Wy Nya ee
Shier
ei \\

)

} V
' PVA
: 1 ne
i] ie Ny ‘ii
WRAP

vk uit
iy,

y

eG
"

HUN cr Coit yh
my i i) ii att ny

i:
a Bie Nuc

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

A

Hite ii

Wn WS
Ay t i

AF

f (

vee

ah ay

why ay 4)
1 Ki! +) i

inh
'

Ae dh 1 ea

fps

THE
SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

EDITED BY J. McKEEN CATTELL

VOLUME XV
JULY TO DECEMBER, 1922

NEW YORK
THE SCIENCE PRESS
1922

4) net i i My 4
ih f fe me “) \ 4 | ui \
ba Y WW, AWN) mn i
’ My if if) \ yl Wh vii ’ hil
AYA « } Ch oe Cv
: \ h Ay } |
. ve oH YA i ebpamient, 1922 (0)
\ WS Na Ae an
‘ aN, "| - THE SCIENCE PRESS
“ Ae \)? eS
RE |
i “ am )
! \
WAV Fat Al)
) THOMAS J. oir THS AND SONS
i } ) ! nt
Yi i Me | uh p mAh

THE SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

JULY. 1922

SOME ASPECTS OF THE USE OF THE AN-
NUAL RINGS OF TREES IN CLIMATIC STUDY’

By Professor A. E. DOUGLASS

UNIVERSITY OF ARIZONA

I. AFFILIATIONS

ATURE is a book of many pages and each page tells a fas-
N cinating story to him who learns her language. Our fertile
valleys and craggy mountains recite an epic poem of geologic con-
flicts. The starry sky reveals gigantic suns and space and time
without end. The human body tells a story of evolution, of com-
petition and survival. The human soul by its sears tells of man’s
social struggle.

The forest is one of the smaller pages in nature’s book, and to
him who reads it too tells a long and vivid story. It may talk in-
dustrially in terms of lumber and firewood. It may demand
preservation physiographically as a region conserving water sup-
ply. It may disclose great human interests ecologically as a phase
of plant succession. It may protest loudly against its fauna and
parasites. It has handed down judicial decisions in disputed mat-
ters of human ownership. It speaks everywhere of botanical lan-
guage, for in the trees we have some of the most wonderful and
complex products of the vegetable kingdom.

The trees composing the forest rejoice and lament with its suc-
cesses and failures and carry year by year something of its story
in their annual rings. The study of their manner of telling the
story takes us deeply into questions of the species and the indi-
vidual, to the study of pests, to the effects of all kinds of injury,
especially of fire so often started by lightning, to the closeness of
grouping of the trees and to the nearness and density of competing

1 Address of the President of the Southwestern Division of the American

Association for the Advancement of Science, Tucson, Arizona, January 26,
1922.

6 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

vegetation. The particular form of environment which interests
us here, however, is climate with all its general and special weather
conditions. Climate is a part of meteorology, and the data which
we use are obtained largely from the Weather Bureau. Much
helping knowledge needed from meteorology has not yet been gar-
nered by that science. For example, the conditions for tree growth
are markedly different on the east and west sides of a mountain
or on the north and south slopes. The first involves difference of
exposure to rain-bearing winds, and the second means entirely dif-
ferent exposure to sun and shade. The latter contrast has been
studied on the Catalina Mountains by Forrest Shreve. Again, the
Weather Bureau stations are largely located in cities and therefore
we can not get data from proper places in the Sierra Nevada
Mountains of California, where the Giant Sequoia lives. Consider-
ing that this Big Tree gives us the longest uninterrupted series of
annual climatic effects which we have so far obtained from any
source, it must be greatly regretted that we have no good modern
records by which to interpret the writing in those wonderful trees,
and, so far as I am aware, no attempt is yet being made to get
complete records for the future.

In reviewing the environment, one must go another step. One
of the early results of this study was the fact that in many different
wet climates the growth of trees follows closely and sometimes
fundamentally certain solar variations. That means astronomical
relationship. It becomes then an interesting fact that the first two
serious attempts to trace climatic effects in trees were made by
astronomers. I do not know exactly what inspired Professor
Kapteyn, the noted astronomer of Groningen, Holland, to study
the relation of oak rings to rainfall in the Rhineland, which he did
in 1880 and 1881 (without publishing), but for my own ease I can
be more explicit. It was a thought of the possibility of determin-
ing variations in solar activity by the effect of terrestrial weather
on tree growth. This, one notes, assumed an effect of the sun on
our weather, a view which was supported twenty years ago by
Bigelow.

But the possible relationship of solar activity to weather is a
part of a rather specialized department of astronomical science,
called astrophysics. And there is a great deal of help which one
wants from that science, but which one ean not yet obtain; for
example, the hourly variations in the solar constant. I would like
to know whether the relative rate of rotation and the relative tem-
peratures of different solar latitudes vary in terms of the 1l-year
sunspot period. These questions have to do with some of the
theories proposed in attempting to explain the sunspot periodicity.

THE ANNUAL RINGS OF TREES 7

We do not know the cause of the 1l-year sunspot period. Here
then is work for the astronomers.

Yet another important contact has this study developed. The
rings in the beams of ancient ruins tell a story of the time of build-
ing, both as to its climate and the number of years involved and
the order of building. This is anthropology. It will be mentioned
on a later page.

Viewed through the present perspective, there is one way of
expressing the entire work which shows more clearly its human
end, a contact always worth emphasizing. If the study works out
as it promises, it will give a basis of long-range weather forecasting
of immense practical value for the future and of large scientific
value in interpreting the climate of the past. This statement of it
earries to all a real idea of the central problem.

II. YEARLY IDENTITY oF RINGS

The one fundamental quality which makes tree rings of value
in the study of climate is their yearly identity. In other words,
the ring series reaches its real value when the date of every ring
ean be determined with certainty. This is the quality which is
often taken for granted without thought and often challenged
without real reason. The climatic nature of a ring is its most ob-
vious feature. There is a gradual cessation of the activity of the
tree owing to lowered temperature or diminished water supply.
This causes the deposition of harder material in the cell walls,
producing in the pine the dark hard autumn part of the ring.
The growth practically stops altogether in winter and then starts
off in the spring at a very rapid rate with soft white cells. The
usual time of beginning growth in the spring at Flagstaff (eleva-
tion 7,000 feet) is in late May or June and is best observed by
Dr. D. T. MacDougal’s ‘‘Dendrograph,’’ which magnifies the
diameter of the tree trunk and shows its daily variations. This
spring growth depends upon the precipitation of the preceding
winter and the way it comes to the tree. Heavy rains have a large
run-off and are less beneficial than snow. The snow melts in the
spring and supplies its moisture gradually to the roots as it soaks
into or moves through the ground. There is evidence that if the
soil is porous and resting on well cracked limestone strata, the
moisture passes quickly and the effect is transitory, lasting in close
proportion to the amount of rain. Trees so placed are ‘‘sensitive’’
and give an excellent report of the amount of precipitation. Such
condition is commonly found in northern Arizona over a limestone
bed rock. If the bed rock is basalt or other igneous material the
soil over it is apt to be clay. The rock and the clay sometimes hold
water until the favorable season is past and the tree growth de-

8 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

pends in a larger measure on other factors than the precipitation.
For example, the yellow pines growing in the very dry lava beds
at Flagstaff show nearly the same growth year after year. It is
sometimes large, but it has little variation. Such growth is “‘com-
placent.’’

Yearly identity is disturbed by the presence of too many or
too few rings. Surplus rings are caused by too great contrast in
the seasons. The year in Arizona is divided into four seasons, two
rainy and two dry. The cold rainy or snowy season is from De-
cember to March, and the warm tropical summer, with heavy local
rainfall, occurs in July and August. Spring and autumn are dry,
the spring being more so than the autumn. If the snowfall of
winter has not been enough to carry the trees through a long dry
spring, the cell walls in June become harder and the growing ring
turns dark in color as in autumn. Some trees are so strongly
affected that they stop growing entirely until the following spring.
A ring so produced is exceptionally small. But others near-by
may react to the summer rains and again produce white tissue be-
fore the red autumn growth comes on. This second white-cell
structure is very rarely as white as the first spring growth and is
only mistaken for it in trees growing under extreme conditions,
such as at the lowest and dryest levels which the yellow pines are
able to endure. Such is the condition at Prescott or at the 6,000-
7,000 ft. levels on the mountains about Tucson. A broken and scat-
tered rainy season may give as many as 3 preliminary red rings
before the final one of autumn. In a few rare trees growing in such
extreme conditions, it becomes very difficult to tell whether a ring
is formed in summer or winter (that is, in late spring or late
autumn). Doubling has become a habit with that particular tree—
a bad habit—and the tree or large parts of it cannot be used for
the study of climate.

But let us keep this clearly in mind: This superfluous ring
formation is the exception. Out of 67 trees collected near Prescott,
only 4 or 5 were discarded for this reason. Out of perhaps two
hundred near Flagstaff, none have been discarded for this reason.
Neodly a hundred yellow pines and spruces from northwestern
New Mexico have produced no single ease of this difficulty. The
sequoias from California, the Douglas firs from Oregon, the hem-
locks from Vermont and the Scotch pines from north Europe give
no sign of it. On the other hand, 10 out of 16 yellow pines from
the Santa Rita Mountains south of Tueson have had to be dis-
earded and the junipers of northern Arizona have so many sus-
picious rings that it is almost impossible to work with them at all.
Cypress trees also give much trouble.

THE ANNUAL RINGS OF TREES 9

The other difficulty connected with yearly identity is the omis-
sion of rings. Missing rings occur in many trees without lessening
the value of the tree unless there are extensive intervals over which
the absence produces uncertainty. A missing ring here and there
ean be located with perfect exactness and causes no uncertainty of
dating. In fact, so many missing rings have been found after care-
ful search that they often increase the feeling of certainty in the
dating of rings.

Missing rings occur when autumn rings merge together in the
absence of any spring growth. This rarely if ever occurs about
the entire circumference of the tree. There are a few cases in
which, if the expression may be excused, I have traced a missing
ring entirely around a tree without finding it. I have observed
many eases in which the missing ring has been evident in less than
10 per cent. of the cireumference. Some are absent in only a small
part of their circuit. I have observed change in this respect at
different heights in the tree, but have not followed that line of
study further. It is beautifully shown in the longitudinally bi-
sected tree.

One sees from this discussion what the probable errors may be
in mere counting of rings. In the first work on the yellow pines
the dating was done by simple counting. Accurate dating in the
same trees (19 of them) later on showed that the average error
in counting through the last 200 years was 4 per cent., due prac-
tically always to missing rings. A comparison in seven sequoias
between very careful counting and accurate dating in 2,000 years
shows an average counting error of 35 years, which is only 1.7
Der cent.

Full confidence in yearly identity really comes from another
source. The finding of similar distribution of large and small
rings in practically all individuals of widely seattered groups of
trees over great periods of time has been evidence enough to make
us sure. This comparison process of groups of rings in different
trees has received the rather clumsy name of ‘‘cross-identifieation.’’
Cross-identification was first successful in the 67 Prescott trees,
then was carried across 70 miles to the big Flagstaff groups. Later
it was found to extend 225 miles further to southwestern Colorado
with extreme accuracy, 90 per cent. perhaps. This is over periods
of more than 250 years. Catalina pines from near Tueson have a
50 per cent. likeness to Flagstaff pines. There are many points of
similarity in the last 200 years and many differences. Santa Rita
pines are less hke the Flagstaff pines than are the Catalinas. In
comparison with the California sequoias, differences become more
common. The superficial resemblance to Arizona pines is 5 or 10

10 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

per cent. only. That is, out of every 10 or 20 distinctive rings
with marked individuality, one will be found alike in California
and Arizona. For example, A. D. 1407, 1500, 1580, 1632, 1670,
1729, 1782, 1822 and 1864 are small in Arizona pines and Califor-
nia sequoias. While only a few extreme individual years thus
match, there are correspondences in climatic cycles to which atten-
tion will be called later.

Cross-identification is practically perfect amongst the sequoias
stretching across 15 miles of country near General Grant National
Park. Trees obtained near Springville, some 50 miles south, show
50 to 75 per cent. resemblance in details to the northern group.
This was far more than enough to carry exact dating between
these two localities. Cross-identification in some wet climate groups
was extremely accurate. A group of 12 logs floating in the river-
mouth at Geffle, Sweden, showed 90 to 95 per cent. resemblance to
each other. The range was 100 to 200 years and there were no
uncertain years at all. The same was true of some 10 tree sections
on the Norwegian coast and of 13 sections cut in Eberswalde m
Germany. A half dozen sections cut in a lumber yard in Munich
did not cross-identify with each other. A group of 5 from a lumber
yard in Christiania was not very satisfactory. The vast majority,
however, have been absolutely satisfactory in the matter of cross-
identification. Nothing more is needed to make the one ring a year
ideal perfectly sure, but if there were, it would come in such tests
as frequently occur in checking the known date of cutting or boring,
with a set of rings previously dated. That has been done on many
occasions in Arizona and California. To give final assurance, the
record in the yellow pine was compared with statements of good
and bad years, and years of famine, flood and cold, reported in
Bancroft’s ‘‘History of Arizona and New Mexico,’’ and it was
found that his report identified with the character of the growth in
the corresponding years of the trees.

Three results may be noted before leaving this important sub-
ject. Deficient years extend their character across country with
more certainty than favorable years. <A deficient year makes an
individual ring small compared to those beside it. Large rings,
on the other hand, are more apt to come in groups and so do not
have quite the same individuality. Nor are they as universal in
a forest. If they occur at a certain period in one tree, the chances
are about 50 per cent. that the corresponding years in the neighbor-
ing trees will be similarly enlarged. If, however, a very small
ring occurs in a tree, the chances are over 90 per cent. that the
neighboring trees will show the same year small.?

Second, with many groups of trees where the resemblance be-

THE ANNUAL RINGS OF TREES if

tween their rings is strikingly exact, a small number of individuals
such as 5 will answer extremely well for a record, and even fewer
will give valuable and reliable results. But the central part of a
tree has larger growth and is less sensitive than the outer part.
Its character is somewhat different. To get a satisfactory repre-
sentation through several centuries, therefore, it is better to com-
bine younger trees with older ones to get a more even and constant
record of climatic conditions.

The third thought is this. The spreading of a certain character
over many miles of country stamps it in almost every case as cli-
matic in origin, because climate is the common environment over
large areas.

III. Numper anp LocATION oF TREES

The whole number of trees used is nearly 450 and includes
cone-bearing trees from Oregon, California, Arizona, New Mexico,
Colorado, Vermont, England, Norway, Sweden, Germany and Bo-
hemia. The total number of rings dated and measured is well over
100,000. The average ages found in these various trees are very
interesting. The European groups reach for the most part about
90 years, although one tree in Norway showed 400 years of age,
and 15 were found beginning as early as 1740. The Oregon group
of Douglas firs goes back to about 1710, the Vermont hemlocks
reach 1654, the Flagstaff yellow pines give a number of admirable
records from about 1400.

The oldest trees, of course, were the great sequoias from the
Sierra Nevada Mountains in California. They were found to have
ages that formed natural groups, showing probably a climatic
effect. There are very few under 700 years old (except the young
ones which have started since the cutting of the Big Trees). <A
number had about that age. The majority of the trees scatter
along in age from 1,200 up to about 2,200 years, at which age a large
number were found, one or two were found of 2,500 years, one of
2,800, one of 3,000, one at just under 3,100, and the oldest of all
just over 3,200. The determination of this age of the older sequoias
in the present instance is not merely a matter of ring counting, but
depends upon the inter-comparison of some 55,000 rings in thirty-
five trees. In 1919 a special trip was made to the Big Trees and
samples from a dozen extra trees obtained in order to decide the
ease of a single ring, 1580 A. D., about which there was some doubt,
and it was apparent that the ring in question stood for an extra
year. This was corrected and it now seems likely that there is no

2 This success in cross-identification applies to the groups examined. A

recent group of coast redwoods from Santa Cruz, California, present a multi-
tude of difficulties.

12 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

mistake in dating through the entire sequence of years, but if not
correct the error is certainly very small.

IV. 'TorpoGRAPHY

The late Professor W. R. Dudley of Stanford University in his
charming essay on the ‘‘ Vitality of the Sequoia’’ refers to the fact
that the growth of the Big Trees depends in a measure on the
presence of a brook near by. This agrees with my own observa-
tions. Size is far from a final indication of age. The General
Grant tree which has no running water near it and is the largest
in the Park of that name, has a burnt area on one side in which
the outer rings are exposed, allowing an estimate of its average
rate of recent growth. From much experience with the way the
sequoia growth is influenced by age, it was possible to assign 2,500
years as the approximate time it took this giant to reach its pres-
ent immense diameter of close to 30 feet. But about three miles
west near a running brook is a stump which is over twenty-five
feet in diameter, but is only about 1,500 years old. That is the
effect of contact with an unfailing source of water.

Perhaps the most general characteristic which stands out in
the different groups of dry-climate trees is a close relationship of
this kind between the topography and the growth produced. For
that reason, I have visited the site of every ary-climate group and
indeed have examined the stumps of almost every tree in my
collection.

It was found that dry-climate trees which grew in basins with
a large and constant water supply, and this refers especially to
the sequoias, usually produced rings without much change in size
from year to year. This character of ring is called ‘‘complacent.’’
The opposite character is the ‘‘sensitive’’ ring where a decided
variation is shown from year to year. Sensitive trees grow on
the higher elevations where the water supply is not reliable and
the tree must depend almost entirely on the precipitation during
each year. Such trees grow near the tops of ridges or are other-
wise separated from any collection of water in the ground. In
case of the basin trees, one could be sure that a ring was produced
every year, but owing to the lack of individuality in the rings for
certain years, it was difficult to compare trees together and pro-
duce reliable data. In case of the sensitive tree growing in the
uplands there was so much individuality in the rings that nearly
all of the trees could be dated with perfect reliability, but in ex-
treme cases the omission of rings in a number of trees required
special study. Of course, these cases were easily settled by com-
parison with other trees growing in intermediate localities.

THE ANNUAL RINGS OF TREES 13

Trees growing in the dry climate of Arizona at an altitude
where they have the utmost difficulty in getting water to pro-
long life become extraordinarily sensitive. In the same tree one
finds some rings several millimeters across and others microscopic
in size or even absent.

In order to express this different quality in the trees a criterion
called mean sensitivity is now under investigation. It may be
defined as the difference between two successive rings divided by
their mean. Such quotients are averaged over each decade or
other period desired and are believed to depend in part on the
relative response of the trees to climatic influences. The great
sensitiveness of the yellow pines as compared with the best
sequoias is evident in any brief comparison of dated specimens.

VY. INSTRUMENTS

In the course of this long attention to the rings of trees and in
studying such a vast number of them, special tools to secure ma-
terial and to improve and hasten the results have very naturally
been adopted or developed. One goes into the field well-armed,
carrying a flooring saw with its curved edge for sawing half across
the tops of stumps, a chisel for making numbers, numerous paper
bags for holding fragments cut from individual trees, a recording
note book, crayon, a shoulder bag, camera and especially a kindly,
strong-armed friend to help in the sawing. In the last eighteen
months the Swedish increment borer has been used extensively to
get records from living pine trees. Hard woods and juniper are
too tough. It has previously been considered that the little slender
cores, smaller than a pencil, so obtained, would hardly be worth
working on. But the method of mounting them has been raised
to such a degree of efficiency, and the collection of material be-
comes so rapid that the deficient length and the occasional worth-
less specimen are counterbalanced. Besides, it is often easy to sup-
plement a group of increment cores by some other form of speci-
men extending back to greater age. The Mount Lemmon group, near
Tucson, has eight cores giving a good record from about 1725 to the
present time; a saw cutting from a large stump in Summerhaven
carries the record back 150 years earlier. It should, however, be
supported by at least one more long record and this can be done by
the tubular borer described next.

The tubular borer was designed especially for the dried and
sometimes very hard logs in the prehistoric ruins. It works well
on pine trees and junipers. It gives a core an inch in diameter,
which means a far better chance of locating difficult rings than in
the increment borer cores which are only one fifth of that diameter.
The borer is a one-inch steel tube with small saw-teeth on one

14 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

end and a projection at the other for holding in a common brace.
A chain drill attachment is also provided to help in forcing the
drill into the wood. The difficulty with this borer is the disposal
of sawdust and the extraction of the core. For the former, a
separate hole is bored with a common auger just below the core
(if in an upright tree) and in advance of it to catch the sawdust.
The core is broken off every three inches and pulled out to make
more room for the sawdust. To extract the core a small steel rod
is provided with a wedge at one end and a screw at the other.
One- and two-foot tubes are carried so that it is possible to reach
the centers of most pine trees. It would not be difficult to develop
an instrument much more efficient than this and it should be done.
Soon a borer will be needed to pass through a 35-foot tree or to
sound the depths of the great Tule trees of southern Mexico.
The tools just mentioned are technical, yet In no sense com-
plex. A measuring instrument has just been completed whose use-
fulness will be extensive and whose details of construction are too
complex for present description. It is for measuring the width of
rings. It makes a record as fast as one can set a micrometer thread
on successive rings. The record is in the form of a plot drawn
in ink to seale on coordinate paper so that the values can be read
off from it at once for tabulation. This form of record was de-
sired because individual plots have long been made to help in se-
lecting the best trees and in studying their relation to topography.
The instrument as constructed magnifies 20, 40 or 100 times, as
desired. It can be attached to the end of an astronomical telescope
and used as a recording micrometer capable of making a hundred
or more settings before reading the values. It seems possible that
it will have other applications than the ones here mentioned.
Another instrument of entirely different type has been devel-
oped here since 1913. Its general principle has been published and
will not be repeated, but in the last three years it has been entirely
rebuilt in a more convenient form through the generosity of Mr.
Clarence G. White of Redlands. This instrument is now known as
the White Periodograph. It could be called a eycloscope or eyelo-
graph. Its purpose is to detect cycles or periods in any plotted
curve. It differs from previous instruments performing harmonic
analysis in that it is designed primarily to untangle a complex
mixture of fairly pronounced periods while others determine the
constants of a series of harmonic components. For example, the
periodograph can be applied to a series of rainfall records to find
if there are any real periods operating in a confused mixture. It
is also designed to get rid of personal equation and to get results
quickly. The instrument as reconstructed is far more convenient

THE ANNUAL RINGS OF TREES 15

and accurate in use and has already given important results. It
enables one to see characteristics in tree growth variation which
are not visible to the unaided eye. It is specially arranged now to
give what I have called the differential pattern or eyclogram because
this pattern not only tells the periods or cycles when properly
read but shows the variations and interferences of cycles and pos-
sible alternative readings. Tests on the accuracy of solutions by
this instrument show that its results correspond in precision to
least square solutions.

VI. CORRELATIONS

It is no surprise that variations in climate can be read in the
growth rings of trees, for the tree ring itself is a climatic product.
It is an effect of seasons. The geologists use the absence of rings
in certain primitive trees as an indication that no seasons existed
in certain early times. Whatever may have been the cause of that
absence, we recognize that the ring is caused primarily by changes
in temperature and moisture. Now if successive years were exactly
alike, the rings would be all of the same size with some alteration
with age and injury. But successive years are not alike and in
that difference there may be some factor which appeals strongly
to the tree. In northern Arizona, with its limited moisture and
ereat freedom from pests and with no dense vegetable population,
this controlling factor may reasonably be identified as the rainfall.
If the trees have all the moisture they can use, as in north Europe
about the Baltic Sea and other wet climates, we look for it in some-
thing else. It could be—I do not say that it is—some direct form
of solar radiation. It could be some special combination of the
ordinary weather elements with which we are familiar. Shreve
has studied this phase in the Catalinas. If the abundance of mois-
ture is so great as actually to drown the tree, then decrease in rain-
fall which lowers the water table below ground will be favorable.
A fact often forgotten is that more than one factor may enter into
the tree rings at the same time, for example, rainfall, temperature
and length of growing season. These may be isolated in two ways.
We may select a special region, as northern Arizona, where nature
has standardized the conditions, leaving one of them, the rainfall,
of especial importance. Or we may isolate certain relationships
as in any other investigation, by using large numbers of observa-
tions, that is, many trees, and averaging them with respect to one
or another characteristic. For example, I can determine the mean
growth curve of the Vermont hemlocks and then compare it sepa-
rately with rainfall and solar activity, and I may, and do, find a
response to each. For that reason, I have felt quite justified in
seeking first the correlation with moisture. A temperature cor-

16 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

relation doubtless exists and in fact has been noted, but its less
minute observance does not lessen the value of the rainfall rela-
tionship.

The first real result obtained in this study was in 1906 when it
became apparent that a smoothed curve of tree growth in northern
Arizona matched a smoothed curve of precipitation in southern
California since 1860. That degree of correlation is now extensively
used in the Forest Service. This was followed almost at once by
noting a strikingly close agreement between the size of individual
rings and the rainfall for the corresponding years since 1898, when
the Flagstaff weather station was established. The more detailed
comparison between rainfall and ring growth was made with Pres-
cott trees in 1911. Some 67 trees in five groups within ten miles
of Prescott were compared with the rainfall at Whipple Barracks
and Prescott which had been kept on record since 1867. The result
was very interesting. For most years the tree variations agree al-
most exactly with the rainfall but here and there is a year or two
of disagreement. The cause of these variable years will sometime
be an interesting matter of study. Taken altogether the accuracy
of the tree as a rain-gauge was 70 per cent. But a little allowance
for conservation of moisture raised the accuracy to 85 per cent.,
which is remarkably good. The actual character of this conserva-
tion is not evident. At first thought it might be persistence of
moisture in the ground, but the character of the mathematical
formula which evaluated it allowed a different interpretation,
namely, that in a series of poor years the vital activity of the tree
is lessened. During the dry period from about 1870 to 1905 or
so, the trees responded each year to the fluctuations in rainfall
but with less and less spirit. This lessening activity took place at
a certain rate which the meteorologists call the ‘‘aceumulated
moisture’’ curve. This suggested that the conservation was in the
tree itself. There is much to be done in this comparison between
tree growth and rainfall, but the obstacle everywhere is the lack
of rainfall records near the trees and over adequate periods of
time. The five Prescott groups showed that in a mountainous
country nearness was very important. But the nearest reeords to
the sequoias are 65 miles away and at 5,000 feet lower elevation.
The hest comparison records for the Oregon Douglas spruce are
25 miles away. It is so nearly everywhere. The real tests must
be made with records nearby.

In 1912 while attempting to test this relationship of tree growth
to rainfall in north Europe, I found that the Scotch pines south
of the Baltic Sea showed a very strong and beautiful rhythm
matching exactly the sunspot cycle as far back as the trees ex-

THE ANNUAL RINGS OF TREES 17

tended, which was close to a century. The same rhythm was evi-
dent in the trees of Sweden, and perhaps more conspicuous in
spruce than pine. Near Christiania the pines were too variable
to show it, but it reappeared on the outer Norwegian coast. To
the south near the Alps it disappeared, and in the south of Eng-
land it was uncertain but probably there. In this country it shows
prominently in Vermont and Oregon, but the two American
maxima come one to three years in advance of the sunspot maxima.
There is evidently an important astronomical relationship whose
meaning is not yet clear. It is to be noted that it appears in regions
whose trees have an abundance of moisture and it thus appears to
be a wet climate phenomenon.

But the correlations do not stop at rain and sunspot periodicity.
The pines of northern Arizona which are so sensitive to rainfall
show a strong half sunspot period. And on testing it one finds that
the rainfall does the same and that these variations are almost cer-
tainly related to corresponding temperature variations and to the
solar period. Thus, the Arizona trees are related to the weather and
the weather is related in a degree at least to the sun. Thus we find
evidence in forest trees that the 1l-year sunspot period prevails in
widely different localities and in many places constitutes the major
variation. This introduces us to the study of periodic effects in
general.

VII. CycuEs

Considering first that cycles as we have just shown are revealed
in tree growth, second, that the trees give us accurate historic rec-
ords for hundreds and even thousands of years, and third, that
simple cycles or even some more complex function could give a
basis for long range weather forecasting, we recognize the vital
importance of this elemental part of the story told by the trees.
It was exactly for this purpose that the periodograph was designed
and constructed and some ten score curves have been cut out for
analysis, after minute preparation of the very best yearly values.
In fact the major time for two years has been given to this prepara-
tion of material. It is hardly done yet, but it is far enough along
to anticipate its careful study in the near future. Our present
view may be profoundly modified, but it is safe to say that the sun-
spot cycle and its double and triple value are very general. The
double value, about 22 years, has persisted in Arizona for 500
years, and in some north European localities for the century and
a half covered by our tree groups. The triple period, essentially
Briickner’s cycle, has operated in Arizona for the last 200 years
and in Norway for nearly 400 at least. A one-hundred-year eycle
is very prominent throughout the 3,000 years of sequoia record and

VOL. XV—2

18 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

also in the 500 years of yellow pine. An hypothesis covering all
these sunspot multiples will be tested out in the coming months.
Should a real explanation be found a step will have been made
toward long-range prediction and an understanding of the rela-
tionship of the weather and the sun. Other periods, however, than
the multiples of the sunspot period do occur and general analysis
shows that different centuries are characterized by different com-
binations of climatic cycles. This suggests to us a great and inter-
esting problem. If we can establish the way in which different
regions act and react at the same time, then it may become possible
to determine the age of an ancient buried tree by finding the com-
bination of short cycles its rings display and then determining
when this combination or its regional equivalent existed in our
historic measuring tape, the great sequoia.

VIII. Preuistoric REcorRDs IN TREES

A new method of investigating the relative age of prehistoric
ruins has been developed in connection with this study of climate
by the growth of trees, and is being applied to the remarkable ruins
at Aztec, in northwestern New Mexico, with its 450 rooms, now in
process of excavation by the American Museum of New York City.
The ceilings were built of tree trunks placed across the width of
the rooms. Smaller poles were laid across these beams and covered
with some kind of brush and a thick layer of earth. The beams
used in this ceiling construction are almost entirely of yellow pine
or spruce and for the most part are in good condition. Many of
the rooms have been hermetically sealed for centuries. The beams
which have been buried in dust or adobe or in sealed rooms are
well preserved. Only those which have been exposed to the air
are decayed.

In 1915 Dr. Clark Wissler of the American Museum offered
sections of such beams for special study of the rings, knowing the
writer’s work upon climatic effects in the rings of trees. This offer
was gladly accepted, and some preliminary sections were sent at
once from the Rio Grande region. These first sections showed that
the pines and spruces were far better than cedars for determining
climatic characteristies.

The next lot of seetions came from Aztec and was cut from
loose beams which had been cleared out of the rubbish heaps. Six
of these sections cross-identified so perfectly that it was evident
that they had been living trees at the same time. This success led
to my visit to Aztee in 1919 and a close examination of this won-
derful ruin. It was at once apparent that an instrument was nec-
essary for boring into the beams to procure a complete sample of
the rings from center to outside, and that the process must avoid

THE ANNUAL RINGS OF TREES 19

injuring the beams in any way. Such an instrument was de-
veloped in the tubular borer as already described. This tool was
sent to Mr. Morris and during 1920 he bored into all the beams at
Aztec then available and sent me the cores.

These cores, together with other sections of beams too frail for
boring, finally represented 37 different beams in some 20 different
rooms scattered along the larger north part of the ruin. Prac-
tically all of these show similar rings near the outside, and by
counting to the last growth ring of each it was easy to tell the
relative dates at which the various timbers were cut.

In order to help in describing given rings in these various sec-
tions, a purely imaginary date was assumed for a certain rather
large ring which appeared in all the timbers. This was called R.
D. (Relative Date) 500, and all other rings earlier or later are
designated by this system of relative dates. Many interesting re-
sults were evident as soon as the various relative dates were com-
pared. In the first place, instead of requiring many hundreds of
years in construction as any one would suppose in looking at the
ruin, the larger part of it was evidently erected in the course of
ten years, for the dates of cutting the timbers found in the large
north side include only eight or nine years. The earliest timbers
cut were in the northeast part of the structure. The later timbers
are at the northwest, and it is evident that the sequence of build-
ing was from the easterly side to the westerly side, ending up with
the westerly end and extending toward the south.

In one place beams from three stories, one over the other, were
obtained. The top and bottom ceiling timbers were cut one year
later than those of the middle ceiling, showing that in vertical
construction the three floors were erected in immediate succession.
A floor pole from Pueblo Bonito was cut one year later than the
latest beam obtained from that ruin.

An even more interesting fact was soon after disclosed. A study
of the art and industries of neighboring ruins had satisfied Mr.
Nelson and Mr. Morris of the American Museum that some of the
ruins in Chaco Canyon, some 50 miles to the south, were not far
different in age from these at Aztec. The only beams immediately
available from the Chaco Canyon ruins had been collected in the
Pueblo Bonito ruin 25 years before by the Hyde expedition. Accord-
ingly sections were cut from seven beams which this expedition
had brought back to New York City. One of these sections was a
cedar and has not yet been interpreted, but the others were imme-
diately identified in age both among themselves and with reference
to the Aztec timbers. It was found that these Pueblo Bonito beams
were cut within a few years of each other at a time preceding the

20 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

cutting of the timbers at Aztec by 40 to 45 years. Many of the
timbers of each ruin were living trees together for more than
one hundred years and some even for two hundred years, and there
seems no possible doubt of the relative age here determined. This
result showing that a Chaco Canyon ruin was built nearly a half
century before Aztee is the first actual determination of such a
difference in exact years. A single beam from Pefiasco, some 14
miles down the Chaco Canyon from Pueblo Bonito showed that its
building was intermediate between Pueblo Bonito and Aztec.

Another association of growth rings with prehistoric deposits
has rapidly developed in the last two years. In 1904 the writer
discovered an Indian burial at a depth of eight feet in a cultivated
field near Flagstaff, Arizona. A skeleton and two nests of pottery
were revealed by a deep cut which a stream of water had made
through the land. Near the burial was an ancient pine stump
standing in place 16 feet underground. The tree was later dis-
covered by a neighbor and became part of a bridge support. The
Indian remains were given away except a red bowl of simple pat-
tern and a good piece of black and white ware which is now in the
Arizona State Museum. In 1920 the search for these buried trees
was resumed and more than a half dozen in excellent preservation
were found at depths from four to twelve feet. Mr. L. F. Brady
of the Evans School gave most important help in getting out sec-
tions of these. In the summer of 1921 he again resumed the search
and found several more buried trees and especially determined
several levels at which pottery and other Indian remains are
plentiful. These buried trees have been preserved by their pitch
and show here and there quantities of beautiful little white needle-
shaped erystals, which Dr. Guild has discovered to be a new mineral
and to which he has given the name ‘‘ F lagstaffite.”’

Several conclusions are already evident in the study of these
buried trees. In the first place they supply much desired material
from which some data regarding past climates may be obtained.
The trees buried most deeply have very large rings anda certain
kind of slow surging in ring size. Both of these features are char-
acteristic of wet climates. The stumps at higher levels show char-
acters common in dry climates, that is, general small rings and a
certain snappy irregularity with frequent surprises as to size.
This variation with depth gives a strong intimation of climatic
change. The cycles dominant at these different levels also may be
read from these sections and are likely to prove of great value.

In the second place this material will help in determining the
age of the Indian remains and perhaps even of the valley filling
in which these objects were located. There are several ways of

THE ANNUAL RINGS OF TREES 21

getting at this which will take time in working out but there is one
inference immediately evident. One log was buried only eighteen
inches, yet its rings do not tally with the 500 years of well deter-
mined rings of modern trees in that neighborhood. Allowing about
a century for the sap-wood lost from the buried tree and a half
century more necessary to detect cross-identity, we have an ap-
proximate minimum of 350 years for that foot and a half of depth.
The age of Indian relics at four and even nine feet must be very
considerable.

These then are the first results of the application of the general
study of tree rings to archeological work and suggest further pos-
sibilities. Not only does it seem probable that this beginning of
relative chronology of the wonderful ruins of the Southwest will
be extended to include other ruins in this region, but this study of
the prehistoric writing in trees will help in the clearer under-
standing of the climatic conditions which existed in those earlier
times when the largest bona fide residences in the world were being
built.

TX. CoNcLusION

The economic value of this study of tree rings and climate is
to be found in the possibility of long-range weather forecasting.
In non-economic terms we are trying to get the inter-relationships
between certain solar and terrestrial activities by the aid of his-
torical writing in the trees. The work is not done; a wide door is
open to the future. Hence it is impossible to make an artistic con-
clusion. There is no real conclusion yet. Some definite results
have been reached and they encourage us to hope for larger re-
turns in the future. Through this open door we ean see attractive
objectives looming above us and we note the outlines of some of the
hills to be surmounted. To climb these metaphorical hills we need
groups of trees from all parts of this country, from numerous spe-
cially selected spots and areas, from distant lands; we need ancient
tree records from Pueblo ruins and modern Hopi buildings, from
mummy case and viking ship, from peat-bog and brown-coal mine,
from asphalt bed and lava burial and from all ancient geologic
trees in wood and stone and coal. We need measuring instru-
ments, workers, museum room for filing and displaying specimens.
And we need great quantities of climatic data obtained with special
reference to tree comparison. With all this and with a spirit be-
hind it, we shall quickly read the story that is in the forest and
which is already coming to us through the alphabet of living trees.

22 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

VARIABILITY VS. UNIFORMITY IN THE
TROPICS

By Professor STEPHEN SARGENT VISHER

INDIANA UNIVERSITY

T is commonly stated that tropical climates are extremely uni-
form. This is only partly true. They indeed have compara-
tively slight seasonal variations in temperature and in the length
of day and night, and large areas have rather steady winds much
of the time. But continual emphasis upon the uniformity of
tropical climates is misleading because there are important varia-
tions in temperature and wind, while the rainfall of the lower lati-
tudes appears to be more variable on the average than the rainfall
of higher latitudes. There likewise appears to be more variation
in storminess and in rapid change of air pressure than in higher
latitudes.

Recent field investigations (financed by the Bishop Museum
of Honolulu and Yale and Indiana Universities) in Hawaii, Fiji,
tropical Australia, the East Indies, the Philippines and tropical
China, and examination of official meteorological records concern-
ing these areas and others have disclosed interesting evidences of
tropical variability and have convinced me that the conventional
statements, based on averages, are sufficiently misleading to make
it worth while to emphasize the climatic variability occurring in
the tropics.

The small seasonal contrasts in temperature which are char-
acteristic of the tropics are perhaps the chief reason why the im-
pression has been gained that tropical climates are uniform in other
respects. Another reason for this common belief is the fact that the
climatic data concerning the tropics are chiefly available in the
form of averages. Averages by themselves are very misleading
and should be supplemented as soon as possible by statements as
to extremes, and as to normal extent of departure from means.

Although the average seasonal range in temperature is indeed
small in low latitudes as compared with middle latitudes, there is an
appreciable seasonal contrast in latitudes more than 10° or 15°
from the equator. Indeed some parts of the tropics have about
as great a seasonal range of temperature as certain especially uni-
form parts of higher latitudes. This is illustrated when the average

VARIABILITY VS. UNIFORMITY 23

differences in mean temperature between the three warmest months
and the three coolest of the following pairs of seaport cities are
compared. Some of the cities in the right-hand column are not
within the tropics according to the narrowest limitation of that
zone. However, all are within the belt dominated by the Trades
during most of the year, which is the belt commonly considered as
tropical.

TABLE 1
SEASONAL RANGE OF TEMPERATURE
Caleutta, range 18° F., vs. Dublin, range 17° F., 22° N. vs. 53° N.
Hongkong, range 20° F., vs. Glasgow, range 12° F., 22° N. vs. 56° N.
Brisbane, range 17° F., vs. Hobart, Tas. range 15° F.,27° 8. vs. 43° 8.
Durban, tange 11° F., vs. Dunedin, N. Z., range 14° F., 29° S. vs. 46° S.
Cairo, range 16° F., vs. Bergen, Nor., range 22° F.,30° N. vs. 60° N.
New Orleans, range 26° F., vs. Vancouver, range 22° F., 30° N. vs. 49° N.
Madras, Tange 9° F., vs. San Francisco, range 8° F., 13° N. vs. 38° N.
Naples, range 25° F., vs. London, range 22° F., 41° N. vs. 51° N.

Even in regard to extremes of temperatures, some cities in
fairly low latitudes have ranges which approach those of the less
variable parts of the relatively high latitudes. This is illustrated
by the following table showing the difference between the highest
and lowest temperatures ever officially recorded at certain pairs
of seaport cities up to a recent year.’

TABLE 2
EXTREME RANGE OF TEMPERATURE
Caleutta, range 64° F., vs. Dublin, range 74° F., 22° N. vs. 53° N.
Hongkong, range 65° F., vs. Glasgow, trange 78° F., 22° N. vs. 56° N.
Bombay, range 54° F., vs. Lisbon, range 62° F., 19° N. vs. 40° N.
Madras, range 55° F., vs. San Francisco, range 72° F., 13° N. vs. 38° N.
Rio de Janeiro, range 52° F., vs. Wellington, range 58° F., 23° S. vs. 42° 8.
Brisbane, range 73° F., vs. Hobart, Tas., range 78° F.,27° S. vs. 43° S.
Durban, range 71° F., vs. Dunedin, N. Z., range 71° F., 29° S. vs. 46° S.
Cairo, range 82° F., vs. Bergen, Nor., range 84° F., 30° N. vs. 60° N.
New Orleans, range 95° F., vs. Sitka, range 90° F., 30° N. vs. 57° N.
Capetown, range 68° F., vs. Amsterdam, range 86° F., 34° N. vs. 52°: N.

That there are appreciable seasonal contrasts in temperature
in lower latitudes is not surprising when the seasonal variation In
insolation is considered. In spite of the fact that the sun shines
vertically somewhere between the two tropies every day in the
year, there is a great change in angle of incidence. Few people
realize that when the sun is vertically over the northern tropic

1 References to sources of data are given in a longer, more technical

article on ‘‘ Variability of Tropical Climates’’ to be published in The Geo-
graphical Journal (London).

24 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

(Caneer), it shines upon the southern tropic (Capricorn) less
nearly vertically by 4 degrees than upon the Arctic Circle. The
latitude of New York receives much more heat from the sun on
June 21 than does the equator, for not only is the sun six degrees
more nearly vertical than at the equator, but moreover the days
are almost four hours longer.

Although on the average tropical regions show less contrast m
seasonal change of temperature than do middle latitudes, the re-
verse is true in respect to daily range. The night has been called
the winter of the tropics. The daily range is considerable in all
lower latitudes, although it is less in the more humid regions than
in the more arid. On the average it is distinctly greater than the
normal range in higher latitudes. This is due to two chief in-
fluences: Day and night are more nearly equal in length, and
hence there is a closer balance between the duration of the heating
and cooling periods than occurs in higher latitudes, where the
nights are too short in summer for marked cooling and the
days are too short in winter for effective heating. The other
great cause is the higher average temperature, since the escape
of heat varies as the fourth power of the absolute temperature.
This means that normally there is much greater cooling per noc-
turnal hour wherever the day-time temperature is high than where
it is low. A third reason why the diurnal range averages greater
in low latitudes (below 30°) is that a larger proportion of the area
is arid or semi-arid than is the case in middle latitudes.

In the tropics the nights often become so cool that consider-
able discomfort results. Even in an insular climate like that of
Suva, Fiji (latitude 18°S.), in spite of the wind blowing off the
sea, and a rainfall of over 100 inches fairly evenly distributed
throughout the year, it commonly becomes so cool at night that
the sensitive residents wear wraps if they walk out late in the
evening. Indeed, even the heavy army overcoats are frequently
worn with comfort at night and in the early morning during the
cooler season. In drier parts of the tropics, the nights become
much cooler than in a humid locality like Suva. On the dry west-
ern sides of the Fiji Islands, for example, temperatures below
40°F. have been recorded near latitude 16° close to sea level, and
in dry continental areas frost is not unknown near sea level, as
for example within 20° from the equator in Australia and Africa.

Another type of marked cooling in the tropics is the sudden
drop, often as much as 6° or 8°F., which occurs in thunder-storms,
which are very frequent in many parts of the tropics, far com-
moner on the average than in higher latitudes. Sometimes, as
when hail falls in quantity, the temperature-drop is much greater.

VARIABILITY VS. UNIFORMITY 25

Hail storms are not very rare in some tropical localities. For ex-
ample, ten hail storms were reported in ten years in latitudes 13°
to 16° S., near sea level in the Northern territory of Australia.
Three hail storms occurred in Panama (latitude 9°) in a twelve
year period.

Cold snaps of still other types occur within the tropics. For
instance, cold winds sometimes sweep down from higher latitudes
and bring low temperatures surprisingly near the equator. Zero
temperatures have been officially recorded in subtropical Northern
Florida (lat. 30° N.), and a temperature of only 10° above zero
F. has occurred on the Gulf Coast of Mexico in latitude 2514° N.
Central coastal Queensland is subject to ‘‘severe frosts’’ during
four months in the year within 21° of the equator, while freezing
temperatures have occurred even in the day time in southeastern
Asia in latitude 22° at sea level. Still farther south, on the China
Sea near Manila, latitude 15°, for example, northerly gales in win-
ter occasionally make overcoats welcome even in the day time.
Similar cold snaps occur in the cooler months in other tropical
localities such as the Hawaiian Islands, Jamaica and Fiji. Indeed,
remarkable as it may seem, the Weather Bureau reports a snow
flurry practically at sea level at Mahukona, Hawaii (lat. 20° 11’),
lasting ten minutes on December 29, 1921. Perhaps even more
surprising is the great cooling reported as not rare in winter on
the coast of Venezuela, in latitude 10° N. Director Ugueto, of the
Cajigal Observatory, announces that gales from the north off the
sea occasionally bring temperatures of 45° F. or even less, in the
day time, lasting a number of days. They are not associated with
thunderstorms, for the sky is clear at the time.

Because of the sensitiveness of the residents of the tropics to
low temperatures, chills and colds often develop and sometimes
pneumonia. Many observers have been impressed by the abund-
ance of coughs and ecatarrh in the tropics. They may be more
common there than in Canada. Indeed there is considerable truth
in the saying that ‘‘cold causes more suffering in the tropics than
in polar or subpolar regions.’’

Now as to the winds: Five chief sorts of variation within the
tropics merit attention: (1.) Even when the direction is fairly
constant, there is a marked diurnal variation in velocity. Calm
nights are the rule in trade wind deserts and nearly calm nights
are common elsewhere on the land except upon exposed elevations.
Likewise at sea, while the diurnal range is less than on land, it is
notable.. For example, Tetens reports a diurnal range of over 50
per cent. in the velocity of the wind at Samoa. In higher latitudes,
while the wind frequently dies down at nightfall,.and normally

26 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

weakens, windy nights are by no means uncommon, and very fre-
quently the wind is stronger by night than by day. In the tropics,
windy nights occur on lowlands only during the passage of rather
rare severe cyclonic storms. Moreover, disturbances of an inten-
sity which would give strong nocturnal winds in middle and high
latitudes cause only moderate winds at night at low elevations
in the tropics. This is due to the influence of the comparatively
great decrease in vertical convection at night in low latitudes
caused by the greater cooling of the surface air than of the over-
lying free air. It is for this reason also that even relatively steep
barometric gradients in monsoonal regions permit a marked dying
down of the surface winds at night.

(2.) Seasonal as well as diurnal variations in the velocity
of the trades are common. ‘‘ Half Gales’’ are characteristic of Fiji,
the New Hebrides and many other South Pacifie groups in their
spring months, and even ‘‘whole gales’’ are frequent during the
northeast ‘‘monsoons’’ in the China Sea during winter. On the
other hand, in other months calms or light breezes are the rule
when the doldrums migrate past, as they do twice each year with
the seasonal change in the altitude of the sun. Along the margins
of the tropics calms likewise occur when the extra-tropical belt
of high pressure migrates equator-ward in the cooler season.

(38.) There is a radical seasonal change in the direction of
the Trades when they cross the equator; those crossing from the
north change from east-northeast winds to northwest, due to the
defiective effects of the earth’s rotation. . Consequently many
places near the equator have easterly winds much of the year;
calms while the doldrums are migrating past, and westerly winds
when the doldrums are situated in higher latitudes on their side
of the equator. Then, as the sun returns equator-ward, calms and
easterlies recur.

(4.) Another evidence of tropical variability is that land and
sea breezes are more characteristic of the lower latitudes than of
the higher. This is because the contrast in the temperature of
land and water averages greater in low latitudes. Indeed while
in middle and high latitudes sea breezes are rare except during
the hottest weeks, in many parts of the lower latitudes they occur
almost every day in the year, and give a wind régime which is very
different from the constant easterly trades supposedly character-
istic of the tropics. The monsoons are a special type of land and
sea breezes, since they blow towards the land for many consecu-
tive weeks during summer, and in the opposite direction in winter,
While produced by temperature contrasts of extra-tropical regions,
the monsoons are most strongly felt in tropical latitudes (below

VARIABILITY VS. UNIFORMITY 27

30°) and give large and important regions a sharp seasonal con-
trast in wind directions. Between the winter and the summer
monsoons, there commonly is a spell some weeks in length when
the winds are irregular and often light. After they become steady
in direction they often fluctuate notably in velocity from day to
day as well as between day and night.

(5.) Although winds due to eyclonic disturbances do not occur
so frequently within the tropics as in higher latitudes, they are
significant. The ‘‘boxing of the compass,’’ during which the wind
comes from every direction in turn, occurs many times a year in
most parts of the tropics, while occasionally cyclonic gales or even
violent hurricanes occur. Official Japanese daily weather maps
and annual summaries of storm tracks show an average of over
fifty tropical cyclonic disturbances a year in east longitudes 115°-
145°, while a study of the Australian daily weather maps for 20
years shows an average of over 30 a year in similar longitudes
south of the equator. Thus in less than one seventh of the cireum-
ference of the earth there are over 80 cyclonic disturbances in an
average year. This is, however, the stormiest sector.

Mention should be made of thunder squalls which are, on the
average, more violent in low latitudes than in higher latitudes and
more frequent. In addition, several regions in subtropical lati-
tudes experience tornadoes or similar storms. Thus it is evident
that there is considerable variation in respect to winds in the
tropics.

Variations in rainfall have perhaps even greater significance
than variations in temperature or wind. The indications are that
in respect to dependability of precipitation, the lower latitudes are
notably less fortunate than are middle latitudes. In order to com-
pare the variability of rainfall in the tropical half of the globe with
that of the higher latitudes, I have inspected the official records
for many cities in both zones. The selection was impartial, being
determined solely by whether or not the data were available. The
comparison is between the greatest and least annual precipitation
officially recorded before a recent year. The length of the record
varies, but in general it is shorter in low than in higher latitudes
and hence tends to lessen the apparent range in lower latitudes.
Tables 3 and 4 give the figures to the nearest one tenth of an inch.
It will be noticed that the maximum amount of rainfall received
in a year was less than twice the minimum for Chicago, Christiania,
Edinburgh, Ottawa, Paris, Pekin and Tokio, and only a trifle more
than twice the minimum in the case of Amsterdam, Berlin, Berne,
London, New York, Petrograd, St. Louis, Vienna and Wellington,
N. Z. Very few middle or high latitude cities appear to have ex-

28 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

perienced three times as much precipitation in their wettest year
as in their driest. Madrid, Washington, D. C., and Vladivostock
are exceptions as are some cities in southern Europe, while Hobart,
Tasmania, Buenos Aires, Rome and San Francisco are notable
for having received about four times as much. However, many
geographers class Buenos Aires, Rome and San Francisco as sub-
tropical. Furthermore, Madrid and Vladivostock have an average
rainfall of less than 20 inches, and thus are more subject to large
percentage changes than is the case where the normal rainfall is
larger.

TABLE 3
EXTREME ANNUAL RANGE IN RAINFALL IN Mip-LATITUDES
Average Driest Wettest
City Latitude Rainfall Year Year
BANTISEEEC AMY, Wetec ea ueeen ea eeu DeING 27.3 in. 17.6 in. 40.6 in.
LY Ey ol Oe TUM GAYA SL Le 4 AN oa 52° N. 23.0 14.3 30.0
18h (ppg rate 2 is eRe EL 47° N. 36.3 24.7 58.2
Buenos) (Aires 2022.00 a. aa tS 36.8 21.5 80.7
CICA PON 42° .N. 33.5 24.5 45.9
Chrigtianig nine hak 60° N. 22.5 16.3 alee
FSGIMbUR OM | eye eck 56° N. 25.2 16.4 32.1
PER OD AUT bis acters eee ee 43° S. 23.7 13.4 43.4
a Gay U0) 1 Wage eevee ee OURS Soha 51° N. 24.0 18.2 38.2
IMAG YC hats yeep ek es ee MLN Ba 40° N. 16.2 9.1 27.5
Ne we pO Em ssh ead 41° N. 42.5 28.8 59.7
Ottawa) hoes Wee heen 45° N. 33.4 26.4 44,4
TAG ae eee ae SRS Ta Soe 49°N. 21.9 16.4 29.6
Lets) Serb UWA Peete ESI GS Se RS aE AL SONI 40° N. 24.4 18.0 36.0
Petrograd) (isi eee 60° N. 21.3 13.8 29.5
FROIN ieee es See cea Sse 42° N. 32.6 17, 57.9
San Pranciscore eee eee 38° N. 22.8 9.3 38.8
Rabat GOTT jovi ku uate aye GE eae 39° N. 37.4 23.4 49.2
HT OKA Opi ae ae ea ae Ie a 36° N. 59.2 45.7 ea
Wiladivostock suse ee yee 43° N. 19.5 9.4 33.6
PAE ey is Ee eee alee tat liee LOL ILO ea Ye A8° NN. 24.5 16.5 33.9
Washington) 2a ee ae 39° N. 43.8 18.8 61.0
Wrelliniotom Ni jiiZieu ee anal, 42° 8, 49.7 30.0 67.7

Turning now to the lower latitudes: Among 20 scattered cities
selected impartially, in no case was the officially recorded rainfall
of the wettest year less than twice that of the driest. Only in Ca.-
eutta and Caracas did the ratio fall as low as 244. In Johannes-
burg it was 21% times as great, and in Durban, Hongkong and New
Orleans it was 234. In Colombo and Honolulu it was about 3; in
Bombay, Buenos Aires and Manila each about 314; in Madras 414;
in Brisbane and Singapore 5; and in Rio de Janeiro 13.4. All these
cities have a normal rainfall of 30 inches or over, and the mean
for the group of cities is 55.6 inches in contrast with a mean of

VARIABILITY VS. UNIFORMITY 29

30.5 inches for the cities of Table 3. Since percentage fluctuations
tend to become smaller as the total rainfall increases, the great
fluctuations experienced by these tropical cities are all the more
notable.

TABLE 4
ExTREME ANNUAL RANGE IN RAINFALL IN Low LATITUDES
Average Driest Wettest
City Latitude Rainfall Year Year

2) TS eee 19° N. (Alea lake 33.4 in. 114.9 in.
ESS TEEN Spe a ee a PS ish 45.6 16.2 88.3
RBM CUE G LENS econ coe sa2- ads sdoeneneeacsesunes 22°. N. 62.0 39.4 89.3
SPC AS tH eects cet eels abe LACHNG 30.0 23.7 47.4
MP cloner DOW beets caceaee neous couse Teas 83.8 51.6 139.7
TU ASr Ly See eRe 29° S. 40.8 27.2 71.3
(2 Ree 22°N. 84.1 45.8 119.7
TE ica va (UL Ty a a a Rae 2 2 21° N. 31.3 14.6 45.0
PPGUUROS DUES a c20 oo onen-ccauens 26° S. 31.6 21.7 50.0
icaiecisiaoseceices 28 te) oh ae 13° N. 49.0 18.5 88.4
TTT Ey NR RA eRe ocd see 5S UNG 76.3 35.7 117.0
Je] 21S) HE Re et a aE 2 41° N. 34.0 21.7 56.6
New Orleans)--2). 2.00 nscsee-s-seee 30° N. 55.7 Sj 85.7
ON Ge ANOITO -:.---------.-ccsd-eeee 23° S. 46.8 4.7 63.5
LLC LTC) ah ene ee Deane aS TN: 92.0 32.7 158.7

If tropical and subtropical cities having an average rainfall
of less than 20 inches are included in the comparison, even more
violent ranges are disclosed. For example, Cairo, Egypt and San
Diego, Calif., each received about 6% times as much rainfall in
their wettest year as in their driest; Athens 7 times; Helwan,
Egypt, 18 times; and Onslow, W. Australia, 47 times as great.

None of the cities of Table 4, except Singapore, happens to be
close to the equator, the necessary data for other equatorial cities
not being readily available. However, extreme fluctuations occur
almost under the equator even on oceanic islands. At Malden
Island (lat. 4° 1' S.; long. 154° 58’ W.), for example, the annual
totals of rainfall have varied from 3.95 inches in 1908 to 63.41
inches in 1905. At Oceanic Island (lat. 0° 52’ 8.; long. 169° 35’
K.), nearly 2,000 miles west of Malden Island and within a degree
of the equator, the range has been between 19.61 inches in 1909
and 158.93 in 1905 (141.12 in 1911). There was likewise a range
of from 74 rainy days in 1910 to 232 in 1911. Upon the Hawaiian
Islands, Puuhela, on Maui, (lat. 2034° N.; long. 15614 W.) re-
ceived only 2.46 inches of rain in 1912, but received 33.14 inches
in 1918. Many other Hawaiian stations show a somewhat similar
range, and the rainfall of the group as a whole is characterized
by the government meteorologist as ‘‘extremely unreliable.’’

The great variability illustrated by these three mid-Pacifie Is)-
ands is the more notable because insular climates are commonly

30 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

thought to be exceptionally uniform, particularly if near the
equator and not dominated by near-by continental masses, nor
within hurricane regions. None of these three is in a hurricane re-
gion, all are far from land and two are close to the equator.

So many other regions in low latitudes experience an undepend-
able rainfall that it seems unnecessary to more than mention the
famines produced by droughts in India and in southern China,
or the destructive fioods in the same countries. Tropical Australia
has perhaps even worse droughts and floods and is saved from ter-
rible famines only by the sparseness of the population and the skill
used in reducing the losses to a minimum. The annual variation
at Onslow in tropical West Australia, for instance, was from 0.57
inches in 1912 to 26.96 in 1900, and the average variability from
year to year in that region has been about 50 per cent. of the aver-
age rainfall.

Exeessive falls in short periods afford other illustrations of the
uncertainty of rainfall. In tropical Australia, on more than 400
days in a 25-year period more than 10 inches of rain fell in 24
hours according to official records, while in temperate Australia
there have been very few recorded instances of such heavy rain-
falls—none in Victoria or South Australia and only two in Tas-
mania (Max. of 18.1 inches in three days). In tropical Australia,
more than 20 inches has been officially recorded as falling in 24
hours on 42 different days, and more than 30 inches on four ocea-
sions. The maximum was 35.71 inches at Crohamhurst, Queens-
land, Feb. 2, 1893. However, 60 inches fell in three consecutive
days at Mt. Molloy, Queensland, and there have been many 48-hour
periods when more than 25 inches fell.

At Suva, Fiji, it frequently happens that more than 10 inches
of rain falls within 24 hours; there were 4 eases in the 7-year
period 1906-12. The maximum has been 26.5 inches in less than
four hours on August 8, 1906.

What is believed to be the world’s record for officially meas-
ured rainfall in 24 consecutive hours occurred near Manila on
Feb. 14-15, 1911 (1,168 mm., 46 inches). The other stations at
which this maximum has been approached are also in low latitudes,
namely, Cherrapunji, India, June 14, 1876, 40.8 inches; Silver Hill,
Jamaica, 57.5 inches in 48 hours; Funkiko, Formosa, 40.7 inches
on Aug. 31, 1911, and at Hononu, Hawaii, 31.9 inches, Feb. 20,
1918.

With such sharp annual and daily extremes as these, it is rea-
sonable to expect great monthly extremes. At Malden Island,
mentioned above, for example, the range in officially recorded rain-
fall from 1890 to 1918 was as follows:

VARIABILITY VS. UNIFORMITY 31

TABLE 5
MONTHLY VARIATION IN RAINFALL AT MALDEN ISLAND
(ee A Oe On ee | SPAN aes from 0.00 in. to 19.48 in.
i 2] Thar gp Re Re an gr fe aa from 0.00 in. to 9.27 in.
JIE TO Ree as A eas Siva set ea cB SiON aie from 0.15 in. to 25.65 in.
UA sel er cetene cei Let Se eee from 0.47 in. to 12.34 in.
TN Ig lee, teen 28 oer he ate Se Mea rE A from 0.29 in. to 12.30 in.
SIMON pee eto: ess tt Me hh ees ee from 0.00 in. to 12.49 in.
SPUD a Se ee ee eh ace ate ean Se ee from 0.59 in. to 10.10 in.
Jeb YSIS) igh ae eS Rede ett ee al Re from 0.18 in. to 5.56 in.
Septem berry ee ee ee eee from 0.05 in. to 3.03 in.
October, fo. cs hee ee ee Le from 0.00 in. to 5.27 in.
INOV EMER oS ee oll from 0.00 in. to 8.72 in.
Wecember sy 44 020s hae aes eee AL from 0.00 in. to 8.20 in.

The four months, November, 1891, to February, 1892, received
a total of only 0.72 inches, while the four months, January to
April, 1915, received over 60 inches. The number of rainy days
per year varied from 30 to 144.

At Oceanic Island, likewise, the monthly ranges are extreme.
Within a nine-year period, February, March, April and November
have each received 0.1 inches or less and also 21.3 inches, 28.9,
27.6 and 15.5 inches, respectively, and falls of 0.7 inches or less in
May, August, September, October and December are to be con-
trasted with falls of from 12 to 19 inches received in other years
in those same months.

The Philippines show scarcely less violent extremes. In the
16-year period, 1903-18, 42 of the 70 stations had a total of about
160 months with no rainfall, while the wettest months at about
half the stations exceeded 40 inches of rain, and had less than 20
inches in the case of only 8 stations. This variation is only partly
seasonal, for a month which is very dry one year may be exces-
sively wet another. Severe and widespread droughts, with over
100 days without rain, are contrasted with destructive floods
caused by rainfalls of more than 20 inches in a day or two.

Even at Hilo, on the wet side of Hawaii, where the rainfall
averages 159.4 inches a year and is relatively dependable, a 13-
year period shows that the monthly amounts have varied widely,
January from 0.5 inches to 38.6, February from 1.9 to 32.5 inches,
March 2.9 to 45.4, April 3.7 to 25.1, and December from 1.7 to
27.8 inches, for example.

That the great variation from year to year in rainfall dis-
eussed in the foregoing pages is not local is suggested by various
data. For example, the average rainfall of the entire Hawaiian
group (150 stations) was more than twice as great in 1919 as in
1918 (112.9 in. vs. 54.5 in.). Likewise in the Philippines during
the droughts such as that referred to in a preceding paragraph,
nearly ail of the 70 stations are affected similarly.

32 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Another type of variation in rainfall which is prominent in
the tropics is the seasonal. Very few tropical localities receive
their rainfall as evenly distributed throughout the year as is
common in many parts of middle latitudes. Distinct wet and dry
seasons are the rule. The rainy summers and dry winters of India
and China are well known. Most of tropical Australia also receives
almost no rain for six months and from 15 to 50 inches or more in
the other six months. Hawaii and many other places near the
margins of the tropics receive much of their rainfall in winter,
while still other parts of the tropics have two wet and two dry
seasons.

In order to compare the monthly variability of rainfall in low
and middle latitudes, a planimeter measurement was made of
Supan’s map of Percentage Range of Mean Monthly Rainfall in
Bartholomew’s Atlas of Meteorology. This map shows four types
of regions: (1) where the wettest month is less than 10 per cent.
rainier than the driest month; (2) where the wettest month is
from 10-20 per cent. rainier than the driest; (3) where the range
is from 20-80 per cent; and (4) where it is over 30 per cent. Tables
6 and 7 show the approximate area and the percentage of each
type by continents. Table 6 concerns middle latitudes (30° to
60°) ; Table 7 concerns low latitudes (30° N. to 30° S.).

TABLE 6
PERCENTAGE RANGE OF MEAN MONTHLY RAINFALL, LATITUDES 30° To 60°
Range less than Range Range Range over
10 per cent. 10-20 per cent. 20-30 per cent. 30 per cent.
Mil. Sq. Mi.% Mil. Sq. Mi.% Mil. Sq. Mi.% Mil. Sq. Mi. %

ADV ofc) 0) meena ATS 1.77 65 .88 34 03 iL 0 0
North Ameriea...... 2.06 43 2.62 54 14 3 0 0
South Ameriea...... 23 26 Do 60 13 14 0 0
MAS Tain) elise A eae 22 3 2.65 34 3.75 49 1.13 14
PART C eM itl eae en 05 15 23 44 47 41 0 0
Aastrailiay)\|s2 22 oust .36 47 40 53 -005 6 0 0
Total and Means.. 4.70 26 7.34 42 4.42 25 1.13 7
TABLE 7
PERCENTAGE RANGE OF Mran MontHLy RAINFALL, LATITUDES 30° N. To 30° 8.
Range less than Range Range Range over
10 per cent. 10-20 per cent. 20-30 per cent. 30 per cent.
Mil. Sq. Mi. % Mil. Sq. Mi. % Mil. Sq. Mil. % Mil. Sq. Mi. %
North America...... 0 0 46 39 .70 61 0 0
South Ameriea...... 12 2 4.91 76 ASI 21 .04 1
VACA Wi ee eae 10 2 .96 23 2.56 60 .63 15
WAGER Cai) tee ee 0 0 2.28 20 8.86 78 21 2
VANIS ETAL et tetederee 16 7 63 28 1.32 59 13 6
East Indies...........- 43 36 72 63 OL il 0 0
Total and Means.. .81 3 9.76 38 14.76 55 1.01 4

VARIABILITY VS. UNIFORMITY 33

It will be seen that low latitudes have over three times as large
an area possessing a monthly variability of over 20 per cent. as
is the case in mid-latitudes and twice as large a percentage of their
total area has this range. The one large area in mid-latitudes
having the fourth, the most extreme, type of rainfall variability
is the Tibetan Plateau, which has little agricultural value because
of its great altitude. Furthermore, the month of least precipita-
tion in mid-latitudes commonly is in the winter when plants require
little moisture while the wettest month usually is in summer. On
the other hand, the driest month of the tropics is also a hot month,
with active evaporation. This unfortunate combination is very
hard on plants, and is the reason for the lack of forests in many
places having a large annual rainfall. For instance, parts of
tropical Australia having over 60 inches of rain a year possess no
real forest because several months are extremely dry and hot.

In respect to the more uniform rainfall type, where the range
between the driest and wettest month is less than ten per cent.
mid-latitudes have nearly six times as large an area as low lati-
tudes. This type comprises about 26 per cent. of the total land
area of mid-laditudes while it makes up only 3 per cent. of low
latitudes. Other interesting comparisons come out on further
study of these tables.

Why should the lack of marked seasons in respect to temper-
ature be emphasized and the presence of marked seasons of rain-
fall be largely ignored by most writers on the tropics?

Another climatic factor subject to marked changes is stormi-
ness. Cyclonic storms are erratic in all parts of the world but
the extremes appear to be greatest in low latitudes. The range
in the number of hurricanes damaging Australia, for example, has
been from one hurricane in 1907 and 1919 to seven in 1916 and
eleven in 1912. In Fiji some years have none, but several years
have had three each and one year four. In the South Indian
Ocean the variation reported by the Mauritius Observatory has
been from one storm in 1900 to eight in 1894 (and several other
years) and to thirteen in 1913. In the Philippines in a 15-year
period the number of very severe typhoons varied from one in
1916 to seven each in 1908 and 1911. In respect to less violent
cyclonic storms there appears to be a somewhat similar range. For
example, the total number of well-marked tropical cyclones occur-
ring in Queensland, Australia, varied from eight in 1920 to 24
in 1916. In respect to the month of occurrence, as well as in an-
nual frequency, there likewise is marked irregularity. In some
years cyclones may be lacking during the months when they nor-
mally are most frequent and occur only in months supposed to be

VOL. XV—3

34 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

free from dangerous storms. Of thunder storms also there is
marked variation, perhaps more than in higher latitudes. Many
stations in Fiji and elsewhere have experienced several times as
many in one year as in another. While many hurricanes are ac-
companied by appalling lightning, other equally severe hurricanes
have none.

Slght changes of weather are almost constantly taking place
in the tropies. A rainy spell will be succeeded by a less rainy one
or by a few rainless days; a hot spell by a slightly cooler one; a
spell of fitful breezes, by several days of steady winds. Such
changes have been noticed by the writer in Jamaica, Hawaii, the
Philippines, the East Indies, Queensland and elsewhere, but have
been especially studied in Fiji. There, a study of the official
records taken at Suva reveals an average of about 20 distinct spells
of weather well distributed throughout the year, with about as
many less distinet changes.

In conclusion, when all these types of variation occur, is it
right to give the impression that tropical climates are extremely
uniform? But although tropical climates are not so uniform as
has been supposed, it does not follow that they are better adapted
to civilized man than has been supposed. Most of the variability
within the tropics is of a highly irregular sort compared with the
variability characteristic of the parts of the higher latitudes where
civilized man mostly lives. Indeed it appears that tropical climates
are unfavorable for a high type of civilization not alone because
of the high temperatures and the general lack of stimulating sea-
sonal changes in temperatures, but also because of the often ex-
treme undependability of the rainfall, the occurrence not infre-
quently of destructive windstorms and other unfavorable varia-
tions. But, nevertheless, highly civilized man can cope with the
numerous problems of the tropics far better than can primitive
people. Indeed, the latter, unaided, have made little progress.
Hence fuller utilization of the tropical resources awaits a greater
participation by civilized man.

EXTERMINATING INSECTS 35

THE POSSIBILITIES OF EXTERMINATING
INSECTS

By Drmbe ry Fell

STATE ENTOMOLOGIST OF NEW YORK

HIS is a special phase of the war against insects, the general
aspects of which have been discussed in such an illuminating
and very suggestive manner by Dr. L. O. Howard, chief of the
Federal Bureau of Entomology, in his address as retiring presi-
dent of the American Association for the Advancement of Science.*
Dr. Howard has given in this account a most excellent summary
of the broader phases of insect control, though, for some reason,
possibly because he knew of the writer’s interest therein, he re-
frained from discussing exterminative measures or the possibilities
of eradicating isolated infestations.

This is something of considerable practical importance on ac-
count of the fact that more than half of our most injurious insect
pests have been introduced from abroad and the proeess is still
going on in spite of the widespread and, as a whole, well directed
Horticultural Inspection Service of the general government and the
various states. This latter work has undoubtedly prevented the es-
tablishment of a number of injurious insects and delayed the intro-
duction of others, though occasionally we find a destructive pest well
established in a section and in the ordinary course of events
destined to extend its range and possibly inflict very serious losses
over a considerable period of years.

The Gipsy Moth, the Brown-Tail Moth, the Elm Leaf Beetle, the
Leopard Moth and the recently introduced Japanese Beetle are
somewhat familiar examples in the eastern United States, while
the south has become altogether too familiar with the Boll Weevil,
the Pink Boll Worm and very lately the Mexican Bean Beetle.
There is, in addition, the recently introduced European Corn
Borer, now beyond any possibility of extermination so far as this
hemisphere is concerned, though at one time it must have been
within possibilities. We are also confronted in the early history
of the Gipsy Moth with the futile attempt of the state of Massa-
chusetts to exterminate the insect, while later developments dem-

1(a) ‘*On Some Presidential Addresses’’; (b) ‘‘The War against
Insects.’’ Science, 54: 641-651, 1921.

36 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

onstrated beyond question the practicability of accomplishing what
at one time appeared to many as an unattainable ideal.

It must be conceded at the outset that problems of this nature
are surrounded by manifold difficulties and that, within certam
limits, each case must be decided upon its merits. In the first place,
it is exceedingly difficult to determine the future status of an in-
sect before it has become well established and thus presumably
ineradicable, unless some unusual limitation makes extermination
relatively easy. Granting that there is substantial agreement
among scientific men as to the desirability of exterminating a given
species, the great problem of educating the public to view the
matter from the right standpoint and thus make possible the se-
curing of means to prosecute a vigorous campaign still remains to
be solved. Furthermore, initial operations, if the undertaking
is to be successful and conducted in the most economical manner,
must ordinarily be started before successful measures have been
thoroughly demonstrated. There is always an element of doubt
in regard to the possibility of serious injury, the feasibility of
extermination and the methods to be employed, consequently it is
not easy to secure a combination which will bring about the desired
results. On the other hand, there is practical agreement among
most scientific men familiar with the work of insects to the effect
that extermination, when possible, is immensely cheaper and more
desirable than the prosecution of more or less unsatisfactory con-
trol measures in a constantly expanding infested territory.

Earlier attempts to exterminate insects were based largely on
some plan designed to catch or kill the last remaining insect, pre-
ferably within a year or two and certainly within a few years:
Some have even advocated redueing the infested territory to prac-
tically desert conditions in such a manner as to make all insect
life at least impossible. This latter is undoubtedly possible in the
ease of very restricted infestations and may be justified if the insect
is an exceedingly destructive or dangerous one. It is out of the
question if an extended area is infested or the insect one which
is not particularly dangerous to life and does not threaten a basic
crop or industry. Most cases come in this latter category and
therefore do not justify extreme or drastic measures.

It seems to the writer that the method of progressive reduction,
if one may use a special term, has not received the consideration
it deserves, and yet it has been the method which has brought
about extermination of Gipsy Moth colonies in areas well removed
from the generally infested territory. The plan in such a ease
was to bring about conditions unfavorable for the multiplication
of the insect and, by following up the matter from year to year,

EXTERMINATING INSECTS 37

eventually reduce the numbers of the pest so greatly that natural
agents or hazards actually bring about extermination. It is inter-
esting in this connection to review the work of the earlier days
against the Gipsy Moth when a systematic and very costly effort
was made to find every egg mass in woodlands as well as on im-
proved grounds and destroy them by hand, trees being climbed and
walls taken down and relaid in the search for the last egg mass.
This was supplemented by spraying the foliage in the infested area
and banding the trees for caterpillars. Later developments have
shown that much of this laborious egg hunting can be eliminated
by a system of spraying and cutting out low bushes or favored
food plants. Conditions are thus changed to such an extent that
the insect is unable to maintain itself and eventually disappears.

Apparently, because insects are small and under certain condi-
tions exceedingly abundant, we have failed to make allowance for
the results following a great reduction in the number of indi-
viduals, especially if this be continued year after year. The matter
is of more than passing importance, because there is a possibility
of making practical application of the principles involved and ob-
taining at a relatively moderate cost results which might eventuate
in large savings by eradicating injurious species before they had
an opportunity of establishing themselves over extended areas.

Tt may be held that the Gipsy Moth is in a class by itself and
to a certain extent this is true. Nevertheless, until this method has
been widely tested with a variety of insects, no one is in a position
to state that it is impracticable. Even a casual study of injurious
insects shows marked local variations in abundance. These must
be due to some cause, and in many instances they are directly asso-
ciated with agricultural practices or differences in natural condi-
tions. The detection of such unfavorable conditions and the bring-
ing about of similar modifications in areas where insects are de-
structive, is one of the opportunities of the economic entomologist
and, as stated above, there is a probability of the same principle
being applied successfully to the extermination of recently intro-
duced injurious insects, provided the infested area is not too large.
This last is not necessarily an insuperable difficulty. It may simply
mean a better organization and an extension of operations over a
longer period of time.

