical quacks; they make easier handling than the gas and the beef trust, and the attack, no doubt, would yield even richer sensations than the divorce court. Then, public-spirited men of all professions should everywhere organize— as has just been done in Germany — a systematic campaign against quackery. The recent example of an English workingman's society should be followed, and illuminating tracts be circulated by unions and employers. Perhaps the school boards may be free also to level a blow. I know the tendency is to overcram the curriculum, to attempt to arm the child with a petty smatter against every need in life; but if we are going to teach Ivygiene at all, if the possible conse- quences of alcohol and tobacco are to be pointed out, why not lay some stress on a curse just as extensive and no less harmful, one which rests on no natural appetite, but on ignorance and absence of forewarning? At any rate, superintendents of board of education free lectures can include in their admirable courses a few talks on quackery by such qualified experts as Champe S. Andrews, Esq. Against measures of this sort the press hardly dares raise its voice, and effective legislation will soon follow as the expression of the pop- ular will. Such procedure, it is hoped, may limit the future annals of quack- ery, and hasten that golden age when even the doctors can almost agree with Mrs. Eddy that there is no such matter as disease. CANADA'S TRANSPORTATION PROBLEM. 455 HOW CANADA IS SOLVING HER TRANSPORTATION PROBLEM. By LAWRENCE J. BURPEE. OTTAWA, CANADA. TN Canada the main lines of transportation run east and west, -J- much more decidedly than they do in the United States. The Dominion is, roughly speaking, a vast parallelogram, three thousand five hundred miles long by perhaps a thousand miles deep. Climatic conditions have in the past confined, and probably will continue to confine, the bulk of the population to the lower or more southerly half of the parallelogram. The problem confronting the people of Canada is, therefore, how best to provide adequate transportation facilities for a population scattered over a relatively narrow belt of country three thousand five hundred miles long. That they have already to a con- siderable extent solved the problem, the remarkable prosperity of the Dominion at the present time clearly shows; for transportation facili- ties are an essential of national prosperity in any country, and espe- cially so in one of such formidable distances as Canada. But these facilities must keep pace with the industrial development of the country, and the industrial development of Canada is rapidly outdistancing its means of transport. To bring these two great fac- tors of national prosperity into line, and keep them there, is the ques- tion of the hour in Canada, and the statesmen of the country are devoting themselves to its solution with a largeness of view and far- sightedness which augurs well for the future of the young Dominion. A glance at the map will show that in the facilities afforded for transportation, nature has been on the whole very kind to the people of Canada. She has provided, in the first place, an unrivaled system of water transportation extending from the Atlantic to the head of Lake Superior — almost half way across the continent; and, as if this were not enough, an alternative and shorter route is furnished from Lake Huron to the St. Lawrence, via French River, Lake Nipissing and the Ottawa. West of Lake Superior we find a system of lakes and rivers extending, with inconsiderable breaks, from the head of the Great Lakes to the foothills of the Rockies, to Hudson's Bay and to the mouth of the Mackenzie River on the extreme northern boundary of the Dominion. While nature placed formidable obstacles in the way of Canada's first transcontinental railroad — the Canadian Pacific — both along the north shore of Lake Superior and in the Kicking Horse Pass through 456 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. the Eocky Mountains, she has provided for the country's second trans- continental a route, farther north, remarkable for its exceptionally low gradients, and including the easiest pass to be found in the whole length of the Kockies. The natural waterways of the Dominion have been developed and improved systematically for many years past, until this great work has come to be regarded as a fixed national policy, which no government, even though it were so inclined, would have the hardihood to abandon. Up to the present time Canada has spent upon her canals over one hundred and seven millions of dollars, and is likely to expend many Transportation Lines of Canada. times that amount in the years to come. The history of Canadian canals goes back even to the French regime, when small canals and locks were built to overcome the Lachine and other rapids on the St. Lawrence. These were but canals in miniature— ditches, 6 or 7 feet wide by perhaps 2y2 feet deep, designed to meet the needs of the fur traders' canoes. A