If we turn from the field of entomology to the broader realm
of zoology, and consider what has occurred in the ease of larger
forms, we may find some very suggestive hints. It should be noted
in this connection that in not a few instances the apparently im-
possible has been brought about by the irresponsible urge of self
interest and not through carefully directed cooperative efforts for
the attainment of a definite aim.

38 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

One of the most striking instances of this kind is the exter-
mination of the Passenger Pigeon, a bird at one time so extremely
abundant that three carloads a day were shipped from one small
Michigan town for a period of forty days. The Great Auk, the
Labrador Duck and the Pallas Cormorant have passed into history.
The Whooping Crane, the Trumpeter Swan, the American Fla-
mingo, the Heath Hen and Sage Grouse are representative of a
series of valuable and interesting birds doomed, in the opinion
of Dr. Hornaday, to early extermination.

Large herds of Buffalo were saved from extinction at the last
moment through the intervention of naturalists interested in pre-
serving the wild life of the country. The Prong-Horned Antelope,
the Big-Horn Sheep, the Mountain Goat and the Elks are traveling
the same path as the Buffalo.

The depleted salmon, shad and herring fisheries, the necessity
of protecting both the oyster and the lobster and the great scarcity
of certain whales have been brought about by artificial agencies,
though it would seem as if inhabitants of the water would have a
better chance for escape from a persistent human enemy than
would be the case with terrestrial forms.

It is true that these unfortunate conditions have resulted
through specific peculiarities or limitations which made attack at
certain points particularly effective, such as killing birds when
migrating or in their nesting retreats or the wholesale catching of
spawning salmon. Those dependent in large measure for their
living upon some of these forms could not believe that the natural
prolificacy of the species would not offset almost any levy by hu-
man or other agents. Are we not unconsciously assuming that
because insects are apparently innumerable, systematic gen-
eral measures continued over a series of years are foredoomed to
failure? It by no means follows that immense numbers indicate
impossibility of control or extermination.

The stimulus of a deadly peril is sometimes necessary to dem-
onstrate the practicable. This has occurred in the ease of yellow
fever and, while the insect carrier was not exterminated, it was
soon found entirely possible to greatly reduce the breeding of the
“‘day mosquito’’ and by a combination of mosquito control meas-
ures and preventing insects from gaining access to infection, the
disease was actually eradicated. The deadly peril of plague on the
Pacific Slope drove home the lesson that safety lay in rat eradica-
tion and that this latter coula be accomplished only by a simulta-
neous attack upon the rat, its food supply and habitations. This
was carried to the extent of exterminating rats over considerable
city areas. Given adequate incentive, there appears to be no prac-

EXTERMINATING INSECTS 39

tical reason why rat extermination could not be extended to entire
cities or smaller communities through systematic repressive meas-
ures extending over a series of years. In this connection, it may
be permissible to allude to the so-called Rodier method of rabbit
and rat control, which depends simply upon systematic trapping
and destruction of the females and the liberation of the males,
since an excess of the latter, it is claimed, results in extermination
or near extermination due to persistent persecution by the males
of the constantly decreasing number of females. It is based on
the utilization of well-known habits to bring about self destruction
of the species.

The studies of bark beetles by Dr. Hopkins have shown the
possibility of securing very efficient control by simply reducing
their numbers, in some instances by 75 per cent., to such an extent
that those remaining would be unable to overcome the natural re-
sistance of the tree. This applies to enemies of living trees and pre-
supposes that a minimum amount of injury must be inflicted or
the attack can be successfully resisted. Were there sufficient in-
centive, it might be possible to go further with certain of these
insects and bring about local extermination.

A concrete application along these lines is found in the attempt
of recent years by the United States Biological Survey to destroy
predatory animals such as wolves and coyotes and thus eliminate in
large measure the very heavy losses of western stock growers. The
work is organized on a cooperative basis with states and local asso-
ciations and as a consequence losses have been practically ended
over great areas of the most valuable summer and winter sheep
ranges and reduced in others to very small amounts compared with
earlier years. The practical value of such work is evidenced by
the fact that interested states, in order to cooperate with the gov-
ernment, appropriated over $200,000.00 for the fiscal year of 1922,
in addition to increased contributions by stockmen as individuals
and through their organizations. Already areas have been cleared
or partly cleared of the pests and it would seem from the progress
made entirely possible to exterminate the most destructive of these
animals throughout the more important stock-raising areas at least,
and this through the well directed efforts of a relatively small num-
ber of individuals.

The systematic destruction of prairie dogs has resulted in over
four million acres of public lands being ‘‘largely freed’’ from
these pests. There has also been very effective work against pocket
gophers and rabbits. It is within possibilities to make local and
almost complete eradication absolute and thus in the course of years
free large areas from serious pests.

40 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The work of W. F. Fiske upon the Tsetse Fly has shown that
it is only necessary to reduce the infestation by this pest to mod-
erate limits in order to secure a very satisfactory degree of free-
dom from the deadly sleeping sickness. The studies of Roubaud
upon malaria in France indicate an intimate connection between
this infection and the number of mosquitoes per host. The author
suggests what he calls animal prophylaxis, that is, the importation
of enough cattle in certain areas to attract the insects and thus
protect man to a large extent. The keeping of rabbits has been
advocated more recently as a protection from malaria, and may
be regarded as a variant of Roubaud’s plan. All are forms of
percentage reduction, a step which under certain conditions might
be continued to the vanishing point, at least, so far as the infection
is concerned.

Turning to the Acarina, we note the progressive extermination
of the Cattle Tick from nearly 500,000 square miles of territory,
and the consequent elimination from this area of a very serious
infection. It was apparently an impossible undertaking until the
decisive factors were ascertained. In this connection, it might be
stated that gratifying progress has been made in demonstrating
methods of controlling the Rocky Mountain spotted fever tick, a
earrier of a deadly human infection. Even now plans are in prog-
ress to test the possibility of actually exterminating warble flies
from large areas. This is somewhat different from the tick propo-
sition. It appears to be within possibilities and is certainly worth
a thorough test.

The history of the larger animals shows a number of eases of
extermination or near extermination as a result of continued aad-
verse conditions, and in historic times this has been due mostly to
systematic hunting or fishing, and usually it has been confined to a
restricted portion of the range, though in some instances it occurred
at a period which would permit the maximum reduction in the
species, namely, just before the breeding season.

The mere fact that a species occurs in immense numbers does
not make extermination impossible, though it may greatly prolong
the period during which adverse influences must operate.

It is evident from a study of insects and an examination of the
factors resulting in the extermination of larger animals, that rela-
tively minor changes in environment or well organized attacks
limited to relatively few individuals or to comparatively restricted
areas, may accomplish the apparently impossible.

It is also evident that the elimination of a certain residuum may
safely be left to the operation of various natural causes. This latter
is an extremely important factor in any attempt to exterminate

EXTERMINATING INSECTS 41

insects, since it is usually impossible to destroy the last individual
or to bring about conditions over an infested area of some extent
which would make the existence of insect life impossible.

In view of the above, we believe that the problem of insect ex-
termination should receive most careful consideration and as op-
portunity offers, tests or demonstrations should be undertaken in
order to obtain more trustworthy data relative to possibilities in
this line of repressive work.

42 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

CITY PARKS AND PLAYGROUNDS AS
HEALTH AGENTS

By Dr. JAMES M. ANDERS

PHILADELPHIA, PA.

4 Ti necessity for providing sufficient city parks and play

spaces, including parkways and garden-streets, has been long
appreciated by students of municipal sanitation and the truly en-
lightened part of the general public. We owe the existence of
organized bodies for the purpose of promoting these agencies, all
of which have been founded within the last half century, to a
few leaders in the matter of community health and welfare and
in civic advancement. As the result of their well-directed efforts
considerable progress has been made in the important direction of
providing an adequate proportion of open spaces in relation to
the density and aggregate of municipal populations. Efforts to
arouse public sentiment upon this vitally important question, how-
ever, should have received far greater encouragement than they did
in the past.

In this connection it should be recollected that in consequence
of the free immigration of inferior races our national physique
has shown up to now a slow and gradual retrogression. It is high
time that an intelligent, concerted effort be made with the avowed
purpose of arresting this physical decadence and, more than this,
of beginning a new advance. To the student of hygienic and sani-
tary principles the sources of bodily and moral efficiency are not
obscure, and with the aid of sufficient popular support he ean in-
dicate the remedies for the cure of the existing state of things with
reference to our physical deficiencies.

It will not prove difficult to show the connection of city parks
and playgrounds with racial progress due to improvement in the
national physique. Indeed, it is not too much to claim that a just
appreciation of the beneficial effects of these breathing and play
spaces of our cities would speedily lead to the acquisition of new
areas and the development of land owned by cities for park and
play purposes; this would mean a distinet advance in city building
with reference to such questions as the number of houses to the
acre, their proper grouping, and the extent of open spaces between
units, as well as in street tree planting, all of which questions

PLAYGROUNDS AS HEALTH AGENTS 43

affect the health and strength of the community, as will be clear
hereafter.

The thirtieth annual report of the City Parks Association of
Philadelphia sets forth the rdle played by the United States Gov-
ernment in physical demonstration of town planning on a large
seale carried into execution in several localities, notably Yorkship,
Portsmouth, N. H., and Wilmington, Del., during the recent
war. Here was established a standard for city planning that it
would have required a much longer period of time—quite a gen-
eration at least—to attain to in peace times. Attention should be
directed to such government regulations as building ten to twenty
feet back of the street line, fewer houses to the block and open
space between adjoining houses, sixteen feet being the minimum.
It is to be hoped that this example set by the government will not
be lost, but will serve to inaugurate an era of decided progress in
city building throughout our broad land. It is the duty of public-
spirited citizens to see to it that modern town plans be adopted in
connection with the future building of towns or settlements. True
it is that out of appropriate town planning, as necessary sequences,
grow hygienic and moral conditions which possess far-reaching in-
fluences for good. In other words, if our great American cities
were models of city planning the effect would be not only greatly
to increase real estate values, but also and more importantly to
advance the essentials of human health and happiness. Confirma-
tion of this statement is to be found in an article by Andrew
Wright Crawford on ‘‘War Suburbs and War Cities,’’ in which
he quotes from a book by Charles Cadbury, Jr., the figures ap-
pended; they show the effect on children of the Garden Suburbs
of Bournville, England, as compared with a ward in Birmingham,

only twenty minutes away:
Lbs. Lbs. Lbs. Lbs.

WEIGHT years, years, years, years,
Age6 Age8 Ageld Age 12
EERIE RGNU INV ULL) 051 een 2 2 create en aeeeec re eeeeeeerante 45.0 52.9 61.6 71.8
Boys, St. Bartholomew’s Ward, Birmingham 39.0 47.8 56.1 63.2.
Gurls} Bournville: sciatic eet nteeeceerente 43.5 50.3 62.1 74.7
Girls Sti) bartholomews \Wandns eee 39.4 45.6 53.9 65.7
HEIGHT Inches Inches Inches Inches
BOYS), VERON TIVES oi ca sated stance ge eek ne eee 44,1 48.3 51.9 54.8
Boys, St. Bartholomew’s Ward................-...---- 41.9 46.2 49.6 52.3
Garis} BOurnvalle ci: 22:5. sc sseesee sc seeed ee ee ees 44.2 48.6 52.1 56.0
Girls, St. Bartholomew’s Ward-:27.2...2-08.---. 41.7 44.8 48.1 53.1

An important project of city planning is that of zoning, which
‘“expresses,’’ to quote Herbert S. Swan in the American Architect,
*‘the idea of orderliness in community development.’’ The zone
plan tends to strengthen and stabilize real estate values, in short

44 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

to bring about improvement in real estate conditions and, more
important still, encourages efforts to beautify private home
sections by street tree planting and the creation of garden streets.
Unquestionably, the excellent suggestion contained in a Bulletin
of the American Civic Association to the effect that iron fences
be substituted for board back fences and board side fences should
be adopted. The use of wire and iron for such fencing would not
obstruct air-currents as do board fences; and the former ‘‘invite
flowers and backyard gardens’’ and ‘‘spur competition in cleanli-
ness, neatness and attractiveness.’’ No city should be content
without a comprehensive scheme or program for its orderly de-
velopment to which no single factor would contribute more in the
way of beauty and physical benefit than a proper park system
including adequate playgrounds.

Trees, as all know, appeal strongly to man’s esthetic taste, and
this is even more true of an aggregation of trees, shrubbery and
flowers, such as may be seen in public squares and city parks. The
fact that these vegetable forms exercise certain moral effects, espe-
cially a softening and refining influence upon human mind and
character, is not open to dispute, but it is scarcely appreciated to
the extent that it so richly deserves. City parks adorned with
trees, foliage plants and blooming vegetation tend to delight the
mind, to divert the attention and relieve ennui. Who has not felt
keen pleasure at witnessing the gorgeous beauty of a Rittenhouse
Square, or a Campanile in spring-time, or failed to experience the
benefit they confer in ministering to his or her esthetic taste and
vratifying the senses? Here it should be insisted that there is
every reason why we should have displayed in our city parks true
art, which should be, however, based on the delicate realities or
really beautiful things of nature, with a minimum of human
imagination and invention. There is opportunity in this connec-
tion for the artist who makes a clear-eyed study of the divinely
settled trees, shrubs and flowers which enter into the making of
our city squares in their true form.

While parks serve as a place of rest and relaxation, the pres-
ence of trees and flowering plants gives a feeling of companion-
ship often tending to brighten and cheer the lonely hours of many
who have little opportunity to enjoy life. The writer fully con-
curs in the view so happily expressed by the London Medical
Record, namely, that ‘‘growing plants and flowers is valuable
delassement for the weak and weary.”’

The principal object of this article, however, is to show the
value of city parks, open spaces, playgrounds and the like as sources
of health and strength, if rightly used. The view is generally held

PLAYGROUNDS AS HEALTH AGENTS 45

that a high average physique is the most valuable asset that a
municipality, state or nation can boast. Health means freedom
from illness, but more than this it means the possession of a reserve
force necessary to meet the emergencies of life. The recent war
has shown that the American race is distinetly inferior from a
physical viewpoint, the percentage of those defective in body
among the young men who applied for service being as high as 39
per cent.

Experts who have made an investigation into the causes of
physical disabilities of our adult population are in agreement that
the principal factors are immigration of inferior races and mal-
nutrition, the result of unsanitary conditions under which they
live. Improper and inadequate food plays a leading rdéle, but it
is no more potent as a disabling agency than lack of pure air and
sunshine due to congestion. To overcome in a measure at least
the evils of overcrowding which prevails so generally in our large
municipalities, a sufficient number of open squares—not less than
one eighth of the total surface area, appropriately located, is to
be advised and encouraged. A proper park system, such as has
been projected in Kansas City, Minneapolis and elsewhere in this
country should be looked upon as a conspicuous part of the sanitary
arrangements of any municipality. It is obvious that a majority
of our cities, especially the older ones, are greatly in need of new
open spaces in order that their sanitary requirements shall be met.

There are a number of ways in which these breathing spaces
or city parks with their foliage and flowers, in right proportion to
the population and properly distributed, increase the healthfulness
of the citizenry, apart from their esthetic influence and their
happy effect in relieving congestion. In the first place they render
hygienic service by producing shade, which has a cooling effect,
and, moreover, sets the air in motion, giving rise to gentle currents.
But the full sanitary significance of city parks, garden streets and
parkways is not appreciable without a consideration of two plant
functions; they are, first, transpiration, by which is meant the
constant evaporation of watery vapor which takes place from their
leaf surfaces, and, secondly, the power possessed by scented foliage,
€. g., pine leaves, and all flowering vegetation (as shown by the
writer’s experiments)! to convert the oxygen of the air into ozone,
the natural purifying agent of the atmosphere through its oxidizing
properties. That growing vegetation gives off oxygen to the sur-
rounding air in an amount sufficient to improve the quality of this
medium for breathing purposes is a fact of much sanitary sig-
nificance, and one that rests upon reliable experimental evidence.

1‘ House-Plants as Sanitary Agents; Relation of Growing Vegetation to
Health and Disease,’’ pp. 183-136.

46 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

On account of their function of transpiration trees and plants
generally, more particularly those having soft, thin foliage, tend
to increase somewhat, and to maintain, a state of equability in the
degree of the atmospheric humidity in their immediate vicinity.
It is high time to abandon the view formerly dominant that an
antagonism due to certain plant functions exists between the ani-
mal and vegetable kingdoms. There is a deeply rooted belief that
plant respiration impairs the salubrity of the surrounding atmos-
phere. The results of the experiments by Pettenkofer, however,
indicate conclusively that the amount of oxygen absorbed from
the air and the percentage of carbon dioxide exhaled as the result
of plant breathing are too small to exert any appreciable effect.
It can be shown that plants, even blooming plants in a sleeping
room, so far from exerting an unhealthy influence, are all the while
making the air in a better condition for human lungs by dif-
fusing moisture and generating ozone, not to speak of the affinity
resulting from association with these living objects. Parks serve
as a ventilating apparatus for cities, introducing, as they do, a
ereater abundance of purified air than is otherwise possible. In-
deed the effect upon the public health and character of an adequate
park system is altogether noteworthy.

Among suggested memorials to the soldier dead, nothing sur-
passes either in point of fitness or durability a city park or a park-
way filled with its trees of remembrance. City parks if rightly
kept would be flourishing monuments of living, lasting green for
this and coming generations. Says the Rochester Democrat and
Chronicle in this connection, ‘‘Not only would such a memorial
be a thing of beauty and a joy for many generations by keeping
fresh the memories of heroes of the world’s great crisis, but it
would be a source of comfort in the heart of summer to countless
thousands; perhaps, it would save the lives of many in the course
of its existence.’’

It is to be hoped that the project of ‘planting trees along our
streets and public highways generally will be vigorously furthered.
To quote from American Forestry: ‘‘By all means let us have
trees of remembrance. Let us have them abundantly and for every
possible memorial. They are the true monuments, the living me-
morials God has provided to hallow the holiest memories of every
person and of every race.’’

Another source of national health, strength and happiness from
the standpoint taken by the hygienist as well as the political econo-
mist is children’s playgrounds. Experts concur in the view that
childhood is the time to begin to build up the physical reserve of
a nation, which is to play so important a réle in personal enter-

PLAYGROUNDS AS HEALTH AGENTS 47

prise and success later in life as well as in municipal progress. It
is during the period of public school life that the body is most in
need of the strengthening and invigorating effect of suitable muscu-
lar activity. Recent investigations in a large number of schools
have shown that twenty-five out of twenty-eight children are
physically defective. A definite health program therefore should
be made a conspicuous part of every public school curriculum, and
the acquisition of health among children demands ample provision
for play in the open.

Recreation is of value not only in preserving the health of in-
dividuals, but also in the treatment of physical and mental ail-
ments. The effects of the garden city movement in Great Britain,
already given in tabular form, will serve to. emphasize the value
to a race or nation of ample opportunity for our growing girls
and boys to play out of doors. Moreover, regular and well-super-
vised recreation exercises are potent preventives of the great white
plague and other chronic diseases. Said the International Con-
gress on Tuberculosis recently, ‘‘Playgrounds constitute one of
the most effective methods for the prevention of tuberculosis and
should be put to the fore in the world-wide propaganda for the
diminution of its unnecessary destruction of human life.’’ One
of the objects of playgrounds is to make them centers of hygienic
instruction and to teach proper habits of living and create a love
of wholesome outdoor games and sports, with a view to habitually
stimulating the normal physiological processes of the body.

Obviously the largest measure of success in carrying out this
health-giving measure is to be attained by a study of the needs of
the individual. It is not too much to claim that sufficient play,
properly supervised, would successfully overcome a large percent-
age of the physical defects of childhood. Obviously playgrounds
must be supplied with suitable apparatus (which is not always the
case), if good results are to be expected.

Here mention should be made of the fact that thoroughfares
are being set aside as ‘‘play streets’’ in many of our large munici-
palities. These are to be advised and encouraged as part of a
scheme for the physical development of children, but do not com-
pare with especially built recreation or play centers as means to
strengthen the nation’s youth. The need of more attractive, super-
vised play spaces with proper equipment is only emphasized by
making the most of inherent existing possibilities, as shown by
the utilization of our thoroughfares as ‘‘play streets.”’

There would seem to be immediate urgency in the matter of a
eareful survey of our leading cities with reference to this question
of playgrounds. It is well known that Chicago and Philadelphia

48 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

lead with respect to the number of children’s playgrounds, but
up to now we have not this aid to a full appreciation of the status
of the subject in an immense majority of American cities. The
playground problem is easily one of the most vital questions of
our municipal governments to-day, and while the demand of these
sources of strength and national reserve outstrip the financial re-
sources in most cases at least, it is time that our best efforts be
directed toward the solution of the problem.

It is a present-day axiom that all must work and play; hence
playgrounds should also be provided for those of mature age. Says
Dr. Hall aptly, ‘‘We do not stop play because we grow old, but
we grow old because we stop play.’’ We may not agree with those
modern experts who contend that out of every twenty-four hours
eight are to be devoted to work, eight to sleep and eight to play,
but it is a recognized fact that plenty of daily play or recreation
exercise is indispensably necessary to avert staleness, inefficiency
and even illness. It is not denied that play can take various forms
with good effect, as will be pointed out presently. After play we
re-enter the fray serene, clear-eyed and confirmed.

The fundamental principle to be borne in mind in the applica-
tion of recreation exercise or play in the mature adult is that the
needs in this respect differ in different classes of individuals. For
example, the mental worker requires diversion for the mind into
other than the usual channels, but he requires above all else sys-
tematic daily muscular activity while at play. Per contra, those
engaged in manual, laborious pursuits may get sufficient muscular
exercise; they are, however, in need of mental relaxation and
recreation.

During the late war Uncle Sam was actively engaged in plan-
ning playgrounds for the soldier boys during their hours of re-
laxation. The armistice came, and these playgrounds were not
created. The need of a place and opportunity to play, not only
for soldier boys, but for the entire mature population is quite as
important during peace times as during war times. There is no
reason why adults should not utilize the school recreation centers
and children’s playgrounds at certain periods of time, but they
must not be allowed to crowd out the young. The social and in-
dustrial life of an urban community would be vastly improved
by the building of an adequate number of playgrounds for the use
of parents and of older brothers and sisters of our school children,
in short for the whole adult population. While play for children
of school and pre-school age is an important factor in the making
of future generations of men and women, it would be profitable
indeed for the general public to maintain its interest in, and im-

PLAYGROUNDS AS HEALTH AGENTS 49

prove every opportunity to dedicate itself seriously to, healthful
forms of recreation in the open, such as can be arranged for in
appropriate open play spaces.

A campaign for the purpose of arousing public sentiment for
the better protection of our national parks would be timely, since
these with their natural scenic and historic features should at all
hazards be preserved as great and unique public playgrounds.
Unquestionably, they should be withdrawn from commercial and
industrial developments, which have been permitted in recent
times. It is to be hoped that the government will formulate a
definite policy that would be in conformity with an effective, broad
program calculated to gratify every friend of the national park
system and thus protect our actual and vital public interests. The
country stands in need of the development of more abundant
recreation opportunities.

VOL. XV—4

50 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

FINNISH POETRY—NATURE’S MIRROR
By Professor EUGENE VAN CLEEF

OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY

UT of the mélée of the world’s masses of struggling humanity
striving during the past eight years to attain “‘a place in
the sun,’’ there has been born a new republic—the Republic of
Finland. The birth of this republic was the signal for a glorious
Finnish celebration, for it marked the termination of century-old
efforts to throw off the yoke of a Russian autoeracy. The Finnish
declaration of independence attracted the entire world. The great
powers affixed their stamp of approval and turned to other world
affairs perhaps of greater significance. However, for the Finn the
event was notable. He may now and for generations to come, with
justifiable pride, tell to his children the story of the ‘‘ Declaration
of Independence’’ of December 6, 1917, and of the Constitutional
law of June 14, 1919, whereby Finland officially declared herself
a member of the world family of republies.

The Finns are a unique people. The development of their
nationalistic spirit 1s hkewise unique. This spirit was crystallized
by the conversion of their folk-song into a national epic—the Kale-
vala, an epic ranking in quality and originality with the Iliad,
the Odyssey and the Niebelunge. The Finns are an imaginative
folk, a characteristic they owe to their oriental ancestry. There
is little doubt that the first settlers in Finland migrated from cen-
tral Asia, probably from the region of the Altai mountains. They
brought with them a high regard for the controlling infiuences of
the laws of nature and an unequalled devotion to the out-of-doors.
They deify the elements of nature, and list among their gods, the
God of Waters, God of Forests, God of Fire, God of Breezes and
numerous others. Their mythology is essentially a nature worship.
In the Kalevala it finds its best expression.

For the composition of the folk-songs into epic form, the Finns
are indebted to Elias Loénnrot, first a physician and later a pro-
fessor of the Finnish language. He appreciated the beauty, the
charm and the rare culture expressed by the Finnish folk-songs
and resolved that they should be preserved to posterity. These
verses, sung through the ages, had never been recorded, so Lonnrot
determined to collect them. He traveled to the remotest parts of

FINNISH POETRY—NATURE’S MIRROR 51

Finland where modernisms had not yet penetrated and as he lis-
tened hour after hour to the singing of the peasantry, faithfully
recorded each canto. Most of the songs were collected in the remote
northern portions of the province of East Karelia. Returning
home with his note-books bulging with invaluable records, Lonnrot
knitted the verses into a homogeneous whole of some 27,000 lines,
and in 1835 gave to the world the results of his years of untiring
efforts—the Kalevala.

The Kalevala brought home to the Finns the realization of a
common language. For the first time did they appreciate the pos-
session of a language meriting the same consideration as Russian,
German, Swedish or other recognized national tongues. They fur-
ther saw the basis for a sympathetic bond among all the Finns and
so, almost as soon as Lénnrot’s magnificent work made its appear-
ance, it was hailed as the epic of the Finnish people. The Kalevala
marked the virtual beginning of an intensive spirit of nationalism
throughout Finland.

While all writers do not credit the Kalevala as a true epic, nor
wholly discredit it as such, nevertheless they regard the production
as extraordinary and certainly approaching closely to an epic. In
any event, be it an epic or nearly so, there is agreement as to the
uniqueness in its style, in the beauty of its conceptions and in its
dramatic presentation of the struggle for existence among a people
never known to flinch under the stress of nature’s most discour-
aging environment.

Before detailing the content of the Kalevala, it is of interest
to note the peasant’s manner of singing the runes. The singers
seat themselves upon low benches or stools, and facing each other
with outstretched arms, take hold hands; then, as they sway their
bodies to and fro in see-saw fashion, first one sings a song and
then the other. The singing and see-sawing continue until one or
the other runs out of verses. Sometimes others in the party take
the places of those who have just finished and either repeat verses
or begin a new series constituting a new rune. The meter is un-
rhymed. It is like that in Longfellow’s ‘‘Song of Hiawatha.’’ In
fact, Longfellow was so impressed with the Kalevala that he ad-
mittedly patterned his song after it and it is said even borrowed
some of the characters and incidents. The singing is accompanied
by the playing of the kantele, an instrument similar to the dulci-
mer. The wusic itself is in a minor key and as it is sung resem-
bles more nearly a chant than a melodious air.

The Kalevala, composed as it is of the folk-songs of a people
largely if not wholly dependent upon their own ingenuity for the
gaining of a livelihood, is really the story of the struggle of the

52 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Finn to overcome the titanic handicaps set against him by nature.
His ‘‘land of a thousand lakes’’ is a land of thousands of lakes,
a land of vast swamps with only here and there a diminutive area
suitable for cultivation. The lowland depressions invite premature
frosts which often destroy in a night crops representing the hard
labor of many months. No surplus of foods to be consumed during
periods of scarcity can be accumulated where frost is master. Not
only are products of the soil scant, but raw materials for manu-
factures are limited. The hardy forests for lumber and pulp and
the numerous rapids for power send a ray of hope down the Finn’s
uncertain pathway toward success. Yet in the face of these limita-
tions the Finn has plodded on patiently and uncomplainingly until
to-day he has attained a place among the peoples of the earth which
many may well envy.

The Finnish farmer is constantly threatened by frost. He
knows not when or where it will fall next. A robber-band could
hardly worry him more, for there would be some hope of resistance
or escape, but the frost is not to be fought nor does it discriminate
as to its prey. No wonder, then, that in the national epic Frost
is personified and its destructive propensities narrated. In Rune
30 of the Kalevala, Frost interrupts the progress of Lemminkainen,
one of the four heroes of the story, who proposes an attack against
Pohjola, the North Country. (This region is now represented by
Lapland.) Here he had previously gone upon an unsuccessful
venture to woo the daughter of Louhi, Mistress of Pohjola. Lem-
minkainen remonstrated with Frost in no uncertain terms and
describes him as follows:

. .. Evil-born and evil-nurtured,
Grew to be an evil genius,

Evil was the mind and spirit,
And the infant still was nameless,

Till the name of Frost was given
To the progeny of evil.

Then the young lad lived in hedges,
Dwelt among the weeds and willows,
Lived in springs in days of summer,

On the borders of the marshes,

Tore the lindens in the winter,

Stormed among the glens and forests,
Raged among the sacred birch-trees,
Rattled in the alder branches,

Froze the trees, the shoots, the grasses,
Evened all the plains and prairies,

Ate the leaves within the woodland,
Made the stalks drop down their blossoms,
Peeled the bark on weeds and willows.

FINNISH POETRY—NATURE’S MIRROR 53

The heavenly bodies as well as the elements of the earth are
humanized and deified. They are removed and replaced and
caused to perform as circumstances may dictate, with a facility
such as characterizes the most magnificent flights of the imagina-
tion. Louhi, Mistress of Pohjola, hides the Sun and Moon when
the heroes Ilmarinen, Wainamoinen and Lemminkainen organize
an expedition against her in order to rob her of the Sampo—‘‘the
talisman of success.’’ Her resistance is finally overcome and she
is forced to restore the Sun and Moon. The restoration (in Rune
49) is accomplished and Wainamoinen, Son of the Air and of the
Virgin of the Atmosphere, a minstrel of magic power, observes the
return of these heavenly bodies and recites as follows:

Greetings to thee, Sun of fortune,
Greetings to thee, Moon of good-luck,
Welcome sunshine, welcome moonlight,
Golden is the dawn of morning!

Free art thou, O Sun of silver,

Free again, O Moon beloved,

As the sacred cuckoo’s singing,

As the ring-dove’s liquid cooings.

Rise, thou silver Sun, each morning,
Source of light and life hereafter,
Bring us, daily, joyful greetings,
Fill our homes with peace and plenty,
That our sowing, fishing, hunting,
May be prospered by thy coming.
Travel on thy daily journey,

Let the Moon be ever with thee;
End thy journeyings in slumber;
Rest at evening in the ocean,

Glide along thy way rejoicing,
When thy daily cares have ended,
To the good of all thy people,

To the pleasure of Wainola,

To the joy of Kalevala!

A cheerful aspect of the Finnish environment is presented in
the Farewell song (in Rune 24) of the daughter of Pohjola who
has become bride of the smith and craftsman Ilmarinen. This song
paints a landscape to whose attractiveness those can well attest
who have tramped across Finland’s fens or through her forests.

Send to all my farewell greetings,

To the fields, and groves, and berries;
Greet the meadows with their daisies,
Greet the borders with their fences,
Greet the lakelets with their islands,
Greet the streams with trout disporting,
Greet the hills with stately pine trees,
And the valleys with their birches.

54 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fare ye well, ye streams and lakelets,
Fertile fields and shores of ocean,
All ye aspens on the mountains,

All ye lindens of the valleys,

All ye beautiful stone lindens,

All ye shade trees by the cottage,
All ye junipers and willows,

All ye shrubs with berries laden,
Waving grass and fields of barley,
Arms of elms, and oaks and alders,
Fare ye well, dear scenes of childhood,
Happiness of days departed.

Iimarinen returns (in Rune 25) to Wainola with his Pohjola bride,
to receive an heroic welcome at the hands of Lakko, hostess of
Wainola. Lakko recounts in great detail the numerous comforts
awaiting the bride and concludes with a few effective words de-
seriptive of the village setting. This description characterizes
equally well a typical Finnish farm location of the present day.

Thou hast here a lovely village,
Finest spot in all of Northland,

In the lowlands sweet the verdure,
In the uplands, fields of beauty,
With the lake-shore near the hamlet,
Near thy home the running water,
Where the goslings swim and frolic,
Water-birds disport in numbers.

The Finn’s favorite trees are the gracefully clustered white-
trunked birch, the stately symmetrical towering evergreen and the
cheerful red-berried mountain ash. The birch is the most economic
tree, for in addition to fuel it supplies numerous utensils. Waina-
moinen (in Rune 44) wandering across the field and through the
forests seeking his lost kantele, comes upon a weeping birch. He

inquires into all this sadness and the tree responds as follows:

. .. I, alas! a helpless birch tree,
Dread the changing of the seasons,

I must give my bark to others,

Lose my leaves and silken tassels.
Often come the Suomi children,

Peel my bark and drink my life-blood;

Wicked shepherds in the summer,
Come and steal my belt of silver,

Of my bark make berry baskets,
Dishes make, and cups for drinking.

Oftentimes the Northland maidens

Cut my tender limbs for birch brooms,
Bind my twigs and silver tassels

Into brooms to sweep their cabins;
Often have the Northland heroes

FINNISH POETRY—NATURE’S MIRROR 55

Chopped me into chips for burning;

Three times in the summer season,

In the pleasant days of springtime,

Foresters have ground their axes

On my silver trunk and branches,

Robbed me of my life for ages.
Thus the valued birch acquires personality and through the words
of the folk-song permanent expression is given to the Finn’s appre-
ciation of its services.

No discussion of Finnish life could possibly be considered com-
plete without reference to the bath. The Finn swears by the bath.
It is an institution of no mean value, for it not only helps him
preserve his health but, to his mind, serves also as a cure for all
ills. The bathhouse is one of the first of the numerous structures
to be erected upon a Finnish farm site. It is a small frame shack
containing a glacial-boulder fire-place. The fire-place projects well
into the room and is without a chimney. A hole in the roof of
the building permits the smoke to escape, or sometimes the cracks
between the timbers are relied upon as substitutes for the chimney.

In the preparation of the bath, the stones of the fire-place are
first heated to a high temperature. Then the fire is put out and
eold water is thrown upon the stones. Great clouds of condensed
steam fill the room. Around the walls of the room are shelf-like
platforms upon which the bathers lhe. As the steam stimulates
the blood cireulation, the bather beats himself with a bundle of
birch or aspen twigs. After some ten or twenty minutes immer-
sion in the steam, he enters a small adjoining room and there throws
cold water upon himself. The cold ‘‘shower’’ is sometimes applied
out-of-doors instead of in a room. He then retires to his house to
dress. In winter it is not unknown for a bather to roll in the snow
immediately after the bath. The shock of course is great, but with
training from childhood the Finn withstands the ordeal and de-
velops tremendous physical endurance.

The Finn’s faith in the bath is unbounded and to find it im-
mortalized in his national epic is rightly to be expected. In the
‘*Birth of the Nine Diseases,’’ (Rune 45), there follows an interest-
ing description of the bath and a prayer that its curative qualities
may endure:

Wainamoinen heats the bathroom,
Heats the blocks of healing sandstone,
With the magie wood of Northland,
Gathered by the sacred river;

Water brings in covered buckets

From the cataract and whirlpool;

Brooms he brings enwrapped with ermine,
Well the bath the healer cleanses,

56 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Softens well the brooms of birch-wood;
Then a honey-heat he wakens

Fills the room with healing vapors,
From the virtue of the pebbles
Glowing in the heat of magic,

Thus he speaks in supplication:
‘“Come, O Ukko, to my rescue,

God of Mercy, lend thy presence,

Give these vapor baths new virtues,

Grant to them the powers of healing. . .’’

Reference has been made to the minor key in which these runes
are sung. Finnish music is impressive because so full of character.
Its melodies reveal nature’s severity, yet they also reflect her fore-
bearance. Life is never so hard but that it has its compensating
days. So the minor key reflects at times a somewhat sombre at-
mosphere and a certain degree of sadness, yet the absence of heavy
accents helps to create a feeling of hopefulness and high spirit.
One easily recognizes the rushing streams with alternating rapids
and reaches, or the clear sparkling glacial waters playing in the
brilliant northern sunshine. Nature seems to direct in every song.

The Finn, stolid and phlegmatic at times, but persevering and
tenacious, possessed of remarkable physical endurance and a stout
heart, has given his brain cells opportunity for growth. His coun-
trymen show the highest percentage of literacy among the nations.
He loves to read. In his long hours of solitude he digests his reaa-
ings and allows his -imagination full freedom to build upon the
ideas absorbed. Thus the Finn has evolved a vivid imagination
which has contributed to the development of literature of excep-
tional merit. His poetry, including both folk-songs and modern
works, having been conceived amid the influences of nature, show
her unmistakable impress. The reflection of the environment is
perfect, and in the Kalevala, especially, the character of Finnish
life is accurately and strikingly imaged.

WHAT IS INTELLIGENCE ? 57

WHAT IS INTELLIGENCE AND WHO HAS IT?
By Professor LIGHTNER WITMER

UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA

NTELLIGENCE is the ability to solve a new problem. An un-

surmounted difficulty is a new problem so long as its solution

is unknown. It is easy enough to cut the Gordian knot, or to stand

an egg on end, after one has jJearned how these historic intelligence

tests were solved. When a problem is difficult enough, or the solu-

tion sufficiently novel and. important, the intelligence displayed in
successful invention will be considered ‘‘genius.”’

Life confronts us with problems, new and old. Just to keep
one’s self alive is a very old one. ‘‘To live by one’s wits’’ is to
solve it by an exercise of intelligence. From the cunning of a
horse trader to the genius of an Aristotle is a long step up on the
seale of intellectual competency; but intelligence may appear at
any intellectual level, even a low one, and is divined from what
the individual makes of opportunity and resources. We ascer-
tain how much knowledge and skill enter into a performance in
order to disregard them, for the intelligence displayed in success-
ful adventure is measured not by the resources employed, but by
the risks involved and the difficulties overcome. If, for example,
the Russian Soviet is in fact a weak form of government, and the
Bolshevists are as entangled in ignorance, insanity and crime as
would appear from the reading of our daily newspaper, then it
follows that the intelligence of a Lenine or a Trotzky must be given
a higher rating than the genius of statesmen who have tried in
vain to sink this defective ship of state, despite the fact that they
have had at their command the intellectual resources of the most
cultured and efficient nations of the world. Intelligence is not to
be measured by conventional standards, but by the successful out-
come of performance. The discrimination of intelligence from
other abilities is concerned only with the eriteria that distinguish
the variable and novel creations of free initiative from the more
constant and familiar efiects of established habits. The originality
of a performance is proportional to the number of novel elements
entering into its composition, and to the amount by which a suc-
cessful creation of the productive imagination varies from the
prevailing mode.

The really serious problems of daily life, the primeval and yet

58 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

recurrent problems of mere existence were solved long ago by our
pre-human ancestors. As a consequence, we are now able to get
up in the morning, cook and eat our breakfast, swallow and digest
it, without an exertion of intelligence or intellect, employing for
the purpose inherited habits which are physiological mechanisms
ealled ‘‘instinects’’ and ‘‘reflexes.’’ Throughout a busy day, full
of varied performance, one gets on with the day’s work, solving
problem after problem, many of them difficult enough, some of
them possibly beyond the proficiency of all but the most expert
or the best informed; but rarely will a new problem emerge from
the comfortable routine of a well-ordered existence.

Edueation is the device of civilization to keep us from en-
countering new problems. The method employed is showing the
pupil how to solve problems instead of letting him solve them
for himself. It thus makes the exercise of his intelligence un-
necessary. The school presents the paradigm, and when life con-
fronts the graduate with a new problem, he solves it by virtue of
an acquired intellectual habit, and in conformity to the scholastic
model.

Endow a child with intellect, let him acquire knowledge and
efficiency, teach him to conform his conduct, thought and feeling
to the prevailing mode, and you go far to assure him a useful life
at a high intellectual level. If he has intelligence, it may facilitate
the schoolmaster’s task, but pupil and teacher can, and do, get
along without it. They must, however, avoid an excess of stupidity.
They must not try to solve new problems if every attempt brings
failure. They must do what the timid do, who fear failure more
than they desire success; they must check initiative, censor the
imagination, suppress revolt, curb aspiration and refrain from
adventure. At this task the pupil will be aided and abetted by
the greater number of schoolmasters who will direct his progress
from the first year of the elementary school to the commencement
day, which yields the certificate of intellectual proficiency called
a ‘‘diploma.’’ To discover how much intelligence the graduate of
this educational system really has, one would have to surprise him at
a moment when he is confronted by some accidental obstacle in
an otherwise well-ordered existence—a missing suspender button,
for instance, for which he must quickly invent a substitute, or
some other difficulty connected with the sempiternal problem of
making both ends meet.

Competency is an aggregate of many congenital abilities, some
of them specific abilities, like talking and singing; others more
eeneral, like intelligence, intellect, discernment, will and motiva-
tion. By the time a child is six years old he will ordinarily display

WHAT IS INTELLIGENCE ? 59

all his congenital competency, from which the discerning observer
may estimate how much ability he has and judge if he has enough
to be considered normal. Let six-year-old children of normal com-
petency grow up without instruction in school subjects, and there-
fore below the point of literacy on the intellectual scale, and they
will be arrested in development at the level which defines the low
grade imbecile. Let them, however, grow in stature, strength and
endurance, in social conformity and sexual proficiency, and they
could raise and support a family, if it were not for the difficulties
provided by what in our pride we eall ‘‘civilization.’’ During the
war, some imbecile children in the city of Philadelphia, arrested
under the compulsory education law, were earning more than the
truant officer who arrested them. It is not the inherent difficulty
of earning a living and raising a family which makes the task im-
possible for those whose mental age is not more than six years;
it is the grocer, the landlord and the employer, competitors whom
they must outwit in the struggle for existence, ease and comfort.
Civilization implies an average intellectual level. The farther a
man’s intellectual level falls below the mode, the more intelligence
he will need.

No one has ever devised an intelligence test that tests intelli-
gence and nothing else. In consequence, the results of so-called
intelligence tests have significance only when analyzed and inter-
preted in relation to a particular set of antecedent conditions and
attending circumstances. The Binet intelligence quotient, for ex-
ample, is a measure of proficiency, and in those making low scores
it may indicate anything in the way of ability or deficiency except
intelligence. We do not observe or measure intelligence—we ob-
serve performance and measure its effects. A few intelligent per-
formances will cause us to anticipate more of the same sort, and
even an intelligent look may lead us to expect intelligent behavior.
Intelligence is not a fact, but an explanatory concept derived from
the observation of facts. It is a diagnostic category like courage
or honesty, the diagnosis being in effect the verbal expression of
an expectation. |

In order to test the ability to solve a new problem, an intelli-
gence test must provide that many members of a homogeneous group
will fail, and that all but a few will make many errors before they
achieve success. Those who make many attempts in a given time are
more likely to sueceed than those who make only a few attempts.
Intelligence, therefore, is directly proportional to initiative and
inversely proportional to the number of errors made, provided the
errors are not too few. To measure a performer’s intelligence one
must know the time required to achieve success, but one must

60 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

not neglect to observe the performer at work and to take
into the consideration the number and kind of errors made and
how he corrects them. Intelligence is displayed through the opera-
tion of trial and error. An intelligence test is adjusted to the in-
tellectual level of a group when those who succeed do not outnum-
ber those who fail.

At the Psychological Clinic, an eleven block formboard is em-
ployed as an intelligence test. It may be solved in eleven moves
in about eleven seconds, but anyone who solves it thus displays
efficiency not intelligence. This formboard is an intelligence test
at or about the four year old intellectual level, because not more
than 50 per cent. of four year old children are able to solve it,
even with a time allowance of one hundred seconds. No two year
old child has ever passed the test; about 25 per cent. of three year
old children have passed it, and approximately 100 per cent. of
six year olds. If I know nothing about a particular child except
that he is four years old, the odds are even that he will pass the
test. If he is three years old, the odds are three to one that he
will fail.

Intelligence is displayed in a performance that succeeds against
adverse odds; stupidity is failure despite favoring odds. At any
moment a future of some sort confronts us, and often we have
nothing better than a gambler’s guess for guide. When the odds
favor failure, we have only a gambler’s chance of winning; if we
plunge and win despite the adverse odds, we have had a gambler’s
luck. The success of an intelligent player who uses all the re-
sourees at his command to win a fortune, whether at cards or in
business, has a very different diagnostic significance from the
‘dumb luek’’ of inheriting money or finding it.

Intelligence, then, is a successful leap into the dark. ‘‘A man
never rises so high,’’ said Oliver Cromwell, ‘‘as when he knows
not whither he is going.’’ Converting the words of a madman into
a slogan of success, Browning thus portrays the morale of the
adventurer at the critical moment when success or failure hangs
upon the issue of performance:

There they stood, ranged along the hillsides, met
To view the last of me, a living frame
For one more picture! in a sheet of flame

I saw them and I knew them all. And yet

Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set
And blew, ‘‘Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.’’

The achievement of intelligent initiative may be a successful
adventure of pioneer or conqueror, the creation of a work of art,
a new idea, an invention—some performance, no matter what, so

WHAT IS INTELLIGENCE ? 61

long as it be original to the performer, the product of an imagina-
tion that outruns knowledge, of an ingenuity that outdoes skill.

If this is a novelty to the beholder, it may inspire admiration,
appreciation or wonder. If it is too novel, it will arouse distaste,
fear and a destroying hatred. The more shocking a product of
the creative imagination, the greater the presumption that genius
inspired it, provided the production is something worth while.

The American readers of Walt Whitman’s ‘‘ Leaves of Grass’’
were too shocked to appreciate the singular novelties of thought and
diction concealed beneath the innocent botanical title. When he
walked the streets of Philadelphia and Camden, he was ignored by ©
those whom a recent French critic calls his ‘‘rustic compatriots.’’
Now that French and English writers have discovered him to be
the most original of American poets, his peculiar genius is not
without honor even in his own country, save only perhaps in those
classic centers of intellectual conservatism—the departments of
English literature in our universities.

The Declaration of American Independence started a long war;
it eventuated in a form of government as new to the Europe of
that day as the Russian Soviet is now; it enthused and emboldened
the French Revolutionists; it brought in its train the doctrine of
self-determination; it helped to promote the Russian revolution
and the success of the Irish Sinn Fein; it was signed by men who
felt the hangman’s noose about their necks, and only the successful
outcome of the adventure kept the noose from being drawn tight.

Whitman says:

I am the sworn poet of every dauntless rebel the world over.

I do not know what you are for (I do not know what I am for myself,

nor what anything is for),

But I will search carefully for it even in being foil’d,

In defeat, poverty, misconception, imprisonment—for they, too, are great.
Revolt! and still revolt!

American patriots, those in particular who would be considered
sons or daughters of the Revolution, ought to bear tenaciously in
mind that resistance to constituted authority, as well as intelli-
gence and compromise, went into the making of our Constitution.

Intelligence, then, plays a lone hand. It is individualism ram-
pant, and may stake livelihood, happiness, life itself against the
opinions and concerted actions of a public horrified by the strange-
ness of its creations. It is a minor group trying to outplay the
majority. It is youth and inexperience trying to outdo old age
and wisdom. It is eccentricity successfully opposing the prevailing
mode.

The judgments of society, like the verdicts of juries, are not
always easy to predict, and are susceptible to strange and rapid

62 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

transmutation. Not more than a century ago a Unitarian could
be stoned on the streets of Boston. To-day, a Unitarian is Chief
Justice, a member of the most conservative branch of one of the
most conservative governments in Christendom. John Brown’s
body hardly lay a-mouldering in the grave before his soul went
marching on at the head of forces, military and political, which
made possible Lincoln’s ‘‘Emancipation Proclamation,’’ a docu-
ment destroying much private property, but, nevertheless, accept-
able to what had become, by then, the dominant opinion in Ameri-
can politics. When Socrates was condemned to death, his moral
teachings were, by due process of law, adjudged subversive of re-
ligion and good government, a source of corruption to youth.
‘When men revile you and persecute you, rejoice and be exceed-
ing glad, for great is your reward in Heaven, for so persecuted
they the prophets which were before you.”’

The non-conforming genius appears to lose; but once dead and
safely buried, he lives in monument and story, the stakes he plays
for being held by the unborn, while those who seemingly outplayed
him join the unknown multitudes that survive, if at all, only m
their progeny.

What, then, is success? It is the approbation of the many, or
a few, now or at some future time. In the last analysis, it is what
the individual himself deems worth while. Originality, therefore,
is appreciated non-conformity. Intelligence is successful eccen-
tricity. It is energy so controlled and directed that a worth while
pattern of performance is created. Except for the necessity of
conforming to some standard of appreciation, and it may be merely
self-appreciation, intelligence is free initiative, unconstrained by
definite ends. To exercise a man’s intelligence, he must be left
free to do what he desires; he must be given every opportunity to
make mistakes, in the hope that he will profit by experience. If
a child falls down, don’t pick him up unless he is in imminent
danger—let him learn to pick himself up. If men fall into error,
don’t correct them by telling them the truth; let them flounder in
error until they find out the truth for themselves. This is Nature’s
way of promoting intelligence.

When our first schoolmaster entered the Garden of Eden in
the guise of a serpent, and forced Eve to choose between innocence
and knowledge, he made the oldest recorded test of human behavior,
and Eve responded to it with intelligence. If this ‘‘first disobedi-
ence brought death into the world and al! our woe,’’ it also brought
what we hold dear—civilization (we thought it worth fighting for),
the home, the church, the state, our educational system, private
property and the inventions of intellect and art. Without fully

WHAT IS INTELLIGENCE ? 63

realizing what she was doing, Eve rejected a life of ease, comfort
and machinelike perfection, choosing the hard and devious path
that led from Paradise to the civilized communities which harbor
her descendants. Her choice assured them a life of toil, discon-
tent and conflict, all the trouble necessary to exercise their intelli-
gence, train their efficiency and develop their intellect. What more
successful outcome would you ask of a simple venture into the
unknown, inspired by hardly more than curiosity, motivated by
discontent, and determined, it would seem, by the spirit of revolt
against authority? Curiosity is the mother urge of science and
truth; discontent awakens aspiration, and amongst the traits of
character most frequently associated with creative imagination
are ambition, audacity, aspiration, the love of adventure, and,
most significant of all, a disregard of authority, leading perhaps
to the defiance of privilege and public opinion. ‘‘He had every
quality of a great commander except insubordination,’’ Lord
Fisher said of the British admiral who lost, or won, the battle of
Jutland.

To teach a student to think for himself is to teach him to dis-
regard authority, including his teacher’s. For this reason it is
not a common practice of the teaching profession, although it re-
ceives much enthusiastic verbal appreciation. Parents, however,
are not at all hesitant about expressing their disapproval when a
child produces some new idea contradicting well-established con-
vietions. The father of Richard Feveril states a parental ideal in
these words: ‘‘I require not only that my son should obey. I
would have him guiltless of the impulse to gainsay my wishes.’’
He would have added ‘‘opinions’’ could he have conceived it pos-
sible for these to be called in question.

Freedom of thought began with the liberty of conscience so
outspokenly maintained by the Hebrew prophets, of whom the
ereatest was also the last, the apostle Paul, who borrowed the char-
acteristic freedom of Hellenic thought to project a new religion.
Christianity has fostered freedom of thought and action, though
not excessively nor hurriedly. Intellectual, like material, posses-
sions are acquired arduously, and, once acquired, they are held
with the same bitter tenacity—the old time religion, the old Con-
stitution, the ancient literature and even that intellectual ab-
surdity—the old science. A mother recently wrote to the dean
of a scientific school, asking whether a boy who studied engineer-
ing there would be exposed to the theory of evolution, because if
this were possible, she proposed to send him to some other school.
‘Why does a professor have to introduce new and debatable topics
for discussion in the classroom?’’ I have heard the question asked
even in academic circles. ‘‘Isn’t there a large enough body of safe

64 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

and sane knowledge to occupy his brief periods of instruction ?’’
No doubt the professor is free enough in some institutions to say
what he wishes, but the joker is—the professor does not want to
say what will subject him or his institution to hostile criticism.
For this reason, university faculties do not make a brilliant dis-
play of creative intelligence in the intellectual field. Our educa-
tional system, as a whole, is distinguished by the conformity it
promotes, the mental discipline it trains.

This, doubtless, is as it should be, for successful living is at
least ninety-nine parts in a hundred conformity and constraint;
only a very small fraction of one per cent. of a man’s life can, at
the very best, display freedom of thought and action. In no field,
however, is it so important to keep the little freedom we have as
in the field of intellectual production. And yet thought is so rigidly
conformed in this country to 100 per cent. patterns that American
genius is not conspicuous for intellectual originality. Some years
ago I heard a professor at the University of Rome express the
opinion that the development of big business in the United States
was an outburst of creative energy similar to that which dis-
tinguished Italy during the Renaissance. Do not go to our univer-
sities to observe the best American intelligence in action; go out
into the business world where great enterprises are successfully
put over. There the atmosphere is one of freedom—even from the
constraint of honesty and truth. This year the winner of the
Nobel prize in literature is Anatole France, an avowed communist ;
another winner is Premier Branting, the leader of the dominant
socialistic party in Sweden. Representative American contribu-
tions to art are movies and jazz bands, skyscrapers and railway
stations. When America honors the free expression of new ideas
without regard to their normalcy, intellectual originality, as well
as mechanical invention, may become a conspicuous trait of
American character.

The meeting place of intellect and intelligence is interesting.
Imagination belongs to the category of intellect, and also to the
category of intelligence. Creative imagination produces order out
of chaos. As soon as a little child can use the kindergarten peg
board, give him one and ask him to put the pegs into the board.
He puts in the first one; where shall he put the second, beside the
first or at a distance? This is the critical moment. If he puts it,
let us say, beside the first, it must be to the right, to the left, above
or below. He is now ready to put the third peg in position. If
he does what he did with the second peg, he will make a row. A
plan appears, a definite order is displayed. If he works without
instruction he is producing an order of his own. He is doing

WHAT IS INTELLIGENCE ? 65

something that has meaning. He displays creative imagination.
He is already beginning to develop an intellect. As the spider
spins a web from his own body, so the human being weaves pat-
terns of performance, establishes order, rises superior to chaos
and produces standards of behavior based on knowledge. This em-
ployment of intelligence in intellectual organization is characteris-
tically and typically human. I have tested chimpanzees and other
apes, but have never known an ape to create a new order of his
own. I have not seen a chimpanzee peg a straight line of his own
accord, but I have observed little children doing it as soon as they
could grasp the pegs and put them in place.

A civilization is a social order, the average developmental level
of a group, it may be large or small. It is to be measured by the
number and diversity of material and intellectual resources, but
its chance of survival depends on intelligence, that is to say, on its
ability to change. The social order of to-morrow is the invention
of the few whose intelligence operates at a high intellectual level.

Change is the predominant characteristic of uterine life; sta-
bility, of the adult. At what age does the individual begin to stand
pat? When does a man lose the ability to get a new idea, to change
convictions or a point of view? At any age. Some, indeed, never
get a new idea. They imitate in thought the prevailing modes of
the social group to which they happen to belong, or to which they
aspire. Fifteen, however, is an age at which a great number, per-
haps the majority of those who do at least a little thinking of their
own, harden into conventional patterns of thought and behavior.
Others keep changing and growing intellectually up to thirty, some
even up to forty-five, while just a few display to the very end that
intellectual pliability which is intelligence informed by acquired
knowledge.

A new individual begins to exist at conception with the union
of a spermatozoon and an ovum. He will change more during the
nine months of uterine life than in the remaining years of his ex-
_istence. At birth, it has been estimated, he will possess only two
per cent. of the original energy of development. He is like a clock,
wound up at conception, which keeps running down until it stops
at death. At twenty-one he comes of age, able to inherit the family
property but already at six years of age he has entered into his
heritage of human competency, and has begun to develop his nat-
ural resources of intellect and character, of intelligence and skill.

Age advances on a very uneven front. Long before the first
eray hair or the first wrinkle, some congenital abilities have har-
dened into particular modes of behavior. It is then difficult, if not
impossible, to change old habits for new. A child, for example,

VOL. XV—5

66 THE: SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

having learned one language with ease, inclines to stand pat on his
accomplishment. He appears to lose some of his original pliability,
offers resistance to the acquisition of another language, develops
a sort of organic obstinacy, in other situations called ‘‘constitu-
tional conservatism.’’ From infancy on, efficiency is being ac-
quired at the expense of general competency. Problems are solved
with increasing accuracy and speed, but the ability to solve new
problems is greater at the age of six years than at any later period.
Youth combines the plasticity of imitiative with the efficiency of
acquired skill, and thus produces the successful inventions from
which a new order is evolved. Old age brings wisdom, but is
handicapped by a deficiency of initiative and dislike of change.
The vitality of a civilization is directly proportional to the creative
intelligence of its young men and young women.

Observation of the behavior of children and adults leads to the
conclusion that education can not make the stupid intelligent.
Intelligence is a congenital though not inherited endowment,
and the amount of it can not be increased by training.
Genius is not a product of breeding; its appearance is in the
hands of the gods, a result of the fortuitous combination of quali-
ties possessed by the germ plasms entering into the conception of
a new individual. The chief condition which appears to favor
superior intelligence is the variety of race and family mixture.
The more mongrel a people, the more intelligent; the purer the
blood, the more stupid. Intelligence would seem to require an
inner conflict of cross purposes and opposing impulses. Neither
the Jew, the Anglo-Saxon, the Irish, the French, the Italian nor
the American is pure-blooded, in comparison with the Prussian
Junker, whose blood is purer and older than the oldest of first
families in England or America.

In an essay on ‘‘Race and Tradition,’’ written more than
twenty years before the great war, Darmesteter, a Frenchman,
says of Germany: ‘‘The misfortune of Germany—what consti-
tutes her momentary strength and will bring about her lasting
weakness in the future—is that the element of race is better pre-
served there than elsewhere. Hence, narrowness of spirit, lack of
proportion in her intelligence, of justice in her heart. She lacked
that fruitful struggle of contrary forces that limit their excesses
by complementing their energies, and that, in recognizing their
mutual rights, enlarge the innate narrowness of man, with the
result of producing something that has the extent and variety of
Nature herself. Germany has remained, and still remains, a thing
strangely powerful and painfully incomplete.’’ *

1 Selected Essays, translated by Helen B. Jastrow.

WHAT IS INTELLIGENCE ? 67

Two hundred years ago, the author of ‘‘ Robinson Crusoe”’ paid
his respects to those who tried to mobilize the race prejudice of
‘‘true born Englishmen’’ against the followers of William of
Orange, in words that some of our ‘‘hundred per cent. Americans”’
might ponder with profit:

These are the heroes that despise the Dutch,

And rail at new-come foreigners so much;
Forgetting that themselves are all derived

From the most scoundrel race that ever lived,

A horried crowd of rambling thieves and drones
Who ransacked kingdoms and dispeopled towns;
The Pict, and Painted Briton, treach’rous Scot;
By hunger, theft, and rapine, hither brought;
Norwegian pirates, Buccaneering Danes,

Whose red-haired offspring everywhere remains,
Who join’d with Norman French, compound the breed,
From whence your true-born Englishmen proceed.

There are those who fear for civilization. Of what are they
afraid? Civilization is not necessarily threatened, whether by im-
perialists or communists; our civilization may be—the aggregate
of our material and intellectual possessions. ‘Creative intelligence,
however, is indifferent to the language which transmits the in-
tellectual fruits of man’s genius—whether it be Anglo-Saxon or
Prussian, Latin or Slav, indifferent even to the color of the hand
that bears aloft the torch of enlightenment and progress, let it
be yellow, white or black. So far as intelligence and progress are
concerned, the future is a sporting proposition, and the sports-
man’s attitude is to let the best man win.

The general aim of civilization is dominion over nature—the
more efficient control of natural forces. There are doubtless some
who still think that man’s subjection to nature is a law of God,
and that a social order once established must not be changed. Prog-
ress, however, is inevitable, though privilege and authority, tim-
idity and prejudice will always oppose the creative advance of
intelligence. To defy the spirit of progress in the name of either
religion or law is superstition ; the true prophet is a poet who sees
in creative evolution the display of divine intelligence.

What the world needs to-day is more of the optimism of the
progressive and a little less of the pathological fear of the stand-
patter, more faith in creative evolution, more hope of reaching yet
higher levels of achievement and more of that freedom from
prejudice called charity, another name for love, the productive
passion.

68 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS’

By Professor WILLIAM MORTON WHEELER

BUSSEY INSTITUTION, HARVARD UNIVERSITY

Lecture II. Wasps SouiItvaARY AND SOCIAL

i the preceding lecture I gave a brief account of the rudimentary

social life of certain beetles and called attention to the fact
that in all or nearly all of them the male cooperates with the female
parent in victualing or protecting the offspring. I endeavored to
show that all these societies have their inception or raison d’étre
in the specialized feeding habits of’ the parents and that in all of
them the food is of vegetable origin, abundant but not very nu-
tritious in some of the cases (dung and rotten wood in the
Scarabeide, Passalide and Phrenapates), in others highly nutri-
tious, but obtainable only in small quantities at a time (living
plant-tissues and honey-dew in the ease of the Tachigalia beetles,
ambrosia of the Ipide and Platypodide). The adequate exploitation
of such food-supplies is necessarily time-consuming and has evi-
dently led to a lengthening of the adult lives of the beetles. This
in turn has naturally brought about an overlapping of the juvenile
by the parent generation, thus enabling the parents to acquire con-
tact and acquaintance with their young and an interest in providing
them with the same kind of food as that on which they themselves
habitually feed. In the insects which I shall consider in this lec-
ture, we find a series of societies originating in a very different
type of feeding and leading to much more complicated and more
definitely integrated associations.

Although the wasps have attracted fewer investigators than
the ants and bees, they are of even greater interest to the student
who is tracing the evolution of specialized instincts and social
habits. The wasp group is one of enormous size and is really .
made up of two great complexes, the Sphecoids and the Vespoids,
together comprising more than a dozen families and some 10,000
species. Of these only about 800 are clearly social. We have more
or less fragmentary behavioristie studies of scarcely 5 per cent. of
all the species. Yet they cover a sufficient number of forms to
enable us to establish the following generalizations : ;

(1). The structure and behavior of the Sphecoids and Vespoids

1 Lowell Lectures.

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 69

show that they must have arisen from what have been called
Parasitic Hymenoptera, and the structure of the ants and bees
shows that they in turn must have arisen from primitive Sphecoids
or Vespoids.

(2). The social wasps comprise several groups which have
evolved independently from primitive, solitary Vespoids, but there
are also a few Sphecoids that exhibit subsocial propensities.

(3). Both the Sphecoids and the Vespoids are primarily pre-
daceous and feed on freshly captured insects, but the adults are
- fond of visiting flowers and feeding on nectar. Some social wasps
store honey in their nests, but it is probably not an exclusive or
essential constituent of the larval food. One small and aberrant
group of solitary Vespoids, the Masarinz, however, provision their
cells with a paste of honey and pollen, like the solitary bees. The
inseet prey on which at least the young of nearly all the wasps
subsist, being extremely rich in fats and proteids, is an ideal food,
but has to be provided in larger quantity than such concentrated
vegetable substances as pollen and nectar. It is also scarcer and
more difficult to obtain. Hence the definite tendeney in adult
wasps towards a honey regimen at least for the purpose of eking
out the primitive animal diet.

(4). We are able to observe in the social wasps more clearly
than in other social insects the peculiar phenomenon which I have
ealled ‘‘trophallaxis,’’ 7. e., the mutual exchange of food between
adults and their larval young.

(5). The study of the wasps and of their ancestors among the
Parasitic Hymenoptera furnishes us with a key to the understand-
ing of parthenogenesis and the peculiar dominance of the female.
sex (gynarechy) which is retained throughout the whole group
of stinging Hymenoptera (wasps, bees and ants).

(6). In the social wasps we witness the first gradual develop-
ment of a worker caste and also of polygyny and swarming.

(7). We observe in wasps a high degree of modifiability of
behavior and an extraordinary development of memory, endow-
ments which have led McDougall to claim for them ‘‘a degree of
intelligence which (with the doubtful exception of the higher
mammals) approaches most nearly to the human,’’ and Bergson
to point to their activities as one of the most telling arguments in
favor of his intuitional theory of instinet. Although I believe
that these and many other authors have been guilty of some exag-
geration the wasp’s psychic powers compared with. those of most
other insects or even of many of the lower Vertebrates seem to me,
nevertheless, to be sufficiently remarkable.

We shall have to examine each of these generalizations more
closely. Some of them may be considered forthwith, others more

70 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

advantageously after the description and illustration of a selected
series of species.

Recent studies of the parasitic, or as I prefer to call them with
O. M. Reuter, the “‘parasitoid’’ Hymenoptera, have revealed cer-
tain peculiar traits which recur in a modified form in the behavior
of their Sphecoid and Vespoid descendants. But what are these
parasitoids? You are all familiar with the fact that a large num-
ber of insects regularly lay their eggs on or in plants and that
the hatching larve devour the plant tissues and eventually pupate
and emerge as insects which repeat the same cycle of behavior.
There is, however, another immense, but less conspicuous, assem-
blage of insects that lay their eggs on or in the living eggs, larve,
pupe and adults of other insects, and the eges thus deposited
develop into larve which gradually devour the softer tissues in
which they happen to find themselves. Species that behave in this
manner are not true parasites, but extremely economical predators,
because they eventually kill their victims, but before doing so
spare them as much as possible in order that they may continue
to feed and grow and thus yield fresh nutriment just as it is
needed. For this reason and also because, as a rule, only the larval
insect behaves in the manner described, it is best called a
““parasitoid.’’ The adult into which it develops is, in fact, a very
highly organized, active, free-living creature, totally devoid of any
of the stigmata of ‘‘degeneration’’ so common among parasites,
and with such exquisitely perfected sensory, nervous and museu-
lar organs that it can detect its prey in the most intricate en-
vironment and under the subtlest disguises.

The parasitoids exhibit another peculiarity which was destined
to acquire great importance in their descendants, the wasps, bees
and ants, namely, parthenogenesis, or the ability of the female
to lay unfertilized eggs capable of complete development. As a
rule, if not always, these parthenogenetic eggs develop into males,
whereas fertilized eggs laid by the same female develop into indi-
viduals of her own sex. Thus the female has become to some extent
independent of the male in the matter of reproduction. It will
be seen that if the parthenogenetic egg were able to develop into a
female, as it frequently does in certain insects like the plant-lice,
the male might become entirely superfluous. There are a few in-
sects in which this has occurred or in which the male appears only
at infrequent intervals in a long series of generations. But mat-
ters have not come to such a pass in the parasitoids or in the wasps,
bees and ants, though these insects have perfected another method
of reducing the male to a mere episode in the life of the female.
Individuals of this sex are provided with a small muscular sae, the

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS (al

spermatheca, which is filled with sperm during the single act of
mating, and this sae is provided with glands, the secretion of which
may keep the sperm alive for months or even years. According to
a generally accepted theory, the female can voluntarily contract
the wall of her spermatheca and thus permit sperm to leave it and
fertilize the eggs as they are passing its orifice on their way to being
laid, or she can keep the orifice closed and thus lay unfertilized
egos. The mother can thus control the sex of her offspring or if
she has failed to mate, or has exhausted all the sperm in her
spermatheca, may nevertheless be able to lay male-producing eggs.
There seems also to be something compensatory, or regulatory, in
this ability of the female parasitoid to produce males partheno-
genetically, for if she be unable to meet with a male—and this
predicament is very apt to arise among such small and widely
dispersed animals as inseects—she can produce the missing sex and
thus increase the chances of mating for the next generation of
females.

Certain facts indicate that the sex of the egg may not be deter-
mined in the manner here described, but their consideration must
be postponed till they can be taken up in connection with the
honey-bee. We are justified, notwithstanding, in regarding the
female parasitoid, wasp, bee or ant, after she has appropriated
and stored in her spermatheca all the essential elements of the
male, as a potential hermaphrodite. The body, or soma, of the
male, after mating, thus really becomes superfluous and soon
perishes. In the solitary wasps the male is a nonentity, although
in a few species he may hang around and try to guard the nest.
But in the bees, ants and social wasps he has not even the status
of a loafing policeman, and all the activities of the community are
carried on by the females, and mostly by widows, debutantes and
spinsters. The facts certainly compel even those who, like myself,
are neither feminists nor vegetarians, to confess that the whole
trend of evolution in the most interesting of social insects is towards
an ever increasing matriarehy, or gynarchy and vegetarianism.

Now if we carefully observe a parasitoid while she is ovi-
positing in her prey, we obtain a clue to the meaning of the peculiar
behavior of the solitary wasps which has led Fabre to certain er-
roneous conclusions and philosophers like Bergson to his peculiar
interpretation of instinct. The parasitoid is furnished at the pos-
terior end of her body with a well-developed ovipositor, a slender,
pointed instrument for piercing the tough integument of her vic-
tim. But this instrument also has another function, namely, that
of making punctures through which droplets of the victim’s blood
may exude and be devoured by the parasitoid. She may often be

72 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

seen thrusting her ovipositor into her prey without ovipositing and
merely for the sake of obtaining food, or she may feed at a pune-
ture she has made while ovipositing. Obviously feeding and ovi-
position are here congenitally, or hereditarily conditioned reflexes,
to use Pawlow’s expression. In other words, the internal hunger
and reproductive stimuli, or appetites, are so intimately associated
with one another that mere contact with the prey releases either
the feeding or the ovipositing reactions, or both. And, of course,
both of these reactions are purely selfish, the one being concerned
with getting food, the other with getting relief from the discom-
fort of egg-pressure in the ovaries, and both may initiate elaborate
trains or patterns of behavior (instincts). This is true not only
of the parasitoids but also of insects in general.

Turning now to the solitary wasps we find that, like the
parasitoids, they prey on other insects and that each species of
wasp usually has a predilection for a particular species (Figs. 18
and 19), genus or family of insects, or even for a particular
sex, aS in the case of one of our common wasps, Aphilanthops
frigidus, which preys only on queen ants. The chief difference

A

a Sys Sat
FIG. 18

Dolichurus stantoni of the Philippines dragging a young cockroach (Blatella

bisignata) to her burrow. x 6. (After F. X. Williams).

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS : 73

between the parasitoid and the solitary wasp les in the fact that
the latter lays her egg on or near her victim after stinging it
till it is motionless. The sting is merely the ovipositor which is
now used only for defence or for reducing the prey to impotence,
while the mouth-parts and especially the mandibles are used for
obtaining food. Many solitary wasps, after stinging their prey,

FIG. 19
A. Female of a Bethylid wasp Epyris extraneus, of the Philippines; B. Tene-
brionid beetle, Gonocephalum seriatum; C. Larva of the same with egg of
E. extraneus on middle of ventral surface; D. Young E. extraneus larva feed-
ing on the larva of G. seriatum; E. Later stage of same; F. Pupa of E.
extraneus; G. Cocoon of same. (After F. X. Williams).

74 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

devour it in part or entirely, or chew, 72. e., malaxate, its neck and
lap up the exuding juices. This behavior is essentially like that
of the parasitoid, and in its more frequent, feebler manifestations
may be regarded as a vestigial feeding. The adult wasp is no
longer as carnivorous as its ancestors, because she has come to rely
to some extent on the energizing nectar of flowers, but this sub-
stance contains no proteids and is therefore an improper food for
her growing larval young. Roubaud and Rabaud have recently
shown that the stinging of the prey follows reflexly as soon as it
has been seized and comes in contact with the wasp’s sternum, and
that the accidental position of the prey when it thus releases the
reflex determines the point where it will be stung. Moreover, the
stinging is repeated till the victim ceases to struggle and becomes
motionless. Hence the stinging does not oeeur in the schematic
manner nor necessarily in the nerve ganglia, as described by Fabre.
It has also been shown that the venom introduced into the tissues
of the prey by the sting produces paralysis or even death and also
acts as an antiseptic in preserving the prey from decomposition
for weeks or even months while the larva that hatches from the
wasp’s egg is feeding on the tissue, but these properties of the
venom are accidental and unforeseen. Hence Fabre’s and Bergson’s
contention that the solitary wasp is a clairvoyant surgeon, with
an intuitive knowledge of the internal anatomy of the particular
insect on which it preys, may be dismissed as a myth.

FIG. 20

Sphex procerus carrying caterpillar of sphinx moth to her burrow. (Photo-
graph by Prof. Carl Hartman).

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 75

The explanations here given of the malaxation and stinging of
the prey are purely physiological, but it is not at all certain that
such explanations are applicable to the entire behavior cycle of the
solitary wasp. Before enquiring into this matter, it will be advis-
able to sketch very briefly the behavior of a typical Sphex as a
paradigm of the whole group of Sphecoids and solitary Vespoids.
The female Sphex, after mating, digs in sandy soil a slanting or
perpendicular tunnel and widens its end to form an elliptical
chamber. She may thereupon close the entrance, rise into the air
and fly in undulating spirals over the burrow, thus making what
is called a ‘‘flight of orientation,’’ or ‘“‘locality study,’’ because
it enables her to fix in her sensorium the precise position of the
burrow in relation to the surrounding objects, so that she may find
the spot again. Then she flies off in search of her prey, which is
a particular species of hairless caterpillar (Fig. 20). When it is
found, she stings it into insensibility, malaxates its neck, while
imbibing the exuding juices, and drags it or flies with it to the
entrance of her burrow. Here she drops her victim and, after
entering and inspecting the burrow, returns and takes it down
into the chamber, glues her egg to its surface and closes the burrow
by filling it with sand or detritus collected from the surrounding
soil (Figs. 21 and 22). As soon as the next egg matures in her
ovaries she proceeds to repeat the same behavior cycle at some
other spot. In the meantime the provisioned egg hatches, and the

FIG. 21

Sphex procerus carrying chips of wood to throw into the burrow at the left
of the figure. (Photograph by Prof. Carl Hartman).

76 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

FIG. 22
Burrow of Sphex procerus in section, showing filling of débris in the tunnel
and the paralyzed sphinx moth caterpillar in the cell, with the egg glued
to its side. (Photograph by Prof. Carl Hartman).

larva, after devouring the helpless caterpillar, spins a cocoon,
pupates im situ and eventually emerges as a perfect Sphex.

Some of our species of Sphex actually tamp down the filling
of their burrows with a small, carefully selected pebble, held in
the mandibles and used as a hammer or pestle (Fig. 23). This

BIGH23

Sphex urnarius using a selected pebble to pound down earth over burrow.

(After G. W. and E. G. Peckham).

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 77

astonishing behavior, which has been carefully observed by no less
than nine investigators (Williston, Pergande, Geo. W. and E. G.
Peckham, Hartman, Hungerford and Williams, and Phil. and
Nellie Rau) can hardly be redueed to simple physiological reflexes.
The same would seem to be true of the orientation flight and re-
turn to the burrow and the fact that some species of Sphex provide
the egg with a single large caterpillar, others with several small
caterpillars, but in all cases with just enough food to enable the
larva to grow to the full stature of a normal individual of its
species. The question also arises as to the proper interpretation
of the peculiar predilection of the wasp for a particular species
of prey. This seems to be the more inexplicable, because experi-
ment has shown that the larva ean be successfully reared when
some very different insect is substituted for the speeies which it
habitually devours. As I am emphasizing the role of nutrition
in these lectures, I shall digress somewhat on this question of
food specialization and in order to bring the matter before you as
vividly as possible recast the behavior of Sphex in the form of a
tragic drama in three acts, with the following brief synopsis:

Act I. A sandy country with sparse vegetation inhabited by
caterpillars and other insects. Time, a hot, sunny day in early
August. Scene 1. Miss Sphex arrayed in all the charm of maiden-
hood being courted by Mr. Sphex. Wedding among the flowers.
Scene 2. Mrs. Sphex deserted by her seatter-brained spouse settles
down and excavates a kind of eyclone-cellar. She closes its door
and leaves the stage.