similar canal was constructed by the Northwest Fur Company, at Sault Ste. Marie, in the eighteenth century— the earliest progenitor of the gigantic twin canals, American and Canadian, of the present day, through which passes annually a much greater ton- nage than that of the Suez canal. The 2%-foot Lachine canal of two hundred years ago has grown to a depth of 18 feet on the sill, 45 feet wide and 270 feet long, in each of five locks, the entire length of the canal with the approaches being eight and a half miles. From the earliest history of the country the east and west trend of transportation has been marked. The first railways of the country were built to connect a handful of small towns, villages and settlements, CANADA'S TRANSPORTATION PROBLEM. 457 strung like beads on a wire along the north shore of Lake Ontario. Gradually the rails were pushed east and west; east to Montreal and the French- Canadian towns on the lower St. Lawrence, and west to the Niagara peninsula and along the north shore of Lake Erie to the international boundary at Detroit. Then, when the scattered colonies of British North America were at last confederated in the Dominion of Canada, the Intercolonial — Canada's national railroad — was built from Halifax, on the Atlantic seaboard, to Levis, opposite the city of Quebec; subsequently being extended to Montreal. Finally, with a courage and faith in the country's future which the succeeding years have fully justified, the Canadian Pacific railway was built (subsidized with twenty-five million dollars out of the treas- ury of the young Dominion, and twenty-five million acres of land), and Canada at last had a railway from ocean to ocean, throughout her entire length, making accessible the vast fertile plains of the northwest, with their incalculable agricultural wealth, and providing transporta- tion facilities between eastern Canada and the new province of British Columbia. Up to the present time Canada has expended on her rail- ways in the form of cash subsidies, irrespective of the value of land grants, and irrespective also of the cost of the Intercolonial ($77,000,- 000, including rolling stock) an aggregate — enormous in view of the comparatively small population of the country — of two hundred and forty million dollars. When the first Canadian Pacific train crossed the prairies of western Canada, not quite nineteen years ago, that land of promise held only a handful of white settlers. To-day there are six hundred thousand, and new settlers are coming in increasing numbers every year. A few years ago men would have laughed to scorn the idea that western Canada might some day become the granary of the British empire. To-day it is accepted as a self-evident proposition, to be realized within a very few years. In 1904 this western country yielded, in spite of adverse conditions, 60,000,000 bushels of wheat valued at $40,000,000, besides other grains worth another $10,000,000. This year it is esti- mated that the wheat crop will pass the hundred million mark; and hard-headed business men, not given to idle boasting, confidently pre- dict that within the next quarter of a century western Canada will produce half a billion bushels of wheat annually. The acreage this year under wheat will exceed four millions; but this constitutes but a fraction of the acreage actually available in Manitoba and the terri- tories for profitable wheat raising. With an available acreage esti- mated at over one hundred millions, and a rapidly increasing popula- tion, he would be a bold pessimist who would deny the coming great- ness of the Canadian west as a dominant factor in the world's wheat markets. Under such conditions, it is well that the government of 458 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. the Dominion rests in the hands of a strong administration, led by a statesman of commanding ability and exceptional breadth of view. Courage and wisdom to build not merely for the present were never more vitally necessary to the well-being of Canada. The government in its transportation policy is showing the same broad faith in the destiny of the country revealed by its predecessors in connection with the building of the Canadian Pacific. The rapid development of the west, and the increasing difficulty experienced in handling the grain crops of Manitoba and the territories, made it apparent two or three years ago that provision must be made — and made at the earliest possible moment — for additional transporta- tion facilities between eastern and western Canada. The situation was partially relieved by the construction, through the enterprise of a couple of energetic Canadians, of the Canadian Northern Eailway, which provides an additional outlet from the western wheat-fields to the head of navigation at Fort William, where connection is made with the steamers running to Owen Sound, Collingwood and other ports on Lake Huron. Even this rapidly growing system has, however, only partially met the situation. The real solution of