Act II. Scene 1. Same as in Act I. Mrs. Sphex, hunting
in the vegetation, finds a caterpillar, struggles with it, stings it
and gnaws its neck till it lies motionless. Scene 2. She drags it
into the cellar and placing her offspring on it behind the scenes,
returns and at once leaves the stage after locking the door, amid
a storm of applause.

Act III. Scene 1. Interior of Mrs. Sphex’s cellar. Baby
Sphex slowly devouring caterpillar till only its skin remains. Scene
2. Baby Sphex, now a large, buxom lass, weaves an elaborate
nightgown for herself and goes to bed as the curtain falls.

As a work of art this drama is defective, because the climax,
the stinging of the caterpillar, falls in the early part of the second
act, and because the heroine leaves the stage soon afterwards for
good, as if she had been suddenly taken ill and had to substitute
her drowsy offspring to perform the whole third act. Still this is
the,sequence in which the drama is related by all the observers, and
I have presented my account in the same manner, because it has un-
deniable advantages. But see what happens when we rearrange

78 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the drama by making the third or last act the first, and the first
and second the second and third, respectively. There is then only.
one heroine who holds the center of the stage throughout the per-
formance. We witness her gradual growth and development from
infancy during the first act, her wedding, desertion and cellar-ex-
cavating exploits during the second, and the thrilling chase, sting-
ing and entombment of the hereditary victim in the third act.

I have just committed the unpardonable sin of humanizing
the wasp, but being desirous of making my point perfectly clear, I
am going to do something still more scandalous and ask you for a
moment to vespize the human being. Suppose that the human
mother were in the habit of carefully tying her new-born baby
to the arm-pit of a paralyzed elephant which she had locked in a
huge cellar. - The baby—we must, of course, suppose that it is a
girl baby—is armless, legless and blind, but has been born with
powerful jaws and teeth and an insatiable appetite. Under the
circumstances she would have to eat the elephant or die. Sup-
posing now that she fed on the elephant day after day between
naps till only its tough hide and hard skeleton were left, and that
she then took an unusually long nap and awoke as a magnificent,
winged, strong-limbed amazon, with a marvellously keen sense of
smell and superb eyes, clad in burnished armor and with a poisoned
lance in her hand. With such attractions and equipment we _
eould hardly expect her to stay long in a cellar. She would at once
break through the soil into the daylight. Now suppose she hap-
pened to emerge, with a great and natural appetite, in a zoological
garden, should we be astonished to see her make straight for the
elephant house? Why, she would recognize the faintest odor of
elephant borne to her on the breeze. She would herself be, in a
sense, merely a metabolized elephant. Of course, we should be
startled to see her leap on the elephant’s back, plunge her lance
into its arm-pit, drag it several miles over the ground, hide it in
a cellar and tie her offspring to its hide.

The point I wish to make is this: We have all along in our
accounts treated the life-history of the insect as that of two indi-
viduals in such a manner as to obscure or obliterate the experience
of the individual. We begin with the full-fledged insect descend-
ing from the blue, and then describe her behavior as if it were a
pure inheritance or improvisation. But when we describe her
activities as those of a single individual from the beginning of her
development to death, we find that the adult female, before she
begins to make and provision her nest, has probably learned some-
thing from her long and intimate larval contact with the environ-
ment. For months she has inhabited a chamber like the one she

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 79

will excavate or build for her own progeny, for days she has been
devouring a particular species of caterpillar and she has even dug
a sufficient distance through the soil to be familiar with its proper-
ties. She possesses, therefore, a certain amount of acquaintance
with soil and with caterpillars. That this should persist as mem-
ory is not only possible but extremely probable when we con-
sider that the central nervous system of the larva passes without
profound change into that of the adult wasp and that the latter
shows unmistakable evidence of possessing a remarkable memory
when she makes such locality studies as have been described and
returns to her nest or prey after an absence of several hours or
even days. We are also enabled to understand why the wasp con-
fines her attention to a particular species or even to one sex of a
species while searching for her prey, and why the malaxation or
mutilation of the prey may be regarded as a reminiscent act of
feeding. In brief, all those activities of the adult wasp which are
partly or wholly interpretable as a repetition of larval behavior,
may be attributed to memory—not in the sense of recollection, with
its feeling of ‘‘pastness,’’ but of mere sensory and motor memory,
the memoria sensitiva of scholastic writers, or the ‘‘associative
memory’’ of comparative psychologists.

But there still remain unexplaimed the more striking activities,
those performed for the first time in the wasp’s life-history, namely
the cocoon-spinning of the larva, the making, closing and opening
of the nest, oviposition, ete. No doubt these acts are all initiated
by stimuli, partly internal and partly external, such as hunger,
the tension of accumulated silk in the spinning glands, of eggs in
the ovaries, hormones in the blood, and olfactory and tactile im-
pressions from contact with the caterpillar and the soil, but the
reeling off of the train of these purposive responses must depend
on inherited dispositions in some way correlated with the structure
of the nervous and muscular apparatus. And we must suppose
that these dispositions somehow represent the experience of untold
former generations of wasps. We are, however, unable to form
any adequate conception of the extent of the racial experience of
the solitary wasps as a group and therefore of the amount of con-
densation or syneopation with which it is epitomized in the be-
havior of the individual wasp, and this disability on our part 1s
largely responsible not’ only for the old supernatural conceptions
of instinct but also for theories like those of Bergson, the Neodar-
winians and the mutationists.

We may now turn to the evolution of social behavior, which,
in diverging lines of descent, has been gradually evolved and per-
fected from such a method as that employed by most of the

80 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Sphecoids and non-social Vespoids. This method, which consists
in rapidly accumulating an amount of prey sufficient to enable the
young to develop to maturity and of then closing the cell before
the ege has hatched, we may designate, with Roubaud, as ‘‘mass
provisioning.’’ We have seen that in some eases the mother wasp
stores a single large insect, in others a number of smaller ones,
before closing the cell. If in the latter case the accumulation of
the prey is delayed on account of scarcity or inclement weather,
the egg, which has been glued to the first small insect captured,
hatches before the mother wasp has succeeded in collecting a suf-
ficient supply for the growth of the larva. She is therefore reduced
to feeding her offspring from day to day, 7%. e., to what Roubaud
ealls ‘‘progressive provisioning,’’ a method which is seen in certain
species of Sphex and Lyroda (S. politus and L. subita, according
to Adlerz) and probably also in Aphilanthops frigidus, according
to my observations. But the best examples may be observed among
the digger-wasps of the family Bembicide, on which we possess
a number of valuable studies by Wesenberg-Lund, Bouvier,
Marchal, the Peckhams, Hartman, Riley, Melander, Ferton, Parker,
Adlerz, the Raus, ete. While our large cicada-killer (Sphecius
speciosus) provisions its burrows with a single cicada, lays an egg
on it and closes the cell, thus practicing typical mass provisioning,
some other Stizine and many species of Bembix and allied genera
proceed in a different manner. These insects live in open, sandy
places, often in rather populous and compact congregations,
though each female makes and provisions her own burrow. The
prey of each species of Bembix consists of the common two-winged
flies of her environment, without regard to the species. They are
stung to death but not mutilated. After the burrow is excavated
the wasp kills a small fly and after dislocating one of its wings, ©
places it on its back on the floor of her cell and attaches her egg
to its sternum. The dislocation of the wing is supposed by Ferton
to be a device for preventing the fly from being turned over by
the very delicate young larva and thus insuring it against injurious
contact with the rough, sandy floor of the cell. The mother col-
lects flies and brings them into the burrow from day to day, ac-
tually increasing the size or number of the victims as they are
needed by the growing and increasingly voracious larva. At least
one European species of Bembix (B. mediterraneus), according to
Ferton, lays her ege's on the floor of the cell before bringing in any
flies. Instead of flies, the species of Bicyrtes and Stizus provision
their young progressively with bugs or leaf-hoppers, and one of
our species (Microbembex monodonta), according to Hartman,
Parker and the Raus, feeds its young on all sorts of small, dead

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 81

and dried insects (grasshoppers, beetles, flies, mayflies, ants, etc.)
picked up from the soil.

Among several of the solitary Vespoids we find very similar
conditions and these are of more immediate interest to us because
this group of insects has evidently given rise to the true social
wasps. The numerous species of Eumenes and Odynerus (Fig. 24),
as well as the allied genera, either excavate their burrows in the
ground, or take possession of the tubular cavities of twigs or the
interstices of walls, or construct exquisite mud eells above ground
on the surfaces of rocks, trees or walls. After the cell is completed
the egg is hung by a filament from. its ceiling. Numerous small,
smooth, paralyzed caterpillars are then brought in and the eell is
closed. This is, of course, typical mass provisioning. But Roubaud
has observed some very significant modifications of the process
in certain Congolese species. Of one Odynerus (0. tropicalis)
he gives the following account: ‘‘This little Odynerus does not

FIG. 24

Four stages in the mud nest of Odynerus dorsalis. A. Showing one cell
open,and being stored with small caterpillars; B. Nest on the following day,
showing wasp resting in a new cell made on the previous afternoon. C. Nest
with one cell opened to show the wasp larva feeding on caterpillars; D. Same
nest, showing holes made by the escaping wasps. (After Carl Hartman).
VOL. XV—6

82 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

provision its cells with prey amassed in advance, but nourishes
its larve from day to day, with small, entire, paralyzed ecater-
pillars, which are always ,given to the larva in very small num-
bers, till its growth is completed. The egg is never walled up in
the cell with provisions hastily amassed. The wasp, to judge from
what I have been able to observe of its educative procedure, after
having laid her egg, watches it within the cell after the manner of
the higher species of Synagris till it hatches. As a rule, prey
is brought to the egg only at the moment of hatching or a little
before, and usually a single small caterpillar, rarely two and never
three, is found placed at the disposal of the just-hatched larva.
Pari passu with the growth of the latter the prey is renewed, but
always in small numbers. Sometimes the larva may be seen fasting
in the cell while the mother wasp is away in search of prey.
Finally, it is only after its feeding has been completed that the
larva is immured in the cell. In no ease did I observe in closed
cells containing larve the slightest trace of provisions.’’? Even
more interesting are the species of Synagris referred to in this
quotation. In several of them Roubaud found the following con-
ditions, representing transitions from mass to progressive pro-
visioning :

The female of Synagris spiniventris (cited as callida by Rou-
baud) and callida (cited as sicheliana) under normal conditions,
i. e., when food is abundant, lays an egg in her mud cell, fills it in
the course of a few days with small paralyzed caterpillars, some-
times to the number of 60 (!) and then closes it, thus adopting
the usual or ‘‘banal’’ method of mass provisioning. When, how-
ever, owing to seasonal or climatic conditions, caterpillars are
scarce, the female, after ovipositing and guarding the egg for some
time, collects a meager provision of small caterpillars for the
hatching larva and while it is growing, continues to feed it in
the same manner. After the larva has attained three fourths
of its adult size, the wasp immures it in its cell with the last supply
of provisions. As Bequaert remarks, ‘‘in 8. spiniventris, progres-
sive provisioning is still optional, and one observes all the transi-
tional stages between this behavior and the normal provisioning
in mass. The mother wasp shows great skill in adapting her habits
to the external conditions.’’ According to Roubaud another species
of Synagris (S. cornuta), proceeds a step further (Figs. 25 and
296). The female, after completing her earthen eell, lays an egg
on its floor and when the larva hatches feeds it from day to day
with pellets made of a paste of ground up caterpillars. This is
precisely the method employed by the social wasps in feeding their
larve !

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 83

Rg
ay

if

*
f
5
»
"4
¢

“a

Reoonectia’

FIG. 25
Mud nests of Synagris cornuta on the thatching of a native hut in the Congo.
“Some of these ‘nests show very distinctly the short neck with its slightly
widened opening curved to the side and. downwards. Such a chimney is
built at the entrance of the cells containing eggs or larve still nursed by a
female.” (After J. Bequaert from a photograph by H. O. Lang).

84 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

A step in the direction of the social wasps seems also to have
been taken by a small group of solitary Vespoids, allied to the
EKumenine, namely the Zethine. These insects, which have been
studied recently in Brazil by Ducke, in British Guiana by Howes
and in the Philippines by F. X. Williams, have abandoned the
use of earth as nest material and employ instead small bits of
leaves or moss (Fig. 27). With such vegetable material Zethus
constructs a beautiful nest with one or several tubular cells, and
therefore approaches the social wasps which make their nests of
paper, a substance consisting of fine particles of wood agglutinated
with an oral secretion. The egg is laid loosely in the bottom of the
cell and, according to Williams’ account of the Philippine Zethus
cyanopterus, the larva is fed from day to day on small caterpillars,
which have been in part eaten by the mother. She faithfully
guards the larva and, while it is small and there is still ample
room, sleeps in the cell. She closes the latter as soon as the larva
is full grown and proceeds to build another.

Each of these cases of progressive provisioning may be regarded
as a very primitive family, or society, reduced to its simplest terms,
i. e., to a mother and her single offspring. The seasonal or local
conditions of the environment, in so far as they affect the abun-
dance or seareity of prey, have led on the one hand to mass pro-
visioning and therefore to an exclusion of the mother from contact
with her growing offspring, and on the other to an establishment

FIG. 26
Mud nest of Synagris cornuta var. flavofasciata with mother wasp. (After
J. Bequaert from a photograph by H. O. Lang).

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 85

FIG. 27
Zethus cyanopterus of the Philippines and its nest. A, Adult wasp x 2; B,
the beginning of a cell. It is attached to a twig by a mass of well-masticated
leaf-bits and the wall of the cell is made of shingled leaf bits. (Somewhat
enlarged); C, the first cell of the nest completed x %;D, a four-cell nest
showing roof-like structure and one emergence hole x %. (After F. X.
Williams).

of that very contact. This, again, has developed an immediate
interest of the mother in her young comparable with what we ob-
serve in many birds. Probably this interest is aroused and sus-
tained in the mother wasp by simple, pleasurable, chemical (odor)
or tactile stimuli emanating from the egg and larva, but whatever
be the nature of the stimuli involved, I believe that we shall have
to admit that the egg and the larva have acquired a ‘‘meaning’’
for the mother wasp, and so far as the egg is concerned, this seems
to-be true even in the species that practice mass provisioning.
We noticed that many solitary Vespoids (EKumenes, Odynerus),
before they bring in their prey, carefully attach the egg by a string

86 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

to the ceiling of the cell. This singular performance has been
variously interpreted. Fabre and others regard it as a device for
preventing the delicate egg from being crushed by the closely
packed and sometimes reviving prey, on the same principle that in
a crowded room an electric light bulb attached by a cord to the
ceiling would be less easily crushed than one rigidly fixed to tie
walls or the floor. Others regard the filament as a device for keep-
ing the ege free from the occasionally very damp walls of the cell.
Ferton has recently shown that Bembix mediterraneus glues its
slender egg to the floor of the cell in an erect position and with the
base carefully supported by a cluster of large sand-grains (Fig.
28 A), and that Stizus errans glues its egg in a similar position

FIG. 28

A. Egg of Bembix mediterraneus with its base supported by a cluster of

large sand-grains. B. Egg cf Stizus crrans glued to ihe upper surface of a
carefully selected pebble. (After C. Ferton).

to the top of a small, carefully selected pebble placed on the floor
of the cell (Fig. 28 B). Parker’s description of the egg of our
Microbembex monodonta seems to indicate a condition similar to
that of B. mediterraneus. In all these cases we seem to have an
arrangement for keeping the very easily injured egg as free as pos-
sible from contact with the rough, sandy walls of the burrow. But
even the Sphecoids and Psammocharids, which practice mass pro-
visioning, attach the egg to a particular part of the victim and in
such a position that the hatching larva can attack it at its most
vulnerable point. Ferton, especially, has made a very interesting
study of this type of behavior.

The following facts also indicate very clearly that the mother
wasp may be aware, not only of sexual differences among her own
eggs but also of the differences in the amount of food required by
the resulting larve. Bordage, while investigating the Sphecoids
of the Island of Réunion, found that three of the species, Pison
argentatum, Trypoxylon scutifrons and T. errans, could be readily
induced to make their cells in glass tubes placed between the

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 87

SOLITARY VESPOIDS SOCIAL VESPOIDS (VESPINAE) PAPER NESTS.

BT PTT wdoYy bey
seqettog

Nests of Leaf

Fragments Polygynous Colonies

Nest without
ana aes

Incompletely Completely
Phragmocyttarous Phragmocyttarous”

Earthen Nests Colonies

Several
— combs &
= envelope

Monogynous |

F
E

aptisyoommesg

=PTTAGIEg

Snuts1eyrsyO

ngIIE4IBYO

cores

t]
<
@
a
8
3 oa
; Pag
° o
a | fa sd ae
8 g @ —4
r ° 2
= ‘ 8 é E
4
B 2 &
E e iva
° o
° © pe
<
é MY
° Comba not storied
a! Grow by lateral A
e apposition s
a
oe
Pees oo)
Sg Ca TRE) SF |” >|) | OS SR DR feared S
i=} @
3 ee ;
a
Bt ge
cS ie 3
I or e
< Po w Ee Ps
r © @ ws 5
C) ¢ 5 a
° 2 B cs)
= 5 2
o % 4
o cy
uo Lal
@ Stelocyttarous
= = 5 Reotinidal laterinidal
E 3 g
a g &
a! e
f <| :
4 Q
& g E
See *
3 o 5
© ~
ie 3 5
a gq 3
=z °
g f ¢
E g : a
: - 3
- ii] 2d
v o 2
8 ° 5 o
g " g
er
o
oe
e
bal
e
i]
°o
e
|
c
>

FIG. 29
Phylogenetic tree of the various genera and families of Vespoids. (After
Ducke, with modifications).

88 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

pamphlets of his library. The Pison, under natural conditions,
builds elliptical clay cells and provisions them with spiders,
whereas the species of Trypoxylon nest in hollow twigs and the
interstices of wall but use the same kind of prey. All these
species adapted themselves to the glass tubes in the same manner.
Each of them plugged the end of the tube with clay and divided
the lumen into successive cells by building simple clay partitions
across it. After thecells had been provisioned, Bordage observed
that the first of them were longer by half a centimeter and con-
tained more prey than those provisioned later, and he was able to
show that the larve in the larger, more abundantly provisioned
cells produced female, the others male wasps. Similar observations
have also been published by Roubaud on the Congolese Odynerus
(Rhynchium) anceps, which makes clusters of straight, tubular
galleries in clay walls and divides each gallery into several cells
by means of clay partitions. In this case also the first cells are
much longer than the later, though there is no difference in the
quantity of small caterpillars allotted to the different eggs. But
Roubaud was able to prove experimentally that even when the
amount of food is so greatly decreased that the larve produce
adult wasps of only half the normal size, their sex is nevertheless
in no wise affected. It would seem therefore that the mother wasp
must discriminate between the deposition of a fertilized, female-
producing and that of an unfertilized, male-producing egg, and
regulate the size of the cell and in some instances also the amount
of provisions accordingly.

In the accompanying diagram (Fig. 29), taken from Ducke but
somewhat modified, I have indicated the hypothetical family tree
of the solitary and social Vespoids. The genera below the heavy
horizontal line are solitary, and among them Eumenes and
Odynerus seem to be nearest to the original ancestors, because
they are very similar to the social forms in having longitudinally
folded wings and in other morphological characters. It will be
seen that there are six independent lines of descent to the social
forms above the heavy line and that the genera plotted at different
levels represent various stages of specialization as indicated by
the nature of the materials and types of structure of the nests.
With the doubtful exception of a few Stenogastrine, all the social
wasps make paper nests consisting wholly or in part of one or
more combs of regular hexagonal cells, in which a number of young
are reared simultaneously.

(To .be continued)

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 89

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE'

INTERNATIONAL COOPERATION
IN INTELLECTUAL WORK

Steps have been taken toward the
formation of a committee of the
League of Nations on international
cooperation in intellectual work.
Eleven of the twelve members have
been appointed and as none of them
is an American, it is expected that
the vacancy will be offered to an
American scholar.

The committee so far chosen con-
sists of Henri Bergson, the French
philosopher and author of ‘‘ Creative
Evolution ’’; Curie, the
Polish discoverer of radium; Albert
Einstein, the German mathematician
who propounded the theory of rela-
tivity; Gilbert Murray, professor of
Greek at Oxford; Miss Bonnevie, pro-
fessor of zoology at Christiania;
D. B. Bannerjee, professor of polit-
ical economy at Calcutta; A. De Cas-
tro, of the medical faculty of the
University of Rio de Janeiro; J.
Destree, former minister of science
and art in the Belgian cabinet; G. De
Reynold, professor of French litera-
ture at Berne; F. Ruffini, professor
of ecclesiastical law at Turin, and
L. De Torres Quevedo, director of the
electro-medical laboratory of Madrid.

The first meeting of this committee
is set for August 1, and a prominent
position on the program of work out-
lined is given to measures that will
facilitate the interchange of scientific
information and the development of
higher education in the countries par-
ticipating.

With regard to the organization
of intellectual work from an inter-
national standpoint the report adopt-
ed by the council of the League of
Nations when the committee on inter-

Madame

1 Edited by Watson Davis, Science

Service.

national cooperation in
work was organized says:

intellectual

We are all agreed that the League
of Nations has no task more urgent
than that of examining these great
factors of international opinion—the
systems and methods of education and
scientific and philosophical research.
It would be unthinkable that the
league should endeavor to improve
the means of exchange of material
products without also endeavoring to
facilitate the international, exchange
of ideas. No association of nations
can hope to exist without the spirit
of reciprocal intellectual activity be-
cween its members.

For example, it is clear to all how
much the league would benefit by any
new measures which by establishing
a more definite parallelism between
the diplomas of the various countries
and a more frequent exchange of
chairs between professors of various
nationalities would lead to a more
active interchange of teachers and

students between nations. A_ still
greater benefit would result from
measures which permitted a more

rapid and more accurate communica-
tion of all work undertaken simul-
taneously in the field of scientific re-
search in various parts of the world.

There is no question of detracting
from the originality of national
workers whose very diversity is essen-
tial for the general progress of ideas.
On the contrary, the object is to en-
able each of these national thinkers
to develop his ideas with greater force
and vitality, by making it possible
for him to draw more fully upon the
common treasure of knowledge, meth-
ods and discoveries.

As a part of the work of the
League of Nations, a ‘‘ Handbook of
International Organizations’’ has re-
cently been issued, which lists 315
societies, associations, bureaus, com-
mittees and unions, all of them inter-
national in some aspect. It is an
interesting collection of religious,
scientific and other sorts of organiza-
tions, the association
interested in lawn tennis being listed
with the entomological, meteorological

international

90 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

PROFESSOR SANTIAGO RAMON Y CAJAL
The distinguished Spanish histologist who retires from the chair of histology

and pathological anatomy at the University of Madrid on reaching his
seventieth year.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE ot

and other scientific societies. Such a
directory is a necessary preliminary
of the activities of the committee on
international cooperation in intellec-
tual work.

CALENDAR REFORM

RerorM of the calendar has been
much discussed during the past decade
or more, for the inconveniences and
inconsistencies of the present calen-
dar are obvious.

The two schemes which are receiy-
ing the largest amount of attention
are the international fixed calendar
plan and the Swiss plan.

The former, first publicly proposed
by Moses B. Cotsworth of Vancouver
in 1894, provides for thirteen months
in the year, with twenty-eight days
to the month, every date being at-
tached to the same day of the week
in every month. New Year’s Day
is a zero day called January 0, and
is a full holiday. The extra day in
leap year is a similar holiday inserted
as July 0.. The extra month, which,
of course, does not. add to the actual
length of the year, is introduced be-
tween June and July, and is called
*“Sol.’? Easter is to be fixed by the
Christian churches on some date be-
tween March 21 and April 26, this
stabilizing an event whose drifting
causes inconveniences and losses in
business and social life.

The Swiss plan has been advocated
largely by astronomers. It also sets
aside each New Year’s Day and each
leap-year day as independent legal
holidays. The other 364 days are
divided into four quarters of 91 days
each, each quarter containing one
month of 31 days and two months of
30 days, thus keeping twelve months
as at present.

The international fixed
plan recently received the unanimous
approval of a convention held in
Washington by those interested in
calendar reform. The American sec-
tion of the International Astronom-
ical Union, after considering both the

calendar

Swiss plan advocated by its com-
mittee on calendar reform and the
fixed calendar plan, recently refused
to take action on the matter.

The question of calendar reform
was taken up at a meeting of the
International Association of Acad-
emies held in St. Petersburg in 1913,
and a committee was appointed on
that occasion ‘‘to study questions
relative to the unification and sim-
plification of the calendars and the
fixing of the date of Easter.’’ This
committee would have made a report
in 1916, but for the war. Another
discussion of this subject took place
at the International Geographical
Congress held in Rome in 1913. In
June of the same year the World
Congress on International Associa-
tions, which met at Brussels, passed
a resolution urging the governments
of the world to adopt a universal eal-
endar. Three of the International
Congresses of Chambers of Commerce
have given expression to ‘the same de-
sire. Finally, just before the out-
break of the world war, the Interna-
tional Congress on the Reform of the
Calendar held its sessions at Liége,
and not only agreed to urge the adop-
tion of a universal and improved eal-
endar but also made plans for a for-
mal conference, which was to have
been convoked in Switzerland at the
invitation of the Swiss government.
but was never held.

In the future there may come a
conference of nations that will adopt
a new and more logical calendar as
easily as standard time was estab-
lished by an international conference
at Washington about forty years ago.

INVISIBLE SUN-SPOTS

Dr. GEORGE ELLERY HALE, director
of the Mount Wilson Observatory,
has announced the discovery of invis-
ible sun-spots. In 1908 Dr. Hale
found that a sun-spot is a great whirl-
ing storm, similar to a_ terrestrial
tornado, but on a gigantic scale, often
vastly larger than the earth. The ex-

TOOHOS OITdNd SHTHONV SOT V DNIGNYLLV SNIML

"sovoud PHOM PIM

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 93

pansion of the hot solar gases, caused
by the centrifugal action of the whirl,
cools them sufficiently to produce the
appearance of a dark cloud, which
we call a sun-spot. If this cooling is
not great enough to produce a visible
darkening of the surface, the whirl-
ing storm may still be present, though
invisible to the eye. Such invisible
whirls have now been detected by
their magnetic effect on the light
emitted by the luminous vapors within
them.

Magnetic fields in visible sun-spots
were first found by Dr. Hale in 1908.
They are due to the whirl of electri-
fied particles in the spot vortex, just
as the magnetic field of an electro-
magnet is produced by the whirl of
electrons through its wire coils. The
magnetic field in a sun-spot is recog-
nized by the effect it produces on the
lines in the spectrum. A line due to
iron vapor, for example, is split into
three parts by the powerful magnetic
field in a large spot. In a very small
_ spot, where the magnetic field is much
weaker, the line is not split up but is
merely widened.

Invisible spots were discovered by
exploring promising regions of the
sun where signs of disturbance, such
as facule or clouds of calcium vapor,
are present. A special polarizing ap-
paratus moves back and forth across
the slit, while the iron line is watched
through a very powerful spectroscope.
The presence of a weak magnetic
field, showing the existence of an
invisible spot, is betrayed by a slight
oscillation of the corresponding part
of the line, caused by its widening
successively to right and left as the
polarizing apparatus oscillates over
the slit.

Ten invisible spots have been found
since November by this method by
Messrs. Hale, Ellerman and Nichol-
son with the 150-foot tower telescope
and 75-foot spectroscope on Mount
Wilson. Some of them foreshadow the
birth of a visible spot, which finally
appears to the eye several days after

the first indications of the whirl have
been found, Others correspond to the
period of decay, and permit a spot
to be traced for some time after it
ceases to be visible. In other cases
the invisible spot never reaches ma-
turity, which means that the cooling
produced by expansion never becomes
great enough to produce perceptible
darkening of the sun’s disk.

TWINS AGAIN

THE popular interest in twins
seems to have considerable vitality.
Every year brings into the public
press and magazines some news item
or article concerning multiple births.
Just a year ago the whole country
was stirred by the announcement of
the birth of quadruplets in New
Haven, Connecticut. (By the way,
they have all passed their first birth-
day). Recently the newspapers car-
ried full accounts of the death of the
conjoined Blazek twins of Chicago,
recalling the older days when the
Siamese twins were in the prints and
broadsides. Now comes Los Angeles,
with photographic evidence that in
one school ‘building are enrolled as
many as nine pairs of twins. And on
the heels of the City of Angels comes
the City of Churches, Brooklyn, with
a contingent of ten pairs of twins, all
attending Public. School 77. Some
statistician may soon find for us a
rural school in which 30 per cent. or
more of the entire enrollment are
twins.

- After all, twins are more common
than we ordinarily suppose; and our
interest in them far exceeds their
rarity. Wappeus found that more
than one child was born in 1.17 per
cent. of 20,000,000 cases of labor.
Pre-war Prussian statistics showed
that twins occurred once in 89, trip-
lets once in 7,910, and quadruplets
onee in 371,125 labors. This does not,
of course, mean that all survive. The
hazards of birth and of both prenatal
and neonatal life are greater for
plural than for singular pregnancies.

TOOHOS Ol Tdnd NATMOOUd V ONIGNALLVY SNIML
‘SO1OUd PLOA\ apt Ay

oe

RRA i A AI sean wewe do aoe “Po een ne

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 95

A comparison of international statis-
tics appears to indicate that multiple
pregnancy is more common in cold
than in warm climates. We should,
therefore, not be
Brooklyn has a higher record than Los
Angeles! If the figures quoted by
Williams can be trusted, Russia is
in this special sense over twice as
prolific as Spain. In Russia, multiple
birth occurred once in 41.8 labors, as
compared with once in 113.6 labors in
Spain.

The accompanying photographs
raise some interesting questions in
regard to the distribution of sex
among twins. In the aggregate 38
children are pictured, of which 18 are
boys, and 15 of these happen to be
in the California group. This ap-
proximates the equal or nearly equal
divisions which we should expect when
all the twin boys and girls in the land
are counted. But there are other
interesting questions.. Suppose the
Brooklyn group were playing helter-
skelter in the school yard. Would it
be possible for a stranger to select
all the pairs of twins and match each
to the appropriate co-twin? It hap-
pens that there is such a predom-
inance of same-sexed similar twins
that this could be readily done. Sup-
pose, however, that the Los Angeles
group were scrambled in the same
manner, would it be possible by in-
spection to pair off all the twins?
This is doubtful. It would be par-
ticularly difficult to make a confident
decision in the case of the four chil-
dren in the back row, beginning with
the third from the left. This diffi-
culty brings out clearly the fact that
there are. marked differences as well
as resemblances between twins. We,
of course, always expect at least some
degree of family resemblance, but
even this may not be obvious to or-
dinary observation.

The problem of twin resemblance
is discussed by Dr. Arnold Gesell,
professor of child hygiene, Yale Uni-
in two recent articles on

surprised

versity,

that:

‘*Mental and Physical Correspond-

ence in Twins,’’ published in the
April and May numbers of THE
ScrentTiFic MontHiy. He describes

a remarkable case showing extensive,
detailed correspondence both in phys-
ical and psychological characters in a
pair of gifted girl twins. He notes,
however, that pathological deviation
in the process of twinning may pro-
duce monstrous degrees of individual
difference even in twins derived from
Biologists recognize
two major classes of human twins:
(1) Duplicate or uni-oval, who are
always of the same sex, closely re-

a single egg.

semble one another and presumably
originate from one fertilized egg. All
but one of the Brooklyn group ap-
parently belong to this class; (3)
Fraternal or bi-oval twins, who may
or may not be of the same sex, who
show ordinary family resemblance and
are in all. probability derived from
two separate eggs. Two pairs, at
least, of the Los Angeles twins belong
to this category. Statistics based on
a large series of cases indicate that
one pair of twins in every three pairs
born consists of a boy and a girl, and
that about two out of every five pairs
in which the members are of the same
sex are uni-oval in Since
there are only two pairs of two sexed
or ‘‘pigeon’’ twins in the combined
group of 18 pairs in the photographs,
we must again be cautious in drawing
general deductions from the pictures.

Do resemblances decrease with age?
Such a deduction might be drawn
from the Los Angeles photograph, but
it would not be well supported by the
facts. Two pairs of twins of the
fraternal type happen to include the
older children in this group, and re-
semblances are less marked in this
type. The fundamental correspond-
ences, both physical and mental, to be
found in twins unquestionably have a
hereditary basis and are only in @
secondary way affected by time and
experience. Time may, by a cumula-
tive process, accentuate a differentia~

origin.

96 | THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tion of twin personalities dating from
childhood or youth, but the primary
differences and resemblances are due
to original nature. The study of
twins does not shake our confidence
in the importance of education and
surroundings, though it impresses
upon us at every turn the decisive sig-
nificance of inheritance and the law-
fulness of the mechanics of develop-
ment. The popular interest in twins
is a wholesome one, because twins are
a key to many biological and psycho-
logical principles at the basis of
human welfare.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS

WE record with regret the death of
Henry Marion Howe, emeritus pro-
fessor of metallurgy in Columbia
University; of John Sandford Shear-
er, professor of physics at Cornell
University; of George Simonds Boul-
ger, the English writer on botany; of
Ernest Solvay, known for his process
for the manufacture of soda; and of
Cc. L. A.-Laveran, of the Pasteur
Institute.

AMONG five busts unveiled in the
Hall of Fame for Great Americans at
New York University on May 20 was
one of Maria Mitchell, the gift of her
Wiliiam Mitchell Kendall,
and the work of Emma 8. Brigham.
President Henry Noble McCracken,
of Vassar College, where Miss Mitch-
ell was professor’ of astronomy from
1865 to 1888, unveiled the bust.

Dr. Ray LYMAN WILBUR, president
of Stanford University, has
elected

nephew,

been
president of the American
Medical Association for the meeting
to be held next year at San Fran-
cisco.

THE Croonian lecture was delivered
before the Royal Society on June 1,
by Dr. T. H. Morgan, professor of
zoology in

experimental Columbia

University. His subject was ‘‘The
mechanism of heredity.’’

Dr. W. W. CAMPBELL, director of
the Lick Observatory, has been elect-

‘ed president of the International As-

tronomical Union in succession to
M. Baillaud, director of the Paris Ob-
servatory. The Astronomical Union.
held its triennial meeting in Rome in
May and will hold its next meeting
in Cambridge, England.

Iv is announced that the contest of
the will of Amos F. Eno will be set-
tled out of court by the payment of
about four million dollars to Columbia
University. The 1915 will, which has
been twice broken by juries but both
times upheld by courts on appeal,
gave the residuary estate to Columbia
University. The will made bequests
of $250,000 each to the Metropolitan
Museum of Art, the American Mu-
seum of Natural History, the New
York Association for Improving the
Condition of the Poor, and the New
York University. Had the will been
broken finally, these institutions
would have received nothing. Whether
they receive the full $250,000 each
under the settlement, or what propor-
tion of the total they receive, is not
disclosed. The Society of Mechanies
and Tradesmen reeeived $1,800,000
under the 1915 will, and had that will
been broken would have received
$2,000,000 under an earlier will. This
institution could not therefore be
called upon to sacrifice anything in
order to satisfy the heirs, and will
receive the full $1,800,000.

WE much regret that there was an
error in the inscriptions of the illus-
trations of the note on Hesperopithe-
cus in the last issue of this journal.
Fig. 2 on page 589 is the important
type tooth, whereas Fig. 1 is the sec-
ond molar of Hesperopithecus which
serves to confirm the first of the type.

ee ee

THE SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

AUGUST, 1922

THE GEOLOGIC EVIDENCE OF EVOLUTION

By Professor EDWARD W. BERRY

THE JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY

NE of the outstanding, possibly the only difference between
man and the other animals is his ability to profit by the ex-
perience and accumulated wisdom of the race, and yet, despite this
characteristic, each generation seems to produce its quota of anti-
vaccinationists, anti-evolutionists and believers in a flat earth. We
may still entertain the hope that the race is becoming more rational
when we recall that it has taken about three centuries to convince
the Anglo-Saxon and a few other races among the countless mil-
lions of the globe that the earth is not flat, so that to-day only the
leader of Zion City (Voliva) among leading cosmologists defends
the pentateuchal view.

I do not wish to be thought of as sneering at any one’s beliefs,
and I fully realize that there are a great many earnest Christian
men and women who are perturbed at anything that they think,
rightly or wrongly, will shake the foundations of their faith, who
are puzzled by the present outspoken opposition to evolution, and
who wish to know what is the truth. No truer article of faith was
ever penned than the motto of the Johns Hopkins University—
Veritas vos liberabit—and to you seekers after truth I would like
to explain away certain misconceptions, before undertaking to
show you that the record of earth history is the record of evolu-
tion, and not to be disputed by honest people.

Evolution *,jnot a theory of origins, nor an article of scientific
faith, but an i Aisputable fact. We could not teach geology with-
out teaching e*olution. One of the difficulties to the layman is the
confusion of evolution—the record of the past and present history
of organisms—with the various theories that have been proposed
to explain its factors or mode of operation. Let me emphasize
that evolution, the record, is in an altogether different category
from the theories such as Darwinism, Lamarckianism, or any other

VOL. XV—7

98 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ism that has been advanced to explain its working. You may flout
all the theories or you may advocate one of a dozen different
theories, but this has nothing to do with the history of life. We,
in geology, spend much time in going over the history of organisms,
but pay but shght attention to the theories—at least in our teach-
ing.

A simple illustration of the once universal and now fortunately
less frequent clerical reaction to evolution will make clear what I
am driving at. Evolution was regarded as a dangerous heresy,
inimical to Christianity, contrary to Genesis, which was regarded
as a scientific account of the origin of the earth and its inhabitants.
Do these people claim that the hundreds of varieties of horses, dogs,
chickens and pigeons go back to the Garden of Eden, or were in
Noah’s ark, or that all the horticultural varieties of flowers, shrubs
and vegetables were in Mother Eve’s kitchen garden? Not at all!
They are more or less familiar with the cattle breeders or the
Burbank method of artificial selection. Their objection to evolu-
tion rests on the assumption that man is of a different stuff from
the brute world—as if they had had no experience with congre-
gations or legislative assemblies. It is the implied collateral rela-
tionship with monkeys, and the tradition engendered by medieval
art that the devil has a tail that offends their dignity.

The statement that the human species is descended from
monkeys is merely polemical obscurantism and the playing on
prejudices that started with Bishop Wilberforcee—soapy Sam as
he was called by some of his contemporaries—and is a sort of
Bryanesque smoke screen. As to lineage, man is not at all closely
related to the existing monkeys or apes. They are the culmination
of different lines of evolution, and this statement is especially true
of the monkeys. That their ancestry in the far distant past ap-
proximated the human line or indeed may have merged with it
millions of years ago in early Tertiary times is quite another
matter.

I find nothing in Genesis either for or against evolution. The
language, to be sure, is not explicit (dust of the earth), but the
special creation of man as opposed to the evolutionary creation is
entirely an egoistical interpretation that is supposed, quite wrongly
it seems to me, to add dignity to ourselves, and RS of a cloth with
the idea that the earth is the center of the univeyse—all the earth
(homocentric) centering in man, and all the universe revolving
around the earth—man’s temporary abode. It is a most curious
revelation in the workings of the human mind that so many good
people grow indignant over the idea that man was made from a
long line of animal ancestry as degrading; and yet who do not

GEOLOGIC EVIDENCE OF EVOLUTION 99

quarrel with the facts that each human starts his or her individual
life as a single cell, and during the nine months preceding birth
passes through a series of stages that roughly epitomize the main
stages of evolution, even to possessing a rudimentary tail like an
ape. Five hundred years ago we should have said that embryology
was the invention of the devil to test the faith of the elect—exactly
a reason that was once advanced to explain the fossils in the rocks.
To-day most of us know better, and we find in the truth of creation
far more to reverence than in the anthropomorphic deity of the
childhood of the races.

In approaching the geological record of evolution, I will state
only facts and leave fundamental causes severely alone. The
mechanism of evolution we leave to experimental biology, and I
do not advocate any theories of explanation. Here is evolution.
Here are the myriad of forms that moved across the stage of the
past and were the actors in the drama of life. In geology, to bor-
row a simile from written history or philology, we are dealing with
the original documents in so far as they were preserved as fossils,
and in their actual order of succession.

In approaching the geological record, the time conception is
most important, and I can best illustrate this by a brief recital of
the progress of knowledge concerning fossils. It is only in compara-
tively modern times that fossils have been recognized as the remains
of animals and plants that had once been alive. The early Greeks
were sane enough to recognize this apparently obvious relationship,
and we find Xenophanes, 500 B. C., speculating on the fossils
found in the quarries of Syracuse, Sicily. But during the middle
ages there was no end to the discussion regarding the nature and
origin of fossils. What seems strange in this year of grace may
really not have been so strange in the days when the universally
held belief was that of spontaneous generation, a flat earth created
in six days, and the only past submergence of the land that of
Noah’s flood. Was it not the same ‘‘plastie foree’’ in nature which
traced the frost patterns and the moss agate that fashioned the
fossils, and was there not every gradation from shells and bones
that exactly resemble recent ones to mere stones of similar form
and appearance? We now know that the mineral replaces the
organic matter sf a fossil. Was it strange to have believed three
or four hundred years ago that the process was the reverse—
from the mineral toward the organic? At any rate many strange
theories were evolved to explain the fossils. One tells us that fossil
shells were formed on the hills by the influence of the stars. Others
called up a stone-making spirit. Others believed that fossils were
the models made by the Creator in perfecting his handiwork before

100 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

he essayed the task of making living organisms. I am quoting en-
tirely the views of devout churchmen. Others believed that fossils
were mere ‘‘figured stones,’’ or were the abortive products of the
germs of animals and plants that had lost their way in the earth,
or that they were the invention of the devil to test the faith. Even ~
after the belief that fossils were the remains of animals and plants
had become well established, it was assumed that they had been
killed by Noah’s flood and stranded on the mountain tops—an in-
terpretation suggested by Martin Luther in 1539 as secular proof
of the correctness of the scriptural account. This flood theory
found numerous advocates throughout the seventeenth and even
far into the eighteenth century. It passed through various phases
of opinion. At first, the fossils were regarded as similar to those
still living in the vicinity—a natural enough belief when the uni-
versal acceptance of the Mosaic cosmology and a world but 6,000
years old is borne in mind. Later, when the differences in the fos-
sils became apparent, it was assumed that they had been swept to
Europe and buried by the waters of the flood and represented forms
still existing in the tropics. With the progress of knowledge of
tropical organisms this last view became untenable, and it was
thought that the fossils represented forms that had been exter-
minated by the flood, and from this it was but a slight step to the
once popular belief that there had been no thistles or weeds or
noxious insects in the Garden of Eden, that all creation had become
base with the fall of man. Gradually it came to be recognized that
fossils were not only frequently unlike recent organisms, but that
they were very ancient, and not merely antediluvian, but pre-
Adamitie—a view first advocated by Blumenbach in 1790. We are
still far from a ehronology. Granting that fossils were the traces
of once living organisms and antedated Adam—what of it? When
Guettard (Jean Etienne Guettard, 1715-1786) made one of the
first geological maps, it wasn’t really a geological map in the
modern sense, but a map of what he called mineral bands (like a
modern soil map). He had no idea of geological succession or of
structure. The credit of recognizing fossils as the modals of crea-
tion we owe to the genius of William Smith (1769-1839) and to
the orderly arrangement of the Mesozoic rocks of the English Mid-
lands. Smith journeyed about for years in this. region, where the
suecession of fossiliferous strata is an open book. In his work of
building canals, roads and drains, he observed that each bed con-
tained fossils, some of which were peculiar to it, and he found that
he could recognize the same horizons and the same succession at
many different localities.

This important generalization has since been verified and end-

GHOLOGIC EVIDENCE OF EVOLUTION 101

lessly extended. The contained fossils furnish the surest guides to
the age of the sedimentary rocks that geology knows. To the
biologist these facts have a deeper meaning, for they show that dur-
ing the vast lapse of time, to be measured in tens or hundreds of
millions of years, the living population of the globe has undergone
almost continuous change, old simple forms becoming extinct, and
newer, more specialized, forms taking their place, the change being,
in general, from lower to higher, in other words—evolution.

That God rested from his six days’ task of creation just 4004
years B. C. is so absurd that I have yet to meet a person of normal
mind who believes in Archbishop Usher’s chronology. There have
been many attempts to determine the age of the earth in years—
ealeulations of the rate of cooling of molten bodies, the rate of re-
tardation by tidal friction, the thickness of the sedimentary rocks,
the amount of dissolved salts added to the oceans by the rivers
of the world, the condition of the radium minerals in igneous
rocks. All methods contain unknown variables and are merely
estimates. A favorite method has been to measure the thickness
of a composite section of the sedimentary rocks, for the whole

VU OIOZONAD

ARCHEOZOIC ERA
(Pritaal tile)

of unic

Age

eliulur life

nt life)

(Ancic

PALFEOZOIC ERA

PROTEROZOIC ER
(Pr

a
FIG. 1. GEOLOGIC TIME CLOCK

102 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

record is not complete in any one section—seas and sediments
shifted with the incessant change in geographic pattern. If they
had not, we should have such a perfect record of evolution with no
missing chapters that we should be able to establish geological
time boundaries between rock formations or biological boundaries
between animal and plant groups.

The measurement of thicknesses has this advantage, that where-
as its results expressed in years are not accurate, its results ex-
pressed in relative ratios of duration for the different geological
periods are fairly so. I have sought to show the totality of geo-
logical time reckoned in this way in the form of the face of a clock
in which the dial represents the total thickness of sedimentary
rocks divided among the different geological periods in the proper
ratios. With this perspective I wish to pass in review in an un-
technical way some of the facts of evolution. Obviously, one can
not go into details in a brief hour, nor present the links in the chain
of evidence, or talk about the septa and sutures of the ammonites,
the pygidia of trilobites; or the frontal, parietal, temporal and
other bones of the vertebrates.

Show us one species changing into another, and we shall be-
lieve in evolution, says the bigot, expecting to see an Alice-through-
the-looking-glass transformation of cats into dogs or rabbits into
porecupines, not realizing what a species is, or the slowness with
which very obvious new characters are acquired as measured in
terms of human years. If they had been present through any 70
years of geological time, they would have seen no more evidence
of evolution than they see to-day. The first man to see the trans-
formation of species was Waagen,? an Austrian geologist and
paleontologist, who, in 1869, in the successive layers of fossiliferous
Jurassic rocks, observed the minute and inconspicuous changes of
form in a definite direction, resulting as they increased in magni-
tude in the gradual emergence of successive new species of am-
monites (Oppelia). These observed grades of difference or nuances
(Waagen termed them mutations) are the more gradual and in-
eonspicuous the more abundant the material studied, or the finer
our analysis of it. This observed gradual evolution of adaptive
characters is quite the opposite of Darwin’s theoretical idea of the
natural selection of chance variations, and its abundant verification
among all groups of fossil organisms wherever an abundance of
successive faunas or floras are available for study is one of the
reasons why paleontologists have never been strong Darwinists, but

2 Waagen, Wilhelm Heinrich: Die Formenreihe des Ammonites subradi-
atus. Versuch einer Paliontologischen Monographie. Geognostisch-Palaon-
tologische Beitrage. Bd. 2, Hft. 2, pp. 179-256, pls. 16-20, November, 1869.

GEOLOGIC EVIDENCE OF EVOLUTION 103

have emphasized the environment as the main stimulus of variation.
Discontinuity is observed only in characters where continuity is
impossible, as in changes in the number of teeth or vertebra. I
could spend days showing you these evolutionary series of trilobites,
brachiopods, crinoids, molluses, ete., but they are not especially
convineing without fullness of knowledge and presentation, and
are not nearly so impressive to a lay audience as the more ob-
viously discerned, but identical, series among the higher verte-
brates. There is probably no group of organisms as ideal for evo-
lutionary studies as are the Ammonites—extinct relatives of the
pearly Nautilus. Their shells are preserved in tens of thousands
in the Mesozoic and earlier rocks. From the time the embryo
formed its first shell until death, each successive stage is preserved
in calcite within the enrolled shell. If you would see the size,
form and details of ornamentation of a baby, adolescent or mature
shell, all you have to do is to break away the outer shell. No other
fossils furnish a complete life history with each individual.
Moreover, the repetition of phylogeny during ontogeny is beauti-
fully shown, as well as the inheritance of acquired characters, so

RECENT

CENOZOIC

SALURIAN

ORDOVICIAM

FIG. 2. THE EVOLUTION OF THE CEPHALOD PHYLUM

104 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

that we know the ammonite descent much better than we do that
of many still existing groups of organisms. The main outlines of
the evolution of the Cephalopods, to which group the ammonites
belong, is shown in its chronological setting in Figure 2. Observe
the gradual transformation of straight camerated shells becoming
curved, then loosely coiled, then tightly coiled, giving rise to forms
with angulated floors to the living chamber, the parent stock
waning with the rise of the daughter stock, and represented to-day
by a single living type, the pearly Nautilus. This daughter stock
waxing great during Mesozoic times, we know 10,000 different
species, gradually reaching overspecialization or racial senility,
displayed in the progressive uncoiling and bizarre ornamentation
of the shells, and finally passing off the stage altogether. A second
main line of descent leads from the ancient Nautilus stock in the
direction of animals whose soft parts outgrew their shells, retain-
ing them within the mantle. This second line waxed abundant
during Mesozoic time, and then waned in competition with its more
perfected progeny, being represented in existing oceans by the
single form, Spirula, which in its extreme youth lives in a tiny
chambered shell like that of its remote ancestors, but soon outgrows
this shell, and for the rest of its life carries this eloquent witness
of its ancestry within the hind end of its body. You might remain
incredulous before a single Spirula, but when you ean trace
throughout the records of hundreds of thousands of years the
gradual subordination and progressive decrease in relative size
of the shell and increase of the soft body, the meaning is unmis-
takable, and to corroborate the correctness of our reading of his-
tory, we have the more modern group of squids and cuttles with
all of the morphological features of the Spirula stock, which solved
their problem by modifying the now useless shell into an internal
axis of support and are otherwise entirely soft bodied and often
of large size; and, finally, the latest evolved group—the Octopoda—
smaller less active forms, having slight need for the axis of the
more elongated and actively swimming squids, have lost all traces
of the ancestral shell.
Another great phylum of invertebrate animals (Echinoderma)
starfishes, sea urchins and ecrinoids, have a wonderful abundance
of fossil forms and well-ascertained relationships. Their history
shows a worm like ancestor developing a plated exoskeleton of
many irregular pieces; the progressive reduction in number and
the assumption of definite form of these pieces—the radial sym-
metry impressed by the habit of stalked attachment—the various
lines of descent which sought to increase the food gathering
mechanism by extending the parts concerned over the test or rais-

GEOLOGIC EVIDENCE OF EVOLUTION 105

STELLEROIDES EOMITRPOIDEA Articulete

DEVONIAN

0
OQ
nN

SILURIAN

PALEO

Agelacrinidae

ne

ORDOVICIAN

CAMBRIAN

PRE
CAMBRIAN

Carpoides

ij

Qyathooyetidae

Diplevrvie
'
'

{

Vorme

FIG. 0. THE EVOLUTION OF THE ECHINODERM PHYLUM

ing them on long arms—the reversed orientation of the errant
urchins and starfishes—the one time dominance of specialized
erinoids—the late evolution and present abundance of the free-
swimming forms with flexible skeletons—the intermediate or syn-
thetic character of the earlier forms, especially well shown in the
Ordovician to Lower Carboniferous ancestors of the starfishes and
serpent stars—all afford an excellent chapter in nature’s record
of evolution.

CENOZOIC

CRETACEOUS

JURASSIC

TRIASSIC

LOWER
CARBONIFEROUS
DEVONIAN

PALEOZOIC

ORDOVICIAN

CAMBRIAN

ATRTRETATRA
‘wm ISTPHOVOTARTAOEA

PRE : S
CAMBRIAN soe yes

FIG. 4. THE EVOLUTION OF THE BRACHIOPOD PHYLUM

106 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

A group of invertebrates unknown to the layman, but im-
mensely important to the paleontologist, whether he be interested
merely in chronology or in evolution, is the Brachiopoda—the
bivalved lamp shells of the ancients. The stock is very ancient and
shows the most intricate series of gradating forms from the ancient
hingeless Atremata, long since extinct except for a single family,
which in Ordovician times modified its stalk of attachment into a
burrowing organ, and from that time to the present has lived on
practically unchanged in an unchanging environment of foul mud
inimical to higher forms of life, sharing with the similarly reduced
representatives of the two other primitive groups a record of un-
modified habits or form in an unchanging environment that has
enabled them to come down to the present, although all of their
early relatives have long since passed off the stage of existence.
Contrast the dwindling history of these families as represented by
the black of their life lines with the series of forms, each step in
whose history we have represented, of those which perfected hinge
mechanisms—a protective device, and internal hard parts—loops
and spirals for greater efficiency in collecting food and oxygen.
We can see these structures grow until at the present time the few
unchanged survivors of the more primitive orders are outnumbered
fifty to one by the loop-bearing forms which retained the habit of
protruding their so-called arms in search of food, whereas the
spire-bearing forms that developed along with them in Paleozoic
times had their arms fastened to their spiral supports and non-
protrusible, and hence faded out of existence in the earlier half of
Mesozoic times.

ENOZOIC

CRETACEOUS a
JURASSIC

ae

ee
CARBONIFEROUS

LOWER
CARBONIFEROUS

=

| me |

ORDOVICIAN
aga
v

CAMBRIAN

PALEOZOIC

aspBeLroa

FIG. 5. THE EVOLUTION OF THE ARTHROPOD PHYLUM

GEOLOGIC EVIDENCE OF EVOLUTION 107

A fourth great group is the Arthropoda, embracing the hosts
of articulated animals whose relationships are shown, with the
early evolution of the aquatic types—trilobites, crustaceans and
Limulus-like forms. They exhibit the early efflorescence of the less
specialized as to parts, and less protected as to armor—the trilo-
bites; the relative late evolution of their terrestrial descendants—
the spiders and centipedes, and the latest appearance of the aerial
forms with specialized larval stages—the insects. Most interesting
to see displayed among these myriad of diverse forms insects,
spiders, crabs and ticks, their community of origin and the impress
of their remote trilobite-like ancestry.

Hither these myriads of slightly differing forms in progressive
or retrogressive series represent evolution, or each slightly changed
faunal and floral assemblage represents an independent act of
special creation. These are absolutely the only alternatives, and
the advocates of special creation, little as they seem to realize it,
have to assume a creator, who every few years during a period of
hundreds of millions of years mechanically fashioned new sets of
organisms. Not only so, but each new set was fashioned surpris-
ingly like their predecessors, sometimes with vestigial, useless or
even harmful organs. It seems to me that this only logical appli-
cation of the special creation hypothesis is a reductio ad absurdum,
a bare statement of which is sufficient to demonstrate its obvious
falsity. I would offer for the religiously inclined Henry Drum-
mond’s dictum that evolution was God’s method of creation.

The complete epitome of vertebrate evolution showing the range
in time and relative abundance deserves a word of comment. I
should like the critics of evolution to explain why the most primitive
vertebrates appear twice as far back in the record as any of the
others, and why the different classes appear in the actual order
from the less to the more evolved—from lower to higher—the fish-
like amphibians appearing during the Devonian, the reptiles dur-
ing the Upper Carboniferous, and the two lines to which the latter
gave rise, the mammals and birds in the upper Triassic and upper
Jurassic, respectively. .

Is it not most unfortunate for evolutionary sceptics that the
most ancient fossil bird should be one of the best and most spec-
tacular fossils—feathers and all preserved with great fidelity in
the fine-grained lithographic stone of Solnhofen—and should rep-
resent virtually a modified and partially feathered reptile, 25 per
cent. reptile and 75 per cent. bird. About the size of a crow, the
head was billess and the jaws were armed with true teeth, the
wings had three free-clawed fingers, the tail was long and lizard-
_ like, of 20 vertebree, with pinnate feathers and not consolidated

108 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

with digitate feathers, the hind legs were wide apart and far back,
with distinct tibia and fibula as in the reptiles, with the three
pelvic bones distinct as in reptiles with no body feathers, the
latter on only the wings, legs and tails—with feeble flight
and obvious volplaning habits. (Archeopteryx or lizard
tailed bird of the upper Jurassic.)

Before taking up man, I have time to consider but two among
the many groups of mammals whose history is almost completely
known. You doubtless think of elephants in North America only
in connection with zoological gardens or circuses, and yet the ele-
phants were a most conspicuous element of the American fauna
from the middle Miocene to the end of the Pleistocene, and numer-
ous bones and teeth have been found here in Maryland. They
lived in America much longer than has the human race and much
longer than the bears which we commonly think of as character-
istically American. The elephants were originally immigrants from
the old world. They occupy to-day a somewhat isolated position
among hoofed mammals and display a curious but readily under-
standable mixture of specialized and primitive characters. Their
specializations are in head and teeth, their conservatism is in body
and limbs. To understand their ancestry, we must understand the
five or six African and Asian species of the present. Their most
obvious feature is the long trunk or proboscis that gives the name
Proboscidia to the order. This trunk is simply an elongated nose,
although it did not come into existence in the way Kipling relates.
Aside from the trunk the tusks mark the elephant. These are
simply much modified upper incisor teeth. The dental formula is
then - e— pm— m— This is not the whole story of the teeth,
however, for, if you examine an elephant’s teeth, you will rarely
find more than a single immense functional grinder in each jaw
ramus—the milk molars, developing serially 1, 2, 3, and followed
in turn by the molars 1, 2, 3 during life—the worn ones being
pushed forward and out, a contrivance for increasing the elephant’s
life span, for an animal is only as long lived as its teeth. The
mechanies of trunk and tusk support have specialized the head ;
eranial bones are thickened and lightened, hence the difficulty of
shooting an elephant in the brain. The neck is shortened to bring
the head weight nearer the withers. The body is long and massive
with large shoulder and hip bones. The feet are short and broad
with the nail-like hoofs around the edge. Toes are five but not
all hoofed (Indian 5 in front, 4 behind; East African 4 in front,
3 behind). Limb adaptations are those common to all heavy ani-
mals of other stocks. Most quadrupeds have knee and elbow per-

GEOLOGIC EVIDENCHK OF EVOLUTION 109

manently bent. Great weight necessitates the straightening of the
limb and individual bones and the shifting of the articular sur-
faces from an oblique to a right angled position. Weight of tusks
causes a shortening and heightening of the skull. Shortening
brings the weight arm of the lever nearer the fulcrum at the neck,
and heightening lengthens the power arm and affords attachment
for the increased musculature. (Modern tusks weighing 239 lbs.
each are recorded.) The lengthening of the trunk makes it un-
necessary for the mouth to reach the ground for food and water.

The earliest known fossil elephant, only a potential elephant,
was of upper Eocene age and comes from near Lake Moeris in the
Fayim, and was consequently christened Moeritherium. It was
small and somewhat suggestive of a tapir. The skull was long and
narrow, the trunk was merely a snout, the neck was moderately

long and the limbs were slender. The teeth were the most signi-
J Panui 3

eant feature. Formula i> cy pms m
= vw

First upper incisor was

3
small and simple, the second was a downwardly directed small
tusk. The third and the canine were non-functional and there
were 6 grinders, simple and quadritubereular (4 cusps and 2
crests). In the lower jaw the incisors were procumbent. The
first long, the second an enamelled tusk with worn chisel edge;
the third and canine already gone and 6 grinders. The second
stage of elephant evolution was Paleomastodon of the lower Oligo-
cene of the same region. Several species are known, ranging in
size from that of a modern tapir to a half grown Indian elephant.
Tooth, formula = c pms ms canines have gone; the incisors are
reduced to a single tusk in each jaw ramus, 2. e., two upper and
two lower tusks. All the grinders are functional, but they have
increased in complexity and now consist of six cusps and three
erests. The trunk was still short, the head still long and narrow,
the limbs heavier, but still relatively light. The elephants now
spread into southern Asia and over Europe during the lower
Miocene, giving rise to various collateral lines of evolution along
their different routes of dispersal. They increased greatly in size
and became more elephantine in appearance. They reached North
America during the middle Miocene, and these four-tusked forms
spread from Nebraska to Florida. The old-world stock shortened
the chin and lost the lower pair of tusks during the Pliocene, giving
rise to the mastodons and mammoths of the late Pliocene and
Pleistocene, which reinvaded North America and ranged south-
ward: to the straits of Magellan. Our mastodon survived much
later than the European mastodon, and the males sometimes show
vestigial tusks in the lower jaw. The mammoth was the contempo-

110 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

rary of early man in Europe as the many excellent carvings of
the stone age show, and probably also in North America, as some-
what vaguely pictured carved bone and associated flints indicate.
They were so common over the northern hemisphere at that time
that we have records of 1,685 fossil tusks, averaging 150 lbs., be-
ing exported from Siberia in a single year. Between 1820 and
1833, trawlers out of Happisburg, Norfolk, dredged 2,000 elephant
molars from the submerged old land of the North Sea. (We had
three true elephants in America during the Pleistoeene—the North-
ern or Hairy Mammoth, the Southern or Columbian Mammoth,
and the Imperial Mammoth, the latter standing 18 feet at the
shoulder.)

The family tree of our noblest of domesticated animals—the
horse—has been called the example de luxe of evolution, since
no animal stock is more completely known or has a more spec-
tacular history. Long domesticated the modern animal is found
almost everywhere that man can live, and of many breeds. As
wild animals, horses are found only in the Old World in moderis
times—the arid plains of Central Asia and Africa. There are
several species—horses, asses, zebras and quaggas—very uniform
in tooth and skeletal characters, but strikingly different in appear-
ance, because of the superficial difference in coloration and in the
development of forelock, mane, tail and ears. They differ from
all living animals in having a single toe on each foot. Their re-
motest ancestors were small five-toed plantigrade animals as were
all of the earliest mammals. Hosts of fossil species are known,
some extinct side lines especially adapted to certain environments,
like the small mountain horses or the forest-dwelling and softer
ground-inhabiting forms. Others were a part of the progressive
line. The earliest known fossil horse you would not recognize as
a horse. How do we know it was? By tracing backward step by
step from the known. Nearly every stage of this ancestry is now
complete, and we are as certain of the remote Tertiary form as we
are of the present cart horse. The earliest well-known ancestral
horse is the tiny Eohippus or Dawn horse of our early Hocene.
It was about the size of a fox terrier, 7. ¢., 11 to 14 inches high,
with a short neck, long body, arched back, short legs and small
teeth. The front feet had 4 functional toes, and a splint repre-
senting the first or thumb. The hind feet had 3 functional and
2 splints representing the first and fifth. It is significant that at
that time the ancestral horse line is so generalized that a layman
could not distinguish it from the contemporaneous ancestral
rhinoceroses or tapirs.

The second-stage Protorohippus of the middle Eocene was

GEOLOGIC EVIDENCE OF EVOLUTION Ee

about the size and proportions of a whippet hound. The thumb
splint had now disappeared from the front foot, and the little
finger splint from the hind foot. The weight was beginning to
center on the middle toe, but it required two or three million years
more to completely suppress the lateral toes. If there were time,
we might pass in review each stage of horse evolution—the
Epihippus of the upper Eocene, the Mesohippus of the Oligocene,
about the size of a sheep, the Miocene, Protohippus, Pliohippus,
Neohipparion, etc. The upper Miocene Protohippus is in the direct
line and may be briefly characterized. About 40 inches high,
longer head, longer teeth, deeper jaws, shortened body, longer legs
and feet, only the third toe normally reaching the ground, but the
second and fourth were complete ‘‘dew claws’’ and helped to
support the weight on soft ground. There were many varieties of
three-toed horses, and in the late Tertiary they had spread pretty
well over the world, being found in South America, Europe and
Asia, as well as in North America. By Pleistocene time the horses
had become monodactyl, varied, abundant and wide ranging. So
countless were the herds that the Sheridan formation of the West
was long known as the Equus beds from the abundance of their
fossil remains. When, however, America was discovered, horses
had become extinct in the western hemisphere as well as in native
tradition, although their bones are found associated with flint im-
plements, pottery and fire refuse. They appear to have first been
domesticated during the Neolithic, that is about 7000 B. C. in
Europe, but probably at a much earlier date in Asia. Our modern
work horse is descended directly from the European Neolithic
horse, which was much like the Celtic pony. Descendants of this
low-bred primitive race were distributed over Eurasia, where they
are still represented by the Norwegian and Mongolian ponies. All
the earlier horses of written history belonged to this type. It was
improved by importations from Libya—the Arabs, for example,
getting stallions and brood mares from Barbary, where the stock
had suffered no ill effects during the Pleistocene glaciation, there
having been no severity of climate in northern Africa. The course
of evolution in the horses was not confined to the feet. It may be
summarized as follows:

Along with the disappearance of side toes went increase in
length of leg and foot, especially the distal portion. Increased
length of the lower leg and foot increased length of stride and, as
the chief muscles are in the upper leg, the center of gravity was
changed very little, consequently the swing was about as rapid
but mechanical strain was greatly increased, so that strengthening
at the expense of flexibility by consolidation of the lower leg and

112 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

arm bones and conversion of ball and socket into pulley joints
(ginglymoid) occurred. Lengthening of limbs for speed in grazing
animals necessitates lengthening of the neck. Loss of toes was a
hard ground adaptation for speed. The lengthening of the teeth
which caused the deepening of the jaws was an adaptation for
hard food and ensured more thorough mastication and a longer
life span. Increase in size, although demanding an increased food
supply, is a better defence against enemies or competitors. The
evolution of the horse was from forest and swamp to grassy plains
and went hand in hand with the evolution of the environment.
Since monkeys are unaccountably not fashionable and we are very
fond of horses here in Maryland, { show you for comparison a
skeleton of a modern horse and man. Not only in the structure
of all his physical parts, bone for bone, muscle for muscle, and
nerve for nerve, is man fundamentally like the other mammals,
but his specific organic functions are identical. We have the same
diseases; we are similarly affected by the same drugs—in fact the
whole wonderful advance of physiology and experimental medicine
is built up on this truism. Have you ever thought of the countless
generations of meat-eating humans involved in the specialization
of the two human tape worms—the one passing its intermediate
stage in beef and the other in pork and of which man alone is the
host of the adult stage. The pre-humans were not meat-eaters,
and we should not fail to take into account the improvement in
nutrition in shortening the digestive processes and the stimulating
properties of the proteins and their split products that a change
in diet gave our ancestors the energy for other things.

I have already mentioned the remoteness of man’s relationship
with the existing monkeys and apes. Unfortunately, we have but
slight knowledge of the earlier stages which remain hidden in the
unexplored regions of Asia and Africa, to which much evidence
points as the original homes of a majority of the mammalian stocks
that appeared in Europe and North America during the Tertiary.
But we know much of our less remote fossil ancestors. Evidences
of their slowly advancing skill in the fashioning of weapons and
implements, in the discovery of the bow and the uses of fire are
innumerable, and their skeletal remains are found over a period
estimated at from 250,000 to over a million years. We know at
least two, perhaps three extinct genera of men and at least five
distinet human species. All the existing races of man—white,
black, red and yellow—belong to the single zoological species which
we modestly call Homo sapiens. 1 should say that our knowledge
of the exact stages between non-human ape-like animals and man
is as complete as was the knowledge of the evolution of the horse

GEOLOGIC EVIDENCE OF EVOLUTION 113

at the time of the founding of this university when Huxley lec-
tured on the evolution of the horse. At the present rate of dis-
covery (Piltdown man in 1911, Foxhall man in 1919 and Broken
Hill man in 1920), another generation will not pass before the
story is complete. ;

Before relating what we now know of this story, I should like
to refer to how we arrive at estimates of age in this part of the
geological column—estimates which are as exact as the earlier
dates of what is called the historic period. During geologic time
immediately preceding the present there is conclusive evidence of
a mantle of ice spreading over northwestern Europe and northern
North America. This was not a single episode but a long en-
during succession of glacial stages and milder interglacial stages—
some of which were much longer than the time that has elapsed
since the last ice sheet shrunk away from the Baltic or from the
valley of the St. Lawrence. Naturally the deposits and moraines of
the last ice sheet are fresher and less disturbed than the similar
traces of the earlier ice sheets. By counting the annual layers in
the clays in the wake of the shrinking ice of the last glaciation, we
can trace and date its gradual withdrawal from the plains of
Germany across the Baltic to:the Scandinavian uplands, and the
more broken clay layers in the valleys of the Connecticut, Hudson
and Champlain give the story for this country. Using this period
of time as a unit, we calculate from a variety of criteria the dura-
tion of the earlier glacial and interglacial stages. The oldest
known man-like animal comes from distant Java and dates from
the beginning of the Pleistocene, or from 250,000 to 1,000,000
years ago, or more precisely, twenty-five times as long ago as the
interval since the last ice sheet extended across Long and Staten
Islands here in the eastern United States. Evidence of human,
or if you prefer so to call it, pre-human, industry in the form
of rudely chipped flints and a knowledge of fire occur still earlier,
and if the recent discovery of the Foxhall man in East Angelia is
properly dated, we shall have unmistakable evidence of man in
the late Pliocene. Our knowledge of the ape man of Java is on a
sounder footing. First of all, he came from Asia along with the
greater part of the considerable variety of animals and plants that
are found fossil with him. The motive power was the less hospit-
able climates in Asia resulting from the gradual uplifting of its
ereat mountain areas in the late Tertiary. The fauna and flora
ineluding the ape man drifted to the southeast down the broad
valleys that at that time of emergence made a single land mass of
the Malayan region. The anatomical features of the ape man are
technical. Our interest centers on the brain ease and the fact that

VOL. XV—8

114 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

he was a ground inhabiting biped and not arboreal. The cranial
capacity has been variously estimated between 850 and 950 ee as
compared with 1,300 to 1,700 of the Neanderthal man of the third
Interglacial period, or 650 ce, the greatest ape brain in the gorilla,
which has twice the body weight of a man. The lower frontal-
lobe region of this brain case shows conclusively that Pithecan-
thropus possessed speech—not sounds or signals expressive of emo-
tional states, but that he was capable of transmitting ideas and in-
formation. In the painstaking models of MeGregor, he has man-
aged to superimpose on the obvious inheritance of the brute a look
of fleeting intelligence and a dumb prophetic gaze that gives
promise of the great things of the then far off future, and I con-
fess to feeling a more tremendous thrill in the contemplation of
that empty brain case than any other fossil has invoked.

A long gap in the record brings us to Sussex, England, and
Eoanthropus or Dawn man of Piltdown. Discovered in 1911 the
usual ignorance resulted in the destruction of most of the skeleton,
as it did also in the wonderfully interesting find in the Broken Hill
Mine of Rhodesia, so that only a few fragments of skull, 3 teeth,
and a portion of the jaw were saved. Subsequently more frag-
ments of other individuals have rewarded the most patient and
painstaking search. If there is a wise Providence overhanging
the world it is certainly watching over the paleontologists instead of
their critics, which is rather surprising if paleontologists are as
bad as they are sometimes painted, for these later finds are exactly
the pieces needed to supplement the earlier, and to justify Smith
Woodward’s conelusions. The Piltdown man probably lived during
the long and warm second Interglacial period. With him are found
very primitive worked flints of the type known as pre-Chellean,
together with bones of the rhinoceros, hippopotamus, beaver and
deer. The skull is about twice as thick as a modern and 50 per cent.
thicker than a Neanderthal skull. Its capacity was about 1,300ce.
The jaws are protruding, the chin receding, the nose flattened and
the canine teeth very prominent; in fact, although the skull and
brain are essentially human and denote the power of speech, the
jaws and teeth are much like those of a young chimpanzee, as are
certain muscular attachments of the neck and temporal regions.

About the same age as the Piltdown man is the so-called Heidel-
berg man, based on a single jaw found in 1907 associated with a
large fauna at the base of the Mauer sands, 79 feet below the sur-
face. This jaw is exceedingly massive with receding chin, but
human dentition, and is generally regarded as merely an extinct
species Homo heidelbergensis, although some students would erect
a distinet genus, Paleonthropus, for its reception. It seems clearly

GEOLOGIC EVIDENCE OF EVOLUTION 115

to foreshadow the Neanderthal race of the third Interglacial period.
Passing over implements representing the evolution of human in-
dustry and confining our attention to actual human bones, we must
now jump from the time of the Piltdown and Heidelberg men over
a blank interval, estimated at from one to two hundred thousand
years, to the Neanderthal race. I say race advisedly, because
some hostile critics have waxed humorous or satirical over the type
skull-eap found in the Neander valley near Diisseldorf, as if that
were the whole story. The earliest find of this race was a female
skull found at Gibraltar in a cave in 1848, but the significance of
which was not recognized until 1887. The Neander skull-cap with
thigh bones and other fragments was discovered in 1856, and their
description was received with indifference even by Darwin and
Huxley, and it was not until a generation later, when two com-
plete skeletons were found at Spy near Dinant in Belgium, 1887,
that recognition of their significance became general. The appear-
ance of this race in western Europe was contemporaneous with the
wane of the last warm forest and meadow fauna of the Pleistocene
and with the invasion of animals heralding the approach of the
fourth glaciation. Hence the Neanderthal race dwelt in caves.
Wells writes picturesquely, but not especially accurately, of their
jackal-like habits, but the Neanderthalers were hardy, and appear
to have utilized the bison, wild cattle, horse and deer for food,
ousting cave bear and eave hyenas—the successive layers in the
caves often tell an eloquent story of the struggles between man and
beast for possession. Fire played its part and old hearths are
abundantly preserved. Spears and throwing stones appear to have
been the weapons used. The abundance of skeletons of this race is
due to their cave habit and hence their better chance for preserva-
tion. Over an interval of something like 50,000 years, if not much
longer, preceding Neanderthal times, we have abundant evidence of
human industry in the pre-Chellean and Chellean cultures repre-
sented by flint implements, but these open-air nomads either threw
their dead to the hyenas or buried them in the river terraces on
which they dwelt, where the chances of preservation and fossiliza-
tion were remote.

Homo neanderthalensis, primigenius or mousteriensis as it has
been called, has been discovered at over twenty different localities.
Skeletons of men, women and children and of many individuals
have been collected, so that the earlier critics of the type material
who pronounced them merely pathological, 7. e., a diseased modérn
man, are completely and absolutely refuted. In many of their im-
portant features this race was more ape-like than human, but their
teeth were decidedly human; they possessed the power of speech,

116 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

fashioned skins and weapons, were skilled in the use of fire, and
practised ceremonial burial, placing implements with their dead,
the first appearance in the geological record of a belief in a future
existence, so that we can not cut them off from us and say they
were apes and not men. Let us get a good picture of this race that
lived in Europe longer than have the Anglo-Saxons. They were short
and thickset—the tallest skeleton indicates a height of 5 feet, 514
inches; with very broad shoulders and muscular robust torso, big
hands, short fingers, and not entirely perfected thumb joints. They
were clumsy on foot, with ape-like legs, in that the shin is relatively
short and the thigh long (shin 76 per cent. of thigh). Their knees
were habitually bent, and they were squatters instead of sitters
when resting or working, as shown by the facets on the ankle bone
(astragulus). The forearm was relatively short, like the modern
Eskimos, Lapps and Bushmen. That they were far removed from
contemporary apes is shown by their arms being but 68 per cent.
the length of their legs. In apes the reverse prevails—the chim-
panzee’s arm is 104 per cent. the leg length. The position of the
foramen magnum, and the neck vertebra indicate stooped shoulders
with the head held well forward, and a spinal column curved like
that of a modern baby. The head was massive, with deep face,
retreating forehead from heavy overhanging brows (platycephal-
ic), with broad flat nose, long upper lip, prognathous jaws and re-
ceeding chin. The skull was thick, but capacious. The jaw was
similar to, but less massive than, that of the Heidelberg man of
the second Interglacial. Let me point out that if you should find
a modern skull with some of the ape-like features of the Neander-
thal skull, it would prove nothing. Some of these ape-like features
do occur in recent rare individuals of the lower races—they are all
present in the Neanderthal skulls that have been discovered. I
have said that the skull was capacious—the limits of variation are
1,300 to 1,700 ce (existing man, 950 to 2,020 ec). The size of the
Neanderthal brain was therefore entirely human, but I need not
emphasize that a large head does not necessarily offer anything
except a field for tonsorial art, and what critics fail to take into
account is that the Neanderthal brain, although it had quantity,
lacked quality—its proportions were decidedly different from a
modern brain—those parts conceriied with the higher faculties were
less developed and with simpler convolutions—this is not infer-
ence, but is based on the actual configuration of the interior of the
brain case (we even know that they were right-handed). Over
50 sites of Neanderthal industry are known in western Europe
(see map) and their implements increased in variety and improved
in technique as the years passed, but not to any remarkable degree.

GEOLOGIC EVIDENCE OF EVOLUTION ALG

Some anthropologists hold that the Neanderthal race is represented
by the Briinn and Piedmont races of the upper Paleolithic, others
that they were exterminated by the arrival in western Europe of a
new race from Asia about 25,000 years ago. This progressive
race of Homo sapiens, the same species as ourselves, appears to
have come from Asia Minor through Tunis into Spain, and per-
haps along the northern shores of the Mediterranean as well.
Their successive cultures are known as the Aurignacian, Solutrian,
Magdalenian and Azilian, and the development of their industry
and art has been traced with the most detailed precision. They
were hunters, and followed in the trail of the wild ass, Elasmo-
‘there, steppe horse and various other Asiatic immigrants. Asso-
ciated with fourteen Cro Magnons skeletons in the Grotto on the
Riviera near Mentone are two negroid skeletons. (I. will not stop
to describe this negroid Grimaldi type.) The fourth Glacial
period had not yet closed when the Cro-Magnons apeared in Eu-
rope, but the climate was dryer—the summer temperate, but the
winters severe. Most of the stations where their remains have been
discovered were in caves or rock shelters, but several open camps
have been discovered, as at Solutré which was probably a summer
assembling of hunters. This remarkable race was tall, the average
height 6 ft. 144 inches, with large chest, relatively long legs, re-
markable lengthening of the forearm and shin, wide short face,
' prominent cheek bones, narrow pointed chin, narrow skull, aquiline
nose and shallow orbits. They were vigorous and fleet-footed,
practiced ceremonial burial, had much improved implements in-
eluding the bow and arrow and stone lamps, with brains 1,500 to
1,880 ec. They show an appreciation of animals and have been
called the Greeks of the old stone age because of their art, which
included drawing, engraving, paintings and bas reliefs on cavern
walls and floors, and the carving of soapstone, bone and ivory.
Their history shows fluctuations in art and industry, in particular
their flint workmanship declined with the introduction of bone im-
plements. During the climatic fluctuations concerned with the
oscillations of the shrinking glaciers and concomitant geographic
changes, both their culture and physical vigor show a décline.
Their history covers a period of from 10,000 to 15,000 years, and
during this time there probably was some intermixture of other
blood. Disharmoniec skulls, 7. e., broad face and narrow skull, are
still found in the Dordogne and at a few other localities and near
by is the primitive agglutinative language of the Basques. Some
conclude that these represent late survivals of the Cro-Magnon
race. They were followed by fishing races and the first broad
headed types, the Maglemose culture (possibly Teutonic) around
the Baltic, the Mediterranean (known as the Tardenoisian), and

118 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the Alpine (Furfooz Grenelle) along the Danube (painted peb-
bles). This was from 7,000 to 10,000 years ago, and the so-called
Campignian culture of this time is transitional to the Neolithic
or New Stone Age of polished stone.

The rest of the history belongs more to Anthropology and
Archeology. The Robenhausian culture of the Swiss and other
lake dwellings about 7000 B. C. shows permanent dwellings, domes-
tication of animals and cultivation of crops with use of pottery:
the Copper Age extended from 3000 to 2000 B. C.; the Bronze Age
in Europe from about 2000 to 1000 B. C., in Orient 4000 to 1800
B. C.; the Iron Age (earlier or Hallstatt culture) in Europe from
1000 to 500 B. C., in the Orient from 1800 to 1000; and the latter —
Iron Age from 500 B. C. to Roman times in Europe.'

Note the cumulative rapidity of the advance as compared with
slowness of change in earlier stages.

Although very much remains to be discovered we know enough
to assure the layman that man has had a long evolutionary history
extending over tens if not hundreds of thousands of years. Does
this knowledge breed cynicism and irresponsibility. What answer
does science give on this point? Since late Paleolithic time, 7. e.,
toward the close of the Old Stone age, 25,000 years ago, man’s
evolution biologically has been slight and to some extent retro-
grade. Skull bones and teeth have changed but little. It was
during this period of slight physical change that our race has
made the most astonishing progress, and the hope is natural that
there is no limit to the betterment of the race by the exercise of
wisdom, altruism and idealism—the spiritual graces if you choose
so to call them.

1 Figures from Obermaier.

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS Pts

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS’

By Professor WILLIAM MORTON WHEELER

BUSSEY INSTITUTION, HARVARD UNIVERSITY

LeEctTuRE II. Part 2. Wasps SoLITARY AND SOCIAL

Authorities on the classification of the social wasps now divide
them into five subfamilies, namely the Stenogastrine, which are
confined to the Indomalayan and Australian Regions, the Ropali-
diine, confined to the tropics of the Old World, the Polistine,
which are cosmopolitan, the Epiponine, possibly comprising two
independent lines of descent from Eumenes-like and Odynerus-
like ancestors respectively and constituting a large group, mostly
confined to tropical America, with a few species in the Ethiopian,
Endomalayan, Australian and North American regions, and the
Vespine, which are recorded from all the continents except South
America and the greater portion of Africa south of the Sahara.
These five families may be briefly characterized before considering
some of the peculiarities of social organization common to most or
all of them.

(1). The Stenogastrine evidently represent a group of great
interest, because they form a transition from the solitary to the
social wasps, but unfortunately our knowledge of their habits is
very incomplete. F. X. Williams has recently published observa-
tions on four Philippine species, and though his account is frag-
mentary, it nevertheless reveals some peculiar conditions. He
shows that the single genus of the subfamily, Stenogaster, includes
both solitary and social forms and that all of them exhibit a mix-
ture of primitive and specialized traits. The species all live in
dark, shady forests and make very delicate, fragile nests with
particles of decayed wood or earth. S. depressigaster (Figs. 30 E
and F) hangs its long, slender, cylindrical nests to a pendent
hair-like fungus or fern. The structure consists of tubular, inter-
twined galleries and cells, with their openings directed downwards.
The colony comprises only a few individuals probably the mother
wasp and her recently emerged daughters. The eggs are attached
to the bottoms of the cells as in all social wasps and the larve are
fed from day to day with a gelatinous paste, which Williams be-
lieves may be of vegetable origin. In the cells the older larve and
the pupe hang head downwards. Another social species, S. vari-

1 Lowell Lectures.

120 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

pictus, constructs a very different nest, consisting of cells made
of sandy mud mixed perhaps with particles of decayed wood and
attached side by side in groups to the surfaces of rocks and tree-
trunks (Fig. 30 G). In this case also the cell-openings are directed
downward. A nest may consist of thirty or more cells in several

FIG. 30
Nests of Stenogastrine wasps from the Philippines. A. Stenogaster micans
var. luzonensis, female. B. Completed nest of same; C. Nest’ with only the
basal portion completed; D. Nest of Stenogaster sp., with umbrella-like

“suards”; E. Nest of S. depressigaster; F. diagram of same showing arrange-

ment of cells and passage-ways. The numbers indicate the cells. The tops

of the passage-ways are shown in two planes by series of parallel lines. G.
Nest of S. varipictus on the bark of a tree. (After F. X. Williams).

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 121

FIG. 31
Suspended and naked comb of a very primitive African Epiponine wasp, Be-
lonogaster junceus, with young cells above and old cells containing larve be-
low; natural size. Most of the wasps have been removed but two are seen
bringing food-pellets to the larvae. (Photograph by E. Roubaud).

rows. There are only a few wasps in a colony, and when the larve
are full-grown the cells are sealed up by the mother as in the solli-
tary wasps. But after the young have emerged the cells may be
used again as in many of the social species. Williams describes
and figures the nests of two solitary species, one an undetermined
form, the other identified as S. micans var. luzonensis. The nest of
the former (Fig. 30 D) is suspended, like that of depressigaster,
from some thin vegetable fibre and appears to consist of particles
of decayed wood. It is a beautiful, elongate structure of seven
tubular, ribbed cells, arranged in a zigzag series with their openings
below and two peculiar umbrella-like dises around the supporting
fibre. These dises ‘‘remind one a good deal of the metal plates
fastened to the mooring lines of vessels and serving as rat guards.
Their function in the ease of the nest may be an imperfect protec-
tion from the ants, or perhaps they may serve as umbrellas, though
neither they nor the cells are strictly rain proof.’’ They may pos-
sibly be rudiments of the nest envelopes which are so elaborately

122 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

developed in many of the higher social wasps. The mother wasp
attends to several young simultaneously, and when their develop-
ment is completed seals up the cells. S. micans var luzonensis -
(Fig. 30 B) makes the most remarkable nest of all. It is attached
to some pendent plant filament under an overhanging bank or
under masses of dead leaves supported by twigs or vines and is
made of ‘‘moist and well-decayed wood chewed up into a pulp and
formed into delicate paper which is not rain proof.’’ The basal
portion of the nest (Fig. 30 C) is a single comb of about 20 regu-
lar, hexagonal cells, enclosed in a pear-shaped covering which is
longitudinally grooved and ribbed on the outside and constricted
below to form a filigree-work, funnel-like aperture surrounded on
one side by a spear-shaped expansion. This species seems also to
have been observed in Ceylon by E. E. Green, who remarks that
‘the nest seems to be the property of one pair only’’ of wasps.
Two other species, S. nigrifrons of Burma and melleyr of Java,
are also recorded as social. They make nests consisting of a few
pendent, hexagonal-celled combs attached to one another by slen-
der pedicels. All of the descriptions indicate that the colonies of
the social species of Stenogaster must consist of very few indi-
viduals, and there is nothing to show that the female offspring

FIG. 32
Nest of Polybioides tabida from the Congo, with the involucre partly re-
moved. (After J. Bequaert from a photograph by H. O. Lang).

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 123

differ in any way from their mother or that they assist in caring
for the brood. Even in the ease of S. varipictus, Williams remarks:
‘‘In a small way, it seems to be a social wasp; one to several insects

FIG. 33
A. Nest of Polybioides melaena of the Congo. B. The same partly destroyed,
showing the pendent combs, which have cells on both sides. (After J.

Bequaert, from a photograph by H. O. Lang).

124 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

attend to a cell group. It may be, however, that each female has
her own lot of cells in this cell group.’’ Future investigations
may show that none of the species of Stenogaster is really social —
in the same sense as are the four other subfamilies, though they
approach the definitively social forms in using paper in the con-
struction of the nest, in sometimes making combs of regular hexa-
gonal cells and in caring for a number of larve at the same time.

(2). The Epiponine are a large and heterogeneous group,
comprising a much greater number of genera (23) than any other
subfamily of social wasps, and ranging all the way from very
primitive forms like Belonogaster to highly specialized forms like
Chartergus and Nectarina. Great differences are also apparent
in the architecture of the nest, which in the more primitive genera
consists of a single naked comb of hexagonal cells attached to some
support by a peduncle (Fig. 31), and in the more advanced forms
' of a single comb or of several combs superimposed on one another
and enclosed in an envelope with an opening for ingress and egress
(Figs. 32 and 33). The combs are in some cases peduneulate
(stelocyttarous), in others attached directly to the support or to
the envelope (phragmocyttarous). In nearly all cases the nest is
made entirely of paper, but in a few tropical American species
some clay may be added. It is always above ground and attached
to the branches or leaves of trees, to the underside of some shelter
(roofs, banks, ete.). In primitive forms like Belonogaster (Fig.
31), as a rule, a single fecundated female starts the nest by build-
ing a single pedunculate cell and then gradually adding others m
circles concentrically to its periphery as the comb grows, but not
infrequently the foundress may be joined by other females before
the work has progressed very far. Each larva is fed with pellets
of malaxated caterpillars till it is full grown when it spins a con-
vex cap over the orifice of its cell and pupates. The emerging
females are all like the mother in possessing well-developed ovaries
and in being capable of fecundation. In other words, ali the fe-
males of the colony are physiologically equal, and even such differ-
ences in stature as they may exhibit have no relation to fertility.
The colonies are small, the nests having usually only about 50 to
60 cells, rarely as many as 200 to 300. In larger colonies there is
a certain rude division of labor since the older females devote
themselves to egg-laying, the younger to foraging for food and
nest materials and the recently emerged individuals to feeding the
larve and caring for the nest. The males, too, remain on the comb,
but behave like parasites and exact food whenever it is brought
in by the foraging females. Belonogaster is described as a
polygynous wasp because each of its colonies contains a number

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 125

of feeundated females. When it has reached its full development
the females leave in small companies and found new nests either
singly or together. This phenomenon is known as ‘‘swarming’’
and occurs only in the wasps of the tropics where it seems to be an
adaptation to the favorable climatic conditions. In the higher
South American genera of Epiponine, however, the females are
not all alike but are differentiated into true females, or queens,
1. €., individuals with well-developed ovaries and capable of fe-
cundation, and workers, 7. e., females with imperfectly developed
ovaries and therefore sterile or capable only of laying unfertilized,
male-producing eggs. Many of these wasps, according to H. and
R. von Ihering and Ducke, are polygynous and regularly form
new colonies and nests by sending off swarms of workers with one
or two dozen.queens. The colonies often become extremely popu-
lous and comprise hundreds or even thousands of individuals.
Some of the species (Nectarina, Polybia) have a habit of storing
a considerable amount of honey in their combs, while others are
known to capture, kill and store within the nest envelope, and
even in the combs, quantities of male and female termites or male
ants as a supply of food to be drawn on when needed.

(3). The Ropalidiine are a small group of only three genera,
the best known of which is Ropalidia. These are primitive wasps
which build a single naked comb lke that of Belonogaster and
feed their young with pellets of malaxated insects. The colonies
are small and polygynous, but, according to Roubaud, true workers
ean be distinguished, though they are few in number compared
with the true females. Swarming seems to occur in some species.

(4). The Polistine are represented by only two genera. One
of these, Polistes, is cosmopolitan and, lke Ropalidia and Belono-
easter, makes a single, naked comb, suspended by a central or ev-
centric pedunele to the underside of some shelter. As there are
several common species in Europe and the United States, the habits
of the genus are well known. The nest is usually established and
in its incipient stages constructed by a single female, or queen.
A eertain number of her offspring are workers though they seem
often to lay male-producing eggs. True females are rather nu-
merous in the colonies of some species, which may therefore be
regarded as polygynous, and some of the tropical forms may, per-
haps, swarm. In temperate regions, however, the Polistes colony
is an annual development and usually not very populous. The
young females are fecundated in the late summer and pass the
winter hidden away under bark or in the crevices of walls, whence
they emerge in the spring to found new colonies. Several of the
species, even in temperate regions, are known to store small quan-
tities of honey in their combs.

126 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

(5). Like the Polistine, the subfamily Vespine includes only
two genera, Vespa and Provespa. The species of the former, the
only genus besides Polistes that occurs in the north temperate zone,
are the largest and most typical of social wasps. So far as known
the species are strictly monogynous. The nest, founded by a
single female, consists at first of a small pendent comb, lke that of
Polistes, but while there are still only a few cells a more or less
spherical envelope is built around it. The eggs first laid produce
workers, which are much smaller than the mother and incapable
of feeundation. They remain with the parent, enlarge the comb
and envelope and, to accommodate the rapidly inereasing brood,
build additional combs in a series from above downward, each new
comb being supported by one or more peduncles attached to the
comb above it (stelocyttarous). At first large numbers of workers
are produced, but later in tlie summer males and females appear.
Owing to the greater size of the females, the cells in which they
are reared are considerably larger than the worker cells. After
the mating of the males and females the colony perishes, with the
exception of the fecundated females, which hibernate like the fe-
males of Polistes and during the following spring found new colo-
nies. In the Vespine, therefore, a very distinct worker caste has
been developed, though its members occasionally and perhaps regu-
larly lay male-producing eggs. The species of Vespa are usually
divided into two groups, one with long, the other with very short
cheeks. In Europe and North America the long-cheeked forms as
a rule build aerial nests above ground, the short-cheeked forms in
cavities which they excavate in the ground. The colonies may
often be very populous by the end of the summer (3,000 to 5,000
individuals).

After this hasty sketch of the five subfamilies of, the social
wasps we may consider a few of their fundamental behavioristic
peculiarities, especially the trophic relations between the adults
and larve, the origin of the worker caste, its ultimate fate in cer-
tain parasitic species and the question of monogyny and polygyny.
In all these phenomena we are concerned with effects of the food-
supply and therefore of the external environment.

The feeding of the larve by Vespa and Polistes queens and
workers with pellets made of malaxated portions of caterpillars,
flies or other insects has often been described and can be readily
witnessed in any colony kept in the laboratory. The hungry larve
protrude their heads with open mouths from the orifices of the cells,
like so many nestling birds, and when very hungry may actually
scratch on the walls of the cells to attract the attention of the
workers or their nurses. The feeding is not, however, a one-sided

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 127

affair, since closer observation shows that the wasp larva emits
from its mouth drops of sweet saliva which are eagerly imbibed by
the nurses. This behavior of the larve has been observed in all
four subfamilies of the higher wasps by du Buysson, Janet and
Roubaud. Du Buysson says that the larve of Vespa ‘‘secrete from
the mouth an abundant liquid. When they are touched the liquid
is seen to trickle out. The queen, the workers and the males are
very eager for the secretion.. They know how to excite the off-
spring in such a way as to make them furnish the beverage.’’ And
Janet was able to prove that the secretion is a product of the sali-
vary or spinning glands and that it flows from an opening at the
base of the lower lip. ‘‘This product,’’ he says, ‘‘is often imbibed
by the imagines, especially by the just emerged workers and by
the males, which in order to obtain it, gently bite the head of the
larva.’’ Most attention has been bestowed on this reciprogal feed-
ing by Roubaud, from whose interesting account of Belonogaster,
Ropalidia and Polistes I take the following paragraphs:

‘‘All the larve from birth secrete from a projection of the
hypopharynx, on the interior surface of the buccal funnel, an
abundant salivary liquid, which at the slightest touch spreads over
the mouth ina drop. All the adult wasps, males as well as females,
are extremely eager for this salivary secretion, the taste of which is
slightly sugary. It is easy to observe, especially in Belonogaster,
the insistent demand for this larval product and the tactics em-
ployed to provoke its secretion.

‘“ As soon as a nurse wasp has distributed her food pellet among
the various larve, she advances with rapidly vibrating wings to the
opening of each cell containing a larva in order to imbibe the
salivary drop that flows abundantly from its mouth. The method
employed to elicit the secretion is very easily observed. The wing
vibrations of the nurse serve as a signal to the larva, which, in
order to receive the food, protrudes its head from the orifice of
the cell. This simple movement is often accompanied by an imme-
diate flow of saliva. But if the secretion does not appear the wasp
seizes the larva’s head in her mandibles, draws it toward her and
then suddenly jams it back into the cell, into which she then thrusts
her head. These movements, involving as they do a stimulation
of the borders of the mouth of the larva, compel it to secrete its
salivary liquid.

‘‘One may see the females pass back and forth three or four
times in front of a lot of larve to which they have given nutriment,
in order to imbibe the secretion. The insistence with which they
perform this operation is such that there is a flagrant disproportion
between the quantity of nourishment distributed among the larve

128 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

by the females and that of the salivary liquid which they receive
in return. There is therefore actual exploitation of the larve by
the nurses.

‘‘The salivary secretion may even be demanded from the larva
without a compensatory gift of nourishment, both by the females
that have just emerged and by the males during their sojourn in
the nest. The latter employ the same tactics as the females in
compelling the larve to yield their secretion. They demand it es-
pecially after they have malaxated an alimentary pellet for them-
selves, so that there is then no reciprocal exchange of nutritive
material.

‘‘It is easy to provoke the secretion of the larve drtificially.
Merely touching the borders of the mouth will bring it about. The
forward movement of the larve at the cell entrance, causing them
to protrude their mouths to receive the food pellet, is also easily
induced by vibrations of the air in the neighborhood of the nest.
It is only necessary to whistle loudly or emit shrill sounds near a
nest of Belonogaster to see all the larve protrude their heads to
the orifice of the cells. Now it is precisely the vibrations of the
air created by the rapid agitation of the bodies of the wasps and
repeated beating of their wings that call forth these movements,
either at the moment when food is brought or for the purpose of
obtaining the buccal secretion which is so eagerly solicited.’’

Roubaud has called the interchange of food here described
““oecotrophobiosis,’’ but for reasons which I cannot stop to discuss,
I prefer to use the word ‘‘trophallaxis.’’ It will be seen that the
larve have acquired a very definite meaning for the adult wasps of
ll the castes and that through trophallaxis very close physiolog-
ical bonds have been established, which serve to unite all the mem-
bers of the colony, just as the nutritive blood stream in our bodies
binds all the component cells and tissues together. We found that
even in forms like Synagris cornuta the larva has acquired a mean-
ing for the mother. In this case Roubaud has shown that the
mother while malaxating the food-pellet herself imbibes its juices
before feeding it to the larva, and that ‘‘the internal liquids having
partly disappeared during the process of malaxation, the prey is
no longer, as it was in the beginning, soft and juicy and full of
nutriment for the larva. It is possible, in fact, to observe that the
caterpillar paté provided by the Synagris cornuta is a coarse paste
which has partly lost its liquid constituents. There is no exag-
ceration in stating that such food would induce in larve thus
nourished an increase of the salivary secretion in order to compen-
sate for the absence of the liquid in the prey and facilitate its di-
evestion.’’ It is here that the further development to the condition

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 129

seen in Belonogaster and other social wasps sets in. The mother
finds the saliva of the larva agreeable and a trophallactic relation-
ship is established. As Roubaud says, ‘‘the nursing instinct having
evolved in the manner here described in the Humenids, the wasps
acquire contact with the buccal secretion of the larva, become ac-
quainted with it and seek to provoke it. Thence naturally follows
a tendency to increase the number of larve to be reared simulta-
neously in order at the same time to satisfy the urgency of ovi-
position and to profit by the greater abundance of the secretion of
the larve.’’

As I shall endeavor to show in my account of the ants and
termites, trophallaxis is of very general significance in the social
life of insects. It seems also to have an important bearing on the
development of the worker caste. Both queens and workers arise
from fertilized eggs, and the differences between them are com-
monly attributed to the different amounts of food they are given
as larve. There seems to be much to support this view in the
social wasps. As Roubaud points out in the passages quoted, the
larve are actually exploited by the adult wasps to the extent of
being compelled to furnish them with considerable quantities of
salivary secretion, often out of all proportion to the amount of
solid food which they receive in return. Owing to this expenditure
of substance and the number of larve which are reared simulta-
neously, especially during the earlier stages of colony formation,
they are inadequately nourished and have to pupate as rather
small individuals, with poorly developed ovaries. Such individ-
uals therefore become workers. This inhibition of ovarial devel-
opment, which has been called ‘‘alimentary castration,’’ is main-
tained during the adult life of most workers by the exigencies of
the nursing instincts. The workers have to complete and care for
the nest, forage for food and distribute most of it among their
larval sisters. All this exhausting labor on slender rations tends
to keep them sterile. In other words, ‘‘nutricial castration’’ (de-
rived from nutriz, a nurse, to use Marchal’s terms, takes the place
in the adult worker of the alimentary castration to which it was
subjected during its larval period. It is only later in the develop-
ment of the colony, when the number of workers and consequently
also the amount of food brought in have considerably increased,
and the labor of foraging and nest construction have correspond-
ingly decreased for the individual worker, that the larve can be
more copiously fed and develop as fertile females, or queens. At
that season, too, some of the workers may develop their ovaries,
but as the members of the worker caste are incapable of fecunda-
tion, they can lay only male-producing eggs. That this is not the

VOL. XV—9

130 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

whole explanation of the worker caste will appear when we come
to consider the much more extreme conditions in the ants and ter-
mites, but it may suffice to explain the conditions in the social
wasps and social bees.

Parasitism is another phenomenon which seems to indicate that
a meager or insufficient diet is responsible for the development of
the worker caste. Although parasitic species are much more nu-
merous among the bees and ants, I will stop to consider very briefly
a few of those known to occur among the wasps. <A parasite is,
of course, an organism that is able to secure abundant nourishment
for itself or its offspring by appropriating the food-supply that has
been laboriously stored or assimilated by some other organism.
The various parasitic solitary wasps, such as the species of Cero-
pales, among the spider-storing Psammocharidex, all substitute
their own young for the young of their hosts in order that the larve
may come into undisputed possession of the stored provisions.
Among the social wasps there are only two parasitic species, Vespa
austriaca and V. arctica. The former has long been known in Eu-
rope where it lives in the nests of V. rufa. Recently Bequaert and
Sladen have found austriaca in the United States, British America
and Alaska, but its Cisatlantic host is still unknown, though be-
lieved to be V. consobrina. V. arctica, as Fletcher, Taylor and I
have demonstrated, lives in the nests of our common yellow jacket
(¥. diabolica). Now both austriaca and arctica have completely
lost the worker caste so that they are represented only by males
and fertile females. They were at one time undoubtedly non-
parasitic like their present hosts, but are now reared and fed by
the workers of the latter like their own more favored sexual forms.
As a result of such nurture what were once independent social
insects with two female forms have actually reverted to the status
of solitary forms with only one type of female.

In conelusion the conditions of monogyny and polygyny in the
higher social wasps may be briefly considered. It was shown that
the Vespine and at least most of the Polistine are monogynous,
their colonies being annual developments begun by a single fee-
undated queen, and that they perish at the end of the season, with
the exception of the annual brood of queens, which after fecunda-
tion hibernate and start new colonies during the following spring.
Many of the tropical Epiponine and Ropalidiine, however, are
polygynous and the former often form large perennial colonies
which from time to time send off swarms consisting of numerous
feecundated females or of such females accompanied by workers to
found new colonies. This behavior is evidently as perfect an adap-
tation to the continuously favorable food and temperature condi-

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 131

tion of the tropics as is that of Vespa and Polistes to the pro-
nounced seasonal vicissitudes of the temperate regions. There has
been a difference of opinion among the authorities as to whether
monogyny or polygyny represents the more primitive phylogenetic
stage among the social wasps. The great majority of these insects
are tropical, and probably even Vespa and Polistes were originally
inhabitants of warm regions and invaded temperate Eurasia and
North America during postglacial times. The monogyny still
exhibited by these wasps in the tropics may have been acquired
there as an adaptation to the wet and dry seasons, and this adapta-
tion may have enabled them the more easily to adjust themselves
to the warm and cold seasons of more northern regions. H. and
R. von Ihering and Roubaud may therefore be right in maintain-
ing that polygyny is the more primitive condition. Their view is
also supported by the fact that in the polygynous genera the worker
caste is either still absent (Belonogaster) or very feebly developed
and constitutes only a small percentage of the female personnel
of the colony. We might, perhaps, say that our species of Vespa
and Polistes each year produce a swarm of females and workers
but that the advent of cold weather destroys the less resistant
workers and permits only the dispersed queens to survive and
hibernate till the following season.

We shall find precisely the same differences between monogyny
and polygyny in the social bees of temperate and tropical regions,
and somewhat analogous conditions among the ants, although their
polygyny may be secondarily derived from monogyny. It would
seem that swarming must be a phenomenon which occurs as a rule
when the environment is unfavorable or the colony has grown to
such dimensions as to outrun its food-supply so that emigration
of portions of its population becomes imperative.

132 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

CHARLES DARWIN, THE MAN

By Dr. ADDISON GULICK

UNIVERSITY OF MISSOURI

T the present time, which marks the fortieth anniversary of the
death of Charles Darwin (died April 19, 1882), an odd re-
erudescence of the old opposition to evolutionary thought in the
less educated circles is challenging the attention of men of science
in this country. But to us it seems much more appropriate to the
anniversary to undertake to consider Darwin’s personal traits, and
especially such aspects of his character as bear upon his far-reach-
ing influence upon men to-day.

Charles Robert Darwin was born in 1809 of a family in which
a considerable variety of excellent mental attainments are to be
found; a family in which, if we should try to note any single out-
standing mental characteristic that found repeated expression, we
should have to say that the most constant trait was a very highly
developed curiosity. Robert Waring Darwin, his father, was a
physician. He was neither scientific nor philosophical in the strict
sense, as it is reported that he did not try to generalize his know!l-
edge under general laws. Yet he formed a theory for almost every-
thing which occurred. He is described as having an extraordinary
memory for people, events and dates, as being an unusually shrewd
judge of character, and also a cautious and good man of business.
The grandfather, Erasmus Darwin, showed a speculative turn in
his curiosity, and was the author of the afterwards famous Zoo-
nomia. Among more distant relations and ancestors are men who
gave their enthusiasm to such subjects as numismaties, statisties
and various branches of natural history.

On the maternal side, Darwin had the possibility of inheriting
the unusual ability in practical arts for which the Wedgewood
family was noted. His mother died early, when the son was only
eight years of age, and the published record of her tells little
more than that she was of a most kindly and sympathetic nature.

Charles Darwin felt the very deepest of personal devotion to his
father, and many of his own traits of character are a very natural
development from the family atmosphere in which he was raised.
This applies especially to his kindliness and ready appreciation of
others, and his extreme modesty as regards his own opinions and

CHARLES DARWIN, THE MAN 133

accomplishments. As regards traits that were needed for his future
career, it was his opinion that he acquired little besides the love of
observing.

School seems to have been of exceptionally slight benefit to the
young scientist. In fact the comments upon his education that he
makes in his reminiscences are in surprisingly similar tenor to
the ironic undercurrent in Henry Adams’s reminiscences of his
education. He was not taught to observe, nor to think, nor to use
the languages which he would need, nor to make serious use of
mathematics. To the end of his formal education, his desire seems
to have been little more than to escape, usually into the country
in company with congenial hunting companions and nature lovers.
Strangely enough, this apples even to his life for two years as a
medical student in Edinburgh, where he apparently came under
a group of lecturers who were uncommonly devoid of inspiration,
so that he felt positively repelled even from geology and botany.
On the other hand, he began there to make acquaintances who de-
veloped his inclination toward acute observation of nature. He
names in this connection the zoologist, Grant, and several other
young university men, a negro taxidermist, and some of the fisher
folk at Newhaven.

As the young Darwin showed only distaste for the medical
sciences as presented to him, a church career was proposed instead,
and he brushed up on his rusty Greek, to gain admittance to Cam-
bridge. It is interesting that among his studies he found algebra
and the classics unutterably dull, but geometry delightful for its
vivid and precise logic, and Paley’s ‘‘Evidences’’ and ‘‘ Natural
Theology’’ similarly pleasing for its keen deductive reasoning.

But in the main he shunned his studies in Cambridge as con-
sistently as he had in Edinburgh. He became a devotee of hunt-
mg and riding, and then later became deeply engrossed with col-
lecting beetles. ‘‘No poet,’’ he says, ‘‘ever felt more delighted at
seeing his first poem published than I did at seeing in Stephens’s
Illustrations of British Insects the magie words ‘captured by C.
Darwin, Esq.’ ”’

Here again, as it had been in Edinburgh, the most important
aspect of his life came from the friendships which he formed.
Especially noteworthy were his constant companionship with Hens-
low, the professor of botany, and toward the end of his stay, his
acquaintance with Professor Sedgwick of geology.

‘‘Looking back,’’ he says, ‘‘I infer that there must have been
something in me a little superior to the common run of youths,
otherwise the above-mentioned men, so much older than I and
higher in academic position, would never have allowed me to asso-

134 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ciate with them. Certainly I was not aware of any such supe-
riority.’’

Darwin’s keen love of good logie and his passion for observa-
tion seem not to have been united in the same object in any of his
activities in Cambridge, and the thought that they might conceiv-
ably be so united seems first to have been brought to him by a
conversation with the geologist Sedgwick in the summer of 1831
(Life, p. 48): He told Sedgwick of a certain tropical volute shell
that was supposed to have been found in an old gravel pit near
Shrewsbury, England. ‘‘He at once said that it must have been
thrown away by some one into the pit; but then added, if really
embedded there it would be the greatest misfortune to geology,
as it would overthrow all that we know about the superficial de-
posits of the Midland Counties. . .. I was ... utterly astonished
at Sedgwick not being delighted at so wonderful a fact as a tropical
shell being found near the surface in the middle of England.
Nothing before had ever made me thoroughly realize, though I had
read various scientific books, that science consists in grouping facts
so that general laws or conclusions may be drawn from them.”’

Darwin’s appointment to H. M. 8S. Beagle, in 1831, when he
was 22 years of age, was the beginning of his serious edueation.
(Huxley, p. 271): ‘‘While at sea, he diligently collected, studied,
and made copious notes upon the surface fauna. But with no
previous training in dissection, hardly any power of drawing, and
next to no knowledge of comparative anatomy, his occupation with
work of this kind—notwithstanding all his zeal and industry—
resulted for the most part in a vast accumulation of useless
manuscript.’’ It was in geology that his training first began to
show fruit. He had with him the first volume of Lyell’s ‘‘Princi-
ples of Geology,’’ and this book seems to have had a greater in-
fluence upon his scientific methods than any other one factor.

In this book Lyell expounds by the inductive method the ‘‘uni-
formitarian’’ conception of geological history, which, unlike the
cataelysmic theory which was then generally accepted, viewed the
course of this history as controlled by the prolonged action of the
very same forces that we can study at work to-day. The influence
of this volume upon him was profound and manifold; so great
indeed, that later when he had convinced himself of the doctrine
of natural selection, it became his conscious ambition to present
his theory to the public in a book modelled along the same logical
lines as Lyell’s great work. Under the guidance of this book he
became a keen and systematic geological explorer, and he was able
at the end of his voyage to present the world with three important
monographs in that science, covering the coral islands, the voleanic

CHARLES DARWIN, THE MAN 135

islands and the South American continental regions which he
visited. It is interesting that he recommends geology to his cousin,
W. D. Fox, telling him that in it ‘‘there is so much larger a field
for thought than in the other branches of natural history ;’’ also
‘‘Geology is a capital science to begin, as it requires nothing but
a little reading, thinking and hammering.’’ KEvidently the instinct
for generalization had at last got control over him.

From this date on, investigative science becomes more and more
frankly his predominant interest, so that a year later (1836) he
confesses about certain ports which he expected to visit ‘‘these will
be a poor field for natural history, and without it I have lately
discovered that the pleasure of seeing new places is as nothing.’’

When he returned to England in 1836, at the age of 27, his
characteristics as a scientific man were fully formed. Thereafter
the chief scientific events of his life are summed up in the devel-
opment and publication of the great generalizations for which he
will ever be remembered. So we can stop tracing his biography,
and coneern ourselves with his outstanding traits.

One of the traits which shows most vividly to the reader of
Darwin’s letters, and of his “‘Journal of the Voyage of the
Beagle,’’ is his keen ability to place his finger precisely upon the
unsolved mysteries of contemporary science, and his apparently
instinctive sense as to which of these mysteries ought to be capable
of solution. It is obvious what a depth of intuition he showed,
when he started, in 1837, a notebook on the nature and mutability
of species and varieties in nature and under domestication. The
related mystery of geographical distribution is most vividly han-
dled in the ‘‘ Voyage of the Beagle.’’ As early as 1835 the dis-
cussion of an epidemic among the Maories gave him the oceasion
for a similarly clear expression of the scientific mystery of con-
tagion. Thus his mind was perpetually setting him problems of
the most fundamental nature, which he simply could not leave
alone. His son quotes the characteristic remark which a new ex-
perimental idea would often bring from him: ‘‘I can’t rest now,
till I have tried it.”’ |

The problems to which he gave his time were always ones which
were capable of approach by the methods of a naturalist, and the
naturalist’s methods were always his preference. Almost always
he collected great masses of facts, the qualitative range of which
usually occupied his attention much more than their quantitative
mathematical analysis. His method did, however, lead him to
gather facts in such quantities that it was only possible to master
and present them by using the simpler form of statistical treatment,
and he may almost be said to have introduced this method as a
mental tool for naturalists.

136 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

As to the solutions to his problems, he confesses that only in the
rarest instances did he have an inkling of the right clue, until after
extensive data had been collected. He mentions only one important
exception to this rule, and that is one of his earliest contributions
to science, the theory of the formation of coral reefs. In all other
important cases he started either without any hypothesis at all, or
else with a tentative hypothesis that had later to be discarded.

It is small wonder that the unwritten history of his discarded
hypotheses left him increasingly mistrustful of all elaborately de-
ductive reasoning. For all deduction is based on the preliminary
acceptance of a group of laws or hypotheses. In this respect he
seems to us of to-day to contrast sharply with many of the charac-
teristics of his own age, which was certainly much given to far-
flung systems of speculative reasoning.

It is possible that some one may feel like challenging this state-
ment that Darwin’s speculations were not built into far-flung and
elaborate systems like those of his leading contemporaries. But I
believe that his methods in seeking a scientific solution of the prob-
lem of species fully justify the assertion. When he became dis-
satisfied with the orthodox doctrine of special creation, he did not
turn at onee to one of the doctrines of descent, several of which
had already been propounded. Instead he insisted upon waiting
to detect some process by which species are actually undergoing
transformation at the present day and then he merely pointed out
that within the vast extent of geological time there was room for
this process to achieve results of the most startling magnitude.

Only in the one instance of his ‘‘ Provisional Hypothesis of
Pangenesis’’ he appears superficially to deviate from his prefer-
ence to keep away from elaborate systems of theory. But he was
himself most keenly alive to a difference in status between this pro-
visional, unproved hypothesis which he brings forward as probably
a helpful stimulus to the investigation of heredity, and the other
theses he has defended, such as natural and sexual selection, which
are to him scientific principles, the actual proofs of which are
already substantially in hand. Had he taken the latter attitude
toward Pangenesis, he would have been committing the typical
intellectual sin of his era, and perhaps of many another era, of
building great speculative structures upon slight foundations.

In the second place, in spite of certain intricacies in the details
of the hypothesis, the speculative foundation of Pangenesis is not
really intricate. It rests simply on two suppositions: (1) that
all heredity is by continuity of substance, and (2) the now dis-
carded supposition that every part in a many-celled animal begets
the corresponding part in the offspring. It follows from these

CHARLES DARWIN, THE MAN 137

two suppositions, that the gonad or the germ plasm would not be
the seat of heredity, but merely its vehicle, receiving the funda-
mental active material agencies of heredity (the ‘‘gemmules’’)
from every cell of the parental body, and packing them into the
germ cell. Beyond this, all that Darwin has to say about the hypo-
thetical gemmules is that if such is the basis of heredity, then
various ascertained facts regarding the course of heredity mdicate
that the said gemmules must be assembled, and must become aetive
or latent according to a certain set of rules. And that, in brief,
is the whole of the ‘‘provisional hypothesis of Pangenesis.”’

Another aspect of Darwin’s scientific temperament is his abso-
lute candor and open-mindedness. We may note a delicious instance
of this, which struck his own sense of humor. In 1856 Lyell and
a great many of the world’s best field naturalists were accounting
for the distribution of plants and animals to the oceanic islands
by the theory of continental extensions to include these islands.
Darwin saw strong reasons to disbelieve this, at least as applied to
mid-oceanic islands, and so was in friendly controversy on the sub-
ject for some time. But if he should win this controversy, think
what difficulties he was preparing for his soon-to-be-published doe-
trine that structural relationship meant blood relationship between
the insular and continental fioras! So he spent endless pains m
incubating the mud from ducks’ feet, to learn what seeds birds
might carry on their feet, and proving such pertinent facts as
that grass seed, eaten by minnows, which in turn were eaten by
storks, would be avoided by the storks in a fertile condition. Re-
ferring to one of these prospective tests, he exclaims, ‘‘This is an
experiment after my own heart, with the chances 1,000 to 1 against
its suecess!’? And commenting at another time upon his whole
dilemma of distribution he says, ‘‘There never was such a pre-
dicament as mine: here you continental extensionists would remove
enormous difficulties opposed to me, and yet I cannot honestly
admit the doctrine, and must therefore say so,’’ and then adds,
‘‘Nothing is so vexatious to me, as so constantly finding. myself
drawing different conclusions from better judges than myself,
from the same facts.”’

In his self-analysis, which forms a part of his brief autobiog-
raphy, he remarks that he believes himself freer than the average
man from the danger of reasoning by catch-phrases. Very char-
acteristically he suggests that his lack of facility in expression
may have helped guard him against such a fault.

Another virtue which we may just mention in passing is that
for Darwin every sound scientific explanation must pin solidly to
earth. The mysticism of such a naturalist as Agassiz was utterly

138 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

foreign to him, so that he could only remark that it was strange
so brilliant a man should express such opinions.

Many things connected with his methods of work throw an _
interestsing light on his character. He declares himself that dur-
ing his scientific career his industry has been nearly as great as
it could have been in the observation and collection of facts. To
compensate for the delays caused by ill health, he kept his work
methodical to a very high degree. Because of the nature of his
work, he gathered great quantities of material from other nat-
uralists, observations which they had made with other considera-
tions in mind. It is indicative of the scale on which he gathered
data, that at the height of his work he had some 40 large port-
folios of classified and indexed notes. His racks of notes may
be seen in the picture of his study at Down (Life I, p. 101).

Whenever he broke loose from the routine of his schedule,
he called it ‘‘idling;’’ for example, if the work in hand was
geology, and he suspended it for a few days to carry out and ex-
periment on one of his problems.

His instinet for an inherently sound and convineing presenta-
tion of the evidence seems to have endowed him with almost limn-
less patience. From the date when he first began organizing his
thought on the problem of the Origin of Species, to the date of
the first preliminary account of his conclusions, was a period of
21 years. When the book itself appeared, one year later still, its
more than 400 close-printed pages were an abstract, at about one
fourth size, of the intended work, which itself was but an abstract
of his argument as he had massed it in his folios. This slowness
eame from thoroughness, scientific caution, and mistrust of his
ability to persuade, probably far more than from the more super-
ficial cause of ill health. Darwin speaks of the advantage that he
often gained thereby, in being able to criticize old chapters ob-
jectively before ever submitting them to publication.

In his correspondence, and, it is stated, in his conversation,
he showed much felicity of expression. But when he wrote in
argument his style was undoubtedly liable to be clumsy.

‘‘TMhere seems,’’ he says, ‘‘to be a sort of fatality in my mind,
leading me to put at first my proposition in a wrong or awkward
form.’’ He conquered this difficulty to some degree by ‘‘serib-
bling in a vile hand whole pages as quickly as possible’’ and re-
vising only at a later date.

Among his personal characteristics kindliness, modesty and
frank appreciation of others are most conspicuous. His modesty
has often been remarked upon, but to really appreciate how de-
liciously far it goes, one has to read his letters at first hand.

CHARLES DARWIN, THE MAN 139

His freedom from the trammels of tradition and his keen sym-
pathy for every form of misfortune probably account for his de-
scription of himself as a radically inclined liberal. His anti-
slavery sentiments at all times, and particularly during the Ameri-
ean Civil War, were very intense. A most odd expression of his
humanitarian interest was his attitude toward Christian missions.
He was most appreciative of the wonders that had been accom-
plished in Polynesia, but could not believe that peoples so low in
the scale as the Fuegians and the Australian Blacks could pos-
sibly receive any benefit from mission work. He expressed this
opinion freely, and when finally the reverse was proved in the
ease of the mission to Tierra del Fuego, he enthusiastically ac-
knowledged his mistake, and expressed it in the form of a regular
annual remittance of £5 to the cause of the mission.

He had a habit of writing his appreciations to the authors of
books he had enjoyed, which we can understand if we consider how
greatly he himself appreciated such letters written to him. He was
also a man who very quickly treated men of a younger generation
as his equals, or even his superiors in science, so that he was often
a great inspiration to younger men.

In esthetics Darwin had a tremendous, and it might be said,
a highly trained feeling for the beauties of nature. His deepest
responses were to those scenes that expressed to his knowing eye
some aspect of the wonderful cosmie drama.

The wastes of Patagonia and the sight of a naked savage in
his native environment are two scenes which he speaks of as most
strangely impressive, evidently through the story they tell him of
das ewige Werden. He never forgot the sublimity of the Cordillera
or the lavish luxuriance of the Brazilian forests. And we have
his children’s word to testify to the peculiar keenness of his ap-
preciation of the precious, homely loveliness of his own England,
which seemed hardly diminished, as nearly as any of them could
tell, to the very end of his life.

In music, painting and literature, he had an essentially naive
and untrained, but for the most part fairly lively enjoyment. In
his later years he lost his taste for the set, formal types of litera-
ture, so that verse, or the standard drama (like Shakespeare) no
longer interested him. This seems to be the principal excuse, along
with the quieter enthusiasms of old age, for his self-criticism as
having atrophied on his esthetic side. Yet his family reports that
even totally ignorant as he was of the slightest vestige of the prin-
ciples of music, he always loved to listen, and his choice was uni-
formly for a good quality of musie. So before taking too seriously
his account of his esthetic atrophy, we really ought to view him a

140 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

little through the eyes of his children and friends, and then decide
how much to discount his statements on the score of his peculiar
modesty.

We are especially interested to-day in the contribution of Dar-
win to the spirit of science, and for that reason should lke to con-
sider his spirit as it were apart from the actual intellectual con-
tent of his additions to human knowledge. That is the more pos-
sible, as we can easily imagine that even without his aid the
evolutionary hypothesis might have triumphed within a few
decades of when it did actually triumph. The world had become
accustomed to the idea of nature acting in strict accordance with
law; to the concepts of stellar evolution, and of an inconceivably
prolonged geological and paleontological history. It had even been
recognized that such laws as the conservation of energy and the
conservation of matter were valid in the kingdom of hfe. Goethe,
Erasmus Darwin and Lamarck had long previously directed atten-
tion to the conception of an orderly derivation of the more com-
plex types of life out of their less complex predecessors. |

To be sure, no definite evolutionary theory had as yet won any
great following among naturalists, because all of them up to that
time had been either too vague or else too mystical to carry con-
viction. Lamarck’s theory, which was most prominent because it
had been the most fully elaborated, had a very strong mystical
element. It was, broadly, to the effect that the offspring derived
their physical constitutions not merely from the physical constitu-
tions with which their parents had started life, but also from the
additional development which the parents acquired through exer-
cise and habit, and from a vast accumulation of ‘‘prenatal in-
fluences,’’ if I may so express it, derived from the emotional life,
and more especially from the desires, strivings and aspirations of
the parents during their whole life previous to the act of genera-
tion.

Other defenders of evolution through descent usually either
appealed to the same group of supposed influences, or emphasized
one or another factor within this group (habit and exercise, for
example), or appealed to an innate or divinely instilled tendency
toward structural elaboration and self-perfection.

Immediately previous to Darwin’s first public announcement
of his natural selection theory, things were happening that indi-
cated the readiness of a group of younger scientists to turn atten-
tion once more to an evolutionary conception. Herbert Spencer
had already indicated his adherence to a modified form of the
Lamarckian theory. Huxley, who had spurned the prenatal in-
fluences of Lamarck, was in private expressing at least an equal

CHARLES DARWIN THE MAN 141

degree of dissatisfaction with the orthodox theory of species as
independently created entities. Von Baer, in Germany, was
definitely of the opinion that some form of evolution through
descent would have to be accepted. Finally came Wallace’s paper,
independently propounding the theory of natural selection, which
as is so well known was read at a meeting of the Linnean Society
jointly with a brief preliminary paper by Darwin, in the summer
of 1858.

Suppose now that the great series of publications by Darwm
had not come from his hands, in what ways would the world of
science be poorer to-day? We can easily imagine that Wallace
might have won Huxley, and have found Spencer a powerful ally.
Huxley was not the type of man who could have rested till he had
converted other scientists, and we can hardly doubt that this gifted
debater, possibly aided by others of the young biological group,
might gradually have compelled the scientific world to pay atten-
tion to the evolutionary hypothesis.

Without going into detail, the same situation held true of Ger-
many, von Baer in particular being more than ready for any
rational doctrine of descent.

If through these channels a great suecess had by any chance
been achieved, the immediately following history would have been
but little different from what it actually was. For in a sense
Darwin was hardly at all an active participant in the dramatic
contest that waged about his book. The giants of this battle were
masters of debate, of repartee, of innuendo, such as Huxley and
Wilberforce, and not at all the quiet, uncontentious, semi-invalid
naturalist, who in his family cirele applauded alike the brilliant
thrusts and neat maneuvers of both groups of contestants. Dar-
win’s supreme ambition had nothing whatever to do with the
dust that was stirred up by his book; for it was simply to be able
to thoroughly convert Huxley, the zoologist, Hooker, the botanis.,
and Lyell, the geologist. If many other scientists were also con-
verted, that would seem to him a surfeit of suecess; and as for that
group which obviously could never accept his argument, he was
simply astonished that they took notice and reacted so quickly
and so vigorously.

The fact, then, that the ‘‘Origin of Species’’ became at once
the bone of contention between the great schools of thought did
not give its writer any great immediate power to influence the
spirit of the mid-nineteenth century, which became, in spite of
him, and even by reason of his contribution, more and more ex-
uberantly speculative. The mass of his contemporaries were akin
less to him than to the temperament of Herbert Spencer, of

142 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Haeckel, and of Weismann, with their elaborate theoretical
systems.

During these exciting times, the man who had started it all
was quietly at work upon a book descriptive of ‘‘The various con-
trivances by which orchids are fertilized by insects.’’ Incidental
bits of this study came out in 1860, 1861, and 1862, and the
finished work in 1862. Such was Darwin’s continual attitude
toward controversy—not contemptuous but simply unworried, con-
tent to make use of whatever criticism was helpful, and to watch to
improve the wording in the next edition wherever it appeared
that his language was honestly misunderstood.

Only a very few of the adverse criticisms touched him where
it hurt. One, for example, let it be understood that he wrote with
an air of cock-sureness, a sin of which he could not bear even
the shadow of suspicion. At another time Darwin bursts into
righteous indignation on Huxley’s behalf, when he catches a re-
viewer ascribing to Huxley a motive in his_ belief—tLyell’s
‘“ ‘object’ to make man old, and Huxley’s ‘object’ to degrade him.
The wretched writer has not a glimpse of what the discovery of
scientific truth means.’’ Such was his spontaneous outburst at
the least hint that scientific opinions might be motivated.

Darwinism was the signal for an overwhelming readjustment
of popular metaphysics, as everybody knows, but it really seems
hard to realize to-day how deeply men’s minds were shaken, all
through the thirty or forty years of the readjustment, by ques-
tions of purely abstract philosophy, or to what an extent the bio-
logical scientists have taken part in the philosophie questions. To
make vivid the acuteness of that old situation, we may recall how
Huxley, intensely loyal as he always was to the scientific concept
of causation, nevertheless declared in substance (Romanes lLee-
ture) that ethics was inexplicable, to the best of his understand-
ing, from the standpoint of biological evolution; or again to the
attitude of Wallace (Darwinism, Ch. XV) that the higher intel-
lectual, esthetic and moral gifts of man are gratuities bestowed
upon him by a benevolent deity through agencies entirely outside
of the workings of biological evolution.

In all these abstruser corollaries of evolution Darwin took ab-
solutely no part whatever, and even when questioned he did little
more than plead ignorance and incompetence. Theism seemed to
him a deduction flung too far afield to be dependable. He can not
help doubting whether our brain equipment was ever designed for
such uses. Nevertheless, he seems to have retained to the end
of his days the simple rudiment of faith that ‘‘this universe is
not the result of blind chance’’ (‘‘Descent of Man,’’ last pages;

CHARLES DARWIN, THE MAN 143

‘“‘Life’’ I, 286), even though our intellects may not have the caliber
to prove what else it is.

In all this, and especially in his freedom from intensity over
such matters, he was hardly a type of his own era, and | ean not
help feeling that he is more at one with the complexion of thinking
men of to-day—men to whom the evolutionary conception is as
natural as it was to Darwin himself, so that they are no longer
fussed by its possible metaphysical implications. Like him: they
still possess a philosophy of life, but one that is more proximate
and less abstruse than what their nineteenth century predecessors
were mostly wrestling with.

Is it not possible that the older generation of teachers to-day,
the men who were brought up on Darwin as their daily bread, but
who on account of the mental stresses of their era had to fight to
attain and to defend the true Darwinian spirit of scientific candor
—that these teachers to-day are finding in their pupils youths for
whom a part of this victory has been won in advance, so that
scientific candor, the spirit of unmotivated judgments, is for them
an easier lesson than it was during the era of storm and stress
in which the teachers had to learn it?

If this description is accurate, a substantial part of the credit
must be ascribed to the slow-working leaven of the personality of
Darwin himself, perpetuated in his writings and ramifying
through the examples of those whose scientific ideals he has inspired.

144 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE MENTALITY AND THE COSMOLOGY OF
CLAUDIUS GALEN

By JONATHAN WRIGHT, M.D.

HOSE who think of Galen at all, even those who have had some
acquaintance with his writings, think of him as a physician,
but a man can not be entirely a physician without being some-
what of a philosopher. Hippocrates puts it a little differently and
says no one can be so well a philosopher as he who seeks the truth
in a study of medicine. I am not sure there is not much that one
should ponder in this opinion. Such wisdom as one arrives at in
regard to the moral and physical destiny of man as well as in re-
gard to his environment is to be garnered most abundantly close to
physiological and psychological fields. Now, singular to say, the
things that are most lacking in the philosophy of Galen are the
ethical values of humanity in their broader aspects. Man’s nar-
rower personal outlook constantly receives incidental mention as
one goes through the vast sea of his professional writings. These
are commonplaces of worldly wisdom, which he did not practice
very successfully in some respects, owing to his glaring tempera-
mental defects. Into all this I do not intend here to enter at all
except to repeat that his philosophy in no way entitled him to boast
the proud apothegm of Terence, Nihil humanum mihi alienum est.
In so far as man himself is part of the cosmos in its intellectual and
moral spheres, Galen’s cosmical philosophy is negligible.

It is however with the ultimate structure of the universe that
Galen’s chief interests lie in cosmical philosophy. He is the heir
and one of the chief sourees of our historical knowledge of the
strivings of the earliest Greek philosophers after a fundamental
knowledge of natural phenomena. He was educated in a thorough
régime of moral philosophy as taught by the various schools of his
day; but, though he shows some traces of the teachings of the
Stoies, it is the physical nature and structure of man alone he
studies from the viewpoint of the Nature Philosophers. Doubtless
in the shaping of the humoral doctrines for their final permanency
in medicine, moral philosophy has little place, but the neglect of
intellectual interests in certain directions perhaps had something

1Galeni de optima secta ad Thrasybulum, Liber I, 107. In these refer-

ences I use the Kiihn Latin translation, the Roman characters denoting the
volume of that edition and the Arabic the page number.

CLAUDIUS GALEN 145

to do with the oppressive narrowness and tke absurdities into which
he guided medical doctrines and where they remained for more
than 1,500 years. Despite his formal piety he was a contentious
upholder of positivism—a very mule’s head in debate is the only
contemporary notice we have of him. His admiration for Plato was
but lip service so far as the practical workings of his mind are
concerned. It is true he acknowledges that though our extended
acquaintance with natural phenomena is acquired through the
senses there is an innate knowledge, but how it works or to what
it owes its existence is not so clear. A man knows when a line is
‘straight and when it is crooked. ‘‘Of course with asses no one
permits oneself to argue, for they have no minds, so also with men
who have only minds in which they have no confidence.’ There
is no use of referring the uncertainty of knowledge to one who has
no organ of knowledge, he viciously says, or does not believe he has.

To tell the skeptic he is not sure he thinks because he has nothing
to think with may be witty enough, if one is in the mood for wit,
but it is a flippant way to discuss problems of serious philosophical
import. At best it is only one of the jokes of the ages revamped
in every generation. In Plato the wit in the discussion plays no
less around the subject, but it is less offensive and more subtile,
more suggestive and instructive. The doctrine of Protagoras that
man is the measure of all things is discussed more pleasantly, more
profoundly, and the argument, unflinchingly nevertheless, faces
the doctrine of eternal verities in the realm of ideas. Although
I have elsewhere dwelt in dissent on the inclination to place the
quality of Galen’s mind in the category of that of Hippocrates or
to rank it with that of Plato or of Aristotle, I allude to it again, for
in studying his cosmic philosophy it becomes apparent that his con-
tribution to it contains nothing original and his comments lack
originality not alone because he lived in an age long since degen-
erated from that of the giants of Greek thought, but the quality
of his mind was a handicap which even a favorable environment
could not overcome. In a way his own gibe could be turned against
himself. He did not have a suitable organ to do that kind of think-
ing with.

It would be an endless task to select from all his writings and
summarize the incidental references marking his thought as to the
nature and extent of the divisions of matter, but we have one
treatise? in the form of a commentary on the ideas of Hippocrates
as to its constitution which we can use as a guide to his cosmic
philosophy in the sense I have defined it. He there takes up the

2 Galeni de optima doctrina, Liber I, 40.
3 De elementis ex Hippocrate, Liber I, 413.

VOL. XV—10

146 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

cudgels in defence of the author of the ‘‘Nature of Man,’’ in the
Hippocratic Corpus. If we were to discuss here the philosophy
of Hippocrates instead of that of Galen we should have to con-
sider the question in some detail as to this book being the product
of the mind of the man who wrote the best of the books of that
collection. Galen from his own limitations saw no reason why it
can not be placed among them. But modern erities with Littré
at their head insist this can not be done even if we consider only
the tenor of thought of the writer. While some of the doctrine in
it seems evolved out of passages in the ‘‘ Ancient Medicine,’’ in the
latter the author advances no such vulnerable argumentation on
cosmic subjects as that Galen is at pains to defend. The manner
in which he does this, rather than his adoption of the opinions
there found, gives us an insight into his methods of thought. It
can not be said that he always defers to the opinion of Hippocrates,
perhaps, though I have never been reminded he was actually con-
tradicting him, but it is quite apparent that he does violence to the
text occasionally as well as to the meaning in reading some of his
own convictions or rather his own preferences into the criticisms
he reports Hippocrates makes of the opinions of others.

It is curious the disciple in his commentary should deduce from
the master the argument for a plurality of elements which he
stresses. Man would be devoid of feeling or sensibility, and his
five senses would not function, if one only element was the material
out of which man is compounded. They both fail to take into
account the forces working on matter, a contribution made by
Empedoeles, though Galen was aware of them as he mentions them
incidentally elsewhere, indeed makes much of innate dynamic in-
fluences in physiological action, drawn more or less directly from
that ancient philosopher. The diversity of these in their poten-
tiality for making contrasts, whereby things are perceived by the
apposition of their contraries, apparently does not occur to him.
It would seém that while the argument he emphasizes is prominent
in the medical treatise he ascribes to Hippocrates, ‘‘The Nature
of Man,’’ it might be allowed to pass as the superficial argument
of a writer who had specialized on medicine and was not concerned
with ultimate cosmic doctrine. Whether it is a genuine treatise
of the great Hippocrates or not, it is not one to which great weight
ean be attached. In the books now considered genuine, Hippocrates
so far as I know makes no use of this argument. It follows from
the terms of the doctrine of Democritus that his atoms, the ultimate
divisions of matter, are devoid of qualities in themselves but give
rise to the perception of sense only by means of the kind of impact
they make on the animal structure. By the way in which Plato
treats the doctrine of Protagoras, really based on some such view

CLAUDIUS GALEN 147

as this, we see this taking into account of the dynamies of matter
is fully exhibited, though presumably Plato is hostile to Democri-
tus, for he never mentions him. Galen and the author of ‘‘The Na-
ture of Man’’ take in this connection no account of it at all. We
get at least a hint of it in ‘‘ Ancient Medicine’’ which has more
claim to being genuine. Indeed if Galen had commented on the
elements of Hippocrates in this book he could not well have escaped
the consideration of that point.

Aristotle had declared that essentially the doctrine of Empe-
docles was one of duality—that for him in reality there were two
elements, force and matter. Galen does not pursue the discussion
thus far; he only says if there were but one element no sense per-
ception could arise. He thinks the impact of two atoms of the
same substance in space could give rise to no quality. Indeed he
seems to reject the whole atomic theory because of this apparent
inefficiency in originating objective phenomena, since in its terms
as familiar to him, ‘‘no atom is penetrable or capable of sensation.’”*
At any rate this difficulty in the atomic theory for him seems to
have been one of the things preventing him from accepting monism
in cosmogony. He does not develop here the ground on which his
objection to it rests, but the inference is plain we only recognize
the definition and limitation of matter, indeed the existence of
matter at all, by the existence of its attributes or qualities, and these
we apprehend through the existence of opposites. <A thing is bit-
ter because we know what is sweet, a thing is hot because we know
what is cold. This was commonplace among philosophers, and
Galen evidently did not consider it necessary to enlarge upon it.
Manifestly, if there was only one element, an indivisible portion
of matter, opposites could not exist in it and hence knowledge
through the senses of matter in general could not arise. We need
not stop to discuss this point of view. We can see by reference to
the gibe I have quoted he must have thought the contribution of
Protagoras to philosophy negligible. If the senses tell us nothing
as to realities, he may have thought, they are at least all we have
to rest on in cosmology. Most of the philosophers, Plato pre-
eminently, refused to accept this, and we have now long bid fare-
well to the senses, before Einstein, as the limit of ascertainable
knowledge. I cannot see that he reaches this level in philosophy
at all. He remains at that of Herbert Spencer, who declared we
must start with the knowable. This is all right for any one who
knows what the knowable is, but it does not form a very solid basis
for those, who, in Galen’s words, possess only minds in which they
have no confidence. Galen was a positivist, but I confess I am
often at a loss in some of the phrases he uses involving this point,

4 Ibid., p. 421.

148 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

though we get a hint as to the origin of some of the narrow bias
of his thought in this defence of the ‘‘Nature of Man.’’ His pursuit
of humoral doctrines in the practice of medicine led him astray.
Not only, he says, would man be devoid of sensibility if there were
only one element, but incapable of generation too, that being, we
may suppose, also an apposition of contraries. Then, if there were
only one element, there would be only one disease and one treat-
ment.° One may well doubt if the real Hippocrates or Plato or
Aristotle ever reasoned with such loose ends as these, but obviously
the turn of the argument is again a Spencerian one. In modern
phraseology we would say a monistic homogeneity, a real monism,
precludes the possibility that out of it heterogeneity can arise. I
am not capable of passing judgment on this. I am only trying to
trace out his thought in modern terms, and I am forced, in order
thus to follow it logically in a modern view, to make some infer-
ences which may be erroneous.

If he apparently falls short of the ancient viewpoint in this
respect, and his repetitions serve to remind us of his embarrass-
ment, in quoting them in their varying phraseology we get a sus-
picion he did not go the limits reached by Democritus and the
older philosophers as to the possibilities of the ultimate division
of matter. ‘‘If any one pricks the skin with the finest of needles,
the animal suffers; the point touches only one or two or perhaps
many atoms. First suppose only one is touched. No atom can be
pierced and it is not susceptible of sense,’’® ete. His mind almost
sticks at the conception of the size of the point of the smallest needle
and does not in any event arise to the contemplation of the minute-
ness of the division of matter nor of its energy demanded even by
the ancient theory. Yet so common at Athens, 500 years before,
was the conception of the vortex of atoms and their other mobilities
that Aristophanes made fun of it on the stage. He finds difficulty,
too, in imagining how out of senseless and impenetrable atoms senti-
ment and easily penetrable flesh can be formed at all. The vast-
ness of the world of being lying between the ultimate atom and the
proximate finger pulp his mind could not grasp, “‘for who will
not wonder that flesh when pricked suffers, when its finest particles
can not be pierced or made to suffer?’’’ I may be pardoned for
lingering thus over the difficulties of a mind in many directions
wonderfully acute though lacking that essential of all great minds,
imagination, as exhibited in an author so influential as Galen in
shaping the future thought of the world. It can not be denied
that his mentality was in type that which is often referred to in
modern parlance, perhaps not so much now as when positivism

5 Ibid., p. 436.

6 Ibid., p. 420.
7 Ibid., p. 423.

CLAUDIUS GALEN 149

was at flood tide, as the only one for a man of science. I imagine
we are to trace to an actual degeneration in the coordinating habit
of the human intellect the sinking beneath the horizon of a concep-
tion of the cosmos as structurally beyond that furnished by the
senses. It has had to be resurrected in our time before further
advance could be made in a real knowledge of the fundamental
facts of physical science. It was a conception familiar to Empe-
docles. I am not prepared to say if this submergence, after the
great Greeks, is an anatomical, a dynamic or a social phenomenon
of degeneration. It seems reasonable to think rather of the latter.

Monism, if not the whole atomic theory, being in Galen’s view
a doctrine incompatible with observed facts, he approaches a
plurality of the elements with more caution than we might expect:
‘‘How many there are altogether is as yet undetermined. There-
fore we will inquire into the matter.’’ He finds other theoretical
reasons, it is true, than the necessity for the supply of a sufficiently
large enough variety of combinations, but as is well known he not
only accepted the tetralogy of the elements, which Empedocles and
his predecessors had presumably derived from Africa* but he forced
a host of phenomena, by means of the humoral doctrine, into the
same narrow numerical confines. We will have to admit that in
the then state of knowledge, the aeceptation of earth, fire, water,
air as elements was the most useful formula possible, however er-
roneous, for attacking the huge problems of physical science lying
ahead of the human mind. Even from these some think ‘‘if they
are sufficiently multiplied, varied, altered, transmuted, something
may arise, which may be of another kind than that already exist-
ing.’’”® Aristotle, as has been noted, imputed the thought to Em-
pedocles and at least all the modern systematist needs is two, that
is, matter and energy, but it is obvious that the former without
the latter is unworkable, however successful the modern monist
may be in getting along only with the latter. Failing to take note
of the thought, evident at least in Aristotle, that energy may be
regarded as an element in apposition to matter, really amounting
to a dualism, we easily perceive Galen’s inability to accept a
monism. We have difficulties of our own. The modern human
mind falters also, though, astounding as it seems, there are indica-
tions of modern man’s belief in the possibility of breaking away
from the human mind in cosmic theories, and this possibility
Empedocles also seems to have played with, but such transcen-
dentalism was not for Galen. However, I am plumbing the shal-
lows of my own mind and ought not to speak for that of my con-
geners.

8 Tue Screntiric Montuty, April, 1921.
9 Galeni de Elementis ex Hippocrate, Liber I, p. 428.

150 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Galen reminds us of what seemed to him a quite obvious fact.
The monist, whether ancient or modern, is, by virtue of his belief
in a single element, a mutationist, a believer at least in the multi-
form aspects of a matter forced on our attention. That all the
most ancient philosophers must have been, not only Heraclitus,
who so strikingly phrased the idea, namely, that we never step
twice in the same river, but Thales and all the rest. Manifestly
earth, water, air and fire turning into one another has always been
the only way for the monists to keep their doctrine in court. It
is all one primordial substance, from which each is_ severally
evolved, and when the argument takes a mystic turn this pri-
mordial substance may be unknown to us by our senses, or, out
of one primordial element, water, for instance, the others are
being continually evolved. The idea of Melissus'® that the whole
universe is compounded of one immutable form of matter is too
ridiculous. Aristotle as well as Hippocrates rejects this. It is not
necessary to enter into the subtleties of the argument of Par-
menides, but it is well to remember that if Plato did not stand in
awe of him he respected him highly and portrays Socrates, despite
his moek humility and sardonic humor, treating him with more
real respect than he exhibits toward most antagonists. Parmenides
defended this thesis in the abstract, and doubtless this was one of
the reasons why by some historians he is said to have reduced the
Hleatie philosophy to absurdities. At any rate Galen is in good
company in refusing to accept the ideas of Melissus as worthy of
discussion, but when he attempts to give some explanation for the
origin of the qualities, he stumbles and falters even in his attack
on Athenzus Attalensis,!' who defended the idea that the qualities
were elements, an idea on all fours with the frequent lapse we
seem to note in ancient arguments when they treat abstract con-
ceptions as material realities. Moisture in the highest degree as
an attribute of matter is water; the hottest heat the ancient knew
was fire. In fact, the latter exists before fire, and from it fire is
generated when great heat is introduced into fuel.

Under the terms of the argument as they appear in the account
of Galen we might think it was a drawn battle, for when dryness
and moisture were harnessed up with the other two (earth and
air) elements, something else might be deduced. Dryness it would
be hard to make into earth, however complete, and coldness could
hardly have turned into air. There the facile illustration might
have been balked, it would seem to a modern, but that was not the
trend of Galen’s refutation. We can refuse to believe either was
right, but neither is that the point of interest for us. Under what

10 [bid., p. 447.
11 Ibid., p. 457.

CLAUDIUS GALEN 151

aspects could such doctrine be presented by either side to the con-
troversy with such force as to satisfy any ancient mind that it was
an explanation of cosmic philosophy? One of Galen’s home thrusts
is that cold disappears when heated and the dry when moistened.
To us this seems proof sufficient that there is no such thing as the
eold or the dry, just as Protagoras had pointed out by non-experi-
mental methods, but this was not for Galen. I doubt if any one
generation can ever throw light into all the blind alleys of the work-
ings of the human mind in a former age. In some long gone past,
when the doctrine of opposites was a fruitful theory we may con-
jecture some philosopher, seeking to extend its field of usefulness,
pressed the opposites of cold and dry into service and they re-
mained fixed in men’s minds for thousands of years. We see Galen
close to the path that the hot and the cold are but man’s evolved
reactions to degrees and kinds of molecular motion. It is true we
have no reason to marvel that he did not see it all, but that he
should not have stepped out of the path of error and into the path
of truth after the early Greeks had shown that man arbitrarily
makes himself the measure of the qualities of all things, creates
them indeed, is reason for refiection on the imbecility of the human
mind. That a part of the difficulty is the fault of the inadequacy
of language to express human thought, of which it is called the
vehicle, is quite probable. There are all sorts of nouns according
to the rules of grammar, some substantive, some abstract, some
generic, ete. Ancient thought tended to confuse not only the
quality, the adjective, with them, but as moisture was the watery,
so white tended to become whiteness and moisture at times became
as substantive as water. How much this was a confusion of thought
and how much it was a verbal confusion, it is not always easy to
discern. There is a book,'? evidently spurious, attributed to Galen
in which we come in full view of these difficulties where according
to the title the discourse is about what qualities are corporeal, but
we meet with the awkwardness which becomes an actual aberration
of thought even in this book on the elements of Hippocrates and
in the genuine treatise against Lycus."*

For the most part, however, Galen was aware and critical of
this pitfall of ancient thought, though he seems occasionally to
fall into it himself, for Galen’s idea at times seems to be that heat
and humidity can differ just as color or pleasure do. The fire
may be made from wood or from straw and thus it differs. This
throws the modern mind into panic and confusion, and we ean not
forbear seeing a source of error in such divagations. In his strug-

12 Galeno adscriptus liber quod qualitates incorporeal sint, Liber XIX,

p. 463.
13 Galeni adversus Lycum libellus, Liber XVIII A, p. 196.

152 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

gle with Athenzus we see the hot becoming pure heat, which is
fire, and we then wonder ourselves a little whether qualities are
corporeal or not, so bewildered do we become with the phraseology.
Is there, then, such a thing as hot heat? That is what Galen seems,
when we have become quite helpless, to be driving at in his dis-
course with Lycus. By means of our appreciation of a hot fire
we conjecture he is speaking really of the degrees of heat (the
strength of its own activity, Galen puts it), and again we find his
feet unawares in the right path. Then a thing is whiter, he says,
because it has in it more of whiteness. Thus he hands on to the
puerility of the Middle Ages the sophisms of antiquity. Thus he
drifts into the common error in primitive thought, much heightened
doubtless by the contention of Plato that after all ideas are the
only realities; but back of it all we see the mind of primitive man
utterly unable to differentiate the material from the spiritual.
That was the heritage Plato had from an intellectual heredity al-
ready remote in his time. We see the trace of it with especial dis-
tinctness in this spurious book on the corporeality of the qualities,
deeply tinged with theological infusions.

In résumé we may say, then, that Galen, with the good backing
of Hippocrates and Aristotle, denied monistic doctrines and their
corollary of mutability. This in reality was probably necessary
for the advance of knowledge since the complexity of the problem,
as we now know it, was simplified by the false stand taken, but
his great predecessors did not anywhere in their genuine works
state it as uncompromisingly as did Galen. ‘‘It may be boldly
asserted earth, fire, air and water are the primary and common
elements of all things, since these constitute those bodies which are
included in the totality of things first of all and the most elemen-
tary to that degree that all other things, vegetable, I insist, as well
as animal, are made from these.’”* Whether sensation is present
in some one or other of them or results from a combination of them
he is not so sure. The perception of the qualities depends on this,
he seems to think, and though there are numerous others, those
of the hot and cold and moist and dry are the fundamental quali-
ties from which the others arise. All this Galen must have absorbed
from his environment and from his great predecessors among the
ancient Greeks. He scarcely made a single addition to their phil-
osophy or contributed an argument that had not been used before.
Yet his dogmatism, for good or for evil, crystallized the hitherto
fluid thought of the older nature philosophers, so that it stood the
neglect of a thousand years, and thereafter the assault of new
ideas for almost half as long.

14 Galeni de elementis ex Hippocrate, Liber I, p. 456.

READING OF CHARACTER 153

THE READING OF CHARACTER FROM
EXTERNAL SIGNS

By Professor KNIGHT DUNLAP
THE JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY

HE relations between general psychology and individual psy-
chology are important and not hard to grasp. Neither ean

be separated from the other in practice, but each has its set of
problems and its complement of special methods. The problems
of general psychology concern the determination of laws and
principles applying to the human animal generally, which are
either independent of individual peculiarities or inclusive of these
idiosynerasies as definite combinations of general factors, not as
exceptions. The problems of individual psychology, on the other
hand, eonecern the discovery of those factors of difference between
individuals; thus, ultimately, the description of the important re-
spects in which each individual varies from other individuals,
and in as far as classification is useful, the assigning of each in-
dividual to the class or classes in which he belongs. The specifie
methods of general psychology are included under the general term
experrment ; the methods of individual psychology under the term
mental measurement. The most obvious relation between the two
branches is through the fact that reliable mental measures (com-
monly called mental tests) can be developed only through experi-
mentation of the most rigorous kind, and the fact that general
principles can be obtained only by taking into account the indi-
vidual differences of the various reactors on whom experimental
work is done. One of the most unfortunate and harmful details
of the present enthusiastic movement in the individual psychology,
in edueation, in industry, and in medicine, is the naive assumption
that persons ignorant of general psychology and untrained in ex-
perimental psychology can develop and apply mental tests in a
useful way without the careful supervision of competent psycholo-
vists. The deleterious results of such bungling work on children,
for example, are apparent not only in the harm to the children
and needless trouble and expense to which parents are put, but
also .in the prejudices aroused in the public mind against mental
measurements as a result of the mistakes of amateurs. Equally
unfortunate results are frequent in the legal, medical and indus-

154 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

trial applications of amateur psychology. The general recognition
of the need of individual psychology in commerce and industry
in particular has led to the existence of a class of mere exploiters,
many of whom reap large financial rewards from their practices,
and whose eventual effect on the manufacturers and business men
they victimize is to turn them against the application of real psy-
chology.