the problem is being- found in the great project for building another transcontinental road across Canada from ocean to ocean. The Grand Trunk Pacific is the fruit of the brains of two very remarkable men, Sir Wilfrid Laurier and Mr. Charles M. Hays, gen- eral manager of the Grand Trunk railway. One saw the project from the point of view of national statesmanship; the other developed it as a practical business proposition. Briefly, the agreement between the Canadian government and the Grand Trunk Pacific is this: The new transcontinental is divided into two sections. The eastern section, from Moncton, New Brunswick, to Winnipeg, via Quebec, is being built by the government at the public expense, and upon completion will be leased to the Grand Trunk Pacific for fifty years, with the privilege of renewing the lease for a further period of fifty years. The western section, from Winnipeg, via Edmonton and the Peace Eiver Pass to Port Simpson on the Pacific, is being constructed directly by the Grand Trunk Pacific Eailway Company, the Dominion government guaranteeing the bonds of the company to an amount equal to seventy- five per cent, of the cost of construction. When the entire road is completed, from Moncton, N. B., to Port Simpson, it will be operated by the Grand Trunk Pacific from ocean to ocean, and the railway will be supplemented, as in the case of the Canadian Pacific,* by lines of * It may be noted here that the Canadian Pacific has arranged for the con- struction of several new vessels for their Atlantic service which are to have a guaranteed speed of twenty knots an hour and are expected to reduce the time from Moville to Rimouski to five days and four hours. CANADA'S TRANSPORTATION PROBLEM. 459 steamers plying from Quebec or Halifax on the Atlantic to Liverpool, and from Port Simpson to Japan, China and perhaps Australia. At Moncton the Grand Trunk Pacific will make connection with the Inter- colonial, over which it will have running rights to Halifax and St. John. No more forcible evidence could be presented of the keen interest now taken by Canada and the Canadian government in the adequate development of the transportation facilities of the country, than the fact that within the last year or two no less than three official commis- sions have been created to deal with different phases of the same wide subject. These are, the commission on transportation, the board of railway commissioners and the national transcontinental railway com- mission. The members of each commission are men of the highest standing, chosen because of their special knowledge and experience in regard to transportation. The first of these commissions is charged with the duty of investi- gating every branch of the transportation problem in Canada. The commissioners are to study the best available rail and water routes; the improvement of lake, river and ocean ports; the improvement of the St. Lawrence route; the adjustment of freight rates; foreign competition in transportation; and other questions of a like nature. The commissioners have already accumulated a mass of invaluable data, gathered by personal examination, and supplemented by the views of practical railway and shipping men and others connected in one way or another with the transportation interests of the country. When these facts and figures have been digested, the result will be sub- mitted to the government, with recommendations from the commission covering a broad and comprehensive plan of transportation develop- ment by rail and water, designed to meet the large needs of a rapidly growing country. The board of railways commissioners is a permanent department of the federal government, with offices at Ottawa. The commissioners are, however, continually moving about the country, from Cape Breton to Vancouver Island, hearing and adjusting disputes of all kinds — as to freight rates, station accommodation, the distribution of rolling stock, and a host of other questions at issue between municipalities or individuals and the various railway corporations. The board is vested with very large powers, and their decisions have so far been character- ized by a spirit of conciliation and common sense, which have com- mended them to not only the people at large, but also to the special interests affected. The decisions of the board may be overruled by the privy council, but in practise the commissioners have fortunately a free hand, and the results so far have been of immense benefit to the country. Much of the initial success of the board in the settlement of disputes be- tween the people and the railways was due to the wide familiarity with 460 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. the questions involved, the shrewd common sense and the recognized im- partiality of the first chairman of the board, Hon. A. G. Blair, formerly minister of railways and canals in the Dominion cabinet. Under his control the board was instrumental in settling, by a policy of concilia- tion and mutual concession, and