Mental measurements have so far been developed to the point
where effective determinations of general intelligence are made—
determinations which are of value not only for schools and colleges,
but also for commerce and industry. No psychologist claims that
these measurements are completely satisfactory, and we all know
that they are being constantly improved, and will be enormously
improved in the future. On the other hand, no one but the psy-
chologist knows the amount of time, labor and personal training
required for the development and standardization of even the
simplest test. The public, impressed by the apparent simplicity
of the materials, assumes that any one can make up a test, and the
public is right so far: any one can make up a test, and almost
every one does, but the tests are not worth anything. The public
either does not see this, or, if it does see it, assumes that the tests
made up by the expert are also worthless. For some of the con-
fusion the psychologists themselves are partly responsible. For
example, the nomenclature of ‘‘mental ages’’ as established by in-
telligence tests, which should never have been allowed to escape
from the laboratories, has very much confused and prejudiced
the public.

In addition to tests of ‘‘general intelligence’’ (which may most
safely be defined as that which standard intelligence tests meas-
ure), tests for special intellectual capacities have been developed.
We can now measure ability to sustain and to distribute the atten-
tion, ability to perceive accurately details of various kinds, ability
to learn, ability to avoid learning, and many other special abilities
of this class. The field of such measurements is rapidly being
extended, and it now requires merely the application of the labor
of the trained psychologist to develop systematic tests for the
special combinations of intellectual abilities required in any
branch of any trade or profession.

But this is the limit to which mental measurements so far have
extended. Emotional and moral characteristics are not as yet
measurable. Yet we know that these characteristics are of im-
mense importance in all the divisions of life in which we are
measuring intellectual capacity. Even as concerns the candidate
for admission to college, while it is important to determine his

READING OF CHARACTER 155

intellectual capacity, emotional and moral factors ought to be
known. There is many a man who goes down or barely survives
in college, whose intellectual ability is sufficiently good, but who
will not work, or who will get into trouble because of moral delin-
queney, or whose seale of values is inadequate.

I do not say that we shall never be able to measure these char-
acteristics by the methods of individual psychology; in fact, I
think that ultimately we shall compass such measurement. A num-
ber of us are now at work on the problem of moral measurements,
and I think the prospects for development along this line are
favorable. But at present we do not pretend to make standardized
measurements of emotional and moral capacity.

Wherever there is a great need, attempts to fill it will be made;
these attempts will not all be scientific, and not all made in good
faith, especially if there is a prospect of fat remuneration. The
historical development of medicine is an illustration of this fact.
Medieal practice developed long before there was any known basis
for it, and the bane of the medical profession to-day is the tendency
to apply something in cases where there is really nothing to apply
—a tendency against which Osler and other medical leaders have
protested emphatically, and with some success.

The past lack of scientific means of measuring intelligence, and
the lack of scientific means of measuring moral and emotional
characteristics, together with the real need for such measures, has
led to the development of unscientific methods of mental diagnosis
whieh are popularly designated as character analysis. These
methods are based on the assumption that there is a close relation
between the anatomy of the individual and his mental character-
isties, and that the details of this relationship may be discovered
by casual examination, without the aid of statistical methods or
experimental procedure, by persons ignorant not only of psy-
chology but even of the rudiments of physiology.

The first systematic attempt at the development of character
analysis was made by the phrenologists. The physiologist Gall
early in the nineteenth century began to teach that the mental life
is largely dependent upon the brain, especially upon the cerebral
hemispheres. This fact was not widely recognized before the time
of Gall, although it has become a commonplace since then, and
Gall’s work had a large influence in bringing this recognition about.
But Gall and his disciples are also responsible for the introduction
into psychology of several misleading conceptions concerning the
relation of the brain to consciousness—coneceptions which have re-

156 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tarded the development of psychology and which are being elimi-
nated but slowly. Gall and his pupil Spurzheim developed a
theory of the relation of the brain to mind which they ealled
phrenology, which means literally the study of the intellect. These
phrenologists believed that the different faculties or capacities of
the mind were localized, each in specific portions of the cortex or
outer surface of the cerebral hemispheres. They further believed
that the relative development of each of these faculties depended
upon the relative size of the portions of the brain in which the
respective faculties were supposed to reside. Highly developed
philoprogenitiveness, or love of children, for example, was sup-
posed to depend upon a cortex relatively thicker in the philopro-
genitive area than is the cortex in the same area of a person less
strongly philoprogenitive. Finally, since they supposed the con-
formation of the skull to agree with the relative thickness of the
cortex it encloses, they assumed the possibility of diagnosing the
development of various cortical areas by examination of the outer
surface of the cranium. The surface of the head was accordingly
mapped off into a number of small areas, each associated with one
of the faculties in the phrenological list; and from the relative
depression or elevation of these areas the phrenologist attempted
to read the ‘‘character’’ of the subject.

We need not dwell upon the series of bold assumptions involved
in this system, since, from the scientific point of view, the system
is of historical interest only. Quite aside from the further de-
velopment of phrenology as a technique, it had a profound and
on the whole unfortunate influence upon the course of psycho-
biology for many years. Physiologists and psychologists fell into
the habit of assuming that consciousness is dependent upon brain
activity in a remarkably simple way, ignoring the complicated
interrelations of the various parts of the nervous system, and ig-
noring the fundamental function of the total nervous system in the
control of movements through sensory stimulation. Moreover, both
the psychologists and the physiologists accepted even the phreno-
logical doctrine of the localization of conscious functions in specifie
parts of the cortex, although the functions as thus localized by
the physiologists were not the ‘‘faculties’’ of the phrenologists,
but a more generalized group, including the senses. It is only
within the last fifteen years that psychologists have begun to reject
the phrenological theory, and many physiologists still cling to it.

As an art, phrenology had a wide popular vogue and is still
practiced lucratively in the United States, there being at least
one school in which the system is taught. It has, however, sunk
to a position of relatively minor importance, and has been largely

READING OF CHARACTER 157

supplanted by newer systems, in part derived from it, and in part
derived from still older anatomical beliefs. In these newer systems
little emphasis is placed upon the surface of the skull, the major
stress being laid upon the contours of the face, upon the size and
form of the nose, mouth, ears, brows and eyes, upon the color and
texture of the hair, and upon similar anatomical traits.

In one of the most widely known systems, from which many
other systems have been drawn, ‘‘conscientiousness’’ is indicated
by a broad, bony chin; ‘‘benevolence’’ by a full, rolling, moist
under lip; ‘‘love of home”’ by fullness of the soft part of chin just
below the lip; ‘‘amativeness’’ by the thickness, moisture and redness
of the central part of the upper lip; ‘‘cautiousness’’ by an extreme-
ly long nose; ‘‘judgment’’ by a broad, large nose; ‘‘cbservation’”’
by a lowering of the brows at their inner ends and projection of
the frontal bone at that point. Musical talent is indicated in this
system by an ear of rounding form and fine quality, with a deep
bell and perfectly formed rim. Mathematical ability is shown by
squareness of the face bones, width between the eyes, and especially
by the upward curve of the outer part of the eyebrow. The signs
of acquisitiveness are a thick, heavy upper eyelid, with fullness
and breadth of the nose just above the nostril. Sometimes an
arched, curved or hooked nose indicates the same thing. But in
this system the significance of many signs is modified by others;
hence, the degree of development of a given characteristic is read,
not from a single anatomical sign but from a group of anatomical
details, to which I will apply the term physiognomic pattern.
Thus, a certain relative form or size of one feature might indicate
a certain mental trait, provided it is accompanied by certain other
details of form, position and size of other features. Linguistic
ability, for example, is shown by large bright convex eyes, fullness
under the eyes, the rounding out of head above temples, full lips,
full cheeks, full throat, wide mouth and chest, large nostrils, length
from point of nose to tip of chin, with vertical, lateral and per-
pendicular width of concha of ear. The physiognomic pattern in-
dieative of well-developed color sense is decided color of the com-
plexion, eyes, eyebrows and hair, clearness of skin, and veins show-
ing through.

By the use of patterns instead of single signs there is secured
an elasticity of application of the system, which is of great im-
portance, and to which I shall later refer.

The foregoing samples are drawn from a single system; but
this system is one from which a number of variant systems have
apparently been derived. There are many systems in use, all
equally definite, all equally ‘‘successful.’’ Some systems stick

158 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

pretty closely to physiognomy; some add signs from the voice,
posture, and the anatomical details of arms, leg and trunk. But
all these systems agree in two points: They are in the main ana-—
tomical, and they are lucrative to their promoters.

The attempts to read character from anatomical signs have not,
however, originated in modern times, nor have they been confined
to professional character analysts. Evidences of popular associa-
tions between anatomical details and especially between facial and
mental and moral traits are to be found in the literature of alt
peoples. ‘‘Let me have men about me that are fat,’’ Shakespeare
makes Cesar say. Confluent eyebrows have long been supposed to
be evidence of a lecherous disposition; a long nose of meddlesome-
ness; red hair of passion; and so on ad infinitum. As an attempt
made in all seriousness to evolve a scientific system of mento-
anatomy, I may point to Lombroso’s description of the criminal
type. It is evident that we have here to deal with tendencies which
are widespread, and which are by no means always operating in
the interests of private profit. Yet it is the professional character
analyst who forms the main problem, since it is his work which
furnishes the most pernicious results.

It requires little investigation to convince us that the systems
of character analysis now in use have no scientific foundation, and
that if any one of them were in part valid, it would be a most
marvelous coincidence. None of the authors of the various modern
systems shows any evidence of knowledge of physiology or psy-
chology, to say nothing of genetics; nor do they attempt to apply
even the simplest principles of statistics or experimental procedure
in arriving at their conclusions. Naive conclusions from selected
cases at the best, mere guesses at the worst, are the sole means em-
ployed. A study of works on physiognomy strongly reminds the
reader of the interpretations of the psychical researchers and the
Freudians. Aside from this, the contradiction of system by system
would give even the layman cause to doubt. If we consider the
signs of the same character trait, such as ‘‘honesty,’’ we find it
indicated in different systems by quite different signs. If we con-
sider the same sign, such as the shape of the nose, we find it indi-
eating quite different traits in different systems. And yet the
claims of any one system to practical success are as well substan-
tiated as are those of any other system.

Nevertheless, the incompetence of the existing systems does not
dispose of the question whether there might not be a valid system
evolved. In spite of the futile efforts of various would-be flyers,
the airplane was invented. We must inquire therefore what pos-
sible basis there is for a system of character analysis based on ana-

READING OF CHARACTER 159

tomical signs. And we find the answer that there is no known
basis on which such a system might be constructed.

We know that the exercise of mental and moral capacities does
not change the gross anatomical details of the human being. (Some
of the systems of character analysis assume the contrary.) That a
man can not, by taking thought, add to his height is true, and is an
illustration of a more general law. No exercise of generosity, judg-
ment, musical talent, malice or amativeness can change the form
of the nose, or of the ear, or the setting of the eyes, or the form
of the brows. If training can not develop anatomical signs, then
the putative signs of character must be signs of inherited capacity
only, showing the endowment of the individual in respect to ¢a-
pacities which he may or may not have cultivated and developed.

But the results of genetics to date give us no basis for assuming
anatomical signs of inherited capacity, except in pure races or
relatively homogeneous races. It is true that we may conelude
from such signs as the shape of the eyes and the color and texture
of the hair that a certain individual belongs to the Chinese race,
and hence that he has traits of character common to the Chinese.
But the Chinese race, although not an absolutely pure race, is one
which is sharply distinct from the white races, and we may expect
to find different racial characteristics, although as a matter of
fact the characteristics usually imputed to the Chinese are prob-
ably due more to training than to heredity. A Chinese boy, brought
up under white conditions, is surprisingly like a white boy men-
tally, although he retains his anatomical race characteristics. In
the case of the negro and of other markedly inferior races definite
racial mental differences may be admitted. But we must remem-
ber that these differences are racial, not individual.

The European races, however, are exceedingly mixed, being the
products of the blendings of many stocks, and although it is pos-
sible that the original pure stocks may have had specific anatomical
characteristics and also specific mental characteristics, we find no
linkage of these characteristics in their hereditary transmission
after mixture. A remote ancestor of a certain man may have be-
longed to a stock which had long noses and also had violent dispo-
sitions; another remote ancestor may have belonged to another
stock, having snub noses and great amiability. The man under
consideration may, however, have inherited the long nose from the
one stock and the amiable disposition from the other. This fact
comes out most clearly in the blendings of the white and negro
races. The features of the mulatto or the octoroon give no indiea-
tion of the relative mental inheritance of the individual from his
white and colored progenitors, although statistically the greater

160 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the proportion of white ancestry, the greater may be the prob-
ability of white intelligence.

It is possible, although not probable, that our feeble-minded
whites inherit their mental defect from certain original pure stocks
of low mentality which unfortunately became mixed with the other
European stocks, but there are no anatomical signs by which the
feeble-minded may be identified. Nor are there any anatomical
signs of the criminal, Lombroso to the contrary notwithstanding.

It is true that there are certain exceptions to the generalizations
I have made. Cretins, microcephalic and macrocephalic individ-
uals and other distinctly pathological cases show anatomical signs
of their mental deficiencies. So does a blind man show that he is
deficient in the visual faculty and the legless man show his defi-
ciency in the faculty of locomotion. But these cases are due to
specific defects, and have no bearing on the attempts to analyze
and elassify the common run of humanity. These pathological
cases may be easily segregated, and character analysis contributes
nothing to our identification of them. In the remaining bulk of
the population there is no discernible principle of linkage of the
mental and the anatomical.

Finding no scientific basis for the anatomical character analy-
sis, we are now thrown back upon the pragmatic problem. How
is it that these systems apparently succeed? And we must admit
that they do have at least financial suecess, for many of the char-
acter analysts are making money from their practice on commercial
and industrial concerns.

For this success there are two outstanding reasons: first, the
actual value of character readings is rarely checked up; second,
a few, not many, of the professional analysts, when subjected to
actual tests, can make surprisingly good guesses,

As an illustration of the way in which character reading may
obtain the prestige of success without being checked up in regard
to its accuracy, I may cite the case of a large industrial plant, in
which several thousand employees were ‘‘analyzed’’ by a reputed
‘axpert’’ at a good round price. This expert had a system devised
by himself after the usual type, and apparently drawn either di-
rectly or indirectly from the older system from which my illus-
trations were taken and from which many other popular systems
are drawn. This self-styled expert told me that in his opinion the
systems of several other and better known fakers, whom he named,
were defective because they were too rigid. ‘‘Now I,’’ he went on
to say, ‘‘have used in my system all that is worth while in psy-
ehology, phrenology and physiology ; but I am not hide-bound lke
the others. When I find a case to which the system doesn’t apply,

READING OF CHARACTER 161

I discard the system and use common sense.’’ This expert spent
several minutes in interviewing each employee, marking on a
form card the characteristics of eyes, mouth, ears, hair, head form,
etc. Then, combining these records, he decided upon the general
mental and moral characteristies of the individual, and upon the
particular line of work, if any, in the plant at which he should
be put.

The ‘‘experting’’ of these employees was done at the instance
of one of the directors of the corporation who had become inter-
ested in this sort of ‘‘efficiency’’ through the ‘‘suecess’’ obtained
by it in certain other corporations. By the time the analyses were
completed, this director had lost interest in this particular fad,
and had become interested in another kind of ‘‘efficiency.’’ The
results were, of course, pigeonholed; the managers and foremen
who were actually working with the employees knew too much to
use the readings. But the ‘‘expert’’ went on to the next job with
thousands of dollars in his pocket, and with the reputation of
having successfully ‘‘experted’’ this corporation, whose directors,
being cold, hard business men, obviously would not have put money
in the scheme unless it were financially profitable. This corpora-
tion, of course, had been influenced by similar considerations.
Other concerns had their employees ‘‘experted’’ ‘‘successfully,’’
the success having been cf the same imaginary sort.

‘“Success’’ under the conditions of an actual check up is an-
other matter, and it is said that certain ‘‘experts’’ have, under test
conditions, achieved a surprising measure of success. Such tests
are made by submitting to the inspection of the ‘‘expert’’ a num-
ber of individuals of known and proven capacity in various lines,
but who are unknown to the ‘‘expert.’’ The ‘‘expert’’ is then
required to make a written statement as to the mental character-
istics of each person, and these statements are compared with pre-
viously prepared statements based on the established character-
isties of the test-persons.

Now I can not guarantee that any such tests have actually been
successful. I have to restrict my statement to the form ‘‘it is
said.’’ There are, of course, many chances of erroneous conelu-
sions when the tests are not made under the rigid supervision of
psychologists. We know from the alleged proofs of telepathy and
of various forms of spirit manifestations that unskilled investiga-
tors commonly overlook the most vital points in the test condi-
tions, because they do not know their importance. The records on
most tests of this sort have a value of approximately zero, because
they contain no reliable evidence on the vital points, however much
detailed information is given on other points.

VOL, XV—1il

162 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

But suppose we assume (although we may have as yet no good
grounds for the assumption) that tests of certain character-
analysts have given positive results. This would not be surpri-
sing. In fact, I should expect to find that some ‘‘experts’’ could
produce positive results. Few ‘‘experts’’ are willing to submit to
real tests, but those few who are willing must be so because they
are confident that they could sueceed to some extent, even in a
carefully checked test.

We may freely admit that certain persons, working in entire
independence of any system, may be able to make some good
guesses. Many of us think that we can make good guesses. Our
guesses are probably very much less accurate than we suppose, yet
they may have some validity. In many eases we have to entrust
important matters to individuals as to whose honesty or intelli-
gence we have no evidence except from our guesses based on brief
observation of the visible appearance of the individual. There
is no reason to suppose that professional character analysts should
not be able to make as good guesses as any one else, provided these
experts have the requisite native capacity, and provided that, like
the one I quoted, they ignore their systems and use common sense.

It is actually a fact that we do make correct judgments about
the transient mental processes of other persons without being able
to identify the facts on which these judgments are based. If you
are talking to some one, and you say something which offends or
erieves or pleases him, you may recognize that fact at once, al-
though it may be impossible for you to designate the exact change
in his face or voice or posture which is the basis of your idea. You
may even make similar judgments when carrying on a conversation
over the telephone, in which case changes in the timbre and in-
flections of the voice alone could give you the clue. You know
from the other person’s voice that he is offended or pleased, al-
though you may not be able to identify the exact change in his
voice which is the important factor. When you have the visual
elues from the other person’s face, as well as the clues from his
voice, your judgments are more definite and more secure.

This whole matter is but a special case of the more general
phenomenon of perception and judgment by sign. It is a fact that
in much of our perception we perceive meanings without perceiv-
ing the signs on which the perception is based. In some eases, the
signs could be perceived, if attention were drawn to them; in other
cases, the signs can not be discriminated even under the best con-
ditions. I shall not go into this topic in an extended way, both
because it is familiar to psychologists, and because it can not be
briefly expounded to those without psychological training. I men-

READING OF CHARACTER 163

tion it only to show that on this point of character readings we are
not dealing with a unique phenomenon, but with a particular mani-
festation of a general principle which runs broadly through our
mental life.

As another illustration of the general principle, I may refer to
certain cases of supposed ‘‘thought-reading’’ which are really cases
of sign-reading. Many amateurs succeed in catehing ideas from
other persons, where there is physical relation of such sort that
movements of the second person may actually stimulate receptors
of the first person, either tactually, visually or acoustically. But
these amateurs never sueceed if they watch for the signs. They
sueceed only when they ignore the signs and attend to the mean-
ings. In fact, if amateurs who succeed brilliantly in muscle read-
ing tests become convinced that their performance really is muscle
reading and nothing more occult, they can usually do the trick
no longer, and this is precisely what we might expect. Similarly,
if, instead of watching to see whether the person you are talking to
is pleased or not, you watch for the facial changes which indicate
pleasure, you will not catch his emotional changes unless the symp-
toms are extremely gross. The conditions here are not greatly
different from those obtaining in the visual perception of depth,
where, if you attend to the signs, convergence, accommodation,
binocular disparity, and so on, you will lose the depth-effect which
those signs would give if they were not attended to.

The important question, therefore, is: What are the signs
which tell us something about the mental characteristics of other
persons? In the ease of fleeting, ideational and emotional changes,
these signs are obviously not anatomical; and in the case of funda-
mental tendencies of mental and moral sorts, we have already shown
that there are no known anatomical signs. We are, therefore,
forced to the conclusion that in the one ease as in the other, the
signs are physiological. Changes in the complicated muscular sys-
tem of the face do oceur along with ideas, especially if these ideas
are emotionally toned. Changes in the complex musculature of
the voeal organs and changes in the arm, leg and trunk muscles
also occur. There are, in other words, changes in voice, in fea-
tures, in posture and in other bodily postures and movements which
are perfectly competent to serve as indexes of ideational and emo-
tional changes. Unfortunately, we have not yet succeeded in
analyzing more than the most gross of these signs.

Fundamental tendencies in ideational and emotional reaction
give rise to habitual modes of expression of the various sorts.
Habitual modes of expression, moreover, leave their traces, espe-
cially in the face, even when the actual expression is not occurring.

164 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

There would seem to be, therefore, a complex system of signs, not
only of fleeting mental changes, but signs also of character traits,
provided we can make use of them.

Signs of this sort are effective, prior to analysis. Habits of
perception and of judgment are built up on signs, without neces-
sitating any analysis or identification of such signs. Moreover, the
development of the capacity to catch meanings in this way, if it
be possible, depends upon native capacity as well as upon practice.
We should, therefore, expect to find exactly what we do find, name-
ly, that there is great individual variation in this apparent skill,
and that in the absence of a really comprehensive and accurate
analysis of signs, the attempt to attend to signs is a disturbing
factor.

Character analysts, if successful under real test conditions, ob-
viously make their guesses just as you or I do. ‘‘The systems’’
ean be nothing but obstacles, since they have no real bearing on
the problem. But, after having made a guess, the analyst can read-
ily find in his system details which back up his guess, provided
the system is elastic, depending upon sign patterns rather than
upon hard and fast single signs. We need not assume that suc-
cessful character analysts, if there are such, go through this
sophistical process deliberately. The tendency to construe evidence
to suit one’s theory, and to recognize the data which may thus
be construed, overlooking conflicting data, is too well known and
too widespread to need demonstration. One of the important rea-
sons why scientific procedure and scientific methods are necessary
is that such procedure and methods are indispensable helps to the
avoidance of arbitrary inferences, and even with the best of scien-
tifie aids the tendency will sometimes operate.

As a matter of fact, there is no reason to believe that the ac-
curacy and reliability of such guesses as you and I and the char-
acter analyst make are very high. But there is reason to believe
that if any character analyst does obtain even ten per cent. of
accuracy in certain special test cases, he very likely may not know
how he gets his results, and may believe that he is getting them
through his system, although he really is not.

I have no doubt that those mind-readers, such as Bishop and
Melvor-Tyndall, who apparently attained striking results under
test conditions, sincerely believed that they were reading minds
directly, and not through physical signs. Certainly, they could
obtain those results only by ignoring the signs, and it may well be
that they would not have been successful if they had known the
actual nature of the process. I may mention here the observation
I have made that the most successful hypnotists are those who have

READING OF CHARACTER 165

no scientific comprehension of the hypnotic process, but who
really believe that they are exercising an occult power, or that some
‘‘magnetie fluid’’ flows from their hands to the patient.

On the other hand, it is true that we do, in much of our per-
ception and thought, make use of signs effectively, although we are
fully aware of the nature of those signs. In visual depth percep-
tion, to which I have already referred, we lose nothing in the per-
eeption of depth in pictures and landscapes through an exact
knowledge of the signs, provided we do not attempt to attend to
those signs in the moment of perception. As another pertinent
illustration I may point out that the knowledge that the thinking-
process proceeds through muscular signs does not interfere with
the vividness and the efficiency of thinking, provided we do not
attempt to attend to those signs while thinking.

It is therefore entirely possible that a scientific system of char-
acter measurement may some day be developed. Such a system
would be based on physiological, not on anatomical signs, and
would necessarily be the result of extensive and prolonged experi-
mental work. Even the development of such a system to the point
of such relative efficiency as has been reached in mental measure-
ments would require years of work by many and highly trained
investigators, just as the development of mental measurements has
required.

Although we do not know that it is possible to develop a science
of character estimation, serious work in the attempt to find out
is highly desirable. Even a definite negative result would be most
valuable. In the meantime, a respectable name by which this field
of investigation might be known would be practically useful. The
term ‘‘analysis’’ and its derivatives can no longer be used in psy-
chology, because, thanks to the efforts of the ‘‘psycho-analysts”’
and the ‘‘character-analysts,’’ the terms ‘‘analysis’’ and ‘‘an-
alyst’’? have come to connote superstition and quackery. In the
meantime, in the interests of the gullible public as well as the
interests of psychology, both pure and applied, we must carry on
an educational campaign against ‘‘character analvsis.’’

166 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

MAROONED IN A POTATO FIELD

By Professor EDITH M. PATCH

MAINE AGRICULTURAL EXPERIMENT STATION

HE circumstance of my exile was in accordance with the rule

of contrasts, by which life whets her sense of humor. For

it is given even to those who, following the traditions of eight

generations, were born within forty miles of Boston to will to go the

way of the winds when spring beckons their gypsy instinets; and

I confess to taunting visions of elephants dancing in the jungles of

one continent and tadpoles named Guinevere disporting in the

southern pools of another—glimpses of desire that blurred my eyes

a bit as I reached the end of my own so different journey and
found myself marooned in a potato field.

An amazing number of the helpless little solanwm inhabitants
of the field were being drawn and quartered and buried at the
time. Their graves stretched out in interminable rows, vast ceme-
teries of tediously straight ridges, alternating with shallow-fur-
rowed barren valleys.

The cemeteries being filled, the surplus solanwms were being
taken to the crematories, called, in the language of the Aroostook,
‘‘starch factories.’’ The hearses—long, low-bodies, high-wheeled
vehicles locally known as ‘‘jiggers’’—were laden with staved and
hooped coffins, known in the vernacular as ‘‘bawr’ls,’’ twenty or
so to a jigger; and the procession of these hearses drawn up before
each crematory was seldom less than thirty long.

The whole affair that first day impressed me with funereal
gloom; a sentiment shared, no doubt, by many an Aroostookian
except, of course, the proprietors of the crematories, who were
buying for thirty-five cents a barrel the same grade of tubers that,
the previous year, had found their way to a different type of mar-
ket at ten dollars a barrel.

As if to ease my mood with the consolation of sweet companion-
ship, a voice reminded me of a near presence in the familiar words,
‘“Yes, dear, I’m here. Yip, yip, yip, yip!’’ I laughed—not at
the owner of the voice, but at the absurdly huge joy that surged
up to welcome him, for it was the first time I had ever noticed that
the song of a vesper sparrow is magically sweet. Previously I had
always considered the performance a miserably minor affair, but

MAROONED IN A POTATO FIELD 167

now even the yips with which he superfluously punctuated the
assurance of his proximity borrowed a musical glamor from my
pleasure at being greeted—not, mind you, by an elephant dancing
in a Kipling jungle nor yet by Guinevere mysteriously frolicking
in a Beebe pool, but by the most commonplace sparrow of my ac-
quaintance.

His music was symbolically prophetic, for ’twas to be the
natives who were to keep my heart warmed through the dreary
initial month of my rustication. Deserving of mention in this
connection was little Billy Woodchuck, with whom I was soon on
calling terms (though truth compels me to admit that this social
function was from first to last strictly one-sided), a frequenter of
Stoneheap near Hill-Lane, and ’twas there I met him first.

To say that the pleasure of this meeting was mutual would be
to exaggerate, for at sight of me Billy froze into brown and gray
shadows among the stones. So I nestled into a fence corner to
meditate upon these cool camouflages of wild beasties turned, like
a cold shoulder, against all humans, both the just and the unjust.
Presently, however, the shadows again resumed the semblance of
Billy and crept out on a rock and faced me and whistled. I lked
his tune, the better, perhaps, because I could not interpret it.

As I rose to go at the conclusion of my eall, Billy slipped to
the ground and stood up on his feet like any parlor gentleman.
He dropped his hands with Delsartean grace and stood erect and
quiet as I departed. When I had gone on a bit along Hill-Lane,
I glaneed back at a picture that will cheer my memories of wood-
chucks—great Stoneheap in the near background and in the front
little Billy standing between two big rocks with his left hand rest-
ing lightly against one of them and his right hand drooping
languidly.

When next I saw him he was down in the field, creeping on all
fours, with wisps of dried grass sticking out from the sides of his
mouth like a fierce bristling mustache. Just why this strange be-
havior, only Billy, and perhaps one other, more in his confidence
than I, ean explain. At any rate it intrigued my interest, and
when later on the superintendent remarked at Sunday supper that
one of the farm hands had taken the gun and had gone out to shoot
a woodehuck, my appetite suddenly weakened. The _ superin-
tendent’s interpretation of this murderous errand was that a
ehuckhole is dangerous in the mowing—a horse might step in and
break his leg. But I was skeptical. Haying time was weeks away,
and it was not the future and uncertain fate of horse-legs that
stimulated this bit of Seventh Day sport on the part of the farm

hand. Nothing so altruistic as that. He had suffered, doubtless,

168 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

an inevitable reaction from his day of rest and, not being addicted
to the type of diversion that some of his associates have been al-
leged to smuggle across the near Canadian border, he had sought
the solace of a gun. Thus, for Billy’s sake, I reasoned bitterly to
myself, even as that supper tasted bitter to my palate. And I was
right, it seemed; for by and by the brave hunter returned with
his borrowed gun and the complacent report that he had missed the
woodchuek and killed a skunk. Not with the same aim, I took it,
though I did not inquire for particulars. What I noted was that he
was quite content. His own personal Sabbatical craving for excite-
ment had been satisfied, and charitable interest in the problematie
question of broken horse-legs was forgotten. The festive holy-day
murder of any one fellow creature had served his purpose as well
as that of any other.

Well, Billy was safe for the present. I had that to be thankful
for; though I did regret the untimely loss of Mephitis, a large and
handsome fellow I had taken considerable pleasure in watching
as he seurried with rustling haste about the woodlot from one old
stump to another, in frantic quest of buried treasure he seemed
never to find. Yes, I mourned the loss of Mephitis, even though
for certain inherent reasons I had not hoped to form so close an
acquaintance with that black and white denizen of the woodlot as
I had with furtive Billy Woodchuck. For I had found that this
little chap, who was so delightfully surreptitious about bringing
stones and earth out of his dugout and carrying hay in, would
venture forth and gaze at me even when I came so near his door-
way as six feet. That is, he would if I sat there long enough and
quietly enough and if that black raseal of a gossiping Corbie didn’t
happen to be about and caw down a warning appropriated by
Billy. It was remarkable how well Billy understood Corbie’s
signals. I saw him time and again stand up suddenly, when that
busybody sounded an alarm for all the countryside to take notice
that an interloper was at hand, and gaze and sniff first this way
and then that, quite certain that something had gone wrong. And
when he saw the intruder he would sink by imperceptible degrees
into his hole, so slowly that even while I watched I could hardly
see a motion; only where there had been a woodchuck, erect with
drooping paws, there would be at last only a hole in the ground.

Of course in northern Maine there should be partridge cocks
strutting about before their families, and antlered moose feeding
in the open, and dappled fawns treading their dainty way, and
little bear-eubs at frolic. But there are not. At least, in all the
hours and all the miles of my three months’ residence I did not
see one there. For the Aroostook is not a forest, but a potato field.

MAROONED IN A POTATO FIELD 169

An old settler, proud as of a miracle performed, stood on a height
with me one day and boasted in terms of contrast, ‘‘When I first
came here, there were forests as far as eye could see.’’

Well, it was a miracle, man-wrought, a typical agricultural
triumph. And the sun of that day, when the heat went to 97
in the shade, scorched my mind with wondering why we, who fer
generations have been over-anxious lest we suffer after-world hells,
have been so industrious in destroying the controlling factor in
our water supply in this, our present heaven. During the weeks
of dusty drought, when the potato buds shriveled and fell, the
query was inevitable: Had we not already overdone the potato
acreage a bit? Would the Pine Tree State, in the practical inter-
ests of the potato and other economic crops, not have done well to
conserve a grove here and there? Not, of course, for emotional
or esthetic reasons, but out of cold Yankee shrewdness! These
meditations were authoritatively dispelled by the voiee of an offieial
visitor to the ecounty—a man from the national Department of
Agriculture, who indubitably knows what is good for the future
of the potato business. He was saying, with an appraising gesture
toward the only remaining parcels of untilled land: ‘‘Of course
these marshes have some of the most fertile soil. They can be
drained and brought under cultivation with even less expense than
the work that was involved in getting the forests out of the way.’’

FAREWELL, ORCHIDS AND THRUSHES

But it was not to bemoan the circumstance that fawns and eubs
had been ousted and that thrushes were threatened nor to console
myself with droop-pawed woodchucks that the treasury of the
United States via the treasurer of the University of Maine was
paying my salary. Mine was a stern commission, and if it was
somewhat grimly undertaken it was because I was in personal re-
bellion against my professional duty.

For I feared that at the close of the season it would fall to my
lot to report in the interests of agriculture, to whom I am a serv-
ant, that there is no guarantee for healthy potatoes grown within
aphid flight of a rose-bush. That was a sad thing to have to faee—
being hangman to the rose! Surely agriculture is a cruel and
exacting mistress. She has beheaded the red cedars in the vicinity
of apple orchards, condemned the currant and gooseberry in the
interests of white pine, banished the barberry from the neighbor-
hood of grains, because of what fungus specialists have told her.
And now, on the word of an aphid-hunter, was the rose to be out-
lawed from potato land ?

These premonitory reflections were soon interrupted by an

170 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

event of some importance in Aroostook. The graveyards indicated
in the second paragraph of this record were the scene of a resur-
rection. Like the children in Maeterlinck’s ‘‘Blue Bird,’’ we saw
demonstrated the thesis, ‘‘There are no dead,’’ for the long brown
ridges were crested with living green. The miracle had taken
place—the potatoes were up! But the coming up of potatoes is not
so simple a matter in the Aroostook as elsewhere, for that is a -
north country and because of the frost and for other reasons, too,
the crests of green are buried alive. Once and again and again
the ambitious plants were subdued. Each time they showed their
heads they were heaped over with earth until at last the ridges
were so very high and the valleys between were so very narrow
and so very deep that the horse-hoes could do no more, and then
the aspiring plants were finally permitted to breathe the air that
they had repeatedly struggled to reach. Perhaps no one but an
Aroostookian treats potatoes so roughly, but the growers there are
proud of their school of ‘‘high hilling,’’ and a “‘low hiller’’ im that
country is another term for slacker.

About the time that the plants were progressively and conclu-
sively up, an epidemic of solanimania broke out. Everybody
caught it and rushed to potato fields like mad dogs to water. Im-
mediately the vocabulary of the place became suggestive of an in-
sane retreat and everyone chattered in his own vernacular to the
confusion of everyone else. The call of the hour, ‘‘Let us spray,’’
was observed by all; but the baptismal creeds for potatoes proved
as numerous and varied as those for people. There was no quarrel
as to the necessity of bordeaux, but the manner of its application
seemed still to be in an experimental stage. Arsenic in some form
was advocated by all, but chemists nowadays are talking a lan-
evage unknown to one who grew up in an age when Paris green
was in vogue and London purple not quite forgotten. Nicotine
sulphate was commonly accredited, but was it actually necessary
to hit the aphids with it or did those delicate creatures succumb
to the fumes if enough of the stuff was let loose among the rows?
Must the underside of the leaves be covered, and, if so, were the
undershot nozzles more effective than a drag boom? Was that
faithful old standby, the Watson, to be superseded by a haughty
new-fangled power sprayer? And was poison dust, if administered
at 4 A. M. in the dew, more efficacious than a wet application ?

While: the spray gangs were still raving about such simple
problems and some too involved to lay before an innocent public,
other victims of solanimania broke out with symptoms no less pro-
nounced. One man was cherishing about five thousand seedlings
in the hope that one of them might give promise of a better potato

MAROONED IN A POTATO FIELD 171

than the markets had heretofore welcomed. But there was no time
to enjoy a bewildered appreciation of the possibilities of five thou-
sand new potato seedlings before it became evident that the growers
of old varieties had been taken with violent spasms of weeding.
Now, weeding a potato field does not mean removing plants other
than potatoes from the scene of action. Most of that operation
comes under the caption of hoeing. When a potato grower
‘‘weeds’’ he digs inadvertent ‘‘cobblers’’ out from among his
“‘ereen mountains’’ and removes the adventitious ‘‘bliss’’ or ‘‘sil-
ver dollar’’ from his ‘‘eobblers.’’ For a potato field in the land
where seed tubers are grown is not a mere field of potatoes but a
field devoted to some one variety uncontaminated by a chance speci-
men of some other equally palatable variety. One soon learns in
the Aroostook how to tell one potato from another potato.

Nor was the madness of the season confined to Maine. A man
from Bermuda roamed about Aroostook County seeking ‘‘certified
bliss.’’ Out of Vermont came a farmerette in knickerbockers
questing from Presque Isle to Prince Edward Isle for ‘‘certified
green mountains.’’

Not guests alone but the mails bore evidence that the epidemic
was widespread. From one state in the middle west came the an-
nouncement (received by a sceptical world) that a strain ‘‘immune
to potato mosaic’’ was under successful cultivation. From the
state next beyond that came the appeal: ‘‘Would you mind giy-
ing me some information on the distribution of Empoasca mali in
your state? As you know, here in this insect is a very bad
pest, causing hopper-burn and many other diseases and possibly
producing a disease eventually causing the potatoes to run out.”’
And by humorous coincidence, in the same mail as that, there ar-
rived from Burlington, Vermont, an advance announcement be-
ginning, ‘‘Tip burn as a physiological disease has been one of the
much discussed questions at recent phytopathology meetings since
our entomological colleagues have endeavored to carry it over into
their camp, ascribing it to an insect and renaming it hopper-burn.’’

Not science alone became infected, but art as well, as witness:
** About the first of next month I shall be in the Pennsylvania po-
tato center. There water-color studies of spud plants are to be
perpetrated.”’

No one, apparently, was immune. I contracted the malady and
had as bad a case as any one. A characteristic symptom was a
fevered emphasis of one’s own particular bias. Mine was the rose-
bush. For weeks, as in a delirium, I saw little other than rose-
bushes. No devotee of the ancient order of whiskey ever had more
vivid visions of reptiles than I of rose-bushes. Indeed, the

172 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

knickerbockered farmerette from Vermont protested that she could
never again think of me without the memory of my hand waving
toward the wayside vegetation while I yelled above the din of
the ‘‘rattling good’’ government vehicle: ‘‘ Beside the last potato
field was a rose clump a rod long! See ahead on the right, the
whole fence is bordered with roses.’’ Thus from Presque Isle to
Frenchville and return, and again from Houlton to Presque Isle.

For the fate of the rose was not alone at stake. My professional
reputation as an aphid detective hung also in the balance. My
colleagues, the plant pathologists, had challenged me.

It came about thus. A few years previously the plant doctors
who spent their summers hobnobbing at Aroostook Farm had in-
formed me that my pet aphid, Macrosiphum solancfolu, was spread-
ing their pet potato disease from sick plants to well ones. Said
disease (spelled m-o-s-a-i-c but popularly known as ‘‘mozik’’) is
not so especially disastrous in the north in potatoes grown for the
table; but the south looks to the north for seed, and a tuber with a
taint of mosaic in its substance grows, after being transported to
the south, to a miserable plant, indeed. Now there is this similarity
between the egg business and potato growing—there is no excess
profit in the product grown for the table, but for the man who
ean dispose of his product for purposes of propagation there is a
possible fortune. The seed-potato industry, actual and potential,
means a great deal to the state 0’ Maine. And it was threatened,
they told me, largely because my ‘‘pet aphid,’’ a million or a
billion strong, was inserting its beak into the tissue of sick plants
and, after imbibing mosaic juice, dispersing to other parts of the
field and inoculating healthy plants with the disease.

Their question as to what I would advise under the circum-
stances made me feel a bit responsible for my insect charges, albeit
with something of a lump in my throat, as I replied, ‘‘ Remove the
wild rose-bushes from the borders of fields where certified stock
is desired for seed purposes.’’

My suggestion being met with a sceptical frown from my
phytopathological colleagues, I recalled to them the story of
Macrosiphum solanifoliv:

This insect is a migratory species. During the summer it produces
viviparous generations abundantly upon potato and certain other herbaceous
growths that it accepts as ‘‘summer hosts.’’ In late summer and early fall,
winged individuals are developed which migrate from potato and other summer
hosts to the rose-bush, where subsequently appear, as progeny of the winged
migrants, wingless egg-laying females and winged males. The eggs of these
apterous oviparous females are deposited on the rose-bush, and remain there
unhatehed until spring, this plant accordingly being termed the ‘‘over-

wintering host.’’ About the time the new growth of the rose is in its tenderest
and most sueculent condition in the spring, the aphid egg hatches and the

MAROONED IN A POTATO FIELD 173

young insect grows into a wingless viviparous form—the progenitor of all the
succeeding generations for the season and hence called the ‘‘stem-mother.’’
The daughters of the stem-mother grow up on the rose, part of them with
wings and part without. The winged daughters fly forth to seek their pleasure
(7. @., a summer host, not hard to find in a land over-run with their favorite
sap) and start on the potato vines, the summer colonies, which are augmented
a fortnight later by the advent of their nieces from the rose-—for their wing-
less sisters, remaining on the rose, produce winged daughters which migrate
in their turn to the potato fields in the vicinity. Thus the cycle runs—the
spring migrants going from rose to potato, their progeny unto several genera-
tions dwelling on the potato as a favorite summer host; fall migrants winging
their way back to the rose where the fall generations, the over-wintering egg
and the spring forms reside.

But this recital did not dispel the sceptical frown before
alluded to. In fact there was nothing new in the story, for I had
told it first as long ago as 1915. The plant doctors had, indeed,
but one comment to make. When I wound up with ‘‘ Obviously
the destruction of the wild roses in the vicinity would break the
aphid eycle,’’ they remarked quietly, ‘‘Of course we may have
overlooked them, but we have never observed many wild roses in
northern Aroostook.’’

That was their challenge. It was admirably done, I think. A
courteously constrained statement bearing directly on the point
under consideration and characteristically conservative, as is the
habit of one scientist (if he be discreet) speaking to another. But
that brief guarded sentence was charged and I knew it questioned
whether I was sure that Macrosiphum solanifilii overwintered on
the rose, wholly on the rose, and nothing but the rose? As an aphid
detective working out the life cycle of this species in Penobscot
County, what did I know about the conditions in northern Aroos-
took where, according to resident observations, wild roses are, at
least, comparatively rare?

Certainly that much of professional criticism was implied and
possibly a running personal stricture may have been included. At
any rate, I found myself wondering whether my colleagues were
registering a disappointed conclusion that in failing them at an
hour of need I was demonstrating some inherent disability leading
to an inference that entomological work in general and the task at
Aroostook Farm in particular was after all a man’s job! There
was, perhaps, a personal ‘‘dare’’ as well as a professional chal-
lenge in their significant suggestion that a recommendation to up-
root wild roses where wild roses had not been observed to be rooted
down seemed hardly in order. Obviously there was but one thing
to do-either on professional or personal score. The various due
official sanctions having been all registered by November, 1920,
the next May I laid aside the garb of a laboratory entomologist and
donned the khaki of a field scout.

174 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Naturally, first came an intensive quest for wild roses within
dangerous proximity to potato acreage. For, as I had taken my
‘‘pet aphid’’ on rose annually since May, 1904, and in seventeen
years’ eollecting had never found the spring generations on any
other vegetation, there must be no data overlooked in this partieu-
lar. How many miles afoot this quest led me, I can not state,
but it was as far as one could explore in the days of a fortnight,
down one side of the hedge rows and lane rows between farms, and
up the other; in and out and round about the bordering woodlots ;
wading beside marsh fringes in rubber boots; and tramping forth
and back along the length and breadth of hillside pastures. And
in none of these places did I find a wild rose-bush. News of wild
roses in river thickets reached us by way of botanists and fishing
men; but (fortunately for one in sympathy with wild life con-
servation), it did not, in the localities visited, seem necessary to
seek them out.

For without that we found rose-bushes, plenty of them, and
that along the broad highway! There were dooryard roses near
Aroostook Farm, thousands of stems of them, in both directions,
within short walking distance. The wheel of the field assistant
helped add to the same sort of data; and later by automobile route
we saw them at Fort Fairfield, Caribou, Van Buren, Frenchville
and all along the roadways between them and Presque Isle. Surely
the life-cycle of Macrosiphum solanifolu is in no danger of break-
ing in northern Aroostook for lack of rose sap. That became evi-
dent to us all before the summer was over. But incidently there
were some very puzzling questions presented by these northern
dooryard roses.

Of course it was no surprise to find some cultivated roses at
and beyond Presque Isle. The plant doctors in attendance on sick
potatoes had indicated their presence in the quite logical statement
that it hardly seemed probable that cultivated roses would be
abundant enough in that locality to keep the aphid supply going.
It hardly did! For even at Bangor we are north of the “‘real
rose’’ zone. We have even here to fall back largely on Rosa rugosa,
though especially ambitious care provides for cherished ramblers
and a limited number of other varieties. But the outstandingly
queer thing about the roses of northern Aroostook is that the most
vigorous clumps of them are not cherished at all. They grow in
neglected masses which give no evidence of pruning shears for two
decades at least. And often as not the grandmother of the house
would say, ‘‘Oh, those are nothing but wild roses. Our garden
roses,’’ indicating feebler growth, ‘‘are here.”’

That was a riddle unguessed for weeks. Why, when failing in

MAROONED IN A POTATO FIELD 175

such places as wild roses are wont to grow wild in, judging from
an acquaintance with their ways in other parts of Maine and in
other states, should they be so abundantly common in dooryards,
especially in old dooryards or spots marked by fire signs or
crumbling cellar walls, where once dooryards had been? Your
consulting nurseryman ean tell you readily enough, but at that
time it was a conundrum to me.

But making sure that there were rose-bushes enough to hold
all the overwintering eggs of Macrosiphum solanifolii necessary
for a thoroughgoing aphid plague was not ascertaining that this
insect did not also secrete those wee glistening blaek oval objects
on other vegetation as well. And, casting aside the prejudice born
of seventeen springs’ collections I sought stem-mothers and bud-
ding spring-migrants on every kind of plant—tree, shrub, and
herb—that I met in a three weeks’ tramping. The bieyeler, to
whom thanks should be rendered, extended the bounds of this
quest, as he did others and being without prejudice of previous
acquaintance with the tricks and the manners of the inseet in ques-
tion, he may have been the better scout.

However that may be, no tree or herb yielded us spring colonies
of our potato aphid, and neither did any shrub except alone the
rose, though our search was compounded of diligence and patience.

Nor did the same vegetation yield so largely of other species
as might have been expected. Fewer than a century of aphid-
species represented our total season’s catch. Now fourscore dif-
ferent species of aphids out of a possible four hundred, and not
large colonies at that, comprise a meagre showing, leading to the
conclusion that 1921 was a poor year for aphids in that locality.
A logical explanation of their seareity was not far to seek. For
neat-winged ‘‘ladybird’’ beetles (five species of them) were feed-
ing only less greedily than their brood of serawny young; gold-
eyed ‘‘lace-wings,’’ dainty in every respect except as to their brand
of perfume, were leaving their stalked eggs where their siekle-
jawed progeny might merit the name of ‘‘aphid-lion;’’ several
species of bandy-bodied syrphid flies were providing for the con-
tinuation of their kind in the same way; a fungus disease was
throwing its fatal spores broadeast; and insect-eating birds were
as much on duty as could be expected, considering the number of
murderous cats wickedly permitted to threaten agricultural pros-
perity. Now with ladybird beetle, aphid-lion, syrphid maggot,
fungus and insectivorous bird (in so far as vouchsafed) in com-
bination against them in a single season, could aphids be expected
to wax fat and multiply?

However, nearly two decades of official service in the capacity

176 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

of aphid detective leads one to take such seasons with philosophi-
eal fortitude. Besides, even the lean years often give significant
data and it may not be without interest to mention one ‘‘by-
product’’ of the quest of 1921, namely, the accidental discovery
that two of our migratory currant aphids spend their summer
season imbibing the sap of ‘‘willow-herb,’’ a by no mean unwel-
come addition to the aphid lore of Maine.

Returning to Macrosiphum solantfoliw, it may be stated that
by this time the scouting done at Presque Isle and farther north
brought forth no data conflicting with the tenets that the rose is
the only plant in Maine normally serving as over-wintering host
for this potato aphid; that in general aphids are conspicuously
more abundant in potato fields near rose-bushes; that certain fields
in northern Maine, where potato mosaic, though present, was not
appreciably increasing, were coincident with an annual scarcity of
aphids; and that the logical conclusion was that these same ‘‘eer-
tain fields’’ and similar locations might be made well-nigh immune
to potato mosaic if the sick plants were to be culled out (‘‘rouged’’
is the technical rendering of this practice) and the area cleared
of such rose-bushes as are not considered precious enough to be
served with an annual anti-aphid spray of fumigation.

Does this conelusion thrill the reader (as it does the writer)
with an envying realization that a partnership in the business
which might be earried on in said ‘‘certain fields’’ would be an
amazingly inviting venture? If not, it is because you did not hear
what price ‘‘per bawr’]’’ the man from Bermuda was offering for
‘‘eertified bliss,’? nor meet the man from Florida who had a for-
tune to exchange for ‘‘certified cobblers.”’

With the situation thus indicated for Maine, what could be
more desired by way of education through compared conditions
than a visit to New Brunswick? For New Brunswick and Maine
are rivals in the seed-potato market. New Brunswick has cherished
a hope that she has some natural advantages peculiar to her loca-
tion, and Maine has been a bit afraid that might be so. It was,
then, with a quickening professional pulse that I accepted an in-
vitation to join, as consulting entomologist, a party of plant path-
ologists, representing the governments of the United States and
New Brunswick, who were touring that province.

We visited during the trip more than eighty potato fields suf-
ficiently to observe and record the significant phytopathological
and entomologieal facts with reference to the potato-mosaie prob-
lem. Except for a few generalities, I will spare you all but three
locations.

Because there is yet no automobile trail direct from northern

MAROONED IN A POTATO FIELD 177

Maine to the Chaleur Bay district, we rode from Perth to Frederic-
ton along the St. John River—a scenie day that makes one glad
that there are woods growing in places too wild of contour to be
shackled even by stern Mistress Agriculture. Thence our way
turned northerly, beyond first one and then another Miramichi
River until we reached the ‘‘Bay of Heat’’ where our chief in-
terests centered. On Shippigan Island we visited five potato fields.
The aphid count for the three further fields registered zero. That
for two twin-sized fields, separated by a tiny meadow,within stone’s
throw of the ferry landing, was recorded as ‘‘a few Macrosiphum
solanifolu.’? The reader is by this time sufficiently initiated into
the mysteries of the hunt to see why it was logical at this point
for the consulting entomologist to hazard the statement, ‘‘ There are
rose-bushes nearer the ferry-side fields than the other three.’’ But
because there were no rose-bushes in sight, the reader may be per-
mitted also to enjoy briefly the flippant phytopathological query
as to whether the aphids may not have arrived wia the ferry line?

However this was really no laughing matter. If Macrosiphum
solanifolu overwinters only on rose, roses must be there even if
they are invisible! I confess to a feeling of panic as I continued
what looked to be, on account of the time limit imposed, a vain
search. Then, when, in the middle of the shorn meadow separating
the two potato fields, I came upon the stubs of a lilac clump, hope
revived. For lilaes are not native to Shippigan Island. Where
a clump of lilacs make shift to grow, there was once a dwelling,
even though the ruins that marked its site are gone. It was as if
those lilaes beckoned, and on hands and knees I followed the elue
as diligently as any other Sherlock Holmes, and found at last,
among the mown grass stubbles, the stubbles, too, of mown rose-
stems, short but thrifty. Here then was bait enough to tempt the
fall migrants from the adjoining fields—the link that kept the
eyele of the potato aphid intact on Shippigan Island. And the
thorns that pricked my hands as I plucked an evidential stem from
the ground caused a pain that was physical merely and healed
completely by the salve of a triumphant spirit.

The next morning a peninsula, a small almost-island, near
Shippigan was visited. In the two fields first entered, aphids were
disporting themselves somewhat freely. They were less numerous
in the third field, fewer still in the fourth, and in the midst of the
fifth field I gathered my courage and said, ‘‘We are going away
from the source of infestation. The rose-bushes are nearer the first
fields. If we had time we could find them.’’ To which our guide
replied quietly, ‘‘We will take time.’’

The inhabited dooryards in the vicinity were innocent of roses,

VOL. XV—12

178 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

but behind the two most heavily infested fields we found a cellar
ruin, along the walls of which the prophesied rose-bushes were
growing. And also, in this deserted dooryard, long since forsaken,
a great mass of the same sort of roses grew clumped over an area
as big as that covered by the ruins themselves. That was a neat
demonstration of a scientific method, was it not? To tell by looking
at a potato field whether one was approaching or receding from
a rose-bush, I hoped the phytopathologists did not guess how
glorious a moment that was to the consulting entomologist. For
the hero of Conan Doyle’s pages never felt more keenly a triumph
in tracing to a logical conclusion a treasured hypothesis. _

But the silly pride that surged up gratefully to greet those
roses soon ebbed. There was that about them that touched more
deeply. Their true romance was after all not of the brain but of
the heart—hearts long since dead. And over the graves of their
memories the blossoms of roses smiled that day. For though the
sun of August shone upon them, and the reddened rose fruits
spoke of a full spring-time blow, a few belated blooms were now
in flower. And the frail sweet things echoed as with the music of
forsaken gardens.

Those roses, blossoming in memoriam over the graves of for-
gotten homes of yester-long-ago, lure my desire across the sea to
the land mayhap where Evangeline’s kin once dwelt. Perchance
such roses grow even yet in old world places—not dooryards belike,
but in untilled tangles ; I think so—wild roses, their single blossoms
rich of hue, and their leaves a hard clear yellowish green, fresh
and clean even under August suns. And if it seem unlikely that
the old-world folk brought so common a thing as a wild rose with
them, may it not be that their choice double darlings were grafted
on a sturdier stock? And after the bitter cold winds of the ‘‘ Bay
of Heat’’ had blasted the tender growth, the neglected root-stems
came unto their own blossoms even in the stern wilds of their
adopted land! How otherwise?

Later that same day we saw again that rose of yester-year.
This was near ‘‘Black Rock.’’ Our guide ealled a halt there and
pointing to the left said, ‘‘There and a bit beyond are two fields
which registered last year a score of one hundred per cent. mosaic.’’

One hundred per cent. mosaic! My pet aphids must have been
busy. Somehow the fact that there were no roses in sight had
ceased to trouble me. I left my comrades clicking their counters
in the potato fields and struck out alone along a bordering lane.
It led me back beyond the potatoes, beyond a mowing and beyond
an oatfield. There I found them—my rose-bushes, a great and
ancient mass of them, pushing against a fence that headed a high

MAROONED IN A POTATO FIELD LS

bank. When I had returned and made my report, the others of
the party went to view the roses with, it seemed to me, a certain
curiosity. Indeed, when they caught sight of the great clump, the
guide, regarding me somewhat quizzically, demanded, ‘‘Do you
mind telling me how you found these roses, coming directly to
them?’’ And I replied, with a laugh, ‘‘Seotch second sight.’’ Who
knows? There are times when something seems to click in one’s
brain as if some charged current from without is turned on, and
the resulting action hardly seems one’s own volition. And it is a
common enough feeling, with reference to any ‘‘inspiration,’’ that
it ‘comes to one.’’

But I am no dabbler in psychic concerns—that way dangers lie
for scientific methods. There was, of course, no mystery about
finding hidden roses. It needs no diviner with a_ witch-hazel
switch. Doubtless I found the stubs of mown roses on Shippigan
Island because I had learned from experience that roses are likely
to be planted by the same hands that cherish lilacs; those of the
neighboring peninsula from the pure mathematical deduction
based on the relative numbers of aphids in the different fields;
and those of Black Rock—well, how else than by sheer accident?

At any rate, we saw no more roses like those of Shippigan dur-
ing the rest of the trip, after we left the old French settlements
and visited places settled long ago by the Irish. Not that here
were, for all that, a dearth of roses, but they were .of a different
sort—‘‘wild Irish roses’’ we dubbed them, though I have a sus-
picion, based on their habit of growth, general appearance and
one dried and crumpled blossom, that they may be what we eall
in New England ‘‘old-fashioned cinnamon roses.’’

As you see, there was this in common in the single ‘‘old-garden
roses’’ of Chaleur Bay, the ‘‘wild Irish roses’’ and the single
‘“wild roses’’ neighboring potato fields of northern Maine—they
grew in or near oldtime dooryards in large massed clumps betoken-
ing many years of age.

Surely the rose has nestled too close to the heart of man nor
to strike with its thorns the hand that is raised against it.
Although on entomological evidence it could be sentenced to ban-
ishment by authority of crop-pest commissioners, government of-
ficials of neither the United States nor New Brunswick would
probably care to undertake the unpopular task of exterminating a
plant so rooted in human sentiment.

And yet, in the immediate vicinity of northern seed-potato fields,
the rose will go. How otherwise? For the man from Bermuda will
still come seeking ‘‘certified bliss,’’ and the gold of southern states
will demand healthy tubers. The northern growers will volun-

180 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tarily attend to a matter that bears so directly on their purses.
They have troubles enough without those borne by the wings
of migratory aphids.

These were a part of the composite reflections of ninety dma
that conversed with me as I took a solitary walk across Aroostook
Farm the night before I left. The skies were rich with sunset
radianee and the glory of rainbow. Under their beauty spread
out for interminable miles the potato fields in which I had been
marooned for three nionths by the calendar. As I looked across
as much of the green-leaved sea as my gaze could cover, a shiver
of revulsion swept over me—a feeling more nearly akin to weary
hate than I would think possible to have for any growing plant.
There was something hideously manufactured about the land-
scape, artificially colored with prescribed baptismal dopes; and I
detested the whole sprawling amorphous brood of Solanum
tuberosum.

Was I then at last cured of my attack of solanimania? Had I
shaken off the delirious taint of the potato kingdom? Ah, no, no
one ever recovers. And a day or so later, when sitting before my
long deserted desk at Orono, I drew into place a blank sheet of
paper and headed it:

Maine Agricultural Experiment Station

Bulletin No. 303
‘¢Rose-bushes in Relation to Potato Culture’’

And the things written under that caption brand the writer

as a faithful servant of agriculture or, if you prefer, a servile slave
of the spud.

THE REINDEER HERDS 181

THE REINDEER HERDS OF THE PRIBILOF
ISLANDS

By G. DALLAS HANNA

THE CALIFORNIA ACADEMY OF SCIENCES

HE domesticated reindeer of Siberia were first introduced into
Alaska in 1892 through the efforts of the missionary, Rev.
Sheldon Jackson. The total number brought across Bering Sea
was but few more than a thousand when the Russian Government
prohibited further exportation. This nucleus has grown enor-
mously and has been divided into a large number of separate herds.
The success of the enterprise is apparently assured for many gen-
erations and the native race of Eskimos was probably saved from
extermination through this single stroke of philanthropy. The
people not only derive food and clothing from the herds, but the
meat has been sold in ports as distant as Seattle and San Fran-
eisco. Nothing but a brilliant future can be foreseen for the in-
dustry at this time.
Most of the Alaska herds have been divided and subdivided to
such an extent, and the records are so scattered through govern-

7

Photograph by Dr. L. H. French.
FIG. 1. SIBERIAN REINDEER HERD NEAR NUSHAGAK BAY, ALASKA.

182 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ment reports, that it is difficult to secure data on rates of increase.
This, however, is a matter of no little interest in science as well
as in industry. It so happens that there are two independent herds
on the Pribilof, or Fur Seal Islands, which furnish records of con-
siderable value in this respect.

Through the efforts of Dr. Barton Warren Evermann, when -
chief of the Alaska Fisheries Service, herds were started on St.
Paul and St. George Islands in 1911. The beginning was made
with 25 and 15 deer, respectively, and each year a census has been
made. The animals practically run wild so that a count of the sexes
separately has proved impracticable, but the total numbers are
very trustworthy. The counts as published each year in the re-
ports of the Alaska Fisheries are shown in the following table:

CENSUS RECORDS OF PRIBILOF ISLANDS REINDEER HERDS

Year St. Paul Island St. George Island
iLO) if al eee eee Ar 2d ie 25 15
NO eee es ea ee ee 40 25
WON eS boa 52 36
i Qt Seeenne ene cod oso 75 58
Gh oy eee I hla ak ee 92 62
TOG) os oa eo Sch 5 ee a 85
OA i ie eee SS 144 96
HONIG seeteenes verre 25.002 cist aleodes 155 114
HOU O Reseeeess veee eee 3: eS ee 164 123
119 2) (0) eeenmeset =e sereesere: 6 88 ee eae OD 125
IGG PoE | ee oe eee eg 250 160

It is shown in the above table that the original herd of 25 deer
on St. Paul Island has increased to 250. In addition to these an
even hundred have been killed for food. On the smaller island of
St. George the original herd of 15 has increased to 160 and 89 have
been killed for food. The records of killings date from 1915 and
are as follows:

REINDEER KILLED FOR FOOD ON THE PRIBILOF ISLANDS

Year St. Paul Island St. George Island
Of ieee ree eter tee 23d eee 3 :
ee he es 6 3
IMS) kt >. Ce See 9 6
NE ch eS oo...) ere, 12 8
1 esses en) 5) Se rn ene 14 22
AILS 21) eee ns ea 55, a ee 22 ult
HNO Pierre Pew eee ere os Soa oboe 34 19
NCO) U -oia ee e 100 89

Thus the total strength of the two herds in 1921 was 350 for
St. Paul Island and 249 for St. George Island. When we consider
that the animals have had no care whatsoever that reindeer need,

THE REINDEER HERDS 183

Photograph by Dr. L. H. French.
FIG. 2. FEMALE AND YOUNG OF SIBERIAN REINDEER NEAR NUSHAGAK BAY, ALASKA

the condition would seem to be very satisfactory and Dr. Ever-
mann deserves great commendation for having overcome the many
obstacles in the way when the introduction was made in 1911.
Persons familiar with the raising of these animals in Norway state
that in 10 years the original herds of 25 and 15 should have in-
‘ ereased to 500 and 300 respectively, if they had received proper
care and attention and if the surplus males had been regularly
removed. A much larger number could also have been taken for
food. Nevertheless, the records possess a peculiar interest because
the herds have been allowed to revert to the wild state.

The average increase each year has been a little more than
33 1/3 per cent. when the animals killed are added to those living.
It is a little less than that figure when only those living are con-
sidered.

The full significance of this may be better understood if com-
parison be made with other animals which bring forth but one
young each year, such as the fur seals, for which the Pribilof
Islands are famous. In the same ten years the herd of these
animals has increased at an average rate of only about eight per
cent. per year. The difference in the rate is not due to the longer
breeding period of the reindeer, but to the enormous destruction
of the fur seals in the sea by killer whales. At least fifty per cent.
of the young born each year fail to reappear the third year fol-
lowing, and the work ean be laid only to the killer, because the
actual amount of pelagic sealing by man is small.

184 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

As stated above, the reindeer have reverted to the wild state.
The business of the inhabitants is the taking of seal and fox skins
and they give little attention to the deer. The animals are never
herded or placed in corrals. They resort to the distant parts of
the islands where they seldom see human beings and have become
almost as wary as wild caribou. No use is made of them at all
except for food.

Some of the surplus males are now taken each winter and the
herds show considerable improvement since the practice was
started in 1915, as a careful examination of the above tables will
demonstrate. Before that time the fighting of the males was a
detriment to the herd in several ways. They not only killed or
injured each other, but they injured some of the females as well.

The killing is done with high powered rifles, not a commendable
practice, but the only practicable method when the animals are
allowed to become so wild. The shooting not only makes them

FIG. 3. ST. PAUL ISLAND REINDEER HERD IN 1919

wilder, but results in the occasional killing of a first class female
by mistake. In one case one male and two females were killed
with one shot fired into the herd.

As to the already great value of the herds to the U. S. Bureau
of Fisheries, which administers the affairs of the islands, there
can be no question. Each deer killed is equal in food value to two
sheep which are imported at about $15 per head on the average.
Thus the equivalent of about 100 sheep was taken in 1921. The
value of this food would seem to warrant the employment of ea-
pable herders and the erection of proper corrals for the care of
the animals. This would not only enable the removal of the eor-
reet number of males without the uncertain method of shooting,
but would enable the authorities to remove old and useless females,
as any wide-awake stockman would do.

If the herds continue to increase during the next ten’years as
they have in the past ten, there should be about 2,500 deer on St.
Paul Island in 1931 and about 1,600 on St. George. So large
prospective numbers as these should receive care and attention,
because the annual increment will furnish a supply of excellent

THE REINDEER HERDS 185

FIG. 4. LICHENS KNOWN AS “REINDEER MOSS’? FROM ST. PAUL ISLAND, ALASKA

fresh meat, sufficient to supply all the needs of the islands for many
decades.

Since the reindeer depend upon slow growing lichens, the
familiar reindeer ‘‘moss,’’ for food in winter, care should be taken
that the herds do not increase beyond the supplies of these plants.
The islands are small and not all of the surfaces are suitable for
grazing by any means. It has been stated that this ‘‘moss’’ on
the mainland of Alaska replaces itself in about seven years. Ob-
servations made by me on the Pribilofs indicate that there it
grows more rapidly. Areas completely denuded in 1914 were re-
grown by 1919. The difference in rate of growth is believed to
be due to the longer growing season on the Pribilofs and the much
damper climate. :

One of the most important problems to be solved in connection
with the Pribilof herds is the determination of the maximum num-
bers which can be supported. The government should determine
this before it is too late. With competent herders in charge of
the animals it would not be a difficult undertaking.

These herds are under particularly fine circumstances for ob-
servation and study. The most distant part of either island can
be easily reached in a day by a man on foot. Strict control is
constantly maintained by the agents of the government; or at any
rate it can be maintained when desired. More is known of the
wild life of the reservation than of any similar area in our north-
ern territory. It would seem that here is the place to maintain
model reindeer herds and to determine many of the needed facts
for the propagation of these animals on a large scale. At no other
place are conditions so favorable. The animals have no enemies

186 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

on the islands. Dogs are not permitted to be landed and mos-
quitoes or other injurious insects are absent. By some queer
but fortunate turn of fate, ticks or parasitic flies were not im-
ported with the original shipment. No new stock has been
brought in, so that inbreeding and crossing could here be studied
to the greatest advantage.

It may be of interest to those who so vigorously opposed the
introduction of the animals in 1911, and actually prevented it

FIG. 5. LICHENS KNOWN AS “REINDEER MOSS.” OTHER SPECIES, FROM ST. PAUL
ISLAND, ALASKA

when first proposed by Ezra W. Clark back in 1905, to learn that
the reindeer have not interfered in the slightest degree with the
fur seal herds or with the work of securing their skins. The deer
seldom visit the beaches and have not to my knowledge been ob-
served on a fur seal rookery when it was occupied.

It is to be hoped that’ the Bureau of Fisheries will grasp the
opportunity presented, and by careful study and eare of its rein-
deer herds, furnish the people of Alaska with information which

will be of inestimable value in the industrial development of the
north.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

187

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

CURRENT COMMENT
By Dr. Epwin E. SLosson
Science Service

THE SCIENCE OF KEEPING
CooL

THE problem of hot weather is
not, as some folks seem to think,
how to keep the heat out. It is how
to get the heat out. The body tem-
perature sticks pretty close to the
normal point of 98.6 degrees Fahren-
heit and unless the air temperature
gets above that we do not take on
heat from the air.

For heat, like water, runs down
hill. It passes from a higher to a
lower temperature. The steeper the
grade the faster the flow. That’s
where the difficulty comes in. For
we have to keep our internal tem-
perature at the normal point, what-
ever it may be outside, and there is
only a thin skin and some clothes be-
tween. When the weather is cold we
have no trouble in getting rid of the
heat we produce from the food we
eat, for it runs off rapidly, so rap-
idly that we have to put on more
clothes to check it. But as the air
temperature rises nearer to that of
our own the current of escaping heat
slows up and finally sets back if the
temperature goes over 99.

We shut down the furnace in our
houses when winter goes. But we
can not shut down the furnace inside
of us because the works would stop.
Our internal furnace serves as a
power-house as well as a heater. We
have to keep the engine going night
and day and that requires a certain
amount of fuel, though of course we
do not need so much in summer time.

A man who is not doing much,
““just up and about,’’ will have to
have 2,400 calories of food a day.
If he is working, he will need 500 or

1,000 more. So even if he lives in
idleness he has to get rid of heat at
the rate of 100 calories an hour on
the average, which is about as much
heat as is given off by four ordinary
electric lights.

Now this heat can be got rid of in
two ways. It can run away or be
carried away. It will run away if
the temperature of the surrounding
air is enough lower than the body
and there is enough, not too much,
cloth between.

It can be carried away by water.
Water can carry more heat without
showing it than anything else in the
world. A quart of water will take
on a,calorie of heat and only show
a rise of less than two degrees Fah-
renheit. When a quart of water
evaporates it carries off about 500
calories. If, then, you sweat a quart
this is the quantity of heat you are
getting rid of, provided the per-
spiration evaporates from the skin.
Here is the difficulty. If the air
holds already all the water it can
take up, then you can not get the
benefit of the absorption of heat
through evaporation. So when the
air is saturated with moisture, or, as
the weather man puts it, when the
humidity is 100, then you say ‘‘this
is muggy weather’’ and you eom-
plain that the heat is intolerable
even though the thermometer does
not stand high.

Your own internal thermometer,
your sense of temperature, only reg-
isters loss and gain. You feel warm
when you are gaining heat. You
feel cool when you are losing heat.
You can only lose heat by radiation
when the air is cooler than your skin.
You can only lose heat by evapora-
tion when the air is drier than your
skin. It is only the layer next

188 THE

SCIENTIFIC

MONTHLY

ALFRED GOLDSBOROUGH MAYOR
loss.

In whose death biological science suffers a

severe Dr. Mayor was

director of the department of marine biology of the Carnegie Institution of

Washington
to your skin that counts. If the | theoretically reduced to zero while
air there has a temperature of 99 | the consumption of gasoline has
degrees and a humidity of 100 per | risen to seventy-seven gallons per
cent., then you can not get cool either | capita.

way. In that case must drive

away the layer of hot moist air and
let some that is drier and cooler get

you

at your skin, which you can do by
means of a breeze, or, in default of
that, a fan.

GASOLINE AND ALCOHOL
3EFORE prohibition the per capita
consumption of gasoline and alco-

holic beverages was about the same,

twenty gallons a year. Now the con-

sumption of alcoholic beverages is

|
|
|
|

|

But we may live to see these ratios

reversed and gasoline decline while
alcohol rises until vastly more alcohol

For if aleohol

comes into general use for fuel pur-

is manufactured.

poses vastly more must be manufac-
tured than in the days when it was
thought fit to drink. Now that the
law will not allow us to drink liquor,

we have aleohol to burn. And so
soon as men get accustomed to re-
gard aleohol as fuel instead of as

food, the vexatious restrictions that

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

have been imposed upon its manu-
facture and sale for the last five hun-
dred years may be removed. When
that day comes the government will
be urging people to set up home
stills instead of confiscating them,
and this will enable spoiled grain,
unsalable fruit, sawdust and all sorts
of wasted stuff to be converted into
power on the spot.

For alcohol can be
more different things
anything else in the world, as those
who have experimented with home
brew have found out. Any sugary,
starchy or woody material can be
converted into alcohol, directly or
indirectly, and there are millions of
minute plants always hanging around
ready to undertake the job of con-
version for a bare living.

But if we have to shift from gaso-

made out of

than almost

line to aleohol we shall have to hunt J

for the cheapest and most abundant
material to make it from, and it is
high time that the hunting began.
The saving of waste foodstuffs would
not suffice. If we used corn it would
take more than a quarter of our corn
crop to make enough alcohol to take
the place of the gasoline now used
and we shall want to use more in the
future as our. desire for power in-
creases.

Probably it will be found that the
tropics will grow the largest crops of
saccharine material suitable for alco-
holic fermentation in a season and,
if so, this neglected region will as-
sume the importance that the coal
‘field countries now possess. There
will then be hot strife for hot terri-
tory, and the alcohol power will rule
the world. Dr. Diesel, believing that
his engine using heavy oils—mineral
or vegetable—would take the place of
the gasoline engines burning light
fluids like gasoline or alcohol, fore-
saw the time when palm, peanut or
some other tropical oil would be the
motive power on which civilization
would depend.

189

There are, of course, many” other
conceivable possibilities. We may
distill cellulose directly instead of
converting it into sugar and then:
fermenting it to alcohol. The chem-;
ist may get up some carbon chain or,
ring with all the hydrogen it can
hold that will make a better fuel,
than anything found in nature, but
he will have to have something to
make it out of and that something
will have to be Unless we
find some other source of power than
combustion, we must eventually
grow our fuel as we use it, for fossil
fuel will not last forever. We must
find a way of using the sunshine of
to-day instead of that which fell
upon the earth in the Carboniferous
Era.

grown.

FROM COMPLEXES TO GLANDS

How swiftly the spotlight of pop-
ular interest shifts from one part of
the stage to another! The eyes of
distressed humanity turn eagerly
toward any quarter that appears to
promise health and happiness... A
few years ago psycho-analysis was
all the rage. Now endocrinology is
coming into fashion. Those who re-
cently were reading Freud and Jung
have now taken up with Berman and
Harrow. Those who formerly were
rushing to have complexes extracted
are now anxious to have glands im-

planted. Away with psychology!
’Rah for physiology! Anything
hailing from Vienna is bound to
boom.

As fads there is not much to
choose between them. Popular ex-
pectations always run far ahead of
the march of sober science which
must make sure of every step as it
goes. Both these have a _ certain
foundation of fact, and promise much
for the future though neither can
fulfill the anticipations of the public
at present. But the scientific basis
of the glandular idea is much more

solid and substantial. An emotional

PROFESSOR KONRAD ROENTGEN

Who has retired from the chair of experimental physics at the University of
Munich. Professor Roentgen discovered the Roentgen or X-rays in 1895.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

complex is after all a: figment of the
imagination, but when you get out a
chemical compound, extracted, puri-
fied and identified, you have hold: of
something tangible and when you put
it back into the patient you can reg-
ulate the dose and record the reac-
tion.

Physiologists now lay many bodily
disorders, as capitalists do industrial
disorders, to the pernicious activity
of ‘‘agitators.’’ The physiologist,
since he prefers to talk Greek, calls
them ‘‘hormones,’’
means the same. At least a half
dozen of these hormones are already
known. They are marketed among
the four hundred by-products of our
packing houses. Two of them,
thyroxin and adrenalin, are definite
chemical compounds and can be made
synthetically. Soon the chemist will
capture them all and possibly he may
make stronger and better ones than
the glands turn out in their old-
fashioned way. There may be giants
on the earth in those days, such as
Wells foretold in ‘‘The Food of the
Gods.’’

These hormones determine our tem-
per and our temperament. They de-
cide whether we shall be tall or short,
thick or thin, stupid-or clever. They
mold our features and control our
characters. A minute amount of cer-

tain secretions will make one more

masculine or feminine, older or
younger.
But until the chemist ‘can manu-

facture them in the laboratory and
we can carry them in a vest pocket
case, we are dependent upon more or
less active and impure extracts from
the glands to supply our functional
deficiencies. Or—and this is the
latest sensation of the hour—we may
be grafted with a gland from some
animal. Unfortunately, the glands
of the lower animals do not set well
in the human system. Those of
the apes ‘work best, which goes to
prove that they are blood relations of
ours, Mr. Bryan to the contrary not-

but the word:

19

withstanding. In any case the relief
is not likely to last long, for the bor-
rowed gland succumb to the
same influences that invalidated the
natural organ.

In spite of the startling experi-
ments of Voronoff and Steinach on
the rejuvenation of rats and sheep,
science is not yet in a position to
meet the old demand for an elixir of
life.
who thought thirty years ago that he

may

Dr. Brown-Sequard, of Paris,

_had found something of the sort in

an extract of goat glands, did not
live long enough to demonstrate his
discovery. The rich old man, who
went to Vienna to regain his youth
and came to London to prove the
success of Steinach’s operation, died
on the eve of his lecture on ‘‘How I
was made twenty years younger.’’
But there will be plenty of people
eager to try the new methods, urged:
by the same motive that drove
Ponce de Leon to seek the fountain
of immortal youth in the vicinity of
Palm Beach.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS

WE record with regret the death of
Alfred Goldsborough Mayor, director
of the department of marine biology
of the Carnegie Institution; of
James McMahon, emeritus professor
of mathematics at Cornell Univer-
sity; of Dr. Edward Hall Nichols,
professor of clinical surgery in the -
Harvard Medical School; of Dr.
W. H. R. Rivers, of the University
of Cambridge, known for his work in

anthropology and _ psychology; - of
Prince Albert de Monaco, distin-
guished for his oceanographic
studies; and of Professor Edmund
Weil, who died from typhus con-

tracted by infection in his laboratory
at Lemberg.

THE John Fritz medal has been
presented by the board representing
the leading engineering societies to
Senator Marconi. The
medal is presented for achievement
in applied science as a memorial to

Guglielmo

192

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

John Fritz, who was the first recipi- | make it possible for the museum to

ent. Other recipients of the medal
have been Lord Kelvin, George West-
inghouse, Alexander Graham _ Bell,
Thomas Alva Edison, Charles T.
Porter, Alfred Noble, Sir William
Henry White, Robert W. Hunt, John
Edison Sweet, James Douglas, Elihu
Thomson, Henry Marion Howe, J.
Waldo Smith, George W. Goethals
and Orville Wright.

Dr. GrorGE ELLERY Hats, director
of the Mount Wilson Observatory
and chairman of the National Re-
search Council, has been appointed a
member of the Committee on Intel-
lectual Cooperation of the League of
Nations, which was recently formed
to promote research throughout the
world and to facilitate the
change of scientific information.
Other scientific members of the com-
mittee
Mme. Curie.

inter-

are Professor Einstein and

THe American Museum of Natural
History has had its endowment
largely increased through contribu-
tions from John D. Rockefeller, Jr.,
George F. Baker, and the settlement
of the estate of Amos F. Eno. The
Rockefeller gift of $1,000,000 will

carry on its educational work
throughout the city without impair-
ing funds needed for scientifie re-
search. Mr. Baker’s gift of $200,000
supplements a recent one of $100,000.

ARRANGEMENTS have been made to
supply Russian men of science with
the results of American scientific
work accomplished since 1914. Under
the chairmanship of Dr. Vernon Kel-
logg, secretary of the National Re-
search Council, an American Com-
mittee to Aid Russian Scientists with
Scientific Literature has been organ-
ized. Other members of the com-
mittee are Dr. L. O. Howard, chief
of the Bureau of Entomology of the
Department of Agriculture, Dr.
David White, chief geologist, U. 8.
Geological Survey, and Dr. Raphael
Zon, chief, forest investigations, »
U. S. Forest Service. This commit-
tee has arranged with the American
Relief Administration to receive con-
tributions of scientific literature at
New York and transport them to
Russia. It is a voluntary and tem-
porary organization with headquar-
ters at 1701 Massachusetts Avenue,
Washington, D. C.

THE SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

SEPTEMBER, 1922

THE REASONABLENESS OF SCIENCE!’

By Professor W. M. DAVIS
HARVARD UNIVERSITY

A FABLE OF THE TIDES

NCE upon a time—for science also has its fables—there dwelt
a hermit on the shore of the ocean, where he observed the
tides. He measured the period and the range of their rise and
fall and, patiently tabulating his records, discovered that the
tides run like clock-work. The interval between two high tides
was determined to be about 12 hours and 26 minutes; the range
from low water to high water was found to vary systematically,
being greater one week and smaller the next, the total variation
running its course in 14 days; more singular still, the high tides
were found to exhibit an alternating inequality, such that, if they
were numbered in order, the even-numbered would be stronger
than the odd-numbered for two weeks and then the odd-numbered
would be stronger than the even-numbered for two weeks; this
eyele of alternating inequality completing itself in 28 days. The
hermit then wishing to extend his observations, decided to travel
overland to another ocean and learn whether the tides behaved in

the same way there also.

Now at the same epoch, but far away in the center of a great
continental desert, a recluse lived in a eave, thinking and reflecting.
One problem in particular engrossed his thoughts. He knew New-
ton’s law of gravitation, and he asked himself what other conse-
quences ought to follow from it besides the revolution of the planets
around the sun and of the moons around their planets. He at last
eonvinced himself that if the earth and the moon attract each
other, the moon must produce a system of what he called earth-
deforming forces, disposed in such a way as to strain the earth’s

1 Oration delivered at the annual meeting of the Harvard Chapter of Phi
Beta Kappa, in Cambridge, Mass., June 19, 1922.

VOL. XV.—13.

194 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

erust, tending to raise it on the sides of the earth toward the moon
and opposite the moon, so that at any one point on the rotating
earth, the crust should be raised twice in a lunar day, or every
12 hours and 26 minutes; also, that similar but weaker earth-
deforming forces produced by the sun should be combined with
those produced by the moon so that the resulting total strains in
the earth’s crust would be stronger and weaker every 14 days;
and furthermore, that as the moon is north of the sky equator for
one half of a lunation and south of it for the other half—Alas, that ~
you dwellers in roofed houses are so little acquainted with the sky
as not to know of your own seeing that the moon’s course does
carry it obliquely across the sky equator and back again every
month !—but as the moon does move in this manner, the recluse
saw that the deforming forces which tend to raise the earth’s crust
at any point must exhibit a sequence of alternating inequalities
every 28 days. And beside these rhythmic variations in a little
more than half a day, in 14 days, and in 28 days, he worked out
several other variations of even longer periods. But his caleula-
tions also showed that the rhythmic forces were too weak to deform
the stiff earth’s crust perceptibly. ‘‘If only,’’ he thought to him-
self, ‘‘some large part of the earth’s surface were covered with a
deep sheet of water, surely the deforming forces would make the
yielding water sheet rise and fall every 12 hours and 26 minutes,
with a variation of range every 14 days, and an alternating in-
equality of rise every 28 days, and so on.’’ He thereupon resolved
to travel into other regions and learn, in case a vast sheet of water
were anywhere discovered, whether it really did exhibit rhythmic
changes of level in systematic periods such as, according to his
calculations, it ought to exhibit.

OBSERVATION, INVENTION AND DEDUCTION

Curiously enough it happened that about this time the hermit
reached a caravansery where he met an alert-looking individual
who proved to be an inventor—not an inventor of machines but
of hypotheses and theories and explanations. The hermit told
him about the tides and their periodic variations, and asked:
‘‘What do you suppose makes them go?’’ The inventor thought a
moment and then said: ‘‘Perhaps the tides rise and fall because
Old Mother Earth is slowly breathing; or perhaps, imasmuch as
you say the tides vary every 12 hours and 26 minutes, or twice
in a lunar day, they may possibly be driven by the moon.’’ ‘‘How
can they be driven by anything that is so far away in the sky, and
why should one moon make two high tides in one lunar day?’
asked the hermit. Just then the recluse came in and, approaching
the other two, inquired: ‘‘Can you tell me whether there is any-

THE REASONABLENESS OF SCIENCE 195

where a vast sheet of water covering a large part of the earth?’’
‘“Yes, there is,’’ said the hermit; ‘‘it is called the ocean. I have
lived on its shores, observing the periodic rise and fall of its waters
in the tides and I was just asking the inventor here if he could
tell me how they are caused.’’ The inventor repeated his sug-
gestion that the tides might possibly be caused by a sort of earth-
breathing, but that they were more probably caused by the moon.
**Well, as to that,’’ exclaimed the recluse, ‘‘I can tell you how the
tides ought to run if the moon has anything to do with them. The
moon ought to produce two high tides on opposite sides of the
earth, so that as the earth rotates, the tides at any one point ought
to rise and fall twice in a lunar day, as you say they do; not only
so, they ought to be extra strong every 14 days at new moon and
at full moon, because the sun also must have a share in producing
them ; and besides that, the high tides ought to show an alternating
inequality in a period of 28 days; and’’—The astonished hermit
interrupted—‘‘They do exactly that,’’ he eried, ‘‘but how in the
world did you know they do so, if you have never seen the ocean ?’’
‘*T didn’t know they did,’’ replied the recluse, ‘‘but I was con-
vineed that 2f the earth had an ocean its waters ought to have
rhythmie oscillations of the kind I have described, because don’t
you see——’’ and he proceeded to explain his caleulations.

VERIFICATION

‘“What are you men talking about?’’ said a sedate-looking on-
looker of judicial aspect. So the hermit, the inventor and the
recluse all repeated their stories to him. He pondered a while
and then remarked to the inventor—‘‘It looks very much as if
your hypothesis about the moon’s driving the tides were correct,
for it is hardly conceivable that the consequences of lunar attrac-
tion, as thought out by the recluse, and the period of the tides,
as observed by the hermit, could agree so well unless the moon
and the tides stood in a veritable relation of cause and effect; but
the hypothesis needs modification because, as the recluse has
pointed out, the secondary variations of the tides show that the
sun also has something to do with them.’’ ‘‘But,’’ interposed the
recluse, ‘‘there should be, besides those already mentioned, still
other periodic variations in the tides if they are really caused by
the moon and the sun, and it will demand of the observer at least a
year to detect some of the longer ones.’’ ‘‘Take your time,’’ said
the judicial onlooker, ‘‘go back to the ocean and make a long series
of records, not only at one point but at many different points on
widely separated coasts; and come back here for a second confer-
ence 10 or 20 years hence. We may then reach a well established
conelusion.’’

196 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

And thus it came to pass that, after long series of tidal ob-
servations had been made in many parts of the world, all the
rhythmic consequences deduced from the moon-and-sun theory
were so fully confirmed by their correspondence with the observed
periodic variations of the tides in the ocean, that—in short, it all
ended happily: all the world was convinced that the moon and the
sun really do drive the tides.

THe Four-Facuuty PROCEDURE OF MODERN SCIENCE

But the moral of the fable is yet to be told. The moral is that
the observant hermit, the alert inventor, the thoughtful recluse,
and the judicial onlooker represent not four different individuals,
but only four different mental faculties in a single individual,
the trained man of science, who uses his powers of observation to
discover the facts of nature, his inventive ingenuity to propose
various possible hypotheses for the explanation of the facts, his
power of logical reflection to think out, or deduce, from each
hypothesis, in accordance with previously acquired, pertinent
knowledge, just what ought to happen if the hypothesis were true,
and his impartial faculty of verification to decide which hypothesis,
if any, is competent to explain the observed facts. In view of the
leading part taken by these four faculties in scientific nvestiga-
tion, we may speak of science as involving a four-faculty procedure.
But the fable must not be taken to mean that every scientist has
all his faculties developed to the full strength needed for the best
work; one man may be a patient observer but not active-minded
enough to be a good inventor of hypotheses; another may be an in-
genious inventor of hypotheses, but too impatient to be a good
observer and too flighty to be a good deducer, and so on. Nor must
it be understood that the several faculties work independently ; as
a matter of fact, now this faculty, now that is called into play in
irregular sequence, and very frequently they are summoned into
conference with one another. If it were not that the phrase is
preoccupied in another connection, we might call such conferences
‘faculty meetings.’’ Furthermore, it must be pointed out that
replacement of mental deduction by experiment is essential in
problems of certain kinds; that is, the faculty of invention is
ealled upon, after proposing an explanatory hypothesis, to devise
special artificial conditions under which natural processes shall
themselves be permitted or constrained to determine the conse-
quences of the hypothesis; but mental deduction usually accom-
panies or follows experimentation, and therefore problems into
which experiment enters may still be included under four-faculty
science.

THE REASONABLENESS OF SCIENCE 197

THe FAuuiBinity oF SCIENCE

Unfortunately, in all steps of science from observation to veri-
fication, mistakes may be made, errors may creep in. It would be
profitable to examine some of the more common classes of errors
into which scientific investigators are led by the imperfection of
their faculties; and it would be still more profitable to set forth
the safeguards by which the danger of making errors may be les-
sened. Brief comment on observation and verification may be
made in these respects. Errors commonly associated with ob-
servation result from the unconscious extension of visible things
into inferred things, and from the attempt to establish general-
izations on too narrow a basis. Conseiousness of the danger of
these errors goes far toward eliminating them. The most common
errors associated with verification are a tendency to adopt an
imperfectly supported conclusion instead of maintaining a sus-
pended judgment, and an unwillingness, indeed an inability to
change an adopted conclusion after it has been invalidated by new
evidence.

As to the latter cause of error it may be said that, if proficiency
comes from practice, it would be almost worth while occasionally
to lead advanced students to a false conclusion and leave them in
it for a time, so that they might have actual practice in changing
their minds when corrective evidence is later brought forward.
Indeed, scientific training can hardly be regarded as completed
until it has ineluded the necessity of giving up a cherished opinion.
The experience is distinctly an unpleasant one; it causes mental
disturbance to the point of sleeplessness; but it is profitable in pro-
moting the maintenance of a mobile state of mind. Time forbids
further consideration of this aspect of scientific methods; but I
must again emphasize the undeniable and regrettable fact that,
in spite of all efforts in training and safeguarding the mental fa-
culties, it is still impossible to avoid all errors, because scientists
are fallible; for if mistakes can be made with respect to anything
so manifest as visible facts of observation, they are still more likely
to be made when it comes to the invisible facts of theory. The
marvel is not that mistakes of both kinds are made, but that, m
spite of man’s undeniable fallibility, so great a body of scientific
conclusions still holds good, especially with regard to what I have
just called the invisible facts of theory. Let me say a few words
on that point.

THe NATURE OF THEORIZING

There is a popular prejudice against the use of the inventive
faculty, ordinarily called theorizing. Theorizing alone, mere
theorizing, is certainly of little value; but trained theorizing in

198 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

proper association with trained observing is absolutely essential
to scientific progress. The chief reason for this is that our ob-
serving senses are of limited power. We soon reach the conviction
that many facts of nature elude direct observation, either because
their medium is inherently transparent and intangible, or because
their dimensions are submicroscopic, or because their time of oc-
currence lay in the irrecoverable past. And yet all of these un-
observable phenomena are in their own way just as much a part
of the natural world as observable phenomena are. If we wish
really to understand the natural world, surely those of its phe-
nomena which are not immediately detectable by our hmited senses
must be detected in some way or other; and the way usually em-
ployed is—theorizing. No single observable fact is a complete en-
tity. The world is not so simply constituted. The deeper one
inquires into the nature of an observable present-day fact, the more
one becomes persuaded that it is in some way or other related to
something else that, for the reasons just given, is not observable;
and in such an inquiry one soon becomes convinced that the some-
thing else is, in spite of our not seeing it, or hearing it or feeling
it, in short not sensing it, just as truly a fact of nature as the sen-
sible fact from which our inquiry started out. The sensible facts
are discoverable by our senses, the insensible facts by our thoughts.
The invention of hypotheses is therefore nothing more than a
mental effort to bring insensible facts into causal relation with
sensible facts, and such an effort of correlation is praiseworthy
even if it is daring.

Now hypotheses when first invented are as a rule not only in-
complete, but are also without assurance of being true, especially
with regard to insensible facts. Of course they must explain the
observed facts that they were invented to explain; they would
deserve no consideration at all if they did not do that! But before
any one of several competing hypotheses is accepted as true, it
must do more; it must explain facts that it was not invented to
explain, facts that were perhaps not known when it was invented ;
and it must do this consistently with all previously acquired
knowledge, so that the new explanation shall cohere with the older
ones. Not until these exacting demands are satisfied should the
correctness of even the best of several competing hypotheses be
aecepted. It therefore remains, after several hypotheses have been
invented, to determine which one of them, if any, is right; that
is, to determine whether the imagined insensible facts of any one
of the hypotheses are truly counterparts of actual insensible facts.
That important task is accomplished, as was shown in the tidal
problem, by mentally deducing all the logical consequences of each

THE REASONABLENESS OF SCIENCE 199

hypothesis and then matching them with appropriate sensible facts.
If the consequences of a hypothesis are numerous, peculiar and
complicated, and if, even so, they succeed in matching equally nu-
merous, peculiar and complicated facts, a good share of which
were unknown when the hypothesis was invented, then it is highly
probable that that hypothesis is true.

Let me add that it is this demand for the verification of a
hypothesis after its invention that especially distinguishes modern
science from primitive science, as I shall later show more fully;
and it is chiefly because of the demand for verification that the
modern progress made in the daring search for insensible facts
has been so great. Errors are still made, because scientists are
still fallible; but instead of pointing, I will not say the ‘‘finger of
seorn,’’ but the thumb of reproach at science for having made and
for still making errors, we should rather marvel at its successes,
particularly in revealing to us the nature of the unseeable, insen-—
sible world, as in the inconceivably small subatomic electrons and
ions which enter into the composition of the material substances
of the world; or in the existence of the marvellously tenuous,
elastic, and immaterial medium, named the luminiferous ether, by
which radiant energy is conveyed through what we eall empty
interplanetary and interstellar space; or in the event of the past
history of the earth’s surface, which were visible enough in their
time, but which are now irrecoverably invisible.

THE CREDULITY OF SCIENCE

Tt is not to be denied that much credulity is called for in this
daring search for the unobservable facts of the natural world.
Science, however, is not alone in ecredulously building up an un-
seen world to complement the seen world. That has been done by
non-science also for ages past. But the credulity involved in the
two eases is unlike. In the latter the credulity is whimsical, fan-
tastic, irresponsible, incoherent; in the former it is orderly, con-
trolled, rational, coherent. During the progress of the human
race from savagery toward enlightenment, fantastic, inecherent
eredulity is slowly replaced by rational, coherent credulity. The
belief in witchcraft is a good example of irrational eredulity. Let
me give you an equally good example of rational credulity. The
solution of the tidal problem involves a belief in the force of gravita-
tion, by which two bodies like the moon and the earth or the sun and
the earth exert a pulling force upon each other. We are familiar
with the exertion of a pulling foree through material substance, as
when one pulls a heavy body with a rope; but the attraction of the
sun upon the earth is exerted through what appears to be empty
space. Yet in spite of the absence of anything to pull with, the

200 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

sun’s attraction is strong enough to pull the moving earth con-
tinually into the curved path of its orbit. How large a rope
or cable do you suppose would be required to represent, in material
form, the pull exerted through empty space by the sun on the earth?
If the cable were made of ordinary telegraph wires, the wires would
have to be planted all over the earth’s dise about as close together
as grass roots in a lawn, and even then the wires would be stretched
almost to breaking strength in compelling the earth to turn from
a straight tangent into its curved orbit. Scientific credulity accepts
that marvel. It believes that that enormous pull is exerted by the
sun on the earth through space that is empty of all material sub-
stance, even though no adequate physical explanation is yet found
as to how the pull can be exerted. Credulity of a certain kind is
therefore highly characteristic of science and of scientific men;
it leads them to believe marvels quite as marvellous as any that.
were ever believed in unscientifie ages.

THE SCHEME OF THE GEOGRAPHICAL CYCLE

Let us now turn to an altogether different example of scientific
inquiry, a geographical inquiry concerning the distribution of
plants and animals over the earth’s surface. Climate is an im-
portant factor in controlling their distribution. Now climate
varies not only from equator to pole but also with altitude above
sea level. Lowlands are warmer and as a rule drier than high-
lands. But a lowland may, it is believed, be changed to a highland
by the gradual upheaval of its part of the earth’s crust; and it is
believed further that a highland thus produced must in the course
of time be worn down to a lowland again by the still more gradual
processes of erosion. A warm lowland with a moderate rainfall
may therefore be upheaved into a cool or cold highland with
ereater rainfall; and after the forces of upheaval have ceased, the
cool and rainy highland may be very slowly worn down to a warm
and less rainy lowland again. Evidently there must be changes in
the flora and fauna of a region while it is undergoing these changes
of altitude and of climate. As a lowland is raised into a highland
and its climate modified, its former flora and fauna can not survive,
because they can not accommodate themselves to the new climatic
conditions. They are therefore replaced by immigrants from some
neighboring highland or from some lower land nearer the pole.
Likewise the occupants of a highland can not survive the changes
of climate that take place as it is worn down to a lowland; they
are therefore gradually replaced by invaders from some other low-
land not too far away. It is instructive to note that these changes
of the earth’s surface, slow as they may be, are faster as a rule
than the evolutionary changes of plants and animals. Hence, in

THE REASONABLENESS OF SCIENCE 201

a long view of the earth one would see its plants and animals not
only undergoing their extremely slow evolutionary changes, but
also making somewhat less slow migrations, prompted by and ac-
companying the upheavals and down-wearings of its surface; and
the present distribution of plants and animals is believed to be
simply a transitory phase in this long succession of changes.

How different is this problem of the cycle of geographical
changes from that of the tides. The rapid changes of the tides are
directly observable; they are moreover periodic and their changes
can therefore be observed over and over again; and both they and
their cause are susceptible of quantitative mathematical treatment.
The changes of the geographical cycle are so slow that they can not
be followed, they can only be imagined; and there is no reason
for believing that such cycles of change are accomplished in a
definite period, nor indeed that any given cycle will run its entire
course without disturbance; the downwearing of a highland to a
lowland may be interrupted during its progress by a new upheaval.
Moreover the asserted extinctions and invasions of plants and ani-
mals following the ehanges in the climate of their habitat are only
inferences. In a word, this scheme of the geographical cycle is in
its very nature highly speculative. Why then should credence
be given to it? For the very simple reason that only by believing
it can a host of present-day observable facts, inorganic and or-
ganic, be brought into reasonable relations. In short, the scheme
of the geographical cycle is believed because it works; and there-
fore, like many other scientific conclusions, it is an excellent ex-
ample of pragmatic philosophy. But how venturesome is a scheme
in which the observed facts of to-day constitute so small a fraction
of the total phenomena! On the other hand, for those who have
the scientific faith to believe that such changes as those involved
in the scheme of the geographical cycle have actually taken place
in the evolution of the present aspect of the earth, how admirably
does this scheme give us examples of invisible facts of theory!
And in spite of their being deeply buried in the past, how won-
derfully are those facts recovered, at least in their general nature,
by taking that mental action which, although it does not add a
eubit to our physical stature, does add immensely to our under-
standing.

THe NATURE OF SCIENTIFIC DEMONSTRATION

But what does a man mean when he says that he believes the
scheme of the geographical cycle, with its imagined yet unseen
changes of land forms and its inferred yet unobserved changes in
the distribution of plants and animals. He ought not to mean
that the truth of the scheme has been absolutely proved, but only

202 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

that it has been given a very high order of probability; for that
is, as a rule, the nature of what is often called scientific demonstra-
tion. He ought to recognize also that many generalizations on
which the argumentation of the scheme rests are likewise not abso-
lutely proved: for example, the persistence of the present-day
order of natural processes through hundreds of millions of years
of past time; to says nothing of the unbroken continuity of time
itself! Who can prove the truth of those generalizations in any ab-
solute sense? Nevertheless one accepts their truth because he finds,
after due inquiry, that they too appear to have a high order of
probability.

Now what is the common feature in the problem of the tides
and the problem of the geographical cycle, and in all other scien-
tific problems, in virtue of the possession of which they deserve
to be called scientific? Evidently not the subjects that they treat,
for the subjects of scientific study are remarkably diverse. The
common feature inheres not in the content of the problems but in
their method; and the common feature of their method is the
quality of reasonableness ; that is, a spirit of free inquiry, in which
no prepossessions are accepted which are not themselves open to
serutiny, in which the conclusions reached are followed wherever
they lead, and in which a revision of conclusions is made whenever
it is demanded by new facts. Science is therefore not final any
more than it is infallible. It is a growth, and its growth is by no
means completed.

Science had indeed only very gradually grown to be the four-
faculty procedure that it now is. In very primitive times the
mere observation of facts without inquiry as to cause was perhaps
as far as science could then be carried; it was only a one-faculty
procedure then. Somewhat later simple generalizations regarding
facts that resembled each other may have been made; and the
generalizations framed by individuals may have advanced to tribal
generalizations. Indeed it seems quite possible that some such
tribal generalizations of one-faculty science, for example, as to
things that are good and bad to eat, may have been established by
our anthropoid ancestors before they deserved to be called men.
But even the most primitive tribes of men now living seem cen-
turies ago to have advanced into a second stage of two-faculty
science, in which the invention of explanatory hypotheses is added
to observation and generalization. Even the lowest savages now
known try to explain many of the things that they see by relating
them to other things that they either see or do not see, and they thus
establish to their own satisfaction relations of cause and effect. If
the effect is explained by a visible cause, well and good. But if,

THE REASONABLENESS OF SCIENCE 203

in the stage of two-faculty science, the effect is explained by an
invisible cause, what then?

THE Two-Facuutry PRocEepURE oF PRIMITIVE SCIENCE

In striking contrast with present-day four-faculty science in
which verification is so essential, the earlier two-faculty stage of
science accepts its hypotheses without any adequate verificatory in-
quiry. Its explanations do not have to explain more than they
were invented to explain, and they do not have to cohere with
previously acquired knowledge. If they explain the facts that
they were invented to explain, that is enough. Naturally therefore
the two-faculty stage of science represents a phase of human de-
velopment in which whimsical, incoherent credulity flourishes, the
kind of credulity which I have already referred to as unscientific,
because it is so unlike the orderly, coherent credulity of four-
faculty science. But I now wish to treat that incoherent credulity
in another way; to regard it as the inevitable accompaniment of
two-faculty science, and hence just as appropriately an element
of an early stage in the evolution of science as the rational, co-
herent credulity is of the present, more advanced stage. It is as
if, between the primitive one-faculty stage, which was reasonable
as far as it went, and the present four-faculty stage which seems
to those who have reached it completely reasonable, there had
been an unreasonable two-faculty stage in the evolution of science.
The three stages are so unlike that one might hesitate to call them
all scientific ; just as one hesitates to give a single name to a eater-
pillar, a chrysalis and a butterfly: and yet the first two stages are
in both eases the essential antecedents of the third. In any case
the two-faculty stage of science was as reasonable as the two-
faculty scientists could make it; and that is all we four-faculty
scientists ean say of our own stage.

THe Naturau History or GoopNEss

This may be made clearer by illustration. At the opening of
my address I[ outlined the problem of the tides as one which modern
four-faculty science has carried to a well established quantitative
solution. This was followed by the problem of the geographical
eyele which, although avowedly very speculative, has been ad-
vaneed to a qualitative solution at least. I wish now to consider a
third problem, which illustrates remarkably well the gradual de-
velopment of inquiry in ancient times, and also the difference of
certain conclusions reached by two-faculty science that was in vogue
then from those reached by four-faculty science that is current now;
and this problem has the further value of illustrating the optimism
of science, for it leads to a conclusion concerning mankind that is

204 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

full of hope. The usual name for the subject of this third example
is the science of ethics; I propose, however, to call it in general
terms the natural history of goodness. There is nothing new in
what I have to say on this old subject, although I may give a new
emphasis to some of its aspects.

The facts which this branch of natural science treats are found
in the body of opinion held by the different tribes and peoples of
the world concerning things which they regard as right and wrong,
that is, in their moral codes, and in the actions which they approve
or condemn. Different people have different codes, and the code
of the same people changes with the passages of time. Countless
are the tragedies that have been enacted when a more powerful
people, arrogantly assuming the justice of its own code, has
ruthlessly violated the code of a weaker people. The theoreti-
eal side of the science includes a search for the sources of the
different elements of each tribal or national code, for the processes
by which the elements of a code are slowly modified, and for the
forces by which good thoughts and acts may be fostered and bad
ones suppressed. The natural history of goodness is therefore
concerned with the conerete opinions and actions of ordinary men
in commonplace, every-day life, and has nothing to do with the ab-
stractions of metaphysics regarding absolute and eternal ideals.
In that respect it might be compared with the natural history of
mathematies, which would portray the efforts of early man in
gradually and tentatively developing the multiplication table, but
would have nothing to do with the metaphysical pre-existence and
everlasting verity of 7 times 9 being 63. For in the same way the
natural history of goodness would, if it could, deseribe the first
recognition and the later modification of various ethical principles
by certain peoples in certain places at certain times under certain
conditions, but it would take no acocunt of the metaphysical view
that all ethical truths are eternal, as if they had existed by them-
selves somewhere in the interstellar spaces of the universe for untold
ages awaiting recognition.

Tue Eruics oF THE CHILDREN OF ISRAEL

The few illustrations of this great subject that I have time to
present will be taken from the Old Testament, that marvellous
record of the intensely human struggle made by a primitive and
ignorant people in their advance from savagery to barbarism. How
very primitive they were; and in no way more primitive than m
candidly recording their frequently scandalous behavior! A more
sophisticated people would have taken care to conceal their errors,
but the Children of Israel were savagely naive. Their early books,

THE REASONABLENESS OF SCIENCE 205

those of the Pentateuch and the ones next following, contain
abundant material for study in announcements concerning things
held to be right or wrong as affecting food and hygiene, property
in land, cattle and slaves, safety of life and limb, and social inter-
course. The good things are sometimes directly stated, but they
are more often to be inferred as the opposites of bad things that
are prohibited or punished.

None of the announcements are more striking than those which
have to do with the taking of human life as a punishment for va-
rious kinds of wrong-doing. In the time of Noah this important
problem was treated simply and concisely: ‘‘Whoso sheddeth
man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed’’ (Gen. ix, 6). But
that early pronouncement was elaborately modified in the time of
Moses and afterward. It was then still ordained in general terms
that ‘‘thou shalt give life for lfe;’’ but it was also ordained
on the one hand that, besides offenses of bloodshed, various other
offenses should also be punished by death, and on the other hand cer-
tain offenses of bloodshed should not be punished by death. As to the
first, a number of offenses are listed, among them being for example
the smiting or the cursing of one’s father or mother, for which a
man ‘‘shall surely be put to death’’ (Ex. xxi, 12-17); and here
the use of the word ‘‘surely’’ seems to imply that the Children of
Israel were sometimes too lax in the punishment of such offenders.
As to the second group of offenses, a time came when eareful dis-
tinetion was made between intentional and accidental manslaughter.
Thus if one man thrust another out ‘‘of hatred, or hurled at him,
lying in wait, so that he died,’’ that man is a manslayer and ‘‘the
avenger of blood shall put the manslayer to death, when he meeteth
him.’’ This command is emphasized by the suggestive addition:
‘*Ye shall take no ransom for the life of a manslayer (Num. xxxv,
20, 21, 31). But a man who ‘‘killeth his neighbor unawares, and
hated him not in time past; as when a man goeth into the forest
with his neighbor to hew wood, and his hand fetcheth a stroke with
the axe to cut down the tree, and the head slippeth from the helve,
and lighteth upon his neighbor, that he die;’’ then the man is not
worthy of death, inasmuch as he hated not his neighbor in time past
(Deut. xix, 4, 5, 6). At an early time one witness seems to have
been sufficient to prove a man to be a manslayer; but in later time
it is said: ‘‘At the mouth of two witnesses or three witnesses,
shall he that is to die be put to death; at the mouth of one witness
he shall not be put to death’’ (Deut. xvii, 6). What good, homely
common-sense this is!

ANCIENT AND MopERN VIEWS OF [sRAELITIC ETHICS

It would appear from these and many other passages, especially
those concerning their wars, that the Israelites must have been in-

206 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

deed a violent crew; but it appears also that they made very ex-
plicit and frank record of their views concerning right and wrong.
Now if we examine their records as contributions to the natural
history of goodness in an era of two-faculty science, we ought to
ask ourselves among many other questions, not only what were the
views of the Israelites concerning good and evil, but also how they
gained their views, and how they came to establish, as a means of
controlling their actions for the common weal, rewards for good
and punishments for evil. As a matter of fact, investigation of
this large subject has been carried on earnestly for a century or
more, and in a truly scientific spirit; that is, reasonably and with
an open mind. I propose to compare, or rather to contrast, the
conclusions reached by modern students of the subject under their
four-faculty procedure, with the opinions held by the Israelites
themselves under their two-faculty procedure.

The Israelites’ view was, if we are to take their records literally,
that their understanding of good and evil as well as their decrees
for the reward of good and the punishment of evil, came to them
by supernatural revelation; and this view was adopted by all
Christendom in later centuries. The modern view, more and more
widely adopted now, is that the Israelites derived their knowledge
and their decrees concerning good and evil in a perfectly natural
way from a perfectly natural source; namely, from their own per-
fectly natural experience, the same source from which all other
human knowledge is gained. The decrees and commandments
were not sudden acquisitions, but merely expressions of the morals
and customs gradually developed among the people and formulated
by their leaders. In comment upon these two views it should be
noted that the ancient view originated among a primitive, ignorant,
eruel, self-centered people, very ready to adopt extraordinary, even
supernatural explanations for simple occurrences, because being
in the stage of two-faculty inquiry they did not apply, they did not
know how to apply independent verificatory tests to their hy-
potheses, but naively believed them if they explained the things
they were invented to explain; and that the modern view has been
eradually developed in later times by many broadly informed
students of human history and human nature, who have gathered
a vast amount of information not only about the ancient Israelites
but also about many other primitive peoples, ancient and modern ;
students who have examined that information reasonably and in a.
spirit of free inquiry, who have at every step in their inquiry done
their best, according to the procedure of four-faculty science, to
verify their explanations and who have therefore reached their
conelusions carefully and critically, intelligently and sympatheti-
eally.

THE REASONABLENESS OF SCIENCE 207

GROUNDS OF THE MODERN VIEW

Some persons here present probably hold the earlier one of the
two views, and some the later one; but however my audience is
divided in that respect, it is more likely a unit in not habitually
looking on the Old Testament as affording material for the scien-
tifie study of the natural history of goodness, and as therefore not
regarding it as affording fit illustrations for the third example of
scientific inquiry, which I am now outlining. There seem never-
theless to be cogent reasons for looking on it in this way. One of
these reasons is that the Old Testament, especially its earlier half,
gives so excellent an idea of the manner of life led by the Children
of Israel. The records are as a whole unconcealedly human in tell-
ing of friendships and quarrels, of generosities and meannesses,
of honorable acts and of dishonorable acts; hence they give an in-
valuable picture of the views of a primitive people on moral ques-
tions.

Furthermore, when the books of the Old Testament are read—
particularly when they are read in a polychrome edition which dis-
tinguishes the various sources from which the successive books are
compiled—the understanding of good and evil there recorded is
seen to exhibit very distinctly an evolutionary progress, such as is
found from studies of other peoples to be characteristic of the
natural history of goodness in general; witness the citation already
made about manslaughter; witness also the declarations concern-
ing food. In the time of Noah it was said: ‘‘Every living thing
shall be good for you’’ (Gen. ix, 3) ; and this is much more primi-
tive than the later declaration in the time of Moses, when sharp
discrimination was made between the cloven-footed, cud-chewing
animals which might be eaten and other kinds of animals which
might not be eaten (Lev. ix; also Deut. xiv). It may be noted in
passing that a belief in the evolutionary development and progress
of mankind greatly simplifies the vexatious problem of the existence
of evil in the world; for much of the forbidden behavior or wicked-
ness of a later era is thus seen to be only a continuation of the per-
mitted behavior of an earlier, less advanced era.

Finally, the Old Testament records of the Children of Israel
may be taken as affording proper material for the study of the
natural history of goodness because they show the Israelites to be
so very like other savage races. They justified themselves as a
chosen people; they ascribed bad qualities to their enemies whom
they really resembled rather closely; they saw mysterious omens
in commonplace events; they regarded dreams as messages from
an extra-human source; they were miraculously visited by good
and bad spirits; they took their own very human convictions to
be revelations and commandments from their local tribal god; and

208 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

to that god they attributed, but in a higher degree, their own very
human qualities; not only wisdom and goodness and power, but
also forgetfulness, repentance, hatred and revenge. In all this
the Children of Israel are so like other primitive tribes that they
must evidently be studied just as other primitive tribes are studied.

SUPERNATURAL AND NATURAL INTERPRETATIONS

Now in reviewing the reasons thus briefly set forth for regard-
ing the records of the Old Testament as affording fit material for
the study of the special branch of human evolution here under
consideration, it is interesting to notice that the same reasons lead
to the rejection of the older view that the knowledge of good and
evil gained by the Israelites was derived from a supernatural
source, and to the acceptance of the modern view that it was simply
a summation of their own human experience. Indeed, when the
Mosaic books are read in a rational, scientific spirit, without prepos-
session, the marvel is that they can be interpreted in any other way.
That the Israelites should have introduced supernatural elements
into their records, as when they explained the Ten Commandments
by revelation, is inevitable in view of what is now known concern-
ing the natural history of goodness among all primitive peoples in
the stage of two-faculty science ; and that they should have accepted
these supernatural elements as true is thoroughly characteristic
of the incoherent credulity that prevails among primitive peoples
under the two-faculty method of establishing beliefs in unseen
things. But that the supernatural elements of these ancient and
primitive beliefs should have been accepted as true by all Chris-
tians during nearly all the centuries of Christendom is nothing less
than marvellous; or perhaps I should say, would be nothing less
than marvellous did we not know that through all those centuries
a great part of the beliefs of Christendom were dominated by two-
faculty science.

Consider, for example, the decree concerning a servant who has
earned his freedom by six years of service, but who then still loves
his master, his wife and his children so much that he does not wish
to go out free and leave them: in that case ‘‘his master shall bring
him . . . to the door, or to the door post; and .. . shall bore his
ear through with an awl; and he shall serve him for ever’’ (Ex.
xxi, 6). Boring a hole through a man’s ear with an awl would
seem to be a very simple, a very human way of marking him. It
is therefore unduly ecredulous to believe that this and other similar
decrees had a supernatural source, even if they are preceded by
the introductory statement: ‘‘And the Lord said unto Moses,
these are the judgments which thou shalt set before the Children
of Israel’? (Ex. xxii, xxiii). No such introductory statement is

THE REASONABLENESS OF SCIENCE 209

given before similar decrees in Deuteronomy xv. One is indeed
tempted to think that the words, ‘‘And the Lord said... ’’ by
which various paragraphs in the Pentateuech open, were hardly
intended to be taken literally.

THE TREATMENT OF ENEMIES

Tf anything more is needed to show the utterly human nature
of the Mosaic decrees, it is found in the narrow limitation of the
commandments: ‘*Thou shalt do no murder ... Thou shalt not
steal;’’ for manifestly these rulings applied only to neighbors and
fellow tribesmen, not to enemies. As to enemies, commands were
repeatedly given, as if from the Lord, to kill them wholesale, even
to their women and children; and to steal from them everything
they possess. The advance of the Israelites to the promised land
under Moses and Joshua is a horrible story of rapine and blood-
shed; the plain and pitiless story of ruthless savagery. Samuel is
probably remembered by most persons nowadays chiefly as a gentle
little boy, who, wakened from his sleep by the eall of the Lord,
answered, ‘‘Speak, for thy servant heareth’’ (I Samuel ii, 10) ;
yet it was Samuel who, when grown to manhood, was possessed
with the idea that the Lord gave him a message, a hideous message,
to Saul, to smite the Amalekites ‘‘and utterly destroy all they have,
and spare them not; but slay both man and woman, infant and
suckling, ox and sheep, camel and ass.’’ And because Saul and
his army, after killing every man and woman, infant and suckling,
spared Agag the king of the Amalekites and kept the best of the
oxen and sheep for themselves, “‘then came the word of the Lord
unto Samuel, saying, It repenteth me that I have set up Saul to
be king... and Samuel was wroth’’ and had Agag brought be-
fore him and hewed him in pieces with a sword (I Samuel xy, 38,
M33).

A Great DEBT TO SCIENCE

We have sadly to admit that horrors of those kinds have been
frightfully characteristic of human progress from savagery -and
barbarism all over the world; and also that such horrors have been
frequently regarded by the people who committed them as accept-
able to or direeted by their local tribal deities, as they conceived
them; but it must have been a heavy burden to Christian faith
to believe that the loving, fatherly God of the New Testament is
the same god who led Joshua in his bloody wars and who told
Samuel to give that hideous message to Saul. It is a great blessing
that the progress of modern scientific inquiry and the spirit of
rationalism that has grown with it have relieved Christian faith
of that burden. Science has truly benefited the world in many
ways, but it may be doubted whether any other benefit derived

VOL. XV.—14.

210 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

from scientific rationalism is so great as the liberation of Chris-
tianity from the reproach which it fully deserved so long as it in-
eluded a literal acceptance of all the teachings of the Old Testa-
ment, in spite of Christ’s preaching a religion of brotherly love
in the New Testament.

But you may ask, is it truly to science that the world owes that
great benefit? Has science indeed anything to do with these re-
ligious matters? It has of course to do with the earth and the
stars, with plants and animals, with steam and electricity; but by
what right does science concern itself with questions of good and
evil? It does so by the same right, precisely the same right that it
studies the tides as governed by the moon and the sun, and the slow
changes of earth’s surface when lowlands are raised to highlands
and when highlands are worn down to lowlands. For the observant
and thoughtful study of mankind discovers many facts of opinion
and facets of action concerning things that are regarded as good or
bad; and all those facts, which together with their causes and conse-
quences are included under the natural history of goodness, are
just as properly open to scientific inquiry, that is, to unprejudiced,
reasonable inquiry, as any other facts in the world. Nevertheless,
the feeling that science is a trespasser on such ground is often met ;
and also the allied feeling that science is too cold and hard to deal
with such questions. Let us see.

THE ConFLICT OF RELIGION AND SCIENCE

First, as to science being a trespasser when it touches questions
with which religion has traditionally dealt. Much has been written
about what is called the conflict between religion and science. The
eause of that conflict lay not in the trespass of science upon the
proper field of religion, but in the trespass of religion upon the
proper field of science. Religion attempted, while thus trespass-
ing, to dictate beliefs concerning the age of the earth, the origin
and the antiquity of man, and many other mundane matters. What
is more natural than that science, as it developed, should enter into
conflict with the trespasser; and what more manifest now than
that, in so far as geology and organic evolution and other similar
subjects are concerned, the conflict should have resulted in the
complete conquest of those subjects by science from religion! This
wholesome defeat of religion, or rather of the misguided defenders
of what was long thought to be religion, would not have taken
place had the advice of St. Augustine been followed. He wrote
long ago: ‘‘It very often happens, that there is some question as
to the earth or sky, or the other elements of this world .. . re-
specting which one who is not a Christian has knowledge derived
from most certain reasoning or observation, and it is very disgrace-

THE REASONABLENESS OF SCIENCE 211

ful and mischievous and of all things to be carefully avoided, that
a Christian speaking of such matters as being according to the
Christian Scriptures, should be heard by an unbeliever talking
such nonsense, that the unbeliever perceiving him to be as wide of
the mark as east from west, can hardly restrain himself from
laughing’’ (Thus quoted in Osborn’s ‘‘From the Greeks to Dar-
win’’).

Will not a modern St. Augustine arise and make a similar state-
ment concerning the natural history of goodness? I wish he would,
for all human thoughts and acts are, like human anatomy and
physiology, the product of natural evolution. Just as surely as all
questions of a geological or astronomical or biological nature have
now been permanently acquired from religion by their respective
sciences, so conquest will be made of all questions concerning right
and wrong by that division of science which concerns itself with the
natural history of goodness as a matter of purely human experience,
in contrast to goodness as a matter of supernatural revelation. Two
ereat and growing, though still young branches of modern science
will contribute powerfully to this conquest; they are eugenics and
psychiatry. I hope that some speaker before this society a hundred
years hence will review the practical contribution by that time made
to human betterment by these young giants.

TRUE SCIENCE IS NEITHER CoLD NoR HARD

As to the other idea that science is too cold and hard to deal
with moral questions, there is to my regret some ground for that
opinion. It is probably based on the behavior of certain scientists
who, having made, as far as they have gone, no serious misjudg-
ments, have not been enlightened by the baptism of acknowledged
error, and who are therefore harshly overconfident of the correct-
ness of their conclusions. They introduce their would-be rigorous
methods of thought into daily intercourse with their neighbors,
and are logical when they ought to be genial, argumentative when
they ought to be sympathetic; in short, they are very tiresome fel-
lows, and they do science a disservice. No wonder that a géntle-
minded person would hesitate to trust scientists of that sort with
decisions on delicate problems of right and wrong! But on the
other hand, even the best of science is judged cold and hard with
little reason by certain sentimental and emotional persons who, re-
clining on soft couches of prejudice and downy pillows of prefer-
ence, are intellectually too indolent to face the problems of life
fairly and squarely; too unreasonable to subject their opinions to
candid scrutiny ; too undisciplined to change their beliefs even in
the light of compelling evidence. They know nothing of the calm
and clear spirit of free inquiry; they are unwilling to follow free

212 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

inquiry to an unwelcome conclusion; for example, they reject the
philosophy of evolution because, as they fastidiously phrase it,
they do not like the idea of being descended from monkeys. I do
not believe we need take their condemnation of science as being
eold and hard any more seriously than their rejection of evolution
because they do not like it.

No, the natural history of goodness les manifestly within the
field of scientific inquiry, and true scientific inquiry will not be
either cold or hard in reaching conclusions about it. Scientific
inquiry will, indeed, remove from the minds of intelligent thinkers
at least, a very cold and hard religious view of ancient origin to
the effect that punishment, either in this world or in hell, is the
best means of suppressing evil; and will also remove, I hope, the
equally primitive view that rewards, either in this world or in
heaven, are the best means of promoting good. And let me note
in passing that the dependence of the Israelites largely upon pun-
ishment, and frequently upon very harsh punishment, as a means
of improving human behavior is another of the many evidences
for the human origin of their code of morals. It is natural enough
that erude views regarding the wish for reward and the fear of
punishment should have been characteristic of ignorant ancient
peoples, just as they are still characteristic of unintelligent
modern peoples. But it is clear enough to-day that fear of punish-
ment is often unsuccessful in the prevention of evil, and that ex-
pectation of reward, especially of distant reward, is not very suc-
cessful in the promotion of good. There is great need of finding
something better than reward and punishment as a means of
improving the world.

Can the scientific study of the natural history of goodness dis-
cover something better? It ought at least try to do so; and in
the belief that it will do so lies the optimism of science; but it will
take a long time to reach results. For as I have already noted
the natural history of goodness ineludes a study of the forces by
which good thoughts and actions may be encouraged and strength-
ened, and bad ones inhibited. How will the study proceed? Un-
doubtedly by the standard scientific method of observation, inven-
tion, deduction including experiment, and verification; in a word,
reasonably. The facts to be studied are, of course, plainly enough
very unlike the visible and periodic variations of the tides as con-
trolled by the moon and the sun, and very unlike the present distri-
bution of plants and animals as a consequence of the long past, in-
visible, non-periodie changes of the geographical cycle; but just as
certain appropriate means have been found for solving those unlike
problems under the four-faculty proceedure of modern science,
equally appropriate means will, it must be hoped, be found for the

THE REASONABLENESS OF SCIENCE 213

solution of this human problem. Efforts toward its solution by the
eurrent methods of improving personal and public morals as a part
of religious training will of course be continued; but I hope they
inay be supplemented by systematic¢ instruction in ethics as a branch
rather of natural history than of philosophy in schools and colleges.

GoopNeEss TaucHT By THE Case METHOD

I such instruction the nature of the subject should not be set
forth so much in impersonal generalizations as by the ‘‘case meth-
od,’’ the same method which Louis Agassiz so successfully intro-
dueed into the study of zoology, which Langdell with equal success
applied to the study of law, and which is now increasingly employed
in the Harvard Graduate School of Business Administration as the
best means of inculeating sound business principles. Indeed, the
natural history of goodness lends itself remarkably well to this
method of presentation; for its facets may be set forth in collec-
tions of concrete examples of various kinds of behavior, concerning
which the pupils may make their own judgments and generaliza-
tions; and such collections of examples may be graded from ele-
mentary to advanced, so as to afford excellent material for imdi-
vidual exercises from early school years onward. But in the
meantime, while such instruction is going on, the specialists in this
branch of natural science must extend their investigations by earry-
ing their observations over a great number of individuals, and by
devising ingenious experiments concerning all sorts of pertinent
conditions.

Observation will be difficult because it will have to take account
of the endless diversity in the dispositions and capacities of boys
and girls, men and women; but it must not be neglected. Experi-
ments will be intricate, for they will operate slowly and will be hard
to follow; but they must not be omitted. Both observation and
experiment must be directed in particular to determining how far
the love of goodness and the hatred of evil can be cultivated and
strengthened ; and also how far the cultivated love of goodness and
the spiritual happiness that comes from good deeds, together with
the cultivated hatred of evil and the spiritual distress that comes
from bad deeds, may be trusted as guides to conduct, in preference
to rewards for good behavior and punishment for evil-doing; and
in this investigation due regard must be had to the age and the
nature and the environment of the individual. Great results should
not be expected, however, until a way is discovered to strengthen
the will; and I believe the best way to do that will be to give it
opportunity for action in a carefully devised and wisely supervised
series of graded exercises, running all through school and college
years. We are making a very serious mistake in not introducing

214 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

systematic exercises for the development of the will, that is, of
self-control, in our educational system.

Objection will probably be urged against the proposition
to teach goodness as a branch of natural history. It will be said
that the omission of all mention of God is fatal to its acceptance
and its success. In my judgment, our relation to the Infinite
should be excluded from natural history and assigned to religious
instruction, where it should be treated with the utmost reverence ;
while the natural history of goodness should be taught just as
other branches of natural history are taught, entirely apart from
any idea of special creation or any miraculous interference with
the order of nature. But it should be taught with a gentleness, a
delicacy, a sympathy not to be imagined by persons who think of
science as cold and hard, and of scientists as chiefly engaged in
hammering rocks, dissecting animals and pulling plants to pieces.
Those who enter this branch of natural history, either as investi-
gators or as teachers, must strive to conduct themselves with the
wisdom of the judge, the true insight of the poet, when need be
with the tenderness of a mother, and always with the infinite pa-
tience of evolution itself. It is a great field and it deserves the
devotion of the best minds.

THE GREATER F'arrH oF Drvout BELIEVERS

In order to illustrate the reasonableness of science I have told
you something of the tides as a very specific, quantitative, mathe-
matical problem of four-faculty science; and I have sketched the
scheme of the geographical cycle as a highly speculative problem,
in the qualitative treatment of which the four-faculty procedure
has nevertheless been encouragingly successful. Finally I have
outlined the natural history of goodness in order to exemplify the
broad range of moral questions over which the four-faculty method
of scientific inquiry may be hopefully extended. You will, I trust,
accept the tides and the geographical cycle as problems of some
interest and importance; but I hope you will regard the natural
history of goodness as a much more interesting and a much more im-
portant subject of scientific study, particularly as an illustration
of the reasonableness of science. If you do so, I beg that you will
encourage the cultivation of that branch of natural history and
favor its introduction, by means of the case method, into our edu-
cational system. There will be of course, as already intimated,
those who will say that, just as in replacing special creation by
evolution, so in replacing the revelation of goodness by its experi-
ential development, we are acting as if we had lost faith,
as if we were unbelievers; but for my part I hold that we are thus
acting as most sincere, most earnest, most devout believers, and as
having the greater faith.

ASTRONOMY IN CANADA 215

ASTRONOMY IN CANADA'

By Drs OLFTO-RLOTZ
DIRECTOR OF THE DOMINION OBSERVATORY, OTTAWA

ET me first extend greetings from my native country Canada
to our nearest and closest neighbor and friend—you of the
United States. Although two flags wave over our countries, there
is only one celestial vault to cover us; the same stars smile on you
as on us, and we both appeal to them to help solve the riddle of the
universe. Our aims and our aspirations are, I think, the same—
the uplift of our people, the utilization of all our resources for
the common weal, the widest distribution of the amenities of life,
but all founded on the eternal gospel of work.

I think we will find that the origin of all national observatories
has been to supply a distinet want or need in the affairs of the
nation concerned. So it was with the Royal Observatory at Green-
wich and so it was with us. You will recall that it was essentially
the question of determining longitude at sea that decided Charles
II—in spite of the evil reputation he earned for himself—to com-
mand the Rev. John Flamsteed ‘‘to apply himself with care and
diligence to improve the Table of the positions of the Fixed Stars
and Moon to find out the much desired Longitude at Sea, for
the perfecting the Art of Navigation.’’ And so was founded the
Royal Observatory in 1675. No thoughts of abstract science were
in the minds of its founders. It was founded for the benefit of the
Royal Navy, and that is its first object to the present day, although
its field of activity has vastly expanded and comprises many lines
of research. Now a few words as to the origin of the Dominion
Observatory, the national observatory of Canada.

The original Dominion of Canada as born on the Ist of Tae
1867, comprised the four provinces of Nova Scotia, New Brunswick,
Lower and Upper Canada, or Quebee and Ontario. In 1871 British
Columbia entered the Dominion, and amongst the terms of federa-
tion was that Canada was to build a railway to and through the
province to the Pacific Ocean, while British Columbia on her part
would convey to the Dominion all lands held by the Crown within
20 miles of the contemplated railway. I may say here that there

1Subject matter given in an illustrated ex-tempore address before the
Academy of Arts and Sciences, Brooklyn, on February 28, 1922.

216 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

was some difference of opinion as to what 20 miles meant along a
naturally very sinuous railway of over 500 miles through a sea of
mountains. There was of course only one correct interpretation,
and that was the area covered or swept by a 20 mile long arm at-
tached at right angles to each side of a moving train.

It was decided by the Dominion Government that the lands to
be acquired from British Columbia were to be coordinated with
those of the northwest, the survey of which was based on astro-
nomic positions. Although the rectangular system of surveys,
the division of lands into sections, townships and ranges was copied
from the United States, we in so far improved on it that our system
is connected and is a unit, extending from the Lake of the Woods
to the Paeific, and from the International Boundary of the 49th
parallel to the Aretic Ocean, while in the United States the surveys
of the individual states, where the rectangular system applies, are
quite independent of each other, and hence lack coordination.

May I here, as J have mentioned the 49th parallel, say a word
about its survey, as the astronomer played an important part
therein.

You know it’s so easy for diplomats sitting about a table to
decide the fate of countries and their boundaries. With regard to
the latter they are often in blissful ignorance of the geography
involved or of the people affected. Certainly nothing could look
nicer on paper than a parallel of latitude, which has so simple a
definition, curving around the earth. Laying it down on the
ground, however, is quite another story. The two astronomers
engaged in this international work clearly recognized difficulties
that might and would arise in observing for latitude and came to
an understanding how to deal with the matter.

The understandinge—and a very sensible one—was that the
observed latitude was to govern, quite apart from the error that
may be involved due to the deflection of the plumb line. The ob-
servations themselves, about 50 years ago, being practically devoid
of error, were made with present-day accuracy.

The line zigzags, responding to the varying attraction or dis-
placements of the zero of the level from normal. The greatest dis-
placements were the ones to the north of 600 feet, due to the at-
traction of the Cypress Hills; and the other to the south of 800
feet, due to the attraction of the Sweet Grass Hills in Montana
close to the boundary. That is, within a distance of less than a
hundred miles we had a difference of 1,400 feet in the gravitational
effect due to the unequal distribution of matter along the boundary
line. This unequal distribution is not always visible as manifested
by the hills spoken of ; it might be hidden underneath the surface.

ASTRONOMY IN CANADA 217

To return to the story of the evolution of the Dominion Ob-
servatory: The lands of that 20-mile railway belt in British Co-
lumbia were to be coordinated with the land system of the northwest
immediately east of the Rocky Mountains. Meridians or parallets
could not be projected over the mountains, so the railway itself
on the eve of completion was made a base line by a special and very
aecurate survey. To secure its geographical position a number of
astronomic stations were established along the line, and to them
was joined the special railway survey. Thereby every part of the
line became known by its geographical coordinates and hence sur-
veys could be started where required for mines, timber or other
purpose, and expressed in sections, townships and ranges. Thus
was born astronomy, practical astronomy, in Canada as a function
of the government. That little lamp lit in 1885 was tenderly cared
for, fostered and developed and its usefulness extended so that 20
years later the government built the Dominion Observatory, the
national observatory of Canada, fully equipped for astronomical
and astrophysical work as well as for some branches in geophysical
work—seismology, terrestrial magnetism and gravity, about each of
which J shall make some brief remarks.

To the general public a dome is a sine quad non for an observa-
tory, and yet the fundamental work does not require it. By funda-
mental work I mean the determination of the accurate position of
the sun, the moon, the planets and stars. And that is essentially
the work of national observatories for the use of navigators, ex-
plorers and astronomers engaged in other lines of work. This work
is done with the meridian cirele. As its name implies, it is mounted
in the meridian and is only movable therein.

The big telescope, the equatorial that can sweep the whole
heavens from its dome, is particularly adapted for answering the
question of the little rhyme, ‘‘Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I
wonder what you are?’’ That’s it, what you are, not where you
are (the meridian circle tells that), but what you are, what gases
compose your being, have you a companion, what is your tempera-
ture, your mass?—there are queries which the equatorial with its
attached spectroscope answers.

Our equatorial 15” is at present used exclusively for the deter-
mination of radial velocity of stars forming binary systems, by
means of the spectroscope. You all know the spectroscope, how the
prisms in it break up the light into its constituent rays, each with
its particular wave length, to be photographed on a narrow glass
plate, together with some standard lght. The motion of a star
causes its spectrum to be shifted to or from fixed lines or fixed
spectrum, depending upon the approach or recession of the star

218 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

relative to the earth. The principle is the same as the change in
pitch of a locomotive whistling when approaching or receding from
a station. A marvel of the spectroscope is the separation of stars
into a binary system when the most powerful telescope fails to see
but one object, apparently the presence of only one star.

The suecess that had been attained in the determination of
radial velocities led the government to secure a telescope of a far
greater light-gathering power and to mount it where the climatie
conditions were more favorable than at Ottawa, and particularly
where there was an assurance of more clear nights in the year than
obtained at the federal capital. Hence was built the Dominion
Astrophysical Observatory at Victoria, British Columbia, and the
results already achieved there have fully justified the decision.
The largest equatorials are invariably reflectors. The one at
Mount Wilson, California, has a diameter of 100 inches, while ours,
the second largest, has a diameter of 72 inches or 6 feet. Perhaps
the most spectacular and beautiful telescopic object in the heavens
is the great nebula in Orion. Then there is the great nebula in
Andromeda, the brightest one in the sky. Next we see the ring or
annular nebula in the constellation of Lyra, which may be seen
with even a small telescope. Contemplating these nebule, many
questions flood the mind to which but very few answers are as yet
available. The spectroscope as usual forms our interlocutor and
gives us knowledge from the bright lines in their spectrum that
they are incandescent gases under low pressure.

Thus by means of the spectroscope revelation after revelation is
unfolded, and the fleet-footed messengers traveling at the rate of
186,000 miles a second come to us after their long, long journeys,
some hundreds of years, many even thousands of years and bring
the weleome news of their distant homes. Let me make a philo-
sophical and perfectly logical statement based on what I have just
said, and that is that no astronomer could give you absolute assur-
ance that any stars that you may see to-night are really there, for
the news from the nearest one takes over four years to reach us;
that is, it would keep on shining for us four years after its ex-
tinction.

Another wonder in the heavens is found in the dense globular
clusters, and of these the most splendid in the northern sky is the
great cluster in Hercules, also known as Messier 13, in which there
are more than 50,000 stars.

Mentioning this number may surprise some or most of you;
when on a clear moonless winter night you look on the sky, you
will be tempted to say, ‘‘What myriads of stars stud the celestial
vault.’? That is poetic license. If you could count them, you

ASTRONOMY IN CANADA 219

would never get as many as 3,000, possibly 2,000 as seen by the
naked eye, for there are not over 5,000 stars in the whole sky,
northern and southern hemispheres, that can be seen with the
unaided eye.

When you board a ship in New York bound for some foreign
port, you have the utmost confidence of reaching your destination,
but I am sure it never occurs to you that the astronomer has any-
thing to do with it. Yet it is his labors that supply the captain
with the data, as found in a nautical almanac, to guide the ship
over the watery waste. This astronomie work is undertaken by all
national observatories, the determination of fundamental star
places. We also engage in this work. The instrument used is
called a meridian circle, so named because it is mounted in the
meridian, to which its motion is confined. During my own time
the work of the astronomer has been greatly assisted by electrical
devices. When I began observing—tell it not in Gath—half a cen-
tury ago, we recorded by eye and ear; that is, with pencil in hand
and listening to the beats of a chronometer or clock the transit of
a star across the thread of a telescope was recorded. And what
do we do to-day? The astronomer at the telescope turns a
micrometer screw following the star, and in an adjoining room his
observation is not only recorded but printed in hours, minutes and
seconds and hundredths of a second on a continuous strip of paper,
which ean be copied at leisure the following morning. This cer-
tainly removes a lot of the drudgery of former days.

The meridian circle is essentially the instrument that fur-
nishes time; although our daily life is regulated by the sun, yet the
accurate time is invariably obtained from the stars, which can be
far more accurately observed than can such a boiling cauldron as
the sun. Has it ever occurred to you that every time you pull out
your watch and look at the time you are paying silent tribute to
the astronomer? So does every factory whistle that summons to
work and every church bell that summons to devotion. The time
of ali trains in the country is derived from some astronomer—the
silent watcher of the skies.

Although most investigational and research work is done
amongst the stars, yet the most important celestial body for us,
outside of our own earth, is the sun. Every living thing on this
earth, vegetable or animal, life in any form, is but converted solar
energy, crystallized sunbeams. We are nothing but animated sun-
beams, which is a very good reason for giving us sunny disposi-
tions. When we once know more about the behavior of the sun,
how the firing is done and the stoking, what material is used for
heating, and whether there is a rhythmic periodicity in the ac-

220 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tivities, when we know some of these things we will be able to fore-
east the conditions upon the earth.

The sun is under daily scrutiny, and is attacked from different
angles. We are studying its rotation and problems involved there-
in, by means of the coelostat. The earth being a solid, every part
of it revolves in the same time; but such is not the case with the
sun, as it is a gaseous mass, in consequence of which the equatorial
parts revolve faster than parts north or south thereof. The period
of rotation of the former is about 26 days, while the polar regions
require 4 to 5 days longer. The principle involved in determining
the rotation of the sun is the same as that employed in determining
the radial velocity of stars, the displacement of the lines in the
spectrum caused by the moving body. Hence, if we obtain simul-
taneously the spectrum of the two limbs or edges of the sun, the
one edge through the rotation will be approaching us, while the
other one will be receding; the amount of displacement of the
lines of the spectrum resulting therefrom will give us a measure
of the speed of rotation. Occasionally you see here the Northern
Lights, not quite as brilliantly as we have them in Canada, which
sails more closely under the Great Bear or Dipper. These Northern
Lights or the Aurora Borealis are a manifestation of solar activity,
shooting out negatively charged particles into space and those
intercepted by the earth, which at its distance from the sun can
stop but the minutest fraction of the matter radiated, give the
electric glow to the outermost regions of our atmosphere, en-
countering there hydrogen and helium, giving the whitish greenish
tinge to the phenomenon. When the electrically charged particles
penetrate deeper and into the region having the presence of nitro-
gen, the color becomes reddish.

We are engaged too in the study of relative star magnitudes
and the variability of their light by photographic means. It seems
searcely necessary to point out that magnitudes determined
photographically and by the eye are not necessarily, in facet not
generally, the same. The rays of light that are most effective for
vision are not the same as those most effective for photographic
purposes. For the latter the rays of shorter wave lengths, those
towards the blue or violet end of the spectrum are most active
in producing a photographic image.

In the foregoing we have given but the briefest outline ot
the purely astronomie work carried on in the observatory itself,
but we engage too in field astronomie work, which was required
in the vast expanse of Canada in which up to recent times there
were few accurate surveys, and hence the accurate position of
points or places was necessary to put Canada properly geograph-
ically on the map.

ASTRONOHY IN CANADA 221

We use a Cooke portable transit of 3 inches clear aperture,
and a cement pier is always built for mounting it. The instru-
ment is used both for latitude and longitude work, and such an
instrument it was I carried with me around the world some years
ago, when I completed the first astronomic girdle of the world,
wiring the British Empire together astronomically. Whenever
the electric telegraph is available we use it for the determination
of longitude. We always connect up our standard sidereal clock
at Ottawa with the place where longitude is to be determined even
when thousands of miles away, as in British Columbia. But when
there is no telegraph line we now resort to wireless. This is a
very recent innovation in astronomic work, and we applied it ex-
tensively last season in the Mackenzie basin, due to the discovery
of oil and the necessity of surveys, which had to be based on as-
tronomic coordinates. Let me but indicate the principle involved
in this wireless lon¢itude work. The wireless expert with his outfit
by chronometer records the arrival of wireless time signals from
anywhere; in the above case he recorded those from Balboa, San
Diego, Annapolis, San Francisco, Honolulu and Cavite in the
Philippines. At Ottawa with our wireless outfit we record the
same or at least some of the stations. The astronomer who is with
the wireless expert furnishes him with the accurate local time
when the signals were received. Comparison later on with Ottawa
shows the difference of time between the two places; hence the
longitude. It is to be observed that although the signals received
are time signals—but most of no high degree of accuracy—we
treat them as arbitrary signals, simply as signals noted accurately
at two places. The question of the origin of the signal comes into
consideration by a very minute quantity, 7. e., the difference in
time it takes to reach the Mackenzie and Ottawa, as the velocity
of transmission of the wireless or Hertzian waves is 186,000 miles
a second, being the same as that of light.

May I relate a little incident of the Mackenzie on our wire-
less. It is not astronomic, far from it, but rather worldly. On
the 2nd of July last (it was on a Saturday) there came flashing
over the earth news in which many people, even nations, were
interested, and that news was as promptly and as soon received
by our expert in the boreal regions of the Mackenzie as it was
probably here in New York, so near the source. To couch it in
astronomie terms, the news may be stated that in the binary sys-
tem Mr. Carpentier was the eclipsed variable; period 4 revolutions
in 12 minutes.

By the hyperboreans our expert was looked upon as one suf-
fering from moral obliquity, but time later accorded him the ap-
pellation of the prophet of the Mackenzie.

222 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Yes, the Dempsey-Carpentier fight was heralded in the Arctie
regions about as soon as in Brooklyn.

The Dominion Observatory participated with Paris, Washing-
ton and Greenwich last summer in a wireless longitude determina-
tion for Australia in connection with the meridian boundary, 129°
East, between South Australia and West Australia. The wire-
less signals were sent from the Lafayette station at Bordeaux and
from Annapolis, and we recorded both.

I may mention that there is under consideration an interna-
tional wireless longitude campaign around the world, by means of
which we expect all countries to link up their longitudes with
this international net. We expect to attain such accuracy that a
repetition, say in 50 or 100 years, will reveal a bodily shifting of
crustal masses, such as the continents, a circumstance that is be-
lieved to be and to have been in process for ages. This means that,
for instance, America is moving away from Europe. In this inter-
national work Canada expects to cooperate, and she is already
taking part in the International Astronomical Union which meets
in Rome next May, and for which the speaker has been chosen
delegate to represent Canada.

Beside the above purely astronomie work in which the Do-
minion Observatory is engaged, other scientific work falls within
its sphere, consequent to the evolution of such work in Canada. We
shall now make a rapid review of that work, which may properly
be designated geophysics—comprising seismology, terrestrial mag-
netism and gravity.

Seismology, dealing with earthquakes, we may eall the newest
of the sciences, for it is only within recent years that we have
obtained reliable records of earthquakes, so that we can locate
them in unknown regions or in the ocean with a fairly high degree
of precision. To give this a more definite meaning let me say
that if we have a decent earthquake—one that gets a good grip
on the earth to give us a clean record—it can be located, no matter
how far away, say within 30 miles. And furthermore, we can de-
termine the actual time to within two or three seconds. The actual
time of the occurrence of a destructive earthquake in the Imperial
Valley, California, was better determined from earthquake records
thousands of miles distant than obtained on the spot.

Fortunately for the determination of the distance of an earth-
quake three different kinds of waves are simultaneously propa-
cated. Two of them travel through the earth, 7. e., dip down into
the earth, while the third confines itself to the surface, and each
has its own velocity. We may compare these waves to three mes-
sengers, starting at the same time to spread the news of the earth-
quake. From many well-known quakes and their records we have

ASTRONOMY IN CANADA 223

learned the speed of these messengers ; two of them have a variable
speed—the deeper they delve into the interior, any way to a depth
of about a thousand miles, the faster they go. It is obvious, there-
fore, if we know the difference of time that it takes any of the
two messengers to reach us, we know how far they must have
traveled to produce that difference of time; hence we know the
distance to the earthquake or epicenter, as it is ealled. To illus-
trate the principle in another way: An express train and a
freight train leave a certain place at the same time, with an aver-
age speed of 45 and 30 miles respectively. You note their arrival
in New York and find that the freight arrived ten hours later than
the express, which will show that each had traveled nine hundred
miles, 7. e., the starting point was 900 miles from New York. Quite
simple. But what isn’t always so simple is to read the record,
the seismogram, to tell when the second and third meessengers
arrived; the first one is generally easy to read because it begins
from a state of quiescence of the instrument, but the other two
take experience to decipher the hieroglyphs. It’s a wonderful
story these messengers write cn our photographie record; they
tell us where they have been, what the nature of the material is
through which they passed, its density, its elasticity, a story as
fascinating as that of Homer’s ‘‘Odyssey,’’ but not so easily in-
terpreted. Seismology is the new science that gives and brings
us direct evidence of the interior of the earth, and it has definitely
shown and proven that the interior of the earth is not and ean not
be liquid, although at a very high temperature, because through a
liquid our second earthquake wave, which has transverse motion,
could not be propagated; one can not propagate transverse motion
in water, but one can propagate longitudinal motion such as sound
waves have, and this is the nature of the first wave to arrive. In
a solid both kinds of waves, however, are propagated.

As to the cause of earthquakes: An earthquake is the release
of stresses to which the earth is subjected. These stresses are
manifold. Some are cumulative lke constant denudation, trans-
port of material from the land to the sea; some are seasonal like
the polar accumulation of snow, and there are stresses due to the
rotation of the earth, temporary loading by atmospheric pressure,
to mention but a few of the contributory eauses. Their oeeur-
rence or adjustment to equilibrium naturally is effected at the
parts least able to resist the stress, and these are along fault lines,
old sores in the earth’s erust that are not thoroughly healed—
healed by first intention, as the surgeon would say. We may,
therefore, say very broadly: ‘‘No fault lines, no earthquakes.”’
Also the newer geological formations where things have not settled

224 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

down so permanently are more subject to quakes than the older
ones. The prediction of earthquakes is by no means a chimerieal
proposition, in broad outlines, at least.

Before leaving this interesting subject may I be pardoned for
saying the Seismological Tables published by the Dominion Ob-
servatory are universally used in America and to some extent
elsewhere.

As a by-produet of the seismograph we have found that it
records the pulsation of the ocean waves, 7. e., we in Ottawa record
every wave of the Atlantic that impinges on the coast from Cape
Hatteras to Newfoundland. The period of these waves varies from
about 4 to 8 seconds, and on the seismogram they look like saw-
teeth. These pulsations are transmitted through the crust of the
earth. We have been able to link up these microseisms, called
micros for short, with areas of low barometer on the Atlantic Coast.
At Ottawa we are about 500 miles from the nearest sea coast, and
it seems incredible that we receive through the earth these pulsa-
tions of the ocean. We have built and installed at Chebucto near
Halifax an instrument which I christened ‘‘undagraph’’ or wave
writer, which counts and records every wave of the broad Atlantic
reaching the eoast of Nova Seotia there, and that record or unda-
eram we correlate with the corresponding seismogram at Ottawa.

The next subject in geophysies of which the Dominion Observa-
tory has charge is terrestrial magnetism. That means the deter-
mination of the three magnetic elements, declination or variation
of the compass as known to the public, inclination or dip and the
magnetic intensity. Our work extends from the Atlantic to the
Pacific and we have occupied some five hundred stations at each
of which these magnetic elements have been determined. The
variation of the compass is the element most wanted—the surveyor
needs it, so does the explorer, the navigator and many others.
When the poet writes ‘‘as true as the needle to the pole,’’ he is
euilty of poetic license of a serious kind. If a sea captain were
to accept that statement he would never reach his destination. In
our work we find for instance on the east coast of Canada the
needle points 35° to the west of true north and on Vancouver
Island 25° to the east, that is, a range of 60° over Canada, two-
thirds of a right angle. It is very obvious that for those that use
a compass it is very essential that its declination from true north
be known. Unfortunately this is not a constant quantity, but is
subject to an oscillating daily change and a slow secular one,
both of which are quantities that we determine and apply.

In order to assure accuracy we standardize our instruments
twice annually. The most accurate time is furnished by means of
a pendulum clock. 3ut why does the pendulum vibrate, or

ASTRONOMY IN CANADA 225

pendulate, to coin a necessary verb? ‘‘It can’t help itself’? would
searcely be a scientific reply. It is the attraction of the earth that
tends to restore it to its normal suspended position, the line of
action of the earth’s gravitational foree. This force is affected
by the rotation of the earth and the combined effect we call gravity.

The earth is not a sphere; hence points on the surface are at
varying distances from the center. Again the centrifugal force
due to rotation is greater in the equatorial regions than north
and south thereof ; in short, for every latitude there is a particular
force of gravity, so that a pendulum that would swing or vibrate
seconds in Ottawa would not do so here in Brooklyn. It would
lose time here. You see you haven’t got as much pull here (I am
not speaking in a political sense) as we have in Ottawa, but you
are more apt to fly off the handle, to use a cant expression, be-
cause nearer the equator. From the above statements it becomes
evident that the pendulum, an invariable pendulum, gives us a
means for determining the relative force of gravity on the earth,
and thereby the accurate figure of the earth, its ellipticity, its
flattening, as well as anomalies in the distribution of matter in the
erust of the earth. This line of investigation is carried on too
by the Dominion Observatory and we have about fifty stations dis-
tributed over Canada. The period of the pendulum, that is, the
time of swing, which is about half a second, is determined to the
one tenth-millionth of a second of time; let me repeat ten-millionths
of a second of time, and this order of accuracy is shown when ob-
servations are repeated at the same place and the interagreement
is limited to the units of the seventh place of decimals.

We now know the figure, 7. e., ellipticity, with a high degree of
accuracy so that we can readily compute what the theoretical force
of gravity should be for any given latitude; hence observations
there will show the divergence or anomaly for that place, which
means that there is an anomalous distribution of matter in and
about the crust of the earth. When we speak of crust of the earth,
we mean a thickness of about seventy-five miles, which brings us to
the stratum of equilibrium or compensation.