with reasonable satisfaction to all parties, a multitude of disputes which had been sources of bitterness and irritation in the districts affected. Mr. Blair's resignation, shortly before the last Canadian elections, was felt at the time to be an irrep- arable loss, as his was by all odds the master mind of the commission. Fortunately the government has secured, in Mr. Justice Killam, of the Supreme Court of Canada, a successor who possesses much of Mr. Blair's shrewdness and tact, as well as the alert mind and legal knowl- edge of an eminent jurist. The third of this remarkable triumvirate of transportation com- missions is charged with the location and construction of the eastern half of the new Transcontinental railwav. There are to-day in Canada some 170 railways, twenty-five of which are amalgamated in the grand Trunk system and thirty in the Canadian Pacific. The rest, with the exception of the Inter- colonial and the Canadian Northern, are comparatively short, local roads. The total railway mileage of the country is now about twenty thousand, of which the Canadian Pacific accounts for nearly one half, and the Grand Trunk, some 3,200 miles. Of the ex- isting roads, the Canadian Northern is growing with the greatest rapidity. It is expected that by the coming autumn the rails will be laid as far as Edmonton — making a second through line from Fort William almost to the foothills of the Eockies. But the men who are behind the Canadian Northern are by no means satisfied with this program. They look forward to a much wider development for their road, and confidently expect to make it the third Canadian transcon- tinental. At present the main line extends from Fort William to the neighborhood of Battleford. Then in the east the Canadian Northern interests control the Great Northern, from the city of Quebec to Hawkesbury, on the lower Ottawa; and they are now applying to parliament for authority to construct the intervening link between Hawkesbury and Fort William, via Ottawa and north of the Great Lakes. When this link is completed, and the western end of the rail- way carried to Edmonton and the Eockies, and thence to the Pacific coast, the Canadian Northern will have a through line from Quebec to the Pacific. With the completion of the Grank Trunk Pacific, and the Cana- dian Northern, Canada will have three distinct transcontinental rail- ways, and eventually these will in all probability be increased by one and perhaps two others. One at least of these will run through the CANADA'S TRANSPORTATION PROBLEM. 461 far north, probably as far north of the Grand Trunk Pacific as that is beyond the Canadian Pacific. The continuation of such a road has already been seriously considered in Canada, a group of Canadian, American and English capitalists having projected several years ago what was to be known as the Trans-Canada railway. This line was to run from Chicoutimi on the Saguenay Kiver, or the city of Quebec, in a practically air line through northern Ontario and Quebec, north of Lake Winnipeg, and through the upper parts of the territories of Saskatchewan, Alberta and Athabaska* to the Eockies, and thence to the Pacific. The company had even made some little headway with surveys of the proposed route — which was to include a branch to James Bay, and another from Edmonton to Dawson — and was negotiating with the federal government as to a subsidy, when the floating of the Grank Trunk Pacific project, backed by the powerful Grank Trunk interests, and with the certainty of early construction, knocked the Trans-Canada scheme on the head, for the time being. There is small doubt, however, that this line, or one following the same general route, must eventually be built to meet the needs of the country, as the tide of settlement pushes gradually to the north- ward. The importance of the Canadian transcontinental routes is not confined to Canada or Canadian interests. These routes are of course designed primarily to build up the Dominion, and facilitate inter- provincial as well as international commerce. Incidentally they be- come a factor of increasing importance in the opening up of new markets for Canadian products beyond the eastern and western seas. But there is a further and wider field in which they are a feature, the significance of which is seldom recognized. As a link in the chain of transportation between the heart of the British Empire and its outermost boundaries, especially for the carriage of troops and war materials, it would be impossible to overestimate the value of the present and prospective transcontinental lines across Canada. In eastern Canada, the Canadian Pacific and the Grank Trunk are, and have been for many years past, great rivals. In the west the Canadian Pacific had until lately a monopoly of the traffic, but the advent and rapid development of the Canadian Northern has put quite a new face upon the western situation, and has resulted, for one thing, in a lowering of freight rates from all points in the Canadian wheat belt to Lake Superior ports, which has been of very decided advantage to the farmers of Manitoba and the northwest. One still hears an occasional grumble from the western Canadian farmer on this score, but as a matter of fact freight rates on both the Canadian Pacific and * Now the Provinces of Alberta and Saskatchewan. 