All mountains practically float in the earth, the ten or twenty
thousand feet or more that they tower above sea-level are not sup-
ported by the crust it couldn’t do it but they float like an iceberg
does in the ocean, which displaces as much water as its own mass
above and below water.

These gravity observations have disclosed some interesting facts
about what is hidden underground, by the amount of gravitational
force or pull that the hidden mass or masses exercise. If there are
huge deposits of iron ore, for instanee, gravity would be increased,
while large deposits of oil or gas or salt would have the opposite

VOL. XV.—15.

226 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

effect. The pendulum thus becomes a scientific divining rod. We
may well say—a peculiar concatenation—from the stars we bring
to earth accurate time, and that time we use to express gravity,
and from the latter divine oil. Perhaps it is fairer to state that
the positive statement of the pendulum is when there is an excess
of gravity, oil can not be present, for that always involves a defect
of gravity.

But there is a more delicate and more sensitive instrument for
measuring differential gravity, and that is the torsion balanee, by
means of which actual areas can be mapped out underground oe-
eupied by oil or gas or salt, which has recently been achieved in
Europe, especially in Hungary. I am glad to state that such an
apparatus is now being built for the Dominion Observatory, and
it will be, I believe, the first in America for that purpose.

I shall refer to one other geophysical investigation in which
we were engaged. Sir George Darwin many years ago concluded
that the earth was subject to daily physical tides, beside those
of the ocean, 7. e., that the earth was squeezed, was deformed by
the action of the moon, which is the main factor in our ordinary
tides.

Darwin tried to measure the minute quantity, but failed on
account of disturbing factors on the surface of the earth. Hecker
of Potsdam succeeded by having his instrument in a deep shaft
beyond the effects of the daily heating of the earth, in obtaining a
value, but there was the anomaly, found too by the Russian Orloff,
that apparently the earth was more readily squeezed in a north
and south direction than in an east and west direction. The ques-
tion was referred to Professor Love, probably the foremost expo-
nent in questions of elasticity, but no satisfactory solution was
obtained. It was believed that possibly the situation of the ob-
serving stations with reference to the ocean might play a part
by the gravitational effect of the tide or heaped-up waters upon
the horizontal pendulum which was the instrument used, and also
by this same mass of water bending the ocean floor and producing
slight tilting of the instrument. To settle this the International
Seismological Society decided to establish several stations widely
differing in their positions with reference to oceans. Canada was
assigned a station. The war intervened, and we never met again.
However, the problem was attacked by Michelson of the University
of Chicago and brilliantly carried out on the grounds of the
Yerkes Observatory and in quite a different manner, by observ-
ing in 500-ft. 6-in. pipes partly filled with water the change of
level. For measuring the minute quantities an interferometer
was used, that is, the wave lengths of light were the measuring

ASTRONOMY IN CANADA 227

rod. It was found that the earth responds practically instanta-
neously to the action of the moon. The earth as a whole has about
the rigidity of that of steel. The surface of the earth rises and
falls about a foot twice a day, due to lunar and solar attraction.
We are sitting on a long ‘‘teeter’’—6,000 miles long, with a period
of a little over twelve hours—unconsciously teetering. It doesn’t
seem much, yet in it is bound up the constitution of our earth,
and of all objects in the universe what concerns man more than
the earth?

And now I have done. I have given you a brief outline of
‘‘Astronomy in Canada’”’ the title of my address, together with
other scientific work carried on by the Dominion Observatory.
Euclid’s definition of a point is that which has position but no
magnitude—with Canada it is about the reverse with much em-
phasis on magnitude. We are trying to give it position—a promi-
nent place on the map of a progressive world—a place in the sun—
and I am sure you good people to the south of us, who have been
basking in sunshine these years, will welcome the kindred spirit
from the north, where we are trying to advance knowledge and
advance the various fields of development in which we are en-
gaged, so that our work may be a eredit to Canada and a benefit
to mankind.

228 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE TAR-BABY STORY AT HOME

By Dr. W. NORMAN BROWN
THE JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY

I

BOUT thirty years ago the late Dr. Joseph Jacobs pointed out
that the ‘‘Wonderful Tar-baby Story’’ of Uncle Remus has
a parallel in a tale of the Buddhist Jataka-book, where the most
salient feature’ of the Negro story, the ‘‘Stick-fast motif, occurs.*
Since then students of folk-tales have discussed that story with an
almost undue respect for his enticing theory that it originated in
India, passed to Africa in very early, perhaps prehistoric, times,
spread over that great continent, and at last came to our shores

deep-rooted in the souls of our Negro slaves.

What is more, since Dr. Jacobs first expressed his opinion,
additional evidence has become available seeming to support at
least the first part of his thesis, namely, that India is the ultimate
home of the story, although other parts of his proposition have
been variously modified.2. For example, it has been suggested that
the story did not reach Africa until comparatively recent times,
say the sixteenth century, when it was taken there by Portuguese
sailors. Latest, a well-known American folklorist has found the
Tar-baby story in the Cape Verde Islands attached to the ‘‘ Master
Thief’’ cycle of tales—a cycle first presented to the Oecident by
Herodotus in his account of the robbery of King Rhampsinitus’
treasury. On the basis of this discovery, she has suggested a theory
that the Tar-baby was originally a part of the Master Thief tale,
that they both came from India to Western Asia and Africa, and
proceeded thence to Africa. There the Tar-baby feature was clip-
ped or detached from the larger story and has since maintained an
independent existence.* The idea is ingenious, but it is too much
based on unprovable hypotheses to be convincing.

1 Pancavudha-jataka (Jataka 55). Dr. Jacobs’ remarks may be found in
the following of his books: The Earliest English Version of the Fables of
Bidpai, Introduction, p. xliv; The Fables of Hsop (Caxton’s edition), vol. 1,

pp. 113 and 136; Indian Fairy Tales, story of ‘‘The Demon with the Matted
Hair, 7)?

2H. g., see Dihnhardt, Natursagen 4, 27ff.
$ KE. C. Parsons in Folk-Lore, 30: 227. Her theory is untenable: (1)
Herodotus’ tale is not necessarily to be derived from an Indian source, for it

THE TAR-BABY STORY AT HOME 229.

But the main question, that of Hindu origin of the Tar-baby,
still remains unchallenged, and yet it is one that may well arouse
scepticism.

The story has been reported in print oftener from Africa, in-
eluding the Cape Verde Islands, than elsewhere—twenty-two times
according to my own account, which is doubtless not quite com-
plete—and this, too, in spite of the fact that African folk-lore has
been less fully explored than that of India. Nor is there any part
of Africa where it has not appeared, as far as I know, unless it be
Egypt. It has been brought to hight ten times among American
Negroes, fourteen times among American Indians, seven times in
India, and twice in the Philippines.*

Of these fifty-five versions fifty-two are ‘‘folk-tales’’ in the
strictest sense of the word, that is, they are tales current orally
among the illiterate folk, that have been secured by collectors from
vwa voce narration; further, they have been collected within the
past sixty years. The other three versions are ‘‘literary,’’ being
found in professed works of literature, and come from India. The
oldest of these three may be earlier than the dawn of the Christian
era, for it is included in the Samyutta Nikdya, a division of the
Southern Buddhist canon containing a number of religious dis-
courses ascribed to the Buddha. The second is that known to Dr.
Jacobs, a story of the fifth century Jataka-book, which is a work
portraying the Buddha’s experiences in a number of previous ex-
istences. The third is a brief parable in a medieval Jain text, also
religious, called the Parsistaparvan.

The story generally appears in a fairly well stereotyped form,
showing a clever animal, in a few instances a man,° engaged in
thieving, that escapes all efforts to catch it until the injured party
—another animal or man—fashions as a trap an image made of

can be assigned an earlier date than any version of the Master Thief found
in India; (2) No version of the Master Thief from India has the Tar-baby
attached to it; (3) the Cape Verde Island tale is merely the usual tale con-
taminated by the Tar-baby idea, or at least the Stick-fast motif.

4 For a list of references to the Tar-baby see Parsons, J. c. But add the
following: (1) for Africa: Barker and Sinclair, ‘‘ West African Folk-Tales,’’
p- 71; Nassau, ‘‘Where Animals Talk,’’ p. 23; Folk-Lore, 10: 282; 20: 443;
21: 215; (2) for India: (a) literary: Samyutta Nikaya, 5: 3, 7; Parisista-
parvan, 2: 740; (Db) oral: Indian Antiquary, 20: 29, and 29: 400; Gordon,
“*Indian Folk Tales’’ (2d ed.), p. 67. Mrs. Parsons has already noted the
other versions from India, namely, that of the Jataka-book (literary) and
Bompes, ‘‘ Folklore of the Santal Parganas,’’ p. 325 (oral). For the valu-
able reference from the Samyutta Nikaya I am indebted to Dr. E. W. Bur-
lingarhe.

5 The Cape Verde Island stories and the Jataka, but in the latter case the
hero is not a thief (see discussion below).

230 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

some sticky substance, such as wax, resin, rubber, tar, or bird-
lime, which the thief mistakes for a living being. Often the image
is that of a female, thus subtly calculated to play to the sex im-
pulse of the offender, who is always a male.® Anxious to become
acquainted with this stranger, the thief accosts him (or her), but
persistently receiving no reply to his overtures, he strikes the image
and sticks fast, caught successively by hands, feet and head. (This
is the Stick-fast motif.) There is usually a sequel in which the
hero by a clever trick effects his escape. The only versions which
depart strikingly from this general pattern are the three literary
versions from India.

II

The case for India as the home of the Tar-baby story rests m
general upon two arguments. The first was thirty years ago the
major premise of nearly all studies in the history of folk-tales;
it is that ‘‘India is the home of stories.’” Hence any version of a
story that appeared in India was regarded as being truly ‘‘at
home’’ there, and further as being the most original version of
that tale. We now think differently. We concede that many stories
of wide vogue were born in India; but we likewise maintain that
many other stories were probably born in Egypt, Sumeria, Meso-
potamia, Greece, China or other lands. No country ever had a
monopoly in the manufacture of fiction; and only the most stub-
born Indophile would argue otherwise. Hence there is no com-
pelling a priors ground for looking upon India as the home of the
Tar-baby.

The second argument, however, is more cogent. It may be
stated thus: ‘‘Because the Stick-fast motif, the heart of the Tar-
baby story, occurs in India at a time almost two thousand years
earlier than it can be proved to have existed elsewhere, we must
infer that both the motif and the story originated there.’’ At first
sight this reasoning seems unanswerable. But is it? May it not
rest largely upon accident? It is true that we have no occurrences
of the motif or the story at the beginning of the Christian era
among the Negroes, the American Indians or the Filipinos, but
for that matter we have no stories at all recorded for these peoples
from that early time. The fact is that none of these three peoples

6 The various forms of the story are classified by Parsons, J. c. The
version in which the victim is attacked through the sex impulse is the more
penetrating psychologically and perhaps the older. The same is perhaps true
of the fable of ‘‘The Ass in the Lion’s Skin.’’ In the Paicatantra the ass is
destroyed because the sight of a she-ass arouses his innate lecherousness and
he brays. (To the Hindus the ass is the lecherous animal par excellence.) In
some other secondary versions, notably the Jataka, the ass merely feels fear
and brays.

THE TAR-BABY STORY AT HOME 231

has a literature; hence the first reports we have of their fiction
come from our own investigators working in modern times. Yet
no folklorist would say that these folk were without popular tales
two thousand years ago; to do so would involve the rejection of
the very corner-stone of folklore studies.

In brief the case for India is based for the most part on a
general theory that often fails in specific instances and on a further
line of reasoning that is three-fourths argumentum ex silentvo.
What we really need to substantiate a claim for India is these two
things: first, proof that the Stick-fast motif and the Tar-baby
story have a settled place in Hindu fiction ; and, secondly, a definite
tracing of their course from India to the other lands where they
exist. As it happens, both of these things are lacking.

For neither the story nor the motif has a marked place in
Hindu fiction. Look, first, at the three literary versions, remem-
bering to keep them distinct from the modern oral versions. In
these three instances we see the motif present, although in every
ease set in a story vastly unlike that of the Tar-baby. The oldest,
that of the Samyutta Nikdya, says that there was in the Himalayas
a pleasant place where men and monkeys lived. There a hunter,
to catch the monkeys, used to smear their paths with a sticky
ointment. Those monkeys that were intelligent and not greedy,
when they saw the ointment, would avoid it. But when a foolish,
greedy monkey saw it, he would grasp it with his hand and then
he would be caught. To release his hand, he would grasp the oint-
ment with his other hand; and it too would be caught. Thinking
that he would release his hands, he would kick, but his foot would
stick fast. So also would his other foot. Then he would bite, and
his mouth as well would be held tight. Thus, ‘‘caught at five
points,’’ he would be taken by the hunter and killed.

This tale is merely a religious parable with the moral attached
that he who is ensnared by sin is held ever tighter and tighter until
as last he is destroyed. The Jain apologue of the Parisistaparvan
is only a poor retelling of this, wherein the moral, however, is
more specifically, “‘Avoid women!’’ The remoteness of these
parables from the Tar-baby story is apparent. In neither of them
is the victim a thief; in neither of them is the sticky ointment or
pitchblend made into an image or doll; in neither of them is there
the escape.

The other literary version, that of the Jataka-book, is very
different from these two, although it also has only the Stick-fast
idea in common with the Tar-baby. It tells how the Bodhisatta
(the Future Buddha), a prince skilled in the use of five weapons,
encounters a notorious monster named ‘‘Sticky-hair.’’ The prince

232 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

attacks him with fifty arrows, but these all stick harmlessly in the
demon’s hair; so too his sword, his spear and his club. Enraged,
he strikes the monster with his hand, but it, too, is caught tight.
He strikes with his other hand, and it likewise is caught. He kicks,
his feet stick; and finally he butts with his head, and that as well
is held fast. But, even though unable to move and apparently
at the demon’s mercy, the prince betrays no fear. ‘‘A very lion
of men is this prince!’’ thinks Sticky-hair. ‘‘How is it,’’ he asks,
‘‘that you have no fear of death?’’ ‘‘Why should I?’’ replies
the Bodhisatta. ‘‘ Every life must have its end. Moreover in my
body is a sword of adamant that will chop your inwards into minee-
meat; and if you devour me, my death will involve yours also.’’
Convineed, the demon frees him.

This story, which perhaps contains a Buddhist satire on Brah-
man ascetics and their characteristic matted hair, is also not ae-
cording to the Tar-baby type. The hero is a man—the only in-
stance where this is the case except in the distinetly secondary
version from the Cape Verde Islands, in which the Tar-baby story
has become ancillary to the great Master Thief tale. Further, the
hero is not a thief; nor does his enemy entrap him with an image,
but instead uses his own matted hair—another unique feature.
The escape is not by the subtle type of ruse common to the Tar-
baby story but by a bald, and rather unconvincing, ‘‘bluff.’’

Clearly these literary tales have but little in common with the
Tar-baby story of fifty other versions; they merely exhibit an ap-
plication of the Stick-fast motif that is after all based upon simple
observation of the qualities of pitchblend or matted hair, and arose
in India quite outside of the Tar-baby milieu. It may well be that
there is no genetic relation between them and the prevailing type.

But the case does not rest here. In addition there are a number
of negative considerations that are of weight. If the Tar-baby
story originated in India, we should at least expect such a gripping
story to maintain a vigorous existence there. But it does not; it
seems sterile. For, in the first place, the modern versions in India
are not to be connected with those in the ancient literature. In
one of them, for example, a farmer, to catch a jackal, buries a
wax doll, the size of a baby. The jackal, thinking the grave con-
tains a delicious corpse, digs up the doll and is caught.?. In another
tale the god Mahadeo, seeking vengeance upon a tricky jackal,
fashions an old woman of wax on whose arm he places a basket of
sweets. These the jackal endeavors to steal and is held fast. The

7 Indian Antiquary, 29: 400.
® Gordon, ‘‘Indian Folk Tales’’ (2d ed.), p. 67.

THE TAR-BABY STORY AT HOME 233

other two modern tales are equally dissimilar from the literary
versions and correspondingly close to the general type. Indeed,
all four of these modern tales, none of which was reported more
than twenty-five years ago, are to be traced back to African sources,
having come into the country either directly with the Negroes lo-
cated chiefly at Bombay or else indirectly with the Uncle Remus
stories that Occidentals tell to the natives and even translate into
the local tongues.”

In the second place, there is no evidence that India has given
the Tar-baby story or the Stick-fast motif to those of her neighbors
whom she has so generously enriched from her literary treasures.
Vast numbers of Hindu stories have been taken to Tibet and China
in literary form, similarly to Persia and Arabia, but in none of
these collections, as far as I know, nor for that matter anywhere
in the literatures of these people, does either our story or our
motif appear.

The whole crux of the matter on India’s side is that neither the
story nor the smaller motif seems to grip the Hindu mind; they
do not appeal. The religious parables were almost stillborn; and
the oral fables themselves are already moribund, being but pale,
anemic specimens in comparison with the fullblooded, vigorous tale
of the Negroes.

We must, therefore, count India out.

lil

Having rejected India, we must now determine, if possible,
which of the other lands where the Tar-baby story occurs is its
birthplace. The task should not be hard. Obviously, it is not with
the American Indians, for there is no means by which they could
have sent the story to Africa. On the other hand, it is almost
axiomatic that they have received it with many more of their folk-
tales from the Negroes, often directly, in other eases through
Spaniards, Portuguese, or other Europeans. The Filipinos can be
rejected on nearly the same grounds and with the same degree of
certitude; while the Portuguese in the Cape Verde Islands seem
to have got it from the Negroes. There is left only Africa.

And Africa is eminently suited to fill the needs of the situation.
First of all, it is a plausible center for the story’s radiation. Slaves
brought it thence to this continent; other Negroes, or perhaps the
Uncle Remus books, have taken it to India in modern times; still
other Negroes, or possibly Spanish sailors, have planted it in the

® See an illustration reprinted from one such translation facing page 300
in Julia Collier Harris’s ‘‘The Life and Letters of Joel Chandler Harris.’’

234 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Philippines. These are the only people among whom it has yet
appeared, to the best of my knowledge, but if it should at some
time appear among other peoples, I am confident that it will be
easy to uncover its tracks back to Africa.

But more important is the fact that the Tar-baby is the story
that more than any other holds the Negro’s mind, and it holds his
mind more than it does the mind of any other people. Three fifths
of the ‘‘genuine’”’ versions are his. All negroes know it and love
it. A friend living near Baltimore tells me that he once had a eat
named ‘‘Tar-baby.’’ The suggestive power of this name was so
great that an old colored servitor of his, merely on seeing the cat
walk across the yard, would be thrown into violent fits of laughter.
Other friends have told me of Negro servants who were acquainted
with the Tar-baby story, and that too not from reading. The story
is the common property of the black race. It is for them, as it
were, the climax of a great animal epic, the grand theme of their
fiction.

Fundamentally there is no reason why the Negro should not be
the creator of the tale. He has created others; at least he tells a
number of stories that seem unknown to other peoples.’° Once
created the tale was bound to live and wander just as perseveringly,
though perhaps not so widely and quickly, as one that arose in
India or Babylonia or Egypt; for vitality and travel are prime
qualities of folk-tales. Hence it has in time become one of the
Negro’s few contributions to the general culture of the world.

10 For example, the story of the two animals that make a hunger wager.
The one that can go without food the longer is to secure the prize, which is
frequently the hand of some female.

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 235

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS'!
By Professor WILLIAM MORTON WHEELER

BUSSEY INSTITUTION, HARVARD UNIVERSITY

Lecrure IlI—Bersgs Sourrary aNp Socian

O those who are not entomologists the word ‘‘bee’’ naturally
signifies the honey-bee, because of all insects it has had the
most delightful, if not the longest and most intimate association
with our species. Of course, the key to the understanding of this
association is man’s natural appetite or craving for sweets and the
fact that till very recently honey was the only accessible substance
containing sugar in a concentrated form. It is not surprising,
therefore, that man’s interest in the honey-bee goes back to pre-
historic times. He was probably for thousands of years, like the
bears, a systematic robber of wild bees till, possibly during the
neolithic age, he became an apiarist by enticing the bees to live
near his dwelling in sections of hollow logs, empty baskets or
earthen vessels. Savage tribes keep bees to-day and within their
geographic range we know of no people that has not kept them.
They figure on the Egyptian monuments as far back as 3500 B. C.,
and we even know the price of strained honey under some of the

Pharaohs. It was very cheap—only about five cents a quart.

The keeping of the honey-bee could not fail to excite the won-
der and admiration of primitive peoples. It was at once recog-
nized as a privileged creature, for it lived in societies like those
of man, but more harmonious. Its sustained flight, its powerful
sting, its intimacy with the flowers and avoidance of all unwhole-
some things, the attachment of the workers to the queen—regarded
throughout antiquity as a king—its singular swarming habits and
its astonishing industry in collecting and storing honey and skill
in making wax, two unique substances of great value to man, but
of mysterious origin, made it a divine being, a prime favorite of
the gods, that had somehow survived from the golden age or had
voluntarily escaped from the garden of Eden with poor fallen man
for the purpose of sweetening his bitter lot. No wonder that the
honey-bee came in the course of time to symbolize all the virtues—
the perfect monarch and the perfect subject, together constituting
the perfect state through the exercise of courage, self-sacrifice,

1 Lowell Lectures.

236 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

affection, industry, thrift, contentment, purity, chastity—every
virtue, in fact, except hospitality, and, of course, among ancient
peoples bent on maintaining their tribal or national integrity, the
facet that bees will not tolerate the society of those from another
hive was interpreted as a virtue.

With the passing centuries the bee became the center of in-
numerable myths and superstitions. It was supposed to have
played a réle in the lives of all the more important Egyptian, Greek
and Roman divinities. Among the Latins it even had a divinity
of its own, the goddess Mellonia. Medieval Christians seem to
have been quite as eager to show their appreciation of the insect.
While the housefly had to be satisfied with the patronage of Beelze-
bub and the ant was given so obscure a patron saint as St. Sa-
turninus, the honey-bee enjoyed the special favor of the Virgin
or was even made the ‘‘ancilla domint,’’ the maid-servant of the
Lord. Those who represented the divinity on earth, of course,
added the honey-bee to their insignia. It appears on the crown
of the Pharaohs as the symbol of Lower Egypt, on the arms of
popes and on the imperial robes of the Napoleons. Among the
ancients the behavior of bees was supposed to be prophetic and the
insect thus naturally became associated with Apollo, the Delphie
priestess, the Muses and their protegées, the poets and orators.
Honey and wax were early believed to have medicinal and magical
properties and were, of course, used for sacrificial purposes. Their
ritual value is apparent also in the Christian cult, for honey was
formerly given to babies during baptism and the tapers of our
churches are supposed to be made of pure bees’ wax (‘‘nulla
lumina nisi cerea adhibeantur’’).

Among the many myths that have grown up around the honey-
bee, that of the ‘‘bugonia’’ may be considered more fully, because
it shows how entomology may throw light on questions that have
puzzled and distracted the learned for centuries. For nearly three
thousand years people believed that the decomposing carcass of
an ox or bull can produce a swarm of bees by spontaneous genera-
tion. The myth evidently started in Egypt and appears in a dis-
torted form among the Hebrews, among whom, however, it is a
dead lion in which Samson finds the honey-comb. Among the
Greeks and Romans it becomes more elaborate, and Virgil, in the
fourth book of the Georgics, and many other authors give precise
directions for the killing and treatment of the ox if the experi-
ment is to be successful. The medieval writers repeat what they
read in the classics or invent more fantastic accounts. It was not
till the eighteenth century that Réaumur showed that what had
been regarded as bees issuing from the decomposed ox carcass must

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 237

have been large two-winged flies of the species now known as
Eristalis tenax, which breed in great numbers in earrion and filth
and look very much like worker bees. The history of this myth of
the oxen-born bees has been more adequately discussed by a dis-
tinguished dipterist, Baron Osten Sacken. He remarks that ‘‘the
principal factor underlying the whole intellectual phenomenon we
are inquiring into is the well-known influence which prevails in all
human matters, and this factor is rowtine.’’ ‘‘Thinking is difficult,
and acting according to reason is irksome,’’ said Goethe. People
see and believe in what they see, and the belief easily becomes a
tradition. It may be asked: If those people had that belief, why
did they not try to verify it by experiment, the more so as an eco-
nomical interest seemed to be connected with it? The answer is
that they probably did try the experiment, and did obtain some-
thing that looked like a bee; but that there was a second part of the
experiment, which, if they ever tried it, never succeeded, and that
was, to make that bee-lke something produce honey. If they did
not care much about this failure, and did not prosecute the experi-
ment any further, it is probably because, in most cases, they found
that it was much easier to procure bees in the ordinary way. That
such was really the kind of reasoning which prevailed in those
times clearly results from the collation of the passages of ancient
authors about the ‘*‘ Bugonia.’’

It would seem that the strange vitality of the bugonia myth
during so many centuries must have been due to some keen emo-
tional factor or religious conviction deeper than the mere inertia of
routine thinking to which Osten Sacken refers. Let us work
backwards from the golden bees embroidered on the state robes
of Napoleon I and supposed to symbolize his official descent from
Charlemagne, who is said to have worn them on his coat of arms.
It is probable that the fleurs-de-lys, which also figure on his arms
and those of the later French kings are really conventionalized
bees and not lilies, spear-heads or palm trees with horn or amulets
attached, as some archeologists have asserted, and that Charlemagne
derived his bees from one of the first kings of the Salian Franks,
the father of Clovis, Childerie I, who died A. D. 481. In 1653 the
tomb of this monarch was opened at Tournay, in Flanders, and
found to contain a number of objects which indicated that he had
been initiated into the cult of Mithra, that soldiers’ religion which
had been so widely diffused by the Romans over Gaul, Britain and
Germany during the first centuries of our era and had come so near
to supplanting Christianity. Among the objects taken from
Childerie’s tomb were a golden bull’s head and some 300 golden
bees, set with precious stones. and provided with clasps which held

238 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

them to the king’s mantle. Now the numerous Mithraic monu-
ments that have been unearthed in many parts of the Roman em-
pire show as their central figure Mithra slaying a bull surrounded
by several symbolic animals, one of which is the bee. It is known
also that honey was used in the initiation rites of Mithra, who was
an oriental sun-god like the Hebrew Samson, the Phoenician Melkart
and the Greek Hercules. From the blood of the slain bull, a symbol
of the inert earth fertilized by the sun’s rays, the animal world
was supposed to have arisen by spontaneous generation. The bee
would seem, therefore, to be one of the symbols of this renewal of
life and to recall the epiphanies of many other sun and vegetation
gods among the Greeks and Asiatic peoples, such as Adonis, Attis
and Dionysus, or Bacchus, who as Dionysus Briseus, the ‘‘squeezer
of honey-comb’’ was by some regarded as the god of apiculture.
But the bugonia myth can be traced still further back to the Apis
eult of the Egyptians. The bull Apis was believed to be an in-
carnation of the sun-god Osiris and to represent the renewal of
life. His son Horus is another sun-god, and it is interesting to
note that one of his symbols is the fleur-de-lys, which signifies
resurrection. That this is the true meaning of the bugonia myth
is indicated also by the magical directions given by Virgil and others
for slaying the ox and caring for his careass. The animal must be
carefully chosen and in the spring, when the sun is in the sign of
the bull, clubbed to death or suffocated by having the apertures of
his body stuffed with rags—obvious precautions to prevent the
ox’s vitality from escaping so that it may be conserved for the
generation of the swarm of bees. The ancients seem to have had
an inkling of the parthenogenesis of the honey-bee, since many of
them state that, unlike other animals, it never mates. This belief,
too, served to connect the bee with the various sun and vegetation
gods, all of whom, including the bull Apis, were born of virgins.
Thus it will be seen that the bee became the symbol of the ever-
recurring resurrection, or renewal of life in general and hence
probably also of the second birth of the initiate into such cults
as those of Mithra. Unfortunately there were among the ancients
no entomologists to point out to the religious enthusiasts that they
had mistaken a common earrion fly for the honey-bee and had
therefore chosen a wrong symbol.

I have dwelt on this myth because it is such a good example
of the bad observation and worse conjecture that have clouded
our knowledge of the honey-bee. Even such pioneer observers as
Swammerdam, Réaumur and Francois Huber in the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries and Dzierzon, Leuckart, von Siebold and
von Buttel Reepen in more recent times have had difficulty in

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 239

clearing a path through the jungle of superstitions and specula-
tions that have grown up around the insect during the past five
thousand years. And to-day many of our scientific treatises con-
tain vestiges of these unbridled fancies. Another obstacle to a
clear understanding of the honey-bee is the very abundance of the
literature. There must have been libraries devoted to it among the
ancients, for even Carthage had her celebrated apiarists. Some
notion of the present conditions may be gleaned from Dr. E. F.
Phillips’ statement that the Bureau of Entomology at Washington
has a working bibliography of 20,000 titles on the honey-bee.
This does not, of course, include a great number of bellettristie
works like Virgil’s Georgies, Maeterlinck’s ‘‘ Vie des Abeilles’’ and
Evrard’s ‘‘Mystére des Abeilles.”’

Greatest of all the sources of a misunderstanding of the honey-
bee is the fact that although it is a very highly specialized and
aberrant insect, it has been regarded as a paragon in the light
of which the social organizations of all other insects are to be in-
terpreted. Its evolutionary interpretation has therefore en-
countered the same obstacles as that of man, for the honey-bee
bears much the same relation to other bees that man does to the
other mammals; and just as man’s obstinate anthropocentrism has
retarded his understanding of his own history and nature, so the
apicentrism of the observers of the honey-bee has tended to distort
our knowledge, not only of other social insects but of the honey-bee
itself. It is necessary, therefore, to relegate the insect to its proper
place at the end of a long series of developments. I shall return
to it at the end of the lecture.

As classified by the entomologists, the bees eomprise about
10,000 described species and oceur in all parts of the world. In
Europe alone there are some 2,000 species and our North American
forms, when thoroughly known, will probably be found to be even
more numerous. Less than 500, or 5 per cent., of the 10,000 species
are social and belong to only five genera—Trigona, Melipona,
Bombus, Psythirus and Apis—the remainder being solitary forms
of many genera, several of which are very large and widely dis-
tributed. For more than a century talented entomologists have
studied the bees intensively but have been unable to work out any
generally acceptable grouping of the various genera. Whether
these insects are to be regarded as a superfamily (Apoidea), com-
prising several families, or as a single family (Apide), comprising
a number of subfamilies, seems to depend on the individual inves-
tigator’s more radical or more conservative frame of mind.

The bees, taken as a whole, are properly regarded merely as
a group of wasps, which have become strictly vegetarian and feed

240 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

exclusively on the pollen and nectar of flowers. They are, in a
word, merely flower-wasps—‘‘Blumenwespen,’’ as they are called
by some German entomologists. A recent authority, Friese, be-
lieves that they are descended directly from at least two different
ancestral groups of Sphecoid solitary wasps, one of which ineludes
genera like Passaloecus and leads up to Prosopis and other primi-
tive bees, while the other comprises Tachytes-like forms and leads
up to the higher bees. It should be noted that a third ancestral
group of Vespoids, allied to the Eumenid wasps, evidently gave
rise to the Masarine, which are also flower-wasps and in their
habits closely resemble the solitary bees.

Their very long and intimate association with the flowers has
left its stamp on all the organs and habits of the bees, and botanists
believe that a great many flowers have been modified in structure,
arrangement, color and perfume in adaptation to the bees and
for the purposes of insuring cross-pollination. Limitations of time
prevent me from dwelling on the vast and fascinating subject of
these relationships, though they belong to that order of interor-
ganismal cooperation which I have ealled coenobiotic. Nor ean I
stop to dwell on our great debt to the bees for the pollination of
our fruit trees and other economic plants. Something must be
said, however, concerning the anthophilous adaptations of the in-
sects themselves. It is evident that only insects with well-devel-
oped wings, with large, finely facetted eyes and well-developed
antenne, furnished with extremely delicate tactile and olfactory
sense-organs, could have acquired such intimate relations to the
flowers. And since the bees not only collect but transport the
pollen and nectar we find some very interesting structures devel-
oped for these particular functions. Two pairs of mouth parts,
the maxille and especially the tongue, are peculiarly modified for
lapping or sucking up the nectar. In the more primitive bees that
visit flowers with exposed nectaries these parts are short and much
like those of the wasps, whereas in more specialized species that
visit flowers with nectaries concealed in long tubes the tongue is
ereatly elongated. In some tropical bees the organ may be even
longer than the body (Fig. 34). In order to store the nectar
while it is being transported to the nest, the crop, or anterior por-
tion of the alimentary tract, is large, bag-like and distensible and
its walls are furnished with muscles which enable the bee to
regzureitate its content. This is known as honey, because the nec-
tar, during its sojourn in the crop, is mixed with a minute quantity
of a ferment, or enzyme, presumably derived from the salivary
elands, and undergoes a chemical change, its sucrose, or cane
sugar being converted into invert sugars (levulose and dextrose).

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 241

FIG. 34
A long-tongued Neotropical bee (Eulaema mussitans). About twice natural
size. Original.

Even more striking are the adaptations for collecting and carrying
the pollen. The whole surface of the bee’s body is covered with
dense, erect hairs, which, unlike those of other insects, are
branched, plumose, or feather-like and easily hold the pollen grains
till the bee can sweep them together by combing itself with its legs
(Fig. 35). Many bees thus bring the pollen together into masses
moistened with a little honey and attach them to the outer surfaces
of the tibie and metatarsi of the hind legs (Figs. 37 and 38).
These parts are peculiarly broadened and provided with long hairs
to form a special pollen-basket, or corbicula (Fig. 36). In other

WAGE

RIGIS5
Hairs of various bees. a-f, of bumble-bees; g-j, of Melissodes sp.; k-n, of
Megachile sp. After John B. Smith.
VOL. XV.—16.

242 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Lectern

Lollen Comb, MY,
on Planta=|m

Pl At 4

ir TiN! NAM R
/ Ha ‘Git
vial UR
"th

FIG. 36
A. Inner surface of the left hind leg of a worker honey-bee; B. Outer surface
of the same. After D. B. Casteel.

bees the pollen is swept to the ventral surface of the abdomen,
where there are special hairs for holding it in a compact mass.
The bees of the former group are therefore called ‘‘podilegous,”’
the latter ‘‘gastrilegous.’’ That these various structures, 7. é€., the
general body investment of plumose hairs and the modifications
of the hind legs or venter are special adaptations for pollen col-
lection and transportation is proved by certain interesting excep-
tions. Thus the small bees of the very primitive genus Prosopis
look very much like diminutive wasps; they have naked bodies and
appendages and their hind legs are not modified. But these bees
swallow the pollen as well as the honey and carry both in their
crops. Then there is a long series of genera of parasitic bees which
lay their eggs in the nests of the industrious species and on this
account do not need any collecting or transporting apparatus.
Such bees are more or less naked and their tibie have returned
to the simple structure seen in the wasps. And, of course, since

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 243

male bees in general do not have to collect pollen we find that they,
too, show considerable reduction in the hind legs as compared with
the cospecific females.

There are great differences among the bees in the range of their
attachment to the flowers. Some, like the honey-bee and the
bumble-bees, visit all sorts of flowers and are therefore called poly-
tropic, whereas others, the so-called oligotropie species, may con-
fine their attentions to the flowers of a very few plants or even
to those of a single species. The oligotropic are probably derived
from polytropie bees which have found it advantageous to avoid
competition with other species and to make their breeding season
coincide with the blooming period of a single plant. A good ex-
ample is one of our small black bees, Halictoides nove-anglie
which at least in New England visits only the purple flowers of
the pickerel weed, Pontederia cordata.

FIG. 37
Outer surfaces of left hind leg of worker bees in successive stages of pollen
accumulation. a, from a bee just beginning to collect. The pollen mass lies
at the entrance of the basket. The planta is extended, thus lowering the
auricle. 0b, slightly later stage, showing increase in pollen. The planta is
flexed, raising the auricle. The hairs extending outward and upward from
the lateral edge of the auricle press upon the lower and outer surface of
the small pollen mass, retaining and guiding it upward into the basket.
c and d, slightly later stages in the successive processes by which additional
pollen enters the basket. After D. B. Casteel.

244 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

FIG. 38
Pollen manipulation of honey-bee. A. Flying bee, showing manner of
manipulating the pollen with the fore and middle legs. The fore legs are
removing the pollen from mouthparts and face; the right middle leg is
transferring the pollen on its brush to the pollen combs of the left hind planta.
A small amount of pollen has already been placed in the baskets. B. Flying
bee showing portion of middle legs touching and patting down the pollen
masses. C. Inner surface of hind leg bearing a complete load of pollen. a.
Scratches in pollen mass caused by pressute of the long projecting hairs of
the basket upon the pollen mass as it has been pushed up from below. 0b.
groove in the pollen mass made by the strokes of the auricle as the mass
projects outward and backward from the basket. After D. B. Casteel.

Turning now to the reproductive behavior which has led to
the development of societies we find a most extraordinary parallel-
ism between the group of bees as a whole and that of the wasps as
deseribed in my previous lecture. The progress from the solitary
condition, shown in more than 95 per cent. of the species, to the
conditions in the most highly socialized form, the honey-bee, is,
so to speak, a repetition of the various wasp motifs set in a different
key. Every one of the thousands of species of solitary bees has its
own peculiarities of behavior, but the differences are usually so
insignificant that the habits as a whole are very monotonous. With
the exception of the parasitic bees, which have been secondarily
evolved from non-parasitie forms, all the solitary bees make their

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 245

nests either in the ground or in the cavities of plants, in crevices
of walls, ete., or construct earthen or resin cells (Fig. 39). Some
species line their nest cavities with pieces of the leaves or petals
of plants, with plant-hairs or particles of wood, or with films of
secretion which resemble celluloid or gold-beater’s skin. Most of
these materials, as. will be noticed, are derived from plants. The
nest usually consists of several cylindrical or elliptical cells ar-
ranged in a linear series or more rarely in a compact cluster, and
as soon as a cell has been completed, it is provisioned with a ball or
loaf-shaped mass of pollen soaked with honey and ealled ‘‘bee-
bread,’’ an egg is laid on its surface and the cell is closed. We have
here again the typical mass provisioning of the solitary wasps,
very similar to that of the Eumenine, except that vegetable instead
of animal substances are provided for the young. Nevertheless,
the pollen and honey are ideal foods, since the former is rich in

FIG. 39
Nests of Solitary bees. A. Nest of Colletes succinctus in the ground. After

Valery Mayet. a, cell provisioned and supplied with an egg: b, cell with

young larva; c, with older larva. B. Nest of a small carpenter bee (Ceratina

curcurbitacea) in a hollow Rubus stem; showing egg, three larve of different
stages and bee bread in three of the cells. After Dufour and Perris.

246 THE. SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

proteids and oils and the latter in sugar and water, and both con-
tain sufficient amounts of various salts for the growth of the larve.
As in the case of the solitary wasps the mother bee dies before her
progeny emerge.

Just as among the solitary wasps, we often find female solitary
bees nesting in close association with one another, and in some
species (Halictus longulus, Panurgus, Euglossa, Osmia vulpecula
and parietina, Eucera longicorma) the females, though occupying
separate nests, nevertheless build a common entrance tunnel. Still
there is nothing in these arrangements to indicate that they could
lead to the formation of true societies. There are, however, a few
cases which might be regarded as sub-social, since the mother bee
survives the development of her progeny and shows more interest
in their welfare than is implied by the mere mass provisioning of
the cells. Two such cases are represented by the European
Halictus quadricinctus, observed by Verhoeff, and H. sexcinctus,
observed by Verhoeff, von Buttel Reepen and Friese. The female
of the former bee digs a long vertical tunnel in the ground and at
- its lower end a chamber in which she constructs a number of earthen
cells, arranged in the form of a rude comb. These cells
of which there may be as many as 16 to 20, are successively
provisioned and closed, but the mother is long-lived, guards the
nest and may even survive till the young emerge. Hence there is
here an actual though apparently very brief contact of the mother
with her adult offspring.

Certain peculiarities in the life-history of Halictus may be
conceived to tend still further towards social development. Ac-
cording to our present unsatisfactory knowledge of these bees, at
least some of the species have two annual generations. The spring
generation consists of fecundated females that have over-wintered
from the previous fall. These give rise to a summer generation
consisting entirely of females. Their eggs develop parthenogeneti-
cally, but produce both males and females, forming the fall gen-
eration. The males soon die, but the fecundated females go into
hibernation. As von Buttel Reepen suggests, a society might be
readily established in a form like H. quadricinctus if the partheno-
genetic generation of females were to remain with their mother
and extend the parental nest. This would be essentially what we
find in the lower social wasps like Polistes.

A still more interesting case has been found by Dr. Hans
Brauns among the bees of the genus Allodape which belong to the
gastrilegous division and are closely related to our small ear-
penter bees of the genus Ceratina, so abundant in hollow stems
of the elder and sumach. Dr. Brauns made his observations in

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 247

South Africa, where he has been living for many years, and kindly
sends me the following unpublished data for use in this lecture:

““The species of Allodape nest in the dry, hollow stems of
plants, very rarely in galleries in the soil. In both cases they
gnaw out cavities or occupy those already in existence. Plant stems
with pithy contents, like those of Rubus, Liliaceew, Aloe, Amarylli-
dacew, Asparagus, Acacia thorns, ete., are preferred. Three dif-
ferent groups of species may be distinguished according to the
method employed in provisioning the young. These three groups
may also prove to be useful as morphological sections of the genus,
since the majority of Allodape species, especially the smaller ones,
are very difficult to distinguish in the female sex. The males yield
better characters, though there are few plastic characters in the
genus. Most of the descriptions drawn from single captured speci-
mens have little value. Fanatical describers, hike some of your
countrymen, merely make the work of the monographer more
difficult or more unattractive or even well nigh impossible in a
genus which is almost as monotonous as Halictus. The three dif-
ferent methods of provisioning which I have been able to establish
are the following:

‘“(1) The most primitive species, observed only on a few oc-
casions. The mother bee collects in the nest tube as much bee-
bread in single loaves or packets as the larve will require up to
the time of pupation, precisely as in other solitary bees, e. g., aS in
Ceratina, the form most closely related to Allodape. The single
food-packets are arranged one above the other in the hollow stem
and each is provided with an egg. The larva holds itself to the
food-packet by means of peculiar, long, segmental appendages,
which I have called provisionally ‘‘pseudopodia,’’ and consumes
its single packet till it is time for pupation. The size of the packet
corresponds to the size of the particular species, much as in
Ceratina, and each packet nourishes only a single larva. The lat-
ter holds its appendages spread out like those of a spider and is
closely attached to the packet like the larve of such solitary bees
as Ceratina. So far there is no departure from the conditions in
the solitary Apide. There is, however, one fundamental differ-
ence: Whereas Ceratina after provisioning and oviposition closes
off each cell with a partition of gnawed plant materials and there-
fore makes a series of individual cells, Allodape constructs abso-
lutely no partitions. The food-packets, each large enough for a
single larva and each furnished with a single egg, though arranged
in a linear series one behind the other in the nest tube, as in Cera-
tina, Osmia, ete., lie freely one on top of the other and are not
separated by partitions of the materials above mentioned. The

248 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

lowermost packet is the oldest and is therefore usually found to
bear a larva while each of the upper packets bears an egg. This
difference, as you will admit, must be regarded as of fundamental
importance. In these more primitive species the mother does
not come into contact with the larva since the latter has been pro-
vided once for all with sufficient food to last it till it pupates, pre-
cisely as in the solitary bees and wasps. The pseudopodia ean not
therefore have the function of exudate organs but merely serve
to attach the larva mechanically to the food-packet. This transi-
tion from isolated cells to a simple unseparated series of packets
is, of course, very interesting and significant.

‘*(2) Rather common, small and medium-sized species. The
mother bee glues a number of eggs, each by one pole and in a hal?
spiral row, determined by the curvature of the tubular cavity, to
the wall of the nest, usually near the middle, 7. e., a little above or
a little below. One common species I have also seen: occupying
tubular cavities in the earth with a similar arrangement of the
egos. The hatching larve hold fast to the walls of the tube by
means of their pseudopodia and are all at the same level with their
heads directed towards the entrance to the cavity. From time to
_ time the mother brings in a small lump of bee-bread and deposits
it in the midst of the hungry heads. The larve therefore all eat
simultaneously of the same mass of bee-bread. During their last
moult the mature larve lose the pseudopodia and become pupe,
which come to lie one behind the other in the tubular nest cavity.
In these species, therefore, the mother remains in continuous con-
tact with the larve.

‘“(3) . The majority of species, from those of small to those
of the largest size. The mother bee lays her eggs singly and
loosely on the bottom of the nest tube. In proportion to the size
of the bee the eggs are very, one might say abnormally, large and
seem to be laid at longer intervals. The mother bee feeds the in-
dividual larva, which clasps the particle of bee-bread with its two
large pseudopodia so that it has the food all to itself. When a nest
that has been occupied for some time by a mother bee, is examined,
one or several larvee, each with its own pellet of bee-bread, are
found in the position I have described. Later the daughters help
their mother in provisioning the larve. When the colony has be-
come populous the cavity of the tube is found to be stuffed with
larve and pupe in all stages. The latest egg, however, almost
always lies on the floor of the tube. And since the mother bees
must always go to the bottom to feed the youngest larvee, the con-
tents of the tube are often intermingled, though the larger larve
and the pupe are mostly nearer the opening and therefore upper-

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 249

most. In these species, also, the larvee lose the pseudopodia during
the last moult.’’

Brauns’s observation on Allodape are of great interest and
importance because they reveal within the limits of a single genus
a series of stages beginning with a mass-provisioning of the young,
like that of the solitary bees and wasps, and ending with a stage of
progressive provisioning. And not only has the latter led to an
acquaintance of the mother with her offspring but in the third
group of species described by Brauns to an affiliation of the off-
spring with the mother to form a cooperative family or society. It
would seem that this condition must have had its inception, as
Brauns suggests, in so simple a matter as the omission of the
series of partitions which all other solitary bees construct between
their provisioned cells. The final stage in which the individual
larve are fed from day to day by the mother and her daughters
with small pellets of food is not essentially different from what
we shall find in the bumble-bees and certain ants.

Yet these rudimentary societies of certain species of Halictus '
and Allodape must not be regarded as the actual precursors or
sources of the conditions which we observe in the three groups of
social bees, namely, the Bombine, or bumble-bees, the Meliponine,
or stingless bees, and the Apine, or honey-bees. Though these all
belong to the podilegous division, no one has been able to point
out their putative ancestors among existing solitary bees, and it is
evident that we can neither derive them from one another nor
from any single known extinct genus. Each possesses its own
striking peculiarities and each is an independent branch from. the
ancestral stem now vaguely represented by the solitary bees. The
bumble-bees are the most primitive, the honey-bees the most spe-
cialized, while the stingless bees exhibit a combination of primi-
tive and specialized characters different from those of either of
the other subfamilies. But just as all the social wasps differ from
the solitary wasps in employing a peculiar nest material—paper—
so the three groups of social bees differ from the solitary bees in
using another peculiar nest material—wax. This material is, how-
ever, a true secretion, which arises in the form of small flakes from
simple glands situated between the abdominal segments of the in-
sects (Fig. 40). The three groups of social bees also agree in the
structure of the hind tibia, the outer surface of which is not only
broadened as in solitary forms but smooth and shining with re-
eurved bristles along the edges (Fig 36). This is called the cor-
bula and among solitary bees is known to occur only in Euglossa.

The ‘bumble-bees represent a stage of societal development of
the greatest interest to the evolutionist. Of these large insects

250 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

FIG. 40
A. Ventral view of worker honey-bee in the act of removing a wax-scale.
B. Inner surface of left hind leg, showing the position of a wax-scale im-
mediately after it has been removed from the wax pocket. The scale has
been pierced by seven of the spines of the pollen combs of the first tarsal
segment of the planta. C. Side view of a worker bee showing position of
wax-scale just before it is grasped by the fore legs and mandibles. The scale
is still adhering tu the spines of the pollen combs. The bee is supported upon
the two middle legs and a hind leg as in A. After D. B. Casteel.

about 200 species are known, mostly confined to Eurasia and North
America. They prefer rather cool climates and several species
occur in the arctic regions or at high elevations. Their habits have
been carefully studied by several European entomologists, notably
by Hoffer, Wagner, Lie-Petersen and Sladen, and are beginning to
attract students in this country. We know very little about the
species of Central and South America and the East Indies.

In temperate regions bumble-bee colonies are annual devel-
opments, like those of our northern species of Vespa and Polistes.
The large fecundated female or queen overwinters precisely like
the females of the solitary wasps and starts her colony in the spring.
She chooses some small cavity in the ground or in a log, preferably
an abandoned mouse-nest, and after lining it with pieces of grass
or moss or rearranging the pieces already present, proceeds to the

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 251

important business of establishing her brood. The various stages
in this behavior have been carefully observed by Sladen: ‘‘In the
center of the floor of this cavity she forms a small lump of pollen-
paste, consisting of pellets made of pollen moistened with honey
that she has collected on the shanks (tibiw) of her hind legs (Fig.
41a). These she moulds with her jaws into a compact mass, fas-

FIG. 41
Incipient nest of bumble-bee. A. Pollen and first eggs. B. Honey pot.
After F. W. L. Sladen.

tening it to the floor. Upon the top of this lump she builds with
her jaws a circular wall of wax, and in the little cell so formed she
lays her first batch of eggs (Fig. 42Ba), sealing it over with wax
by closing in the top of the wall with her jaws as soon as the eggs
have been laid. The whole structure is about the size of a pea.

The queen now sits on her eggs day and night to keep
them warm, only leaving them to collect food when necessary. In
order to maintain animation and heat through the night and in
bad weather when food can not be obtained, it is necessary for her
to lay in a store of honey. She therefore sets to work to construct
a large waxen pot to hold the honey (Fig. 41b, 43, 44). This pot
is built in the entrance passage of the nest, just before it opens into
the cavity containing the pollen and eggs, and is consequently de-
tached from it. The completed honey pot is large and approxi-
mately globular, and is capable of holding nearly a thimbleful of
honey.”’

Up to this point the behavior of the queen is much like that
of the solitary bee which makes and closes her cell after providing
it with provisions and an egg, but a significant change now super-
venes. The eggs hatch after about four days and the further events
are described by Sladen as follows: ‘‘The larve devour the pollen
which forms their bed, and also fresh pollen which is added and
plastered onto the lump by the queen. The queen also feeds thera
with a liquid mixture of honey and pollen, which she prepares by

252 } THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

swallowing some honey and then returning it to her mouth to be
mixed with pollen, which she nibbles from the lump and chews in
her mandibles, the mixture being swallowed and churned in the.
honey-sac. ‘To feed the larve the queen makes a small hole with
her mandibles in the skin of wax that covers them, and injects
through her mouth a little of the mixture among the larve which
devour it greedily. Her abdomen contracts suddenly as she injects
the food, and as soon as she has given it she rapidly closes up the
hole with the mandibles. While the larve remain small they are
fed collectively, but when they grow large each one receives a
separate injection.’’

Here we have a beautiful transition from mass to progressive
provisioning. Sladen then describes the further development of
the brood: ‘‘ As the larve grow the queen adds wax to their cover-
ing, so that they remain hidden (Fig. 42 BEb). When they are
about five days old the lump containing them, which has hitherto
been expanding slowly, begins to enlarge rapidly, and swellings,
indicating the position of each larva, begin to appear in it. Two
days later, that is, on the eleventh day after the eggs were laid,
the larve are full-grown, and each one then spins around itself an
oval cocoon, which is thin and papery but tough (Fig. 42 Cc).
The queen now clears away most of the brown wax covering, re-
vealing the cocoons, which are pale yellow. These first cocoons
number from seven to sixteen, according to the species and the
prolifieness of the queen. They are not piled one on another, but
stand side by side, and they adhere to one another very closely,

FIG. 42
A to FE. Diagrams of successive stages in the development of the bumble-bee’s
brood. a, eggs; b, young larve; c, full grown larva; d, pupa; e, old cocoon
used as a honey pot; f, old cocoon used as a pollen pot. After F. W. L.
Sladen.

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 253

FIG. 43

Incipient nest of Bombus terrestris, showing honey-pot and mass of wax en-

closing young brood and grooved for the accommodation of the body of the
queen while incubating. After F. W. L. Sladen.

FIG. 44
Same as Fig. 43, showing the queen Bombus terrestris lying in the groove and

incubating the young brood. After F. W. L. Sladen.

254 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

so that they seem welded into a compact mass. They do not, how-
ever, form a flat-topped cluster, but the cocoons at the sides are
higher than those in the middle, so that a groove is formed ; this
groove is curved downwards at its ends (Fig. 48), and in it the
queen sits, pressing her body close to the cocoons and stretching
her abdomen to about double its usual length so that it will cover
as many cocoons as possible; at the same time her outstretched legs
clasp the raised cocoons at the sides (Fig. 44). In this attitude
she now spends most of her time, sometimes remaining for half-
an-hour or more almost motionless save for the rhythmic expansion
and contraction of her enormously distended abdomen, for nothing
is now needed but continual warmth to bring out her first brood
of workers. In every nest that I have examined the direction of
the groove is from the entrance or honey-pot to the back of the
nest, never from side to side. By means of this arrangement the
queen, sitting in her groove facing the honey-pot—this seems to be
her favorite position, though sometimes she reverses it—is able to
sip her honey without turning her body, and at the same time she
is in an excellent position for guarding the entrance from in-
truders.’’

The eggs laid by the queen during the early part of the sum-
mer are fertilized and therefore produce females, but the larva,
owing to the peculiar way they are reared, secure unequal quanti-
ties of nutriment and therefore vary considerably in size, though

Prats aiken ies

Se i
| Loney pots —

Ce
s &

Old cocoo
contatnt
pollen

NN ale AEE aint

honey pots

FIG. 45
Comb of Bombus lapidarius, showing clusters of worker cocoons, masses of
enclosed larvz, half-full honey-pots and pollen pot. After F. W. L. Sladen.

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 255

they are all smaller than their mother. Individuals scarcely
_ larger than house-flies are sometimes produced, especially in very
young colonies. All of these individuals have been called workers,
although they have essentially the same structure as the queen.
They are assisted in emerging from their cocoons by their mother
or sisters and forthwith take up the work of collecting pollen and
nectar and of enlarging the colony. The queen now remains in
the nest and devotes herself to laying eggs, while the nest is pro-
tected, new cells are built and the additional broods of larve are
fed by the workers. They also construct honey-pots and special
receptacles for pollen or store these substances in cocoons from
which workers have emerged (Fig. 45). Later eggs are also
laid by the workers but being unfertilized develop into males. As
the colony grows and becomes more prosperous, some of the larve
derived from fertilized eggs laid by the queen are abundantly fed
and develop into queens. Like the queens of the social wasps, these
do not emerge from their cocoons till the late summer, and like the
queen wasps, they disperse, after mating with the males, and alone
of all the colony survive the winter to start new colonies the fol-
lowing spring. In South America, where, according to von [hering,
bumble-bee colonies are perennial, new nests are formed by swarm-
ing as among the social wasps of the same region. Bumble-bee
colonies are, as a rule, not very populous, 500 individuals consti-
tuting an unusually large society. In many cases there are
scarcely more than 100 to 200.

I have called attention to the fact that the workers are precisely
like the queens, or fertile females, except that they have been more
or less inadequately fed during their larval stages and are there-
fore smaller. They are the result of a high reproductive activity
on the part of the queen under unfavorable trophic conditions that
do not permit the offspring to attain their full stature. In certain
species that live permanently under even more unfavorable condi-
tions, like those in the aretie regions, the worker caste is completely
or almost completely suppressed. During 20 years of residence
in Tromsé, Norway, Sparre Schneider failed to find a single worker
of Bombus kirbyellus, and those of B. hyperboreus were extremely
rare. Probably the queens of these species are able to rear only a
few offspring and these are all or nearly all males and queens,
though, during the short arctic summer, at least in Finland and
Lapland, the mother insects work late into the nights. But the
worker caste may also disappear as a result of the opposite condi-
tions, that is, an abundance of food. We found this to be the case
with the workerless parasitic wasps, Vespa arctica and austriaca.
In north temperate regions the genus Bombus has given rise to a

256 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

number of parasitic species, which have been included in a separate
genus, Psithyrus. These bees are very much like Bombus, in the
nests of which they live, but just as in the two species of Vespa
and for the same reasons, their worker caste has been suppressed.

The foregomg account shows that the bumble-bees are very
primitive and represent an interesting transition from the solitary
to the social forms, since the queen while establishing her colony
behaves at first like a solitary bee but later gradually passes over
to a stage of progressive provisioning and affiliation of her off-
spring and thus forms a true society. The cells are also essentially
like those of solitary bees, except that they are made of wax, but
even in the secretion of the wax the bumble-bees represent the
primitive conditions, as compared with the stingless bees and
honey-bees, since the substance is exuded between both the dorsal
and ventral segments of the abdomen.

THE POLYNESIANS 257

THE POLYNESIANS: CAUCASIANS OF THE
PACIFIC

By CLIFFORD E. GATES

COLGATE UNIVERSITY

N the oceanic islands of the Pacifie three different peoples oceur,
who have been called Melanesians, Micronesians and Polyne-
sians. These form very distinet divisions. The Melanesians are
physically negroid, nearly black with crisp, curly hair, flat noses
and thick lips. Although nothing is known of their origin, it is
supposed that they came from Africa and were the earliest occu-
pants of the oceanic world. They now oecupy the western portion
of the Pacifie islands south of the equator including Fiji, the New
Hebrides, the Solomon group and the Bismarck Archipelago.
_The Micronesians are of Malay stock much modified by
Melanesian, Micronesian and even Chinese and Japanese crossings.
They are short, often stunted in form, and have a dark brown
complexion. They inhabit the western portion of the Pacific isl-
ands north of the equator, including the Marshall Islands, the Gil-
bert Islands, the Caroline Islands and Guam.

The Polynesians represent a branch of the Caucasian race who
migrated in a remote period, possibly in the Neolithic age, from
the Asiatic mainland. They have a distinct European east of
feature, have a light brown or olive complexion, and are the
physical superiors even of Europeans. They inhabit all the eastern
group of islands both north and south of the equator, including the
Hawaiian, Marquesan, Society, Cook, Tonga and Samoan Islands.

The Micronesians, few in number and inhabiting a relatively
small area of Oceanica, have been of little interest to other peoples ;
the Melanesians, black and savage, with a history of horror after
horror, have been repellent to explorers and remain in a darkness
comparable to the darkness of central Africa. But the Polynesians
have cast a charm over the civilized world. They are perhaps the
handsomest people extant. The men average six feet in height,
are strongly muscled, free from fat, swift in action, graceful in
repose; the women are often of rare beauty, with regular features
and wondrous large, dark eyes. In character they are exceedingly
merry, gentle, courteous and hospitable. Unless mistreated or under
some misapprehension they have been almost universally friendly

VOL. XV.—17.

258 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

to the white man; the stranger coming to their shores and passing
through their villages ever and anon receives the greeting ‘‘aloha,’’
and his departure is often the cause of sadness or weeping on the
part of the islanders who may have known him at most but a few
days. When Robert Louis Stevenson was about to leave the Mar-
quesas—islands owned by France—Stanislao Moanitini, chief of
Akaui, sadly addressed him with these words: ‘‘Ah vous devriez
rester ici, mon cher ami. Vous étes les gens qu’il faut pour les
Kanaques; vous étes doux, vous et votre famille; vous seriez obéis
dans toutes les iles.’’

Nowhere does any people possess a deeper passion for color;
wreaths or ‘‘leis’’ of flowers have always been a part of their
everyday attire. Their personal cleanliness is remarkable. For
them no day would be complete without a bath in one of their
beautiful streams or lakes followed by an anointing of the entire
body with a fragrant oil.

With these people cultured Europeans have not hesitated to
form marriages, to live among them, sensitive natures have counted
the world well lost, and about them has grown up a romance of
story and song that has caught the interest of the civilized world.
There is a saying that he who has seen Tahiti will never wish to
leave it.

Their history prior to the discovery of their islands by Euro-
peans has been learned partly through study of their character-
isties, partly through study of their language, but principally
through their traditions and legends. Though many examples of
their rude hieroglyphics or picture symbols have been found, little
has been learned from this source. The appearance and character-
istics of the people point at once to a Caucasian lineage. The roots
of their language point to the same conclusion. This being so,
they could have come only from Asia. All their legends point to
the west as the eradle of the race, and their dead are supposed to
vo to their future life west—naturally back to the home of the race.
But supposing they did come from Asia, how did they ever reach
Samoa and Tahiti and Hawaii? Hawaii is over 4,000 miles from
Asia and only 2,000 from San Francisco. How could these people
traverse two thirds of the Pacific in their canoes? Doubtless they
came from island to island through the Malay Archipelago until
they reached Samoa, but from there they had 2,000 miles of open
ocean to traverse to reach Hawaii. How was it possible to accom-
plish this sail from the west when the prevailing winds and cur-
rents were from the northeast? The answer to this question lies
in the character of the people. There is evidence that in the past
they were the most daring and skilled navigators the world has

THE POLYNESIANS 259

ever known. They built two-decked canoes of plank large enough
to carry big stores of food and water and even livestock. They
possessed a knowledge of the stars and steered their course by them.
That they must have come this way is further evidenced by the
fact that an intelligent Polynesian of Hawaii can understand al-
most everything that a Samoan says even though the islands lie se
far apart, and, except for the several waves of colonization, have
had no intercourse with each other prior to the arrival of the
European. Nearly all the ethnologists are agreed upon this theory
of the origin of the race. At the present time further investiga-
tions are being made by the Bishop Museum and Yale Univer-
sity. Their work is only half completed, but already they have
eollected a vast amount of information which it is believed will still
further corroborate the accepted theory.

Arrived at the islands the Polynesians found conditions ad-
mirably suited to their needs. The soil, usually being of voleanie
origin, was fertile and covered with a rich vegetation, including the
taro, the bread-fruit, the sweet potato, the yam and the banana.
The waters about the islands abound in fish, and though no edible
animals appear to have been indigenous, the early settlers brought
with them pigs which flourished in both'a wild and domestic state
and have always been highly regarded as a food by the natives.

For many centuries they led a savage but contented existence
here, completely shut off from the rest of the world. Happy would
they have been if they could have remained in this seclusion!
Karly Spanish navigators touched at some of the smaller islands
and by the eighteenth century all of the main groups were known.
The Hawaiian Islands were the last to be discovered, being un-
known until an English navigator, Captain James Cook, landed
there in 1778.

At the time of discovery the different groups of islands were
in various stages of advancement, the Samoans being the most
civilized and the Marquesans the most savage. All of them were
living in a feudal state, similar to that which prevailed in Europe
in medieval times. The chiefs owned all the land and pareelled
it out among their followers, who however were not bound to the
land but if dissatisfied could transfer their allegiance to some
other chieftain. For many years there had been waging almost
continual internecine wars which must have limited the popula-
tion even before discovery.

Since the coming of the European many changes have taken
place in government, mode of living and religion. The islands are
no longer independent. The Marquesan and Society Islands be-
long to France; the Cook and Tonga Islands belong to Great

260 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Britain; the Hawaiian Islands and part of Samoa belong to the
United States. The people have largely abandoned their ancient
manner of living and adopted that of the European. One of their
most peculiar systems was that of the tabu. The tabu was a pro-
hibition of certain articles or certain acts and was religious in
character. Anyone who violated a tabu was supposed to be visited
by @ certain malady and, unless the proper remedial measures were
taken, in three days’ time to die. Anyone could tabu anything
that belonged to him, but there were a great many tabus of univer-
sal application. The following are examples: men and women
were compelled to eat in separate houses, and women could not
cook over a fire built by a man. Women were not allowed to eat
certain food such as bananas, cocoanuts and pork. Women could
not enter any canoe, but if they desired to cross any river or lake
or reach a ship had to swim. A commoner was prohibited from
erossing the shadow of a chief. At certain tabu periods no sound
could be heard, no fire could be lighted, even the dogs were muzzled
and fowls tied up. For various reasons the system is now over-
thrown.

The simple dress of the people, which consisted for the men of
a loin cloth, for the women of a short girdle of leaves, has been
changed for the more elaborate dress of the European. The native
houses made of bamboo poles and thatch have given place to houses
of wood. Even the occupations have changed. Formerly the na-
tive did little work aside from picking and cooking his food, spear-
ing fish and making his simple dress and implements. Now many
products are raised for export, the cultivation of sugar especially
having become the main industry of most of the islands. The
native religion, with its many gods, its prayers and its songs, has
yielded to Christianity, the islanders accepting the new religion
en masse. Doubtless the acceptance in many eases has been largely
a matter of form, for the inhabitants in times of trouble still se-
eretly address prayers to their ancient gods.

Since the coming of the foreigner the Polynesians, despite their
wonderful physique, have alarmingly decreased in numbers. Cap-
tain Cook estimated the population of the Hawaiian Islands at
420,000; to-day there are only 24,000 Hawaiians of pure blood.
The Tahitians numbered 150,000 in 1774, fell to 17,000 in 1880
and to 10,300 in 1899. During the last two decades of the nine-
teenth century the decrease has been in Tonga from 30,000 to 17,-
500; in the Cook group from 11,500 to 8,400; in Manakini from
1,600 to 1,000; and in Kaster [sland from 600 te 100. In the val-
ley of Typee in the Marquesas, where Herman Melville was so
kindly treated, from a tribe which for merly boasted 4,000 fighting
men only a dozen wretches have surviy ed.

‘

THE POLYNESIANS 261

Such a decrease can be only partly accounted for by the wars,
massacres and raiding for the South American and Australian
slave trade before this traffic was stopped. A more important
cause is the introduction of diseases by foreigners. Sickness was
almost unknown to the Polynesians prior to the coming of the
foreigners, and consequently they lacked the toxin in their blood
which renders other peoples partially immune. <A mild disease
has been known to carry them off by the thousands; a single epi-
demic of measles once destroyed a tenth of all the natives of the
Hawaiian Islands. Their swift change of habits has also rendered
them the victims of many plagues. The Polynesian is amphibious
by nature and as much at home in the water as out of it. In his
scant native costume he would quickly dry off upon emerging from
the water and be no worse off for his bath. Having adopted the
trousers and shirt of the European he still goes into the water
with his clothes on, insisting that if clothes are good they are good
all the time. The clothes remain wet after he emerges and bring a
heavy toll upon life in the forms of pneumonia and tuberculosis.
The replacement of the native hut by the wooden house has ex-
posed the native to the same plagues. The hut, made of thatch,
was always well ventilated because of the looseness of its structure ;
the wooden house, of which the native persistently refuses to open
the windows at night, is close and stuffy. The prohibition of the
joyous native pastimes by over-zealous missionary endeavor, to-
gether with the lugubriousness of some of the things taught him,
has depressed the native, rendering him an easier prey to the rav-
ages of disease. The introduction of rum and opium has been
a calamity to him, weakening and degrading him more than ‘‘fire-
water’’ has degraded the American Indian.

From every point of view the coming of the foreigner has been
an immeasurable curse to the Polynesian. Left to themselves the
Islanders could be living to-day in a paradise unvisited by the
plagues, pestilence and calamities that attack mankind now the
world over. Before the visitation of the European and the Asiatie
their flowery isles set in the midst of dark blue seas were far re-
moved from every beast of prey, every poisonous serpent, every
malady rising from the congested slums of earth. The gentle
people led a carefree existence, spending much of their time swim-
ming, riding the surf, playing at their sports of wrestling, boxing
and football, dancing their expressive folk-dances of love and
goodwill.

How changed is it all now! From the east and from the west
have come calamities. The mosquito, the rat, the mongoose have
arrived ; though there are still no snakes, some fool will doubtless

262 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

goon import a couple of rattlers. The crews of the ships brought
syphilis, which among a people with loose ties of marriage was
bound to rage terribly; the Chinese brought leprosy, a disease un-
known in the islands prior to 1848, but now there are nearly a
thousand victims of this terrible plague segregated on the island
of Molokai in the Hawaiian group. The changed conditions of liv-
ing have resulted in a holocaust of death from pneumonia and
tuberculosis, while measles and smallpox have done their worst
among a people unable to withstand them. The Polynesian is per-
ishing. Stopped are the games and the hulahula dances, forgotten
are the songs of the fathers. Yet a little while and the rippling
flow of his language, more like music than like speech, will have
vanished from the earth; soon the very ‘‘aloha’’ will be heard no
more. The Polynesian understands his fate. With a smile half
sad, half hopeless, he looks forward to the day when he will be
but a memory among the race of men.

THE SCIENTIFIC IMAGINATION 265

THE SCIENTIFIC IMAGINATION’
By Dr. WALTER LIBBY

UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH

N books and articles touching on the psychology and logie of

research, a certain confusion has frequently arisen from the

use of terms like intuition, illumination, and inspiration, which

seem almost to defy definition, as well as from an unwarranted

use of terms like imagination and conception, regarding the deno-

tation of which there is some approach to harmony among the
recognized exponents of mental science.

Among the philosophers, Wundt, Bergson and James, for ex-
ample, acknowledge—each in his own way, to be sure—a close re-
lationship between the imagination and the memory. Both of these
mental processes admit of analysis into simple sensory elements.
Reproductive imagination differs indeed from memory only in so
far as it is unaccompanied by a sense of repetition. The produc-
tive, or creative, imagination, though it differs from the repro-
ductive in the freedom with which it manipulates and rehandles
sensory data, is nevertheless as dependent as it on the materials
furnished by the eye, ear and other sense organs. We may rear-
range and recombine the data supplied by sensation and retained
in consciousness ; we can create nothing absolutely new.

Nearly all of the chapter on imagination in James’s Principles
of Psychology would be equally relevant in a discussion of the mem-
ory. The point of view of this eminent philosopher and psycholo-
gist is so opposed to the views of writers ike Tyndall and Pearson,
who are inclined to identify the scientific imagination with creative
thought in general (which it is our purpose to analyse), that it
seems worth while to examine in some detail the phenomena of re-
tention and recall, and, by differentiating one type of memory from
another, obtain a clue to the various types of imagination in the
strictest sense of that term.

Cases of remarkable powers of visual reeall have been put on
record by James. One of these he quotes:

1 This is the first of a series of lectures on the ‘‘ Psychology and Logie of
Research,’’ given before the Industrial Fellows of the Mellon Institute of
Industrial Research of the University of Pittsburgh, February 14—May 2,
1922.

264 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The more I learn by heart the more clearly do I see images of my
pages. Even before I can recite the lines I see them so that I could give them
very slowly word for word, but my mind is so occupied in looking at my printed
image that I have no idea of what I am saying, of the sense of it, ete. When
I first found myself doing this I used to think it was merely because I knew
the lines imperfectly; but I have quite convinced myself that I really do see
an image. The strongest proof that such is really the fact is, I think, the
following:

I can look down the mentally seen page and see the words that commence
all the lines, and from any one of these words I can continue the line. I find
this much easier to do if the words begin in a straight line than if there are
breaks. Example:

Etant fait
Tous

UT RG ROAR THN el 0 CUNT SD ei 5A SL AR Le
Comme

(La Fontaine, 8. iv.)

In an experimental study undertaken by the writer a group
of ten college students were asked to memorize words and sentences
in Italian, a language which none of them had studied before, and
of which the experimenter was also fairly ignorant. Each of the
eight exercises, employed within the space of two months, con-
sisted of ten detached words and of about fifty words connected in
sentences. The procedure was to place typewritten sheets of the
words and sentenees, with their translation, before the students for
twenty minutes. The sheets were then collected and all copies and
notes made during the study period were destroyed. Forty-eight
hours later the members of the group were asked to write down all
the words which could still be recalled. In the third exercise of
this sort one student succeeded in reproducing correctly nine out
of the ten detached words and all of the words in the sentences.
The spelling, the punctuation, and even the use of accents were
almost perfect. This student was a well-marked type of motor
memory. She found it impossible to memorize anything effectively
without writing it down. To hold a pencil in the writing position
aided her to some extent to fix in memory an ordered statement of
ideas. When she had tried to learn the Italian words and sen-
tenees by visualization, they seemed quite strange to her after the
lapse of forty-eight hours; but, when she had copied them down,
they were as old friends.

In the seventh exercise a second student succeeded in recalling
the ten detached words with one mistake in spelling and, with re-
markable fidelity, a song of eleven lines from an Italian opera.

FHE SCIENTIFIC IMAGINATION 265

He relied not on motor or visual, but on auditory imagery. He in-
sisted at the beginning of the experiment on having the words and
sentences read aloud. Later he was able, so he said, to surmise the
sound of them. His mistakes corroborate his introspection coneern-
ing his type of memory. His spelling, punctuation and use of ae-
cents were less accurate than the first student’s. He was able to
give only the first syllable of a five-syllable word whieh was in-
distinctly pronounced by his rather imeompetent instructor. The
spelling “‘luto’’ for ‘‘Iutto’’ was probably also due to the experi-
menter’s defective pronunciation of Italian. In one line of the
song the student elided two words by doubling the initial letter of
the second word, but without deteriment to the rhythm. Jn this
Same exercise a third member of the group was able to recall onty
fourteen words out of sixty-four. His impression that his mind is
of the visual type is supported by the fact that all of the words
definitely remembered occur in conspicuous positions in the exercise
—the first line of a stanza, the end of a line, the beginning and the
end of the list of words, ete.

If the claim is put forward that great scientifie discoverers
have been gifted with particularly vivid imagery, we must bear in
mind the actual achievements of young people of college age sub-
mitted to definite tests. In this chance group of ten students, one,
as we have seen, relying on auditory imagery, was able to recall
sixty-four words out of sixty-four, while another, by means of
kinesthetic imagery recalled sixty-three words out of sixty-four.
temarkable as their performances were, these students were sur-
passed in the total experiment by a student who was conscious (as
many of us must be even in such a simple experience as holding a
telephone number in consciousness for a few moments) of relying
on both auditory and visual imagery.

The address of the Irish physicist Tyndall on the ‘‘Scientifie
Use of the Imagination,’’ delivered before the British Association
in 1870, gives evidence of the functioning of his own imagination,
and raises a number of questions in reference to the use of the
imagination in scientific research. He is of the opinion that in
explaining sensible phenomena we habitually form mental images
of the ultra-sensible. He holds that the action of the investigator
is periodic, and that the emotions play no imconsiderable part in
the intellectual life. Tyndall quotes Sir Benjamin Brodie as
stating that the imagination is both the source of poetic genius
and the instrument of discovery in science. When, however, Tyn-
dall says that, with experiment and accurate observation to work
upon, imagination becomes the architect of the theories of physical
science, he seems to pass from the consideration of imagination m
the strict sense of the term to the consideration of the speculative

366 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

process involved in the setting up of hypotheses; and, when he
claims that without the exercise of the imagination the conception
of force would vanish from our universe and that causal relations
would disappear, his enthusiasm for his theme has apparently ren-
dered him oblivious of the distinetions between mental processes.
‘‘There is,’’ he proceeds, ‘‘in the human intellect a power of ex-
pansion—I might almost call it a power of creation—which is
brought into play by the simple brooding upon facts.’’ After this
sample of amateur psychology one is not surprised to hear the
physicist speaking of a composite and creative power in which
reason and imagination are united. Having confused the imagina-
tion with the reason, he invents a tertiwm quid that includes them
both. The example of scientific thought which he gives, concern-
ing the process of developing analogies between the wavelets on
the surface of a pond, sound waves in water or air, and light waves
in the ether, does not further the differentiation of the imagination
and the reason. He regards as a product of the imagination the
inference that the people by whom we are surrounded are possessed
of reason because they behave as if they were reasonable. For him
the world of sense itself, the phenomenal world of the physicist,
is largely the outcome of things intellectually discerned, and 1s,
therefore, dependent on the imagination. In short Tyndall im-
parts to the term imagination the maximum extension and the
minimum intension.