462 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. Canadian Northern are now considerably lower than obtain on the Great Northern and Northern Pacific for the same distances. It seems at first sight rather hard lines that the Canadian Pacific, after fighting alone through the long lean years of western traffic — when the pessimistic prediction that the Canadian Pacific railway would never earn enough to pay for its axle-grease seemed about to be verified — should now, on the threshold of the fat years of western growth and prosperit)', be faced with the competition not merely of one, but of two great rivals in the west. As a matter of fact, however, the Canadian Pacific has suffered very little loss of traffic from the competition of the Canadian Northern, and is not likely to suffer eventually from the competition of the Grank Trunk Pacific. Western Canada is growing faster than the railways; the two existing roads in the west have already pretty well all the traffic they can conveniently handle, especially during the harvest, and by the time the Grand Trunk Pacific is completed there will probably be more than enough for all three. The completion of the Grand Trunk Pacific, and the impetus that will thereby be given to settlement in the northern half of the great Canadian wheat belt, must inevitably lead to a demand for another transcontinental still farther north. It is a curious but indisputable fact that as wheat cultivation is extended north, the limits of the wheat zone are pushed forward,* and the total acreage available for cultivation increases from year to year. There will be ample room for another railway, and perhaps two, north of the route of the Grand Trunk Pacific, and still well within the wheat belt. When grain or other shipments reach Fort William from the west, they have the choice of either a rail or a water route. At present the Canadian Pacific offers the only rail route, but within a few years the Grand Trunk Pacific and the Canadian Northern will both have through lines from Fort William east. The water routes east of Fort William are practically identical until Lake Huron is reached. There they branch out to a number of Canadian and American lake ports, where connection is made with the Grand Trunk, the eastern lines of the Canadian Pacific, and other roads leading east or south. Another route traverses Lakes Erie and Ontario, via the Welland and St. Lawrence canals, to Montreal. In time two alternative and shorter water routes will be available from Lake Huron to Montreal; the first, via the Trent Valley canal, now in course of construction, and on which the government has built an enormous hydraulic lift lock, the only one in America; and the other by way of the Georgian Bay canal. This latter project has been * It is estimated that the hard wheat belt is receding northward at the rate of fifteen miles every year. CANADA'S TRANSPORTATION PROBLEM. 463 under discussion in Canada for a number of years. It was first pro- posed to build the canal as a private undertaking, a strong company of Canadian and English capitalists having been formed for the pur- pose. The company asked the federal government to guarantee their bonds; but after some hesitation it was decided that if the work were to be done it would be preferable to do it at the public expense, and make it part of the great canal system of the country. Last session the Canadian parliament voted a generous sum to provide for a thorough survey of the whole route, and most of this preliminary work has already been completed. The original project only contemplated an 8 or 10 foot channel; but as the discussion dragged on from year to year, the rapid increase in draft of lake shipping made it apparent that such a canal would be next to useless. The proposed depth was accordingly increased to 12, and then to 15 feet. Finally the projectors came out boldly for a 20-foot ship chan- nel, sufficient to accommodate all lake shipping, and making possible the ambitious dream of shipping men for a route which would enable ocean-going vessels to load their cargoes at Fort William, Duluth or Chicago, and proceed to Liverpool without breaking bulk. The esti- mated cost of such a channel runs all the way from $75,000,000 to $100,000,000; but it is now realized that no smaller project would meet the needs of the country, and it is understood that the Dominion gov- ernment intends eventually to build the canal with a 20-foot channel. One other Canadian water route must inevitably be opened up in the next few years — that is the Hudson's Bay route. Several explora- tion parties have at different times been sent out from Ottawa by the government to examine into the possibilities and advantages of this route, and especially the period of navigability of Hudson's straits. The reports received have been rather conflicting, and as a matter of fact none of the vessels have remained long enough in and around the straits to finally decide the question. Mr. A. P. Low, on the Neptune expedition of 1903-4, went fully into this matter, and although his official report has not yet been made public, it is understood to be very favorable. An examination of the earlier reports, taken in connection with the favorable opinions of such authoritative men as Dr. Eobert Bell, director of the Geological Survey, and Mr. A. P. Low, leads one to the opinion that the straits are safely navigable for such a period each year as would be quite sufficient to make the Hudson's Bay route commercially successful. That the people of Manitoba have every confidence in the vast possibilities of this route is proved by the significant fact that the Manitoba government is now agitating for the extension of the pro- vincial boundaries to the shores of Hudson's Bay, the intention being, when this has been accomplished, to build a railway, out of the pro- 464 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. vincial revenues, or with a heavy provincial subsidy, from Winnipeg to Fort Churchill. When this railway has been completed, and a line of steamers placed upon the route from Fort Churchill to Liverpool, it is not diffi- cult to foresee that within a comparatively short time a very large proportion of the wheat of the Canadian northwest available for export will gravitate toward this route ; and it would not even be too much to predict that a considerable portion of wheat from Minnesota and the Dakotas would also find its way to Europe via Hudson's Bay. A very small difference in cost of transportation is sufficient to swing wheat from one route to another; the difference depending partly upon dis- tances, and partly upon rail or water routes, water transportation being of course cheaper than rail. The following table will show at a glance the advantages of the Hudson's Bay route over existing routes to the Atlantic seaboard, so far as distances are concerned : Winnipeg via Hudson's Bay to Liverpool 3,626 miles. Winnipeg via Montreal to Liverpool 4,228 miles. Duluth via Hudson's Bay to Liverpool 3,728 miles. Duluth via New York to Liverpool 4,201 miles. St. Paul via Hudson's Bay to Liverpool 4,096 miles. St. Paul via New York to Liverpool 4,240 miles. It will be seen that the advantage in favor of the Hudson's Bay route amounts to 600 miles in the case of Winnipeg, nearly 500 miles in the case of Duluth; and 150 miles in the case of St. Paul. When you add to this the fact that the Hudson's Bay route involves only a comparatively short haul by rail, as compared with the existing routes, it will be seen that the advantage is overwhelmingly in favor of the former. Eeverting to the proposition first laid down — that the main Cana- dian rail and water routes run east and west, it will be seen that this is substantially correct. The only exceptions of any importance are likely to be more in the nature of subsidiary lines than main arteries of transportation. The proposed line from Winnipeg to Fort Churchill is a case in point; another is the suggested branch from Edmonton north and northwest to Dawson. Probably the most important of all will be a line from Vancouver, the western terminus of the Canadian Pacific, via Port Simpson, the western terminus of the Grand Trunk Pacific, to Dawson and the Yukon. One other possibility of the future is a railway from the city of Quebec, along the north shore of the St. Lawrence, to the strait of Belle Isle; thence across the strait to Newfoundland, where connection would be made with the existing Newfoundland railway to St. Johns. This would give the shortest pos- sible ocean voyage for Canadian and American passengers to England and Europe, and would be of immense advantage for the transport of the mails and of freight, where time is an important object. THE ANCESTORS OF THE BIG TREES. 465 THE ANCESTORS OF THE BIG TREES. BY EDWARD W. BERRY, PASSAIC, N. J. HHHE big trees, or sequoias, have furnished a theme for song and J- story and have been a Mecca for the tourist for so long a time that any remarks regarding the size or longevity of the far-famed trees of Mariposa and Calaveras would seem trite. Their present isolation — for they are but few in number and do not seem to be holding their own in the struggle with the surrounding vegetation or with the cupidity of civilization — but adds to their majestic grandeur. To the traveler who journeys to California and for the first time stands in their mighty presence many questions may suggest them- selves. How long has it taken these giants of the forest to reach up some four hundred feet above mother earth ? Were they created thus ? Were they just entering upon a career before the red man's fire or the pale-face's ax checked them, or are they the survivors of a long existing line, struggling to maintain themselves in their last stronghold ? The records of their descent are locked up in the rocks and clays of the world, bits of twigs, cones, and occasionally large pieces of trunks that floated down to the ancient seas and were entombed in the sand and mud, to become preserved as fossils for the edification of later ages. Exploration has unearthed a part of this record. Sequoia remains have been found at almost every locality where Mesozoic fossil plants have been discovered ; the cones, especially, because of their hard woody structure, being admirably adapted for preservation. In fact the fossil cones were described away back in the first quarter of the nineteenth century, even before the big trees of California had been described. So we learn that death has played sad havoc in their noble line. Some have been dead, say, seven million years, with thousands of feet of rock lying vertically over their graves. Fig. 1 gives a diagram- matical summary of sequoia evolution, with the accompanying changes in geological, climatic and floral conditions. The left-hand column shows an ideal geological section, with the ages and periods, and their probable durations expressed roughly in years. In the middle column the procession of changing physical conditions are shown, together with the accompanying changes in climate and flora. The right-hand column is devoted exclusively to events in the genealogy of the sequoia. The earliest known species is represented by well-defined cones VOL. lxvii. — 30. 466 POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. which have been found in the Upper Jurassic of France. When we say that sequoias flourished in the Upper Jurassic we have a dim idea that they are a pretty old type and that, although compared to the most ancient known rocks the Jurassic rocks are mere infants, still the Jurassic age came to a close several million years ago. But we can form no more of a concept of the duration of several million years than eo\ O6ct*-0<\ I Gr6°*°J^c . CA\rrk°^lc. & V lorvstic L-hanqes Mm? Wholesale CJitmjtUotxs fc re^iCTriVution ^I'Puil^i*: s» 't «s <0 IP ■J. to m .,:;.t;*. , " SjH1.' --t at ■' cite y*v -;••?•■ Oretace6u.S ■_Cv-v -V - -J. T>. • M VOC6.XV&. 3,000,000 yui , 11 H .1. i'lijif' LtetacBCiiS Jf.,000.,000 >••»* ' ■■.-'■/•''•i';^fefe r + ■' ■ "\ \B)u'T:os>S VC-. .;• 1,500,000 jr«»f« I r»ass\c • 1,500.00a ]**?* TernVr^' Tloro. o^ modern aspect $U earlier rm.nl period of laVe o-4 ov.r J^os.lj, , A later or^r ^..6 «i «'■•'.»•» 1J« ~>» or>CW«. ear-rU oef>o Continuation o^ Focene. txjpes M ooem Xm,^>«s ^rebommate. Numerous «ro.s.se«, ,^>cCims,oo."ks , fi«,£,ma.Vlea.ac. )ec^u . Vustbt El*tir\cUor. of Seq^uic. i except »ri CaU|orr\LU R^coroeo (">m centrot fr,sio. Z.enYvVi of &Mflo>reS Oo-Vs . wittou.il ,^iQ>2.,mer seas .wlensive ^resVwaler Voooons ar.4 (Uts Tro>\ca\ (W ?«- imyo^erms Numerous. curabs W-^erns o.nb Q\nVo,oa\es . Su*^»Vofc*^ occurrence m Monu, s>»c\»a. S^reo.0 to C,reerAar>o KortV i\.mer>co. o.a8 First Sbqwok SVuWou seruck1SV uivb ^resU-wo-te OC>?OSl\s. 5>eA>r.turv3 »^ western ^.menco-r. contmerX Coru^rs .Cvjcaos .Terr.?, t'f.'V' ^e o^ V.sVes, ,?W»ooW!« . *> ?terlbo.V.rrr.a>V.^es ^ A ' £ Seei ?WrAl r a V.or. o( Coriavto.\e»,E-^u^e,to.\es ,Lyco>oAia\eS Vottnas ,>ossiVte, ancestori f^ First VoUz.as Fig. 1. Diagram showing Geological, Climatic and Floristic Changes immediately preceding and during the ev0luli0n of the sequoia. we do of astronomical distances, and it is only by glancing at the progress of life on the globe during all those years that we can get any sort of an idea of the remoteness of the period. Fig. 4 is designed to show this progress of life in a general way, in the animal kingdom, which has been chosen rather than the vege- table kingdom because the changes in the former are more striking THE ANCESTORS OF THE BIG TREES. 467 and much more apparent to the casual observer. The plants have undergone a like evolution, which has been, however, more of structure than of external appearance. Could imagination transport us to Jurassic times and set us down near the mouth of the Hudson Eiver, Fig. 2. Sequoia Reichenbachi, a widespread Cretaceous Species, restored from numerous specimens from New Jersey clays. we should find little that was familiar in either the fauna or the flora. The sediments which now exist as the red sandstones of the Connecticut valley and New Jersey had already been deposited. Volcanic activity Fig. 3. Sequoia Langsdorfti, a widespread, chiefly Tertiary Species. had been considerable and vast quantities of molten rock had been forced through the crust, forming, among others, the Orange Moun- tains of New Jersey and the noble line of Palisades along the Hudson. However, it is quite probable that one would have been as little dis- 46S POPULAR SCIENCE MOXTHLY 1 i. i MAHOMET. »:: KAU OF POM£. *?*. ©coooooo-ooCOo 0_0„0 C O -» 0-£)_o.D_tf^>,<* H'loce-rve IS Olvcjocene O C C O O *3 <^ oce^e ■ ; - , J '; 7": / t / / > Qret