Francis Galton’s essay on Mental Imagery, 1881, provides an
antidote for the extreme views of Tyndall. In this essay Galton
expresses the conviction that scientists as a class are not good
visualizers. When he questioned his friends of the scientifie world,
ineluding Fellows of the Royal Society and members of the French
Institute, he was amazed to find that few of them could picture to
themselves things recently seen, such as the breakfast-table at which
each had sat a few hours previously. When, however, Galton ad-
dressed himself to persons whom he met in general society, he ob-
tained results altogether different. Girls, boys, women, many
men, could recall sights like the morning’s breakfast-table with
photographie vividness and in their appropriate coloring and il-
lumination. The power to visualize is more marked in the female
sex than in the male and is somewhat more active in adolescent
boys than in men. A study of the drawings of the Bushmen of
South Africa and of the remains of prehistoric art indicates that
the visual imagery of primitive man may be of an almost hallu-
cinatory vividness.

Convineed, by his systematic investigation of the comparative
dearth of visual imagery among men of science, Galton arrives at

THE SCIENTIFIC IMAGINATION 267

the conclusion that habits of highly generalized and abstract
thought, the pursuit of language and book learning, are antagon-
istic to the faculty of perceiving mental pictures. He admits, how-
ever, that there are instances in which persons see mentally in
print every word uttered in a conversation or an address, and that
the highest minds are probably those in which visualization is not
lost but is held as a rule in abeyance, ready for use on suitable
occasions. In fact, in later studies he records the remarkable
visualizing powers of men like Professor Schuster, Flinders, Petrie,
and the Rev. George Henslow, botanist. Mr. Henslow recognized
that visual images, which he could summon at will, differed from
the original perceptions, and that they were dynamic, undergoing
changes, in many cases due to a suggestiveness, in the images, of
something else. At times the images oscillated or rotated in a per-
plexing manner.

Karl Pearson in ‘‘The Grammar of Science,’’ 1911, resembles
Tyndall rather than Galton and James as regards the scope and
range he ascribes to the activity of the imagination. According to
Pearson the discovery of law is the peculiar function of the creative
imagination. He declares that the man with no imagination may
collect facts, but that he can not make great discoveries. After an
elaborate classification of such facts has been made and their rela-
tions and sequences carefully traced, the next stage in the process
of scientific investigation is the exercise of the imagination. Pear-
son, however, insists that it is the disciplined imagination (com-
parable, no doubt, with Tyndall’s composite and creative power in
which reason and imagination are united) that has been at the
bottom of all great scientific discoveries. He also admits that the
classification of facts is often largely guided by the imagination
as well as by the reason. At the same time he maintains that all
ereat scientists have, in a certain sense, been great artists, and by
describing a work of art as concentrating into a simple formula a
wide range of human emotions and feelings, he attempts to bring
the products of artistic creation into line with scientifie laws. It is
evident that Pearson, while emphasizing the importance in research
of the creative imagination, has not contributed substantially to its
analysis and differentiation.

Reserving for later consideration the complex mental processes
so boldly broached by Tyndall and Pearson, let us glance, in the
spirit of Galton and James, at some of the evidence concerning the
employment of imagery by the scientific discoverer.

Dalton seems to have relied on visual imagery; as has been
remarked by others, his mind was of a corpuscular turn. In the
early stages of his meteorological work he thought of aqueous vapor
as made up of minute droplets diffused among the gases of the at-

268 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

mosphere. To the particles of these gases he ascribed defi-
nite form, and represented by diagram his idea of the constitution
of the air. About 1803 Dalton began to picture atoms as of dif-
ferent sizes. He formed visual images of molecules of nitric oxide
and nitrous oxide, of carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide, of
ethylene and ethane. In his laboratory note-book during the
autumn of 1803 he made entry of his symbols for hydrogen (0),
oxygen (©), nitrogen (@), carbon (@), sulphur (@), and sev-
eral of their compounds, as (O @), (DO), (O@O), (DOD), ete.
Dalton could not accept with equanimity the less graphic method of
representing chemical elements and compounds. As late as 1837
he wrote: ‘‘Berzelius’s symbols are horrifying: a young student
in ehemistry might as soon learn Hebrew as make himself ac-
quainted with them. They appear like a chaos of atoms :
and to equally perplex the adepts of science, to discourage the
learner, as well as to cloud the beauty and simplicity of the Atomic
Theory.’’ Would the development of modern chemistry have pro-
ceeded more rapidly if the symbols of Dalton, which appeal to the
imaginative thinker, had triumphed over the symbols of Berzelius,
which appeal to the conceptual thinker ?

Kekulé has left an intimate? record, worth reproducing in
extenso, of his own experience as a scientific discoverer.

Genius has been spoken of, and the Benzene Theory has been designated
a work of genius. I have often asked myself what, exactly, is genius, in what
does it consist? It is said that genius recognizes the truth without knowing
the proof of it. I do not doubt that from the most remote times this idea
has been entertained. ‘‘Would Pythagoras have sacrificed a hecatomb if he
had not known his famous proposition till he found proof?’’

Tt is also said that genius thinks by leaps and bounds. Gentlemen, the
waking mind does not so think. That is not granted to it. Perhaps it would
be of interest to you if I should place before you some highly indiscreet state-
ments as to how I arrived at certain ideas of mine. During my stay in Lon-
don, I lived for a long time in Clapham Road in the vicinity of the Common.
My evenings, however, I spent with my friend Hugo Miller at Islington at the
opposite end of the metropolis. We used to talk of all sorts of things, mostly,
however, of our beloved chemistry. One beautiful summer evening I was
riding on the last omnibus through the deserted streets usually so filled with
life. I rode as usual on the outside of the omnibus. I fell into a revery.
Atoms flitted before my eyes. I had always seen them in movement, these
little beings, but I had never before succeeded in perceiving their manner of
moving. That evening, however, I saw that frequently two smaller atoms
were coupled together, that larger ones seized the two smaller ones, that still
larger ones held fast three and even four of the smaller ones and that all
whirled around in a bewildering dance. I saw how the larger atoms formed
a row and one dragged along still smaller ones at the ends of the chain. I saw
what Kopp, my revered teacher and friend, describes so charmingly in his

2 Berichte der deutschen chemischen Gesellschaft, 1890, pages 1305-1307.

THE SCIENTIFIC IMAGINATION 269

‘“Molecularwelt’’; but I saw it long before him. The ery of the guard,
‘*Clapham Road,’’ waked me from my revery; but I spent a part of the night
writing down sketches of these dream pictures. Thus arose the structural
theory.

It was very much the same with the Benzene Theory. During my stay in
Ghent, Belgium, I occupied pleasant bachelor quarters in the main street. My
study, however, was in a narrow alleyway and had during the day time no
light. For a chemist who spends the hours of daylight in the laboratory this
was no disadvantage. I was sitting there engaged in writing my text-book;
but it wasn’t going very well; my mind was on other things. I turned my
chair toward the fireplace and sank into a doze. Again the atoms were flitting
before my eyes. Smaller groups now kept modestly in the background. My
mind’s eye, sharpened by repeated visions of a similar sort, now distinguished
larger structures of varying forms. Long rows frequently close together, all,
in movement, winding and turning like serpents! And see! What was that?
One of the serpents seized its own tail and the form whirled mockingly before
my eyes. I came awake like a flash of lightning. This time also I spent the
remainder of the night working out the consequences of the hypothesis. If
we learn to dream, gentlemen, then we shall perhaps find truth—

‘“To him who forgoes thought,
Truth seems to come unsought;
He gets it without labor.’ ’—

We must take care, however, not to publish our dreams before submitting
them to proof by the waking mind. ‘‘Countless germs of mental life fill the
realm of space but only in a few rare minds do they find soil for their develop-
ment; in them the idea, of which no one knows whence it came, lives as an
active process.’’? As I have told you before, at certain times certain ideas are
in the air. We hear now from Liebig that the germs of ideas are like the
spores of bacilli which fill the atmosphere. Why did the germs of the Strue-
tural and Benzene ideas, which have been in the air for a period of twenty-five
years, find a soil particularly favorable to their development in my head?

Kekulé thought that the answer to his own question lay partly
in the effect of his early study of architecture, which had imparted
to his mind an irresistible need of sensory presentation. He could
not rest satisfied with an explanation of chemical phenomena unless
he could support it by means of definite visual imagery.

Kekulé’s account of the functioning of his imagination seems to
stand as a unique confession in the records of scientific discovery.
The history of literary composition affords us, however, numerous
parallels. Professor Dilthey of Berlin has gathered some of these
together under the suggestive title ‘‘Poetic Imagination and In-
sanity.’’ Some literary men, like Seribe, are gifted with vivid
visual imagery, others, like Legouvé, are dependent for their suc-
cess on auditory images. Scott, Victor Hugo, and Browning seem
to belong to the motor type. There is evidence in the case of
Flaubert, as well as in that of Zola, that literary imagination may
derive its data from the chemical senses. An analysis of the
writings of poets like Marston and Helen Keller, defective in sight,
in hearing, or in both, is of particular value in the study of literary

270 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

imagination. Artistic creation in general employs imagery in order
to preserve or enhance sensory experiences and to convey to others
the moods of the artist.

Is there any class of human being in whom the imagination
is more held in control, more disciplined, more subordinated to the
reason, than it is in the adult scientist? All the psychic processes,
ineluding instinet and inspiration (which has been described as a
sort of unconscious imagination), are means of establishing useful
relationships with men and things, and it is by no means surpris-
ing that the scientific discoverer, who grapples with difficult prob-
lems of adjustment, should bring the finest powers of the mind
into play. The history of science assures us that the creative
imagination is not the monopoly of the painter, sculptor, poet,
philosopher, or theologian.

Special investigations of the mental characteristics of Kepler,
Newton, Davy, Faraday, Claude Bernard, Ehrlich, Weismann and
others must be undertaken before an adequate psychology of
scientific discovery can be formulated. The nature of the data of
each seience, as well as the mental make-up of the individual dis-
coverers must be made the subject of rigid investigation. Kekulé’s
pupil Van ’t Hoff, who at the age of twenty-two wrote the essen-
tials of La Chimie dans l’ Espace, seems to have shared the visual
imagination of his master. For Kolbe the idea that the arrange-
ment of atoms in molecules could be determined appeared almost
as fantastic as a belief in witcheraft or spiritualism. Berthelot
was not less disdainful concerning Wurtz, the teacher of Van ’t Hoff
and Le Bel. When some friend told Berthelot not to take the
atomic theory too seriously, atoms having no objective reality,
Berthelot growled: ‘‘Wurtz has seen them!’’

The imagination, predominant in one type of scientific dis-
coverer and restrained or suppressed in other types, is at best only
one phase of creative thought.

THE SHORTHAND ALPHABET 271

THE SHORTHAND ALPHABET AND THE
REFORMING OF LANGUAGE

By DANIEL WOLFORD LA RUE

EAST STROUDSBURG STATE NORMAL SCHOOL

VERY writer of shorthand—and there are now legions of
them—must have wished, not only that others could write
with as much ease and rapidity as himself, but also that there could
be as short and accurate a system of printing as he has of writing.
Why should we not make use of the shorthand alphabet not only
for short writing, but also for short printing (either by hand or
press), and a short, direct means to the correct pronunciation of
new words?

Isaac Pitman, who invented the system of shorthand now most
generally used among English speaking peoples, entertained this
idea, and approved it, but never applied it. This paper presents
an original plan for adapting the shorthand alphabet to printing,
summarizes the results of an experiment in teaching children to
read matter printed in this new form, and points out the tremen-
dous educational and social advantages that would accrue if this
new type of paper-language were in general use.

According to Isaac Pitman’s analysis, there are forty sounds
in the English language, twenty-four consonants, twelve simple
vowels, and four diphthongs, or double vowels. Adopting (sub-
stantially) the Pitmanic symbols, we may represent these sounds
as below.

CONSONANTS VOWELS (SINGLE)
hes p as in pop (The vertical line is not a part of
\= Pb as in bob the vowel symbol, but is used to rép-
| — tas in tat resent any consonant stroke. <A vowel
Be ahd inane symbol, as a heavy or light dot,

‘ stands for different sounds according
i= eh as in church A wv

to its position. )
f= j as in judge

—= k as in kick i = a as in pa
—= gas in gig |. = a as in may
—— f as-in fife i ae Ne

cnt 3 UAC RED
i Vv as in vivid | — a as in all

272 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

( = th as in thick
( — th as in that

jm == 0 as in go

= 00 as in too

) — 8 as in sit |" —= a us in that
) = as in zoo |. = e as in pen
Wie sh as in ship ()) es) 2) es aa
y= zh -= z as im azure | = 0 as in not
== mas in mum i == u as in much
\7 == Tas in noon ae = 00 as in good
~— = ng as in sing
DirpHtHONGS (DOUBLE VOWELS)

(fo) = Las in lily
/ = 1 as in rare HK = i as in lie
C= wW as in will | = oi as in boil

= y as in yes Li = ou as in foul
7= bas in hay | = eu as in feud

This gives us a perfect alphabet, neither redundant nor de-
fective.

In writing shorthand, the consonant characters of a word or
phrase are joined together, and the vowels are placed in a certain
relation to the consonant strokes, that is, at the beginning, middle,
or end of them. The vowel sign has a different sound according to
its position. The plan here presented for adapting this alphabet
to printing introduces two variations: the consonants are kept dis-
joined; and the vowels are placed, not at the beginning, middle
or end of consonant strokes, but in high, middle, or low position
with regard to the line of print. This adapted alphabet, and
matter printed in it, will be referred to as Fonoline.

An illustration will make the matter thoroughly clear. Figure
1, which presents three charts used in teaching fonoline to chil-
dren, shows the symbols used in the fonoline alphabet, and the
appearance of words printed in fonoline.

Although various experiments have been made in teaching read-
ing by means of a phonetic alphabet, it appeared worth while to
teach a group of beginners to read fonoline, partly to find the
degree of effort necessary to learn it, partly to discover whether
there would be any difficulty in passing from fonoline to a-b-e
Hneglish. Should we as a race ever wish to change our alphabet
(as the Chinese are doing), this latter question would probably
become very important.

Aeceordingly, fonoline was taught to a group of twelve pu-
pis in a first grade, whose Stanford-Binet intelligence quotients
ranged from 75 to 127, with a median of 87.5. In physique and
power of application, they were probably somewhat below the

THE SHORTHAND ALPHABET 273

mois / 7 Ss | —

ae lv

ee cou | ae
4 | Lv

% ES y ane a
ae An ea Cx

Fig. /. Three charts, reduced in size,
used in the teaching of fonoline. The

Kv, ee ohart at the upper left shows the fonoline
Ke alphabet, omitting the symbol for the
sound of zh, which was not used in the
v first grade vocabulary. The words on the
ne = | fi -\ other charts are as shown below, and in
the game order.
ee Te —& Words on Chart at Upper Right.
at an
Me > ) , cat can
ae | fat Dan
hat ran
Tat fan
Ga (ie ke) sat man
that than
ok: ee Words on Chart at Left.
vine of
oa violet love
—f NW visit give
voice lived
et ) very lives
ACS have over
. hive clover
five seven

average. They were taught, in the East Stroudsburg State Normal
Training School, by two cadet teachers and myself, no one of us
having ever before taught a child to read. There was some diffi-
culty also in procuring the netessary type and other materials
for keeping the experiment going.’
At the end of a month (spending a little over an hour a day
on the subject), twenty-three sounds had been introduced, and
the pupils were attacking new words with fair success. A week
later, the brighter pupils were separated from the rest and began

1In reporting this experiment, I wish to make acknowledgment of the
receipt of financial aid by means of which it was promoted from the Amer-
ican Association for the Advancement of Science.

Acknowledgment of substantial assistance of a different kind is due to
Mrs. La Rue, without whose help the necessary reading material could not
have been composed, illustrated and printed.

VOL. XV.—18.

274 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

reading such stories as ‘‘The Little Red Hen’’ without the aid of
the teacher. At the close of eleven weeks, our advanced class had
learned all the symbols, had read about one hundred fifty pages
of the Fonoline Primer, and could readily master, independently,
any new word of not more than five or six symbols (that is, five
or six sounds when spoken), unless it involved some pecuhar diffi-
culty. As few words in the first grade vocabulary reach this length,

Mie CAT AND THE MOUSE

= | | i. hn)

A wee mouse was eating.

Cc, map) c*) el.
A cat saw her.

ii ae baa
The cat said, ©

“T must have that mouse.”
—~-)| (| =p)

Then away she went.

Fic. 2. Showing fonoline used interlineally to aid in the introduction to a-b-e¢
English. The words that have no fonoline beneath them had already been
mastered by. the pupils before reaching this story.

THE SHORTHAND ALPHABET 275

we thought it best to pass from this grade of attainment to the
study of a-b-c English. At the end of fifteen weeks, the slower
section also (containing, it will be remembered, some retarded
pupils) having covered all their symbols and read over one hun- |
dred pages of the Primer, proceeded to the study of a-b-c English.

Passing from fonoline to ordinary English introduced prac-
tically no new problems except those which are always incident to
the teaching of reading in English, and we of course used our
“‘nerfect’’ phonetic alphabet to aid in the mastery of the imper-
fect, partially unphonetic one. The first means employed was
that of interlinear printing, placing the a-b-c English above and
the corresponding fonoline just below as a key to pronunciation,
as shown in the figure. As soon as a word had appeared in the
a-b-c type a few times, it was left without the fonoline aid to
pronunciation beneath it, whereupon the pupil either remembered
it or was forced to go back and find it where it had last appeared.

At the close of the year, our pupils had accomplished, so far
as we were able to judge, substantially the.same amount of work
in a-b-e English, after spending the first ten or fifteen weeks on
fonoline reading, as they would have done had they spent the whole
year on a-b-c English; that is, their achievements were on a level
with those of preceding classes, the time devoted to reading re-
maining unchanged. Our advanced elass won the special com-
mendation of the State examiner, who had no knowledge of how the
grade had been taught.

We are inclined to believe that fonoline forms’a good introduc-
tion to a-b-e English, and that if it could replace the usual system
of diaeritical marking, time would ultimately be gained through its
use. We consider it quite safe to assert that if a pupil of average
intelligence and application were given a year of instruction in
reading fonoline (especially if there were devoted to reading the
two hours per day commonly assigned to it in our city schools),
such a pupil would then be able to read anything (printed in that
alphabet) which he was capable of understanding. Beyond re-
views, no further work in reading would be necessary for one so
taught except to train him in the apt expression of those thoughts
and feelings which would come to him with maturity. And he
would not only know how to read: he would be able to find in the
fonoline dictionary any ordinary word that he could pronounce.
Further, he could ‘‘spell,’’ both orally and in writing (fonolne
characters) any word that he could turn his tongue to.

Let us now give our attention to the educational and social
advantages that would be ours if such an alphabet as fonoline
were brought into common use. Let us keep in mind, too, that

276 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

fonoline is advantageous beyond any other phonetic alphabet; for
it bears a unique relation to Pitmanic shorthand, the most speedy
and efficient means yet devised by the human brain for passing its
thoughts down through hand and pen and so recording them on
paper.

First, then, does fonoline present an alphabet which adequately
represents the sounds of spoken English? We can sum up this
matter admirably by quotations from Max Muller: ‘‘What I
like in Mr. Pitman’s system of spelling is exactly what I know
has been found fault with by others, namely, that he does not at-
tempt to refine too much, and to express in writing those endless
shades of pronunciation, which may be of the greatest interest
to the student of acoustics, or of phonetics, as applied to the study
of living dialects, but which, for practical as well as for scientific
philological purposes, must be entirely ignored . . . . Out of
the large number of sounds, for instance, which have been eata-
logued from the various English dialects, those only can be recog-
nized as constituent elements of the language which in and by
their difference from each other convey a difference of meaning.
Of such pregnant and thought-conveying vowels, English possesses
no more than twelve. Whatever the minor shades of vowel sounds
in Enelish dialects may be, they do not enrich the language, as
such; that is, they do not enable the speaker to convey more minute
shades of thought than the twelve typical single vowels
If I have spoken strongly in support of Mr. Pitman’s system, it is
: chiefly because it has been tested so largely and has
stood the test well.’”

Next, if the number of our characters is correct, is their form
satisfactory? As to the advantages of simplicity, perhaps the work
of Broea and Sulzer can be accepted as authoritative. These in-
vestigators concluded that both our letters and the words of which
they are composed would be more easily recognized and quickly
read if they were simplified in form. ‘‘Practically,’’ they report,
‘‘the recognition of a letter demands an expenditure of energy
that is' greater as its form is more complex. Thus we read a V,
a T, orvsan Li more easily than an E or a B. From the standpoint
of speed of reading and also of the cerebral fatigue caused by the
act it would be better to employ simpler letters than those now
used. .We have thus been led to seek the least complex possible
forms, and we have concluded that, for capital letters, they are
those shown in Fieure 3. For the small letters, where there

2 From an article in the Fortnightly Review of April, 1876, as quoted in
The Life of Sir Isaac Pitman, by Alfred Baker, p. 206.

THE SHORTHAND ALPHABET 206

O'S Ges O

I -HnAS
ets ie
oe eee
-~JFE<SS

Fig. 3. Showing the simple capitals proposed by Broca and Sulzer.
are two sizes, and two positions with respect to the line, the solu-
tions are more numerous and some are shown in Figure 4.

IWAUAWASIE
Wh yyy yeanu

Fig. 4. Simplified small letters proposed by Broca and Sulzer.
‘““We do not wish here to go farther into this question and ask
whether it would be worth while to change our present alphabet;
but we desire only to point out that these characters, derived from
the Phenician alphabet, are not scientifically as perfect as could

&
a
°
a

Valeur

{
4
A
A
5
Y
ic
8
®
Z

3

Fie. 5. Alteration of modern from ancient letters.

278 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

be wished. A glance at Figure 5 shows that all the changes
made in transforming the old alphabet into ours are far from
being simplifications.’’*

So far as capitals are concerned, whether simplified or not, they
should be dropped altogether. In. the teaching of fonoline, we
omitted them and never missed them. Further, we were only em-
barrassed by them, as every teacher of primary reading is, when
they appeared in the a-b-c English. The Germans distribute their
complex capitals lavishly, to the exasperation of the reader (speak-
ing for myself). The French tendency is better, to omit them
as much as possible. Neither the writer nor the reader of short-
hand commonly misses capitals or wishes for them. They only
make him trouble. Had we grown accustomed from our youth
to the use of small letters only, we should then have had the right
attitude toward capitals, namely, that they are a useless and expen-
sive luxury ; and we should have rejected at once any proposal that
they should be introduced into our language. As matters are, we
ought to welcome the possibility of further simplifying our alpha-
bet by reducing it from fifty-two characters to forty.

A further question of interest is, do words printed in fonoline
have sufficient character and individuality to insure their quick
recognition in rapid reading? Students of the psychology of read-
ing seem to agree that glance recognition, as we may eall it, de-
pends chiefly on the length of a word, on its consonants, especially
those that are so tall as to stick up above the general body of the
word, and on its first letter or letters, which, as they strike the eye,
serve as a kind of key to the part that follows. It is evident that
words would have characteristic lengths and first-letter keys, no
matter what alphabet were used. The great importance of the
consonants in furnishing the skeletons of words and so giving them
characteristic shape must long have been felt, even if not con-
sciously reasoned out; for the Hebrews, centuries ago, left the
vowels out of their words and still found them, for the most part,
easily legible. The modern writer of Hebrew either fills in his
vowels or omits them, as he pleases. So does the writer of Pit-
manic shorthand. When writing under speed, he puts in only an
oceasional key vowel, yet finds his writing easily readable. The
joined consonants of a word form an ‘‘outline’’ which flashes into
his mind instantaneously when he hears that word pronounced, and
which he recognizes at once when he sees it on paper.

I venture to assert that this advantage is carried over, in large

3 This report was published in La Nature, Paris, February 13, 1904. The
quotation and figures given above are taken from a translation printed in
The Literary Digest of March 12, 1904.

THK SHORTHAND ALPHABET 279

measure, into matter printed in fonoline. The rapid reader,
euided largely by context, as such reaflers always are, would find
his words taking on such a characteristic consonantal shape that he
would have little use for the vowels. The consonants would form
the chief mass of the average word, and in the great bulk of cases
would protrude either above or below their adjacent vowels. Yet
if there were doubt in any ease, as there might be when two words
contained the same consonants in the same order, the vowels would
be there to give their voice and settle the matter. But to vowels,
generally, we should apply a rule in contrast with that which we
apply to children: the vowels should be heard and not seen too
conspicuously.

If it should prove desirable to indicate the accent of words,
this could be accomplished by any of several simple methods, and
in a manner which would cause printers no difficulty.

Let us now consider, but very briefly, how and how much we
could shorten and enrich the work of the elementary school
through the use of fonoline.

Learning to read would become so easy that many children
would learn at home. (One of our pupils retaught a part of her
fonoline lessons to her little brother.) At any rate, independent
reading, on the part of the average child, would begin before he
had spent more than a few weeks in school; and he could then
advanee, by silent reading, at his own pace, taking up one form
of literature after another as fast as he was able to appreciate it.

The subject of spelling would disappear from our programs of
study, leaving the time now devoted to it to be turned to some
useful purpose. Like the Italians and the Spaniards, we should
then have no spelling books in our schools.

The use of the dictionary would never have to be taught as at
present; for since, with a phonetic alphabet, the pronouncing of
a word is equivalent to the spelling of it, one could readily find
in the fonoline dictionary any word that he could pronounce.
Not only could any one master his own language quickly, but when
foreign tongues were undertaken, he could use what would then be
his native alphabet as an aid to the mastery of them also. A
‘“nhonetie transcription’ would cease to be in any way formidable
and would become wholly a help if one could indicate the pro-
nuneiation of strange-looking foreign words by using the familiar
characters of his own alphabet. An enterprising and scholarly
‘minister, father of one of our pupils, made use of her knowledge
of fonoline to introduce her to Hebrew, in which language he was
anxious to give her an early start. Pitman’s shorthand has been
adapted to twenty-one foreign languages, including Latin, and

280 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

also to Esperanto. Should any peculiar sound of a foreign tongue
require a new symbol, then, it would very likely be ready to hand.
Indeed, I do not consider it too wild a dream to hope that the
Pitmanic shorthand alphabet may some day serve as the common
alphabet for all the languages of the earth. I leave others to deduce
the various results of this, and will here only remark that I should
consider it a very long step toward a universal language, a step
which, while suppressing no language, would very likely result in
preserving the best elements of all.

In the subject of writing, fonoline, through its relation to short-
hand, would secure advantages which no phonetic alphabet not so
related to ‘‘the winged art’’ could gain for us. As matters are,
we teach our pupils four different forms for each of-our twenty-
six letters; these are the printed small and capital letters, and the
corresponding written forms. Of course, these four forms are
sometimes similar, as in the case of the letter 0; but again they
are quite at variance, as with d, e, g, and 1. With fonoline in use,
all this extra and useless learning, together with the whole subject
of writing as we now know it, would drop out of existence. Judging
as well as I can from the very limited amount of writing fonoline
which was done by our experimental class, I should say that. if
pupils were given a regular daily period of such practice, they
could by the end of the first year in school write anything, ex-
pressed in the words of the usual first grade vocabulary, which
they would be likely to utter. With a very moderate amount of
practice as compared with what is necessary for the learning of
ordinary writing, they could write at least as fast as they now do
the longhand, and probably considerably faster. There are ad-
vantages of position and movement also, which conform more
nearly to that which is naturally adopted by young children. For
pupils of low mentality, this might be the limit of attainment.

For those who were ordinarily bright of mind and facile in
learning, however, it would be but a small beginning. From
fonoline the learner could pass, by the gradual and easy introdue-
tion of shorthand principles, to shorthand itself. This would be
accomplished by such means as the joining of consonant strokes
wherever convenient, and the introduction of shortening devices
so familiar to the writer of phonography, such as the s-circle and
the hooks at the beginnings and endings of strokes. The abbre-
viated signs for our most common words could also be taught,
signs which would soon enable the pupil to write, in the shortest
kind of shorthand, more than fifty per cent. of all the language
he ordinarily used.

If such a course as I have described were preceded and accom-

THE SHORTHAND ALPHABET 281

panied by fonoline reading, and if we gave to it up through the
grades the time which is now devoted to writing, I believe it safe
to say that pupils would then be able to write no less than four
times as fast as they now ean with our cumbersome longhand, and
with equal, or even greater legibility.

In the life outside of school there would result great savings
in the printing of the language, in typewriting and linotyping, in
teaching the feeble-minded, in the problem of Americanization, in
progress toward a universal language, and in many other ways.

But the greatest argument, least appreciated because hardest
to appreciate, lies, perhaps, in another direction. It is that a
quicker alphabet. as we may eall it, would make mankind more
thoughtful and more social. The mathematician could never have
made the progress he has in dealing with number and quantity
had he not invented a shorthand method of expressing and work-
ing with them. The physicist and the chemist have their short-
hand. What scientist does not? Is not this one of the distinguish-
ing features of the modern use of symbols, to concentrate a great
bulk of meaning in such brief form that we can hold it all in one
grasp of consciousness, reason with it in every way as an inclusive
unit of thought work? But of this argument we can offer no more
than a suggestion.

Had such an alphabet as fonoline been in common use for the
brief span of a century or so, no argument to return to our present
slow and cumbersome methods would be heeded for a moment.

—Wide World Photos.

ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL
In whose death at the age of seventy-five years America loses its great

inventor and man of science.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

283

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

CURRENT COMMENT
By Dr. Epwin E. Stosson
Science

WE WANT WATER

This is the season of the year when
we appreciate the fact that our bod-
ily substance is mostly composed of
water. Lucky for us that it is, for
water is not only the most abundant,
but the most even tempered of
liquids. It is slowest to cool and,
what is of more interest just now,
it is slowest to heat. It is this ther-
mal conservation of water, otherwise
known as its specific heat, that keeps
us going regardless of the weather.
For we can only live within the nar-
row rang of two degrees Fahrenheit,
and it requires a delicate adjustment
of the mechanism to maintain that
temperature as we roam from the
equator to the pole, or as the climates
of these regions alternately roam
. over those of us who live in the north
intemperate zone.

It is water that keeps all parts of
the body at the same temperature in
all weathers by circulation, and then
in hot weather like this reduces the
temperature by evaporation. So as
a% man on a pleasure excursion has
to put a bill into his pocket from
time to time to compensate for the
sum imperceptibly evaporated in
small change, so we require frequent
invoices of water to keep up with
the increasing retail outgo. The
body in summer time is a steam en-
gine, constantly taking advantage of
the high rate of exchange between
liquid and gas..

For water is twice blessed. It
gives a blessing as it comes and as
it goes. And the latter is the greater,
though we are not so grateful for
it. We appreciate the coolness of a
glass of ice water, but it’ does us

Service

fifteen times as much good afterward
as it escapes through a million pores.
A cup of hot tea also may cool us
off, for it takes away with it in
evaporation from the skin fifty times
as much heat as it brought to us.
Water is really what is wanted, al-
though we add various flavors, call it
by various names, and charge va-
rious prices for it. And it does not
matter much what its initial temper-
ature is, it will serve its purpose just
the same. The only important thing
is to get enough of it at all times,
before meals, after meals, between
meals and at meals. One can hardly

_ get too much of it, but one usually

gets too little.

The regulation of the strength of
the various fluids of the body is as
nicely adjusted as the equilibrium of
temperature. But both are dependent
upon an abundant supply of water.
An excess can be easily disposed of
but a deficiency upsets the machin-
ery. A pound of water a day is
about what the body can manufac-
ture in its internal laboratory from
the hydrogen of the food and the
oxygen of the air, but this is not
nearly enough to run it. The auto-
mobilist cools down his combustion
cylinder by wrapping it with water
and keeping this in rapid circulation.
We also are propelled by an engine
using food as fuel in much the same
Way and we use the same device to
prevent overheating. But we have
to evaporate the water to get the full
cooling effect and this tends to dry
us up, to make mummies of us, to
leave us stranded for want of water.

Our thirst is thus the longing of
the salt that is left behind for
the water that has departed. It is
a sort of homesickness, a longing
for an ancestral habitat. For Venus
Anadyomene is a verified myth. All

YwnosTvad GwoT Node TVddW

NITMNVUW AHL SNIAIMOEN ‘LSIOISAHd HSITIONH CHHSINONILSIG AHL ‘NOSWOHL NHOf Hdasor WIS
*s010d POM 2p A—

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

life sprang from the sea. And the
‘tide that ebbs and flows through our
heart is composed of much the same
elements as the ocean from which it
was originally dipped.

SHORT NAMES

When a man makes a new in-
vention his work is not done. He
should invent a new name for it.

Here he is apt to fail for, being
more of a mechanic than a_philolo-
gist, he turns over the job to the
Greek professor who manufactures
one out of old roots. So it happens
that many a handy little pocket tool
is handicapped by a name that
wraps three times around the
tongue. But the people refuse to
stand for it.

Consider what a Babel-like botch
has been made of the job of naming
the new art of photographing action.
Rival inventors,
and rival systems of Greek trans-
literation precipitated a war of words
in which the chief belligerents were
animatograph, animatoseope, — bio-
graph, bioscope, chronophotography,
cinemato-
elee-

rival word-wrights,

cinema, cinematograph,
scope, cineograph, cineoscope,
trograph, electroscope, kinema, kine-
macolor, kinematograph, kinemato-
scope, kineograph, kineoscope, kinete-
scope, motion pictures, moving pic-
tures, photo plays, tachyscope, veri-
scope, vitagraph, vitascope, zootrope,
zoogyrograph, zoogyroscope, and zoo-
praxiscope.

But the people—they call it ‘‘the
movies.’’ It is not a great name,
but it is better than some at least of
those listed above..

If, instead of trying to load the
new machine with a name implying
that it had been invented in Athens
or Rome, its godfathers had given
it a respectable convenient name of
one or two syllables like ‘‘volt,’’
‘“kodak,’’ or ‘‘velox,’’ much of this
confusion. might have been saved.
Think how many millions of dollars,
years of time, barrels of ink and

‘to disprove

285

cubic miles of hot air would have
been saved if ‘‘electricity’’ had been
named in one syllable instead of five.
We might even now cut it down to
‘fel’? except that by popular vote
the six syllables of ‘‘elevated rail-

road’’ have been reduced to that
handy term. So, too, the people have
found a way to reduce ‘‘radiotele-
phony’’ to a single mouthful,
“Sradio.7?

The lesson of it is that if the

father of a new invention does not
want to have his child called by a
nickname let him give it a short and
snappy name on the start.

MEDIUMS AND TRICKSTERS

Those who believe in spiritistic
phenomena call upon their opponents
their hypothesis, and
hold, rightly enough, that if ninety-
nine mediums are merely tricksters, it
does not prove that the hundredth is
not genuine. It is, of course, im-
possible to prove the universal nega-
tive of such a proposition. It is
merely .a question of probabilities.
We can merely say that if spirits do
return, it is extremely unfortunate
that they can only return under those
conditions which are most favorable
for deception.

What these conditions are we can
learn from the practices of amateur

and professional conjurers. Let us
approach the matter from another
starting point than, is usually
adopted. Instead of speculating as

to how departed spirits would mani-
fest themselves to us, a matter which
we can know nothing about, let us
consider what a trickster would do
if he wished to deceive the public
into thinking that he was possessed
of spirit power, a matter on which
we have unfortunately a great deal
of information. What conditions
would he impose? What methods
would he use? The following are the
chief characteristics of such fraudu-
lent manifestations:

(1). Darkness. The less the light

EDMOND PERIER
In whose death France loses a distinguished zoological leader. Mr. Peérier,

who was director of the.Paris Museun cf Natural History, is photographed
in the official dress of members cf the Paris Academy of Sciences

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 287

the more remarkable the manifesta-
tions is the general rule.
(2). Distraction of attention.

This is the chief reliance of the par-
lor and stage magician. The most
striking things in the seance room
oceur after the sitters are tired of
watching.

(3). Unexpectedness. An experi-
menter lets us know what effect he is
trying to get, and even if the experi-
ment does not work he does not palm
off some entirely different phenom-
enon and claim he has suceeeded. The
feats of the conjurer—and of the
medium—are capricious and unfore-
seen. That is why trickery can not
be guarded against by precautions
in advance.

(4). Control of conditions. The
conjurer and the mediums alike in-
sist on having lights, furniture, sit-
ters and apparatus arranged to suit
themselves. On the other hand, the
primary requisite of an experiment is
the control of conditions. It is there-
fore, ineorrect to speak of experi-
with mediums. They are
observations, and
most un-

ments
usually | merely
that under circumstances
favorable to correct observation.

(5). Suggestion. This is the
main reliance of the magician,
next to distraction of attention.
He palms a coin while pretend-
ing to throw it into a hat or
into the air. Our eyes follow the
motion of his hand and interpret it
according to the intent. It is easy
under favorable circumstances to
cause collective hallucinations of
smell, sight or sound. Our sense of
hearing is particularly liable to be
deceived as to the character and di-
rection of a sound, such as the raps
and seratches which are the com-
monest of mediumistic phenomena.

(6). Concealment. <A _ prestidigi-
tator for his most difficult tricks re-
quires some kind of a table, shelf
or sereen, but he rarely demands so
convenient a shelter as the medium’s
cabinet or curtain.

(7). Tied or held hands. The re-
leasing of hands and feet when they
are bound, knotted and sealed is the
cheapest of tricks. I have seen a
man handcuffed by a policeman, tied
in a bag and thrown into the river,
yet he came to the surface promptly
with his hands free.

(8). The
respectable and well-meaning gentle-
men whom the audience select to rep-
resent them on the stage do not inter-
On the con-
trary, they often aid as well as give
countenance. The magnetic girl who
used to throw strong men about the
stage utilizing their
strength, not her own. Where several
persons have their hands on a table
it is impossible to prevent their tak-
ing an active part in its motion.

(9). Emotional excitement. An
experimenter must preserve a cool
and somewhat detached demeanor.
Now, even the most convinced skeptic
ean not witness unmoved such viola-
tions of natural law as these, pur-
porting to prove the existence of an-
other world, and especially the pres-
ence of his deceased friends and rel-
atives. The photographs taken of
the seance room show us not merely
that the table is suspended in mid
air, but that the witnesses, watching
it with bulging eyes, open mouths
and strained attention, are incapable
of critical observation.

In these nine points and others the
conditions of successful trickery and
the conditions of the seance are the
same. For that reason and others
most scientists do not think it worth
while to spend their time on spirit-
ualism.

Involuntary assistance.

fere with the magician.

was really

MIND-CLEANING TIME

Housecleaning time, when every ar-
ticle of furniture from cellar to gar- .
ret is handled and dusted, occurs tra-
ditionally each spring. An annual
purification of the spiritual nature,
when we overhaul and furbish up our
morals, is set by all the churches.

288

We are urged to subject ourselves to |
periodic physical examinations.

Yet it is quite as important to keep
our minds in good condition as our
houses, our consciences or our bodies.
Error is as contagious as disease. A
false belief may make more trouble
in the world than a wrong intention.

Vacation is a good time to over-
haul your brain from the frontal
lobe to the cerebellum. Review your
axioms, revise your postulates, and
reconsider the unexpressed
premises of your habitual forms of
logie.

minor

All your reasoning, however

correct, all your knowledge, however
great, may be vitiated by some funda-
mental fallacy, carelessly adopted
and uneritically retained. Get a
lamp and peer into all the dark eor-
ners of your mind. No doubt, you
keep the halls and reception rooms
that are exposed in conversation to
your friends in fairly decent and
creditable order. But how would you
like to let them look into your cere-
bral garret and cellar,
where the toys of childhood and the

subliminal

prejudices you inherited from your
ancestors mold and rot?

Hunt out and destroy with great
care every old rag of superstition,
for these are liable at to
start that spontaneous combustion of
ideas we call fanaticism against
which there is no The
bigger the brain the more dangerous
such things are, for they have the
more fuel. A little decaying super-
stition in the mind of a great man
has been known to conflagrate a na-

any time

insurance.

tion.

Errors breed errors. They multi-
ply like microbes, especially through
neglect. A single false belief ‘may
infect all the sound facts you pile
in on top of it. Better an empty
room than a rubbish heap. In the
words of our American philosopher,
Josh Billings, ‘‘it is better not to
know so many things than to know

so many things that are not so.’’

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Go systematically through your in-
tellectual equipment and see wherein
it is deficient. Add annuals to your
mental cyclopedia. Pick up each one —
of the sciences where you left off at
school and bring it down to date.
Look over the fields of art and litera-
ture to see what you have missed or
misconceived. Don’t let your sociol-
ogy get too far behind the age. See
that your philosophy and psychology
bear the same date as the calendar.
Examine your religious creed in the
light of modern knowledge to see if it
needs revision. Take down the atlas
and consider how long it has been
since you heard from each country.
Visit the planets in turn. -Take an-
other view of ancient history through
the telescope provided by modern
scholarship.

This inspection of one’s stock of
ideas is necessary because they do not
keep as if they were in cold storage.
They do not remain unchanged when
stored away and neglected. There is
a lot of thinking going on in our
brains that we do not know anything
about. Ideas are apt to sprout or
spoil, like potatoes in a cellar. Facts
will ferment from yeasty thoughts
until they intoxicate the brain. False-
hoods generate ptomaines, poisoning
the mind and producing inexplicable
disease and death. You can not be
too careful. Clean out your mind at
least once a year.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS

WE record with regret the death
of Alexander Graham Bell; of Si-
mon Nelson Patten, long professor
of political economy in the Univer-
sity of Pennsylvania; of Jokichi
Takamine, the industrial research
chemist; of Jacobus Cornelius Kap-
teyn, professor of astronomy at
Groningen; of Wilhelm Wislicenus,
director of the chemical laboratory
at Tiibingen; and of Jacques Ber-
tillon, the French statistician.

THE SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

OCTOBER. 1922

THE CONSERVATION AND PROPER UTILIZA-
TION OF OUR NATURAL RESOURCES'

By Dr. BARTON WARREN EVERMANN

DIRECTOR OF THE MUSEUM OF THE CALIFORNIA ACADEMY OF SCIENCES

HE natural resources of the United States are the richest and
most varied of any country in the world. It is only necessary
to call attention to our great coal and oil fields and natural gas,
our varied mineral resources, wonderful forests of hard and soft
woods, our multitude of species of wild game mammals and birds
and fur-bearing animals, the hundreds of species of useful in-
sectivorous and predaceous birds, and the rich fisheries of our
Atlantic, Gulf and Pacific coasts, Great Lakes and other interior
waters, to enable us to realize that our country has been exceed-
ingly blessed in this regard.

And this very richness of natural resources has had much to
do with making us the most short-sighted, the most extravagant
and the most wasteful people in all the world. There is not one of
our natural resources which, in the beginning of the development
of the country, was not handled in very wasteful ways; in numerous
instances so wasteful and destructive that the resource was wiped
out almost, if not quite, entirely. Such were the Buffalo, Wild
Pigeon, Atlantic Salmon, Wild Turkey, Gray Squirrel, Sturgeon,
Sea Otter, natural gas, white pine and many others that might
be mentioned.

It is now too late to do anything to correct the mistakes with
some of the species that were once valuable assets to our people,
because they are now entirely extinct, or are species whose well-
being depends upon an environment which has passed and can not
be restored. But there are many species of the native flora and
fauna with which it is not too late and which, with proper care,

1 Presidential address delivered June 22, 1922, at the Salt Lake City
meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science.

Vol. XV.—19.

290 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

can again be restored to something like their former abundance and
usefulness.
THE Forests

It was my good fortune to be brought up in the middle Wabash
Basin, a region in which was then found perhaps the greatest hard-
wood forest the world has ever seen. Great oaks, hickories and
elms, each of several species, magnificent syeamores, black walnuts,
yellow poplars or tulip trees, splendid gray ash and swamp ash,
three or more species of maples or sugar-trees, poplars or cotton-
woods of half a dozen species, some of them magnificent trees, and,
searcely less in size and value, but not at all in interest and beauty,
were many others that might be named if time permitted. No other
forest so rich in species and individuals of commercially important
and esthetically interesting trees has ever existed elsewhere in the
world. And the pity of it all is that the pioneers of those days
never realized what a wonderful asset they had in their great
forests. They regarded the forest simply as a source of supply
for firewood and the small amount of logs and lumber they needed
for buildings, fences and the like, and as something that must be
got rid of as soon as possible in the interests of agricultural de-
velopment.

I have seen many a barn built largely, if not wholly, of black
walnut logs; and I later saw some of those same barns and stables
torn down and the walnut logs hauled away to the sawmill to be
converted into high-priced lumber. On my own father’s farm and
on many others in the same county, there were thousands of wal-
nut rails in the Virginia worm fences with which the farms and
fields of those days were enclosed. In the early seventies, black
walnut became so valuable that even the stumps were dug out and
shipped away to furniture manufacturers.

The wastefulness in clearing the land was almost beyond belief.
Little or no effort was made to save any of the timber except that
needed for immediate use. When a piece of land was to be cleared,
all the trees were first girdled thus creating a deadening. Then
the trees of whatever kind were felled or burnt down, after which
the trunks were cut or burnt (‘‘niggered off’’) into logs of
lengths for convenient handling. With teams of horses or oxen,
these logs were then snaked around and piled into great log-heaps,
four logs on the ground constituting the bottom layer, three on top
of these, two on top of them, and finally one at the top. Each
log-heap would thus consist of 10 logs, with small limbs, chunks
and trash filling the interstices to serve as kindling when the heaps
were to be burned. So heavy and dense was the forest that there
would be scores of these great heaps on every acre, each heap made

CONSERVATION OF NATURAL RESOURCES 291

up of logs of the very finest quality whose value to-day would be
many times that of the land on which they grew.

The bringing of the land under cultivation was essential to the
development of the country. This, of course, necessitated the re-
moval of the forest; heavy forests and corn-fields can not thrive
on the same ground at the same time. Nevertheless, the methods
were most wasteful, but a valuable lesson ean be learned therefrom.
Many of the important forestry and agricultural problems that
confront us to-day could have been avoided or never would have
arisen, if the pioneers could have foreseen the results of their
wasteful methods.

That there are many very serious problems is well known to
every one who has given the matter any attention. According to
the U. S. Forest Service, three fifths of our primeval forests are
gone, and the timber remaining is being consumed four times faster
than it is being replaced. Several of our principal forest regions
are already completely exhausted as large producers of wood prod-
ucts. The injury is felt through the process of regional exhaus-
tion, compelling recourse to more distant and less accessible re-
gions, with the inevitable increase in cost of production, higher
freight rates, and greater cost to the consumer.

While the depletion of our forests for legitimate ends has been
ereat, it is the devastation of the forests that has been most serious.
The Forest Service tells us there are 326 millions acres of eut
over timberlands in the United States. On 81 million aeres there
is practically no forest growth, and this is the result of forest fires
and methods of cutting which destroy or prevent new timber
erowth. There were in 1919, 27,000 recorded forest fires which
burned over 8 million acres. <A large additional acreage is burned
each year of which there is no record. The area of idle land is
being increased 3 to 4 million acres annually as the eutting ana
the burning of the forests continue. The Forest Service estimates
the forest land in the United States not required for any other
economic use at 463 million acres, an area that would provide an
ample supply of wood if kept productive. Depletion has resulted
not from using our timber resources, but from a failure to use our
timber-erowing lands. The real solution of the timber problem is
to grow new forests on the cut-over and the burnt-over ground and
protect the forests we still have. There must be a concerted effort
on the part of the Federal Government, the states and private
owners to stop the devastation of our remaining forests and to put
our idle forest lands at work growing timber. As the Forest Serv-
ice well says, it is inconceivable that we should go on using up our
forests without making provision for growing new to replace the

292 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

old. The policy should be to maintain timber production on some-
what the same footing as in Scandinavia and France; this should
become an established national policy and practice.

The national forests contain several million acres of forest land
so severely burned over that it can not be restored without replant-
ing. To restore this land to timber production is an immediate
Federal responsibility. Tree-planting is most urgent on denuded
watersheds from which water is obtained for power, irrigation, or
municipal use.

The cutting off of the forests, but more particularly the under-
growth, has been far-reaching in its disastrous results. The effect
upon the animal life of the forests themselves has been marked
indeed. Many species of mammals, birds, reptiles and amphibians
that found a congenial home in the heavy forests of Indiana and
other upper Mississippi Valley states 50 years ago are now rarely
or never seen; many of them are now extinct in those regions.
Many species have disappeared not because of overhunting but
chiefly because of the destruction of the forest cover which was
essential to their protection from their various enemies and to
their habits of life.

Another deplorable result is that upon the streams of the coun-
try. While the removal of the forest cover has probably had no ap-
preciable effect upon the rainfall, it has had a very decided effect
upon the run-off. With the forest cover the rain was held by the
underbrush until much of it soaked into the ground and the run-
off was slow and gradual. The streams therefore had a relatively
even flow throughout the year. Now, with the forest cover gone
and the land under cultivation, the run-off is rapid, and the
streams are very uneven in their volume; raging torrents at times,
often spreading beyond the banks after heavy rains, and in the
dryer season reduced to series of stagnant pools. And what a
change in the beauty of the stream! Then a beautiful, stately
flowing stream of clear, cool, pure water, the banks heavily wooded
and with underbrush of many interesting shrubs, and greensward
here and there, and the water teeming with fishes of many kinds;
now at times merely a sluggish, weed-choked thing as devoid of
beauty as it is of fish.

Fortunately, it is still possible greatly to improve these streams
and bring them back to something of the beauty of earlier days.
This can be done by reserving from cultivation a narrow strip of
eround along each side of the stream and planting it with perennial
plants, shrubs, bushes, vines and trees that will hold the immediate
banks of the stream in place and at the same time check the run-
off, conserve the moisture, shade the stream, and increase the beauty

CONSERVATION OF NATURAL RESOURCES 293

of the stream amazingly. This strip can be any width, the wider
the better of course, but it ought to be at least 30 yards.

A little attention of this kind will greatly increase the stability
and beauty of the stream; it will also be helpful to the fish life
of the stream by giving the fish more protection, shade and food.
It will be of benefit to the farmers and others along the stream in
that it will protect their land from overflow and from destructive
erosion.

Another regrettable result of the cutting of the forest and the
undergrowth and the draining of the marshlands and the small
woodland ponds, is the extermination of many species of the native
flora. Among such species that were formerly more or less abun-
dant in the upper Mississippi Valley that may be mentioned are
the Wild Red Plum (Prunus americana), the Wild Cherry
(Prunus serotina), Black Haw (Viburnum prunfolium), Red
Haw (Crategus pyrifolia), Pawpaw (Asimina triloba), Leather-
wood (Dirca palustris), Kentucky Coffee-tree (Gymnocladus
canadensis), Spice-bush (Benzoin estivale), and various species
of orchids, particularly the showy Ladies’-Slipper (Cypripedium
regime). These interesting and beautiful species that added so
much of grace and beauty and charm to the virgin forest are now
rare indeed, and in some localities entirely extinct. And the regret
is all the greater because of the fact that every one of them could
have been preserved in considerable abundance if only a little fore-
sight and care had been shown.

EFFECT OF DEFORESTATION UPON THE FISHES OF OUR STREAMS

The effect upon the streams of the eutting away of the forests
has been very great, as already pointed out, and it has been equally
great upon the fishes of the streams. In order that a stream may
support a large and varied fish-fauna it must be somewhat uniform
and constant in its character. A stream which at one time is a
raging torrent and at another season a series of isolated stagnant
pools, does not permit the development and maintenance of a fish-
fauna rich in species or individuals. This fact may be readily ap-
preciated if we compare a typical Mississippi Valley creek or river
with any typical stream in California where all the streams are
subject to great extremes. In almost any small stream in Indiana,
there may be found not fewer than 30 to 40 kinds of fishes, a greater
number than occurs in all the streams of California or Utah. But
the Mississippi Valley streams are rapidly becoming in this respect
like those of California—streams of unstable and extreme condi-
tions, and fish-life is decreasing correspondingly. The food and
game species, of which there were a score or more originally, are
now very scarce. Some of them have entirely disappeared, while
others are so rare as to afford little or no sport for the angler.

294 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The United States Forest Service and the National Parks Sery-
ice in their administration of the National Forests and the National
Parks respectively are to-day the most efficient and most effective
forces working for the conservation of the forests, the water sup-
ply and the natural scenic and esthetic beauty of our country.
However, the tendency of the National Parks Service to graft on to
some of the National Parks various Coney Island alleged attrac-
tions is deplored. National parks should be maintained as natural
parks and not be marred by artificiality of any avoidable kind.

*

DRAINAGE OF Swamps, Ponds anpD LAKES

Not until recently have we come to realize that the drainage of
swamp-lands, marshes, ponds and small lakes may be fraught with
great danger to certain species of animals and plants of economic
importance, and that the results are often harmful rather than
beneficial to agriculture. A writer (A. G. Reywall), in a recent
issue of the Bulletin of the American Game Protective Association,
asserts that the havoe wrought in some sections by drainage projects
has been so great as to arouse indignation and resentment among
people who realize that such areas have important funetions in
relation to agriculture and the general public welfare. The as-
sumption that the area which it is proposed to drain will prove
valuable agricultural land is not always warranted. This writer
says:

The rivers of the country, with their small tributaries, are the natural
surface channels for carrying off surplus rainwater. A part of this water
works through porous strata to varying depths and is discharged at the sur-
face through springs which are the natural outlets of underground drainage.
Small lakes and marsh areas are undoubtedly the fountain heads of great
numbers of springs and wells which are so essential to the welfare of the com-
munity. These lake and marsh areas also act as great cheek-basins or natural
reservoirs in which are held back enormous quantities of water resulting from
heavy rains and rapidly melting snow, allowing it to flow off gradually and
thus effectively lessening the danger of floods.

The whole country has been appalled by reports of disastrous
floods in which great numbers of lives were lost and millions of
dollars’ worth of property destroyed. (As I write, the daily papers
are telling of great floods in the Mississippi which have rendered
more than 75,000 people homeless and destroyed millions of dol-
lars’ worth of property.) The destruction of the forests and the
drainage of natural catch-basins, such as marsh areas, ponds and
small lakes along the waterways, make such catastrophes inevi-
table, so that at times of unusual rainfall millions of tons of water
sweep down the valleys, leaving fearful devastation behind.

In the State of New York it is now planned to establish numer-

CONSERVATION OF NATURAL RESOURCES 295

ous great reservoirs to hold back the flood water and to regulate
the flow of streams that have their sources in the Adirondacks. It
will cost millions of dollars to construct reservoirs to hold back
water which could have been conserved naturally had the publie
interest been safeguarded as was easily possible.

Lake and marsh areas in their natural state have numerous im-
portant uses. In the first place, they conserve the run-off and
establish a relatively uniform stream-flow, as I have already shown.
In the second place, they provide resting, feeding, and breeding
places for many species of waterfowl and other species of birds.
They also provide appropriate environment for the muskrat and
other species of fur-bearing animals. With proper management
these marshes will yield annually many thousands of dollars in
furs. In one marsh of 4,000 acres, in 1913, over 12,000 muskrats
were taken valued at several thousand dollars. This marsh has
sinee been drained, and the muskrats exterminated, but only about
100 acres of the area has been found fit for cultivation.

As a glaring example of serious mistakes in drainage operations,
I may eall attention to the Kankakee River in northwestern In-
diana. This was until recently one of the most famous wildfowl
shooting regions in America. The marsh through which the Kan-
kakee flowed was some 50 miles long and five to 10 miles wide.
Wild ducks and wild geese in enormous numbers annually visited
these marshes, some to nest and rear their young, others to rest and
feed while on their spring and fall migrations. Muskrats, mink,
and other fur-bearers also were there in abundance, and the waters
teemed with the finest of food and game fishes.

Recently these marshes have been drained and it has developed
that the whole marsh area is sand with a coating of vegetable matter
too thin to make a soil of any fertility. Several acres that were
sown to rye produced absolutely nothing, and it is now generally
recognized that nothing can be grown on this land.

Hundreds of thousands of dollars almost absolutely wasted in
draining land which was found to possess very little valve for ag-
ricultural purposes, and which will probably have to be irrigated
at great expense to make it of any considerable value for any pur
pose. And we now have, or will have, a barren sand-dune region
non-productive in any useful way, in place of a region which,
before destroyed by short-sighted man, was one of the richest in
America in wild fowl, fur-bearing animals and food and game
fishes, to say nothing of its esthetic and recreational value.

This deplorable result could have been avoided if a careful
soil-survey of the region had been made before deciding to drain
the Kankakee marshes.

296 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The State of Minnesota had a very similar experience, but a law
has now been enacted to prevent any repetition of such mistakes
by requiring the approval of the State Conservation Commission
before any large areas may be drained.

It is frankly admitted, of course, that most of the swampland
possesses agricultural value when drained, but much of it will have
little or no such value. The point I wish to make is this: swamp
lands, ponds and small lakes as such have uses and values that
must not be ignored. I have noted that a proposition has been
made recently to drain practically all of the thousands of small
lakes in Wisconsin. Should this be done there will probably be
more corn, cabbage and hogs in Wisconsin than now, but there
will be less of beauty and the appreciation thereof.

FEDERAL PROTECTION oF MIGRATORY BrirpDs

Researches by the Bureau of Biclogical Survey have demon-
strated the importance to agriculture of our migratory birds. That
insectivorous birds annually save millions of dollars to the farmer
by destroying insects injurious to crops is no longer questioned.
That millions of dollars of damage have been done to our forests
by insects formerly kept under control by insectivorous birds is
also well known. The esthetic value of our native birds must not
be forgotten—the inspiration and stimulus which they give to
the moral sense, the charm and beauty they give to nature and
which enter so largely into the life of the people—these are values
that can not be overestimated.

It is a great pleasure to call attention at this time to one illus-
tration of intelligent appreciation of the value of our birds. If
you will go down near the Temple here in Salt Lake City you
will find a graceful Dorie column 15 feet high. On the top of the
column rests a granite sphere on which two gulls are in the act
of lighting. If you read the inscription on the base you will learn
that, in the spring of 1848, a terrible plague of crickets threatened
total destruction to the growing crops which the Mormons had
planted. Nothing which the people could do could stop the vast
hordes of insects. Just when the situation seemed entirely hope-
less, great numbers of gulls came over from their breeding grounds
on Hat Island in the Lake and began devouring the crickets. In
a short time the millions of crickets were destroyed and the crops
were saved. The people, realizing that the gulls saved the day, ex-
pressed their gratitude in an unique and beautiful manner. And
we have here to-day the

*‘Sea Gull Monument
Erected in Grateful Remembrance
of the Merey of God to the
Mormon Pioneers.’’

CONSERVATION OF NATURAL RESOURCES 297

Who can claim that the wild birds are not our friends, or that
man is not sometimes appreciative!

Not until within recent years have many really effective steps
been taken in this country to protect our birds. Only a few of the
states had any protective laws whatever. Finally laws began to
be enacted regarding game birds, but no attention was paid to the
insectivorous and other non-game species. But the laws enacted
by the various states were lacking in uniformity. Nearly all per-
mitted spring shooting and market hunting, the open season was
very long and the bag limit, if any, was ridiculously large.

THe Lacey Law

One of the first Federal laws in the interest of bird protection
was the Lacey Law enacted in 1909. The important provisions of
this law are the ones regulating the shipment of game in interstate
commerce and that regulating the importation of birds and mam-
mals from foreign countries.

Micratory-Birp Law or 1913

Beginning with 1904, various attempts were made to secure
Federal legislation for the protection of migratory birds, but it was
not until 1913 that any results were secured. In that year the Fed-
eral Migratory-Bird Law was enacted. This law gave the Seere-
tary of Agriculture power to fix close seasons during which it
would be unlawful to capture or kill migratory birds. One of the
most important regulations under this act was that prohibiting
spring shooting. This regulation has proved of enormous benefit.
The effect was almost instantaneous. Waterfowl and other migra-
tory game birds at once showed decided increase, and many re-
mained to breed where they had not bred for many years.

The question of the constitutionality of this law was raised
but before it was passed on by the Supreme Court the law was
repealed by the enactment of more effective legislation in 1918.

THE MicRATORY-Birp TREATY

On August 16, 1916, there was concluded at Washington between
the United States and Great Britain a migratory-bird treaty for
the more adequate protection of the migratory birds that visit the
United States and Canada. This convention was ratified and be-
came law December 7, 1916.

The making of this treaty is probably the most important single
event that has ever occurred in the movement for the protection
of migratory birds. Of a total of 768 species of birds recognized
in the last (1910) edition of the A. O. U. Check-list of North Ameri-
ean birds, 537 species are protected by this treaty; only about 220

298 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

species are not covered by the treaty; it is unfortunate that they,
too, could not be properly included. Among those which are pro-
tected by the treaty are all the ducks, geese, swans, shore birds,
plovers, snipe, cranes, and all migratory insectivorous birds. The
treaty provides special protection for 5 years of wood ducks and
eider ducks and for 10 years to the band-tailed pigeon, little brown
erane and several other species. It makes spring shooting unlaw-
ful, and confines hunting to seasonable periods of not exceeding
314 menths for shore birds not given absolute protection, and other
migratory game birds.
THe Micratrory-Bbirp Treaty Act

Although the treaty does not provide the machinery for its en-
forcement, it does provide that the High Contracting Powers shall
enact the legislation necessary to insure its enforcement. Canada
did so August 29, 1917, and the United States did likewise by pass-
ing the Migratory-Bird Treaty Act which was approved by the
President July 3, 1918; and it has been well said that ‘‘the enact-
ment of this legislation rounded out the most comprehensive and
adequate scheme for the protection of birds ever put into effect.’’

Under this Act it is unlawful to hunt, capture, kill, possess, sell,
purchase, ship or transport at any time or by any means any
migratory bird included in the terms of the treaty except as per-
mitted by regulations which the Secretary of Agriculture is author-
ized to make.

The constitutionality of the treaty and the treaty-act can not
be questioned, for the Constitution provides that ‘‘all treaties made
or which shall be made, * * *_ shall be the supreme law of the
land; and the judges in every state shall be bound thereby, any-
thing in the Constitution or laws of any state to the contrary
notwithstanding. ’’

The first regulations under the migratory-bird treaty act were
prepared by the Secretary of Agriculture and approved by the
President July 31, 1918. Certain amendments were adopted and
made effective October 25, 1918.

The regulations are prepared by the Secretary of Agriculture,
with the assistanee of the Bureau of Biological Survey and an ad-
visory board of 21 members representing all sections of the coun-
try. Regulations prepared with the great care which this implies
are quite certain to give protection to the birds and at the same time
meet the approval of the great body of sportsmen and others in-
terested in bird protection.

The beneficent effects of this treaty were immediate. Reports
showing a marked increase in ducks and other migratory game
birds are coming in from all over the country. But as the ducks

CONSERVATION OF NATURAL RESOURCES 299

increase in numbers it becomes increasingly evident that a few
things yet remain to be done before these birds will have entirely
adequate protection and before the poor man can get that good
from the increase which he ought to enjoy. Realizing this, Senator
New of Indiana and Congressman Anthony of Kansas have each
introduced bills known as The Federal Public Shooting Grounds
and Bird Refuge Act.

This is a bill providing for the establishing of shooting grounds
for the public, for establishing game refuges and breeding grounds,
for protecting migratory birds, and requiring a Federal license to
hunt them.

The important things which it is hoped will be accomplished
by this bill if enacted into law are the following:

1. To establish refuges or sanctuaries where ducks, geese and
other migratory game birds may stop to rest and feed undisturbed
when on their way north in the spring and on their return south
in the fall, and where any that may be inclined to do so may be
induced to stop to breed and rear their young.

2. To provide for issuing a hunting license at the nominal cost
of $1.00 to those who wish to hunt wildfowl.

3. To provide public hunting grounds where anyone with a
Federal license may hunt.

The necessity for the sanctuaries becomes more and more ap-
parent every day. The draining of the marshlands, ponds and
small lakes in many states is rapidly rendering those regions un-
attractive and unsuited to waterfowl, with the result that the birds
pass over without stopping in many places where they formerly
tarried for a time in the spring, many of them even remaining
to breed, and in the fall going on south without even stopping
for a day.

By establishing sanctuaries many birds would tarry in the
spring to rest and feed, some would remain to breed, and in the
fall, they would again tarry to feed, and the sanctuaries would then
become good shooting grounds. :

The Biological Survey estimates that at least 5 million people
in the United States take out hunting licenses each year. It is
believed that at least one million would take out the Federal shoot-
ing license. Anyone wishing a license can obtain it at his post-
office. About a million dollars would thus be raised to be used
as follows:

1. Not less than 45 per cent. for the purchase or rent of suit-
able land, waters, or land and waters, for use as public shoot-
ing grounds and migratory-bird refuges.

2. Not less than 45 per cent. for enforcing the provisions of

300 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the migratory-bird treaty act and the Lacey Act, and for coopera-
tion with local authorities in the protection of migratory birds.

3. Not more than 10 per cent. for expenses connected with
issuing licenses, ete.

One of the excellent features of this law, if it becomes a law,
is that all expenses connected therewith will be paid out of the
fund resulting from the sale of hunting licenses. The expense of
enforcing the Lacey Act and the Migratory-Bird Treaty Act will
also come out of this fund. Congress will not need to appropriate
any money at all.

Another excellent feature is that it will afford the poor man
an opportunity to hunt waterfowl. Under present conditions
practically all the good shooting grounds are owned or controlled
by shooting clubs to which only men of means ean afford to belong.
The proposed law will give the poor man an equal chance with the
rich man. The cost of the license is nominal; anyone who cares
to hunt at all ean afford to pay $1.00 for a shooting license.

It has been estimated that there are over 60,000,000 acres of
government swamp land in the United States, much of which, even
if drained, would have little or no agricultural value. Numerous
wild fowl sanctuaries and public shooting grounds could be es-
tablished in these swamp lands which would prove of inestimable
benefit to migratory birds and at the same time afford splendid
sport to thousands of people who enjoy a few days shooting eaeh
season. I understand that there is at the mouth of the Bear River
in this state a large area of swamp land all ready to be made into
a large refuge, and I further understand that the Governor and
the people of Utah are strongly in favor of having this tract made
into a Federal bird refuge and publie shooting ground.

This is fine. There are doubtless many similar areas in the
state, as there are in practically every state in the Union.

With the establishment of sanctuaries and public shooting
erounds such as these in various parts of the country, the safety
and conservation of our migratory game birds is assured.

Some of our migratory birds do not belong with the waterfowl.
The first of these is the passenger pigeon, a species which 100 years
ago was found in the eastern United States in incredible millions
but which in the last 50 years decreased to total extinction. The
last known living individual died September 1, 1914, in the Zoo-
logical Park at Cincinnati where it had been in captivity 29 years.
The species is now believed extinct. It is barely possible a few
individuals remain in some of our more remote heavy forests, but
this is highly improbable. If, perchance, any should remain, they
will receive absolute protection under the migratory-bird treaty
act, and in time the species may be reestablished.

CONSERVATION OF NATURAL RESOURCES 301

The band-tailed pigeon, a related species, is not rare in several
of the Pacific Coast states. It will receive absolute protection for
10 years. At the end of that period, this interesting and beauti-
ful game bird will doubtless be abundant again.

Still another related species is our common turtle dove, a species
of wide distribution, common nearly everywhere, but abundant in
nearly all our western states. The turtle dove is very tolerant of
civilization and thrives well on the farms. To maintain it in safe
numbers it is only necessary to have not too long an open season,
a bag limit not too large, and to give rigid protection to their nests
and eggs.

Very unfortunately, that great group of gallinaceous birds,
the wild turkeys, quail, pheasants, grouse, ptarmigan, prairie
chickens and sage hens, are not to be classed as migratory birds
and therefore do not come under the protection of the migratory-
bird treaty. There are about 50 species and subspecies of them,
among which are some of the greatest game birds in the world.
Many of them occurred in ineredible numbers in the early days,
while now probably not one is found in anything like its original
abundance.

The wild turkey was doubtless the greatest game bird the world
has even known. Up to the close of the Civil War this wonderful
bird was abundant from Maryland westward to Minnesota and
eastern Kansas and south to Florida and Texas and through New
Mexico into Arizona. In the Upper Mississippi Valley it was com-
mon in all suitable places as late as 1870; in a few favored localities
small flocks survived into the early eighties. In certain localities
in southern Missouri, Oklahoma, Texas and Florida a few remain
to this day; and it is said a few may be seen in Virginia within
sight of the dome of the Capitol at Washington. In New Mexico
and Arizona considerable numbers still remain.

The nature of the wild turkey is such as apparently makes it
intolerant of civilization; it is not necessarily so. While it is a
bird that under persecution requires heavy cover, it thrives well
in open woods, especially of oak and beech if not too persistently
molested. There still remain in many of the states thousands of
acres of excellent cover where the species could doubtless maintain
itself if once reestablished and proper protective laws and regula-
tions provided.

What I have said regarding the wild turkey can be said of most
of the species of gallinaceous birds. Most of them were once vastly
more abundant than they now are and many of them must be
classed among the vanishing game birds unless something is done
soon for their preservation. The ruffed grouse and all the quail,

302 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the prairie chicken and the sage hen, are each, in varying degrees,
seriously depleted and in danger of actual extermination. While
much has already been done to save the bob-white and other quail,
and perhaps a few others, even they are doomed unless a great
deal more is done.

The natural cover along the stream courses, on the hillsides, in
the glens and dells and in and about the marshes and swamps af-
fords ideal environment for the ruffed grouse. Every effort should
be made not only to preserve every existing acre of this cover, but
the cover should be improved whenever possible, and new acreage
should be added from time to time by encouraging wild growth
upon otherwise useless land. On many farms there are small waste
areas which, with a little carefully directed neglect, can be eon-
verted into copses that would serve admirably for birds of this kind.

Cover that is good for ruffed: grouse is also good for the bob-
white. Even a very small thicket will furnish ideal cover for a
flock of bob-whites. A number of such thickets judiciously
located about the farm would do wonders in keeping it well sup-
plied with these birds.

The prairie chicken, like the bob-white, is a species tolerant of
civilization. Fields of grain such as wheat and corn are just to
their liking and the wastage in the fields would assure an abundant
food supply throughout the winter and any periods of food searcity
that might come. All that is necessary is a few waste places on
the farm covered with copsy thickets and tall grass.

Of course their nests must be protected; and this leads me to
make a plea for the unkempt fence corner, where the grass and
weeds are allowed to grow and the briars and brush to run riot over
the ground and fence. True, this is not so possible now with our
wire fences as it was in the good old days of the picturesque old
Virginia stake-and-rider rail fence—more’s the pity. Such cover
as the fence rows of this kind would afford would prove invaluable
to prairie chickens and quail by supplying protection not only to
the birds themselves but also to their nests.

The sage hen is one of our most picturesque and most valuable
came birds. In size it is inferior only to the wild turkey. On our
western sage-brush plains it formerly occurred in countless num-
bers. Its natural habitat was the almost valueless sage-brush coun-
try where agriculture is in most places impossible, although it has a
slight value for grazing. And it is this that is exterminating the
sage hen. Flocks of sheep ranging over the sage-brush plains dur-
ing the breeding season of the sage hen are almost certain to destroy
every nest which the sheep herders had not already robbed. Re-
gions in which sage hens were common only a few years ago are

CONSERVATION OF NATURAL RESOURCES 303

now without a single bird. Unless the Federal government and the
states take action very soon the sage hen is doomed.

The woodeock is another of our splendid but vanishing game
birds. Perhaps no other game bird has been more highly esteemed.
Feeding, as it does, almost entirely on angleworms and other food
which it obtains by prodding in the soft ground of the borders of
ponds, springs and marshes, it is easy to see how disastrous to
this bird the draining of our marshlands must inevitably prove
to be. Moreover, it is a delicate bird, easily influenced by sudden
freezes which make it difficult for it to obtain food.

Much ean be done toward saving the woodeock by leaving un-
drained all marshland, ponds and springy hillsides that are not
really needed for agricultural purposes.

The jacksnipe is very similar to the woodcock in its habits, game
qualities and danger of extermination, and the measures that would
be taken to save the one would apply to the other.

Of the scores of species of our less important game birds I
need say little, except that they must not be forgotten and that
measures taken to conserve the important species will ordinarily
apply to the less important ones as well.

GAME MAMMALS

Excepting perhaps Africa, no other country in the world ever
equaled North America in the richness of its game mammals, mar-
velously rich not only in species and subspecies but also in number
of individuals. Of the more than 300 species that might be men-
tioned, it must suffice to speak of only a few, for the story of
former marvelous abundance, wasteful killing without thought for
the future, and inevitable extermination or serious depletion ap-
plies to all.

The three species of grizzly bears that oceupied such a pic-
turesque place in the early history of California are all extinct;
it is believed that not a single individual remains alive anywhere
to-day. Many of the others, while not actually extinct as species,
have been actually exterminated over a large portion of the coun-
try over which they originally ranged. Among these are several
species of deer, the buffalo, moose, elk, antelope, various bears,
foxes and gray squirrels. All that we have left now are isolated
pitiful remnants of the vast numbers with which our older people
were once so familiar. Many of them are so rare now that we
ean truthfully say they are, indeed, commercially extinct, and can
never be restored.

Of course, it is quite true that serious depletion, even commer-
eial extinction, of some of these species, such as the buffalo, was
inevitable. On the other hand, it ought to be possible to reestab-

304 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

lish many of these species and bring them back to something like
their former abundance. The changes in environment incident to
the development of the country agriculturally and otherwise should
not necessarily prove fatal to them. Moose, deer, bear, foxes, squir-
rels, beaver and muskrats could doubtless be maintained indefinitely
in large numbers in many parts of their original habitat, if given
that protection which can easily be given, and at the same time
splendid productive hunting could be had. This would apply to
Maine, the Adirondacks and other parts of New York, many parts
of Pennsylvania, Michigan, Wisconsin and Minnesota. And the
same could no doubt be done in all the states along our northern
boundary and in all the Pacific Coast states. The muskrat should
still find a congenial home in all parts of the United States east of
the Sierras wherever swamp land, marshes, permanent ponds and
small lakes are found; provided, always, that such of these favor-
able localities as can not be made agriculturally valuable are left
undisturbed.

It is true that some of our most interesting game animals are
predatory, not only upon other wild animals such as deer, antelope,
elk and ground-nesting birds, but also are destructive to domestic
stock. Among the worst are the wolves, coyotes, Canada lynxes
and mountain lions. The United States Bureau of Biological Sur-
vey has been waging a very effective campaign against these preda-
tory animals. When the Bureau began its campaign a few years
ago it was estimated that these animals were causing a loss of more
than $20,000,000 annually. Expert hunters and trappers were
employed by the Bureau in cooperation with the states and with
other interested agencies with the result that more than 50,000
predatory animals were destroyed in one year. If these animals
had not been killed they would have destroyed fully $3,000,000
worth of domestic live stock to say nothing of the great numbers
of deer and other valuable game mammals and birds they would
have destroyed.

One sheep man wrote to the Survey that its predatory-animal
hunters had saved his flocks from the loss of at least 1,000 lambs in
one year. There are among predatory animals just as there are
amone dogs individuals that have acquired the sheep-killing or
calf-killing habit, and the expert hunters make special and usually
successful efforts to get them. A noted case was that of the no-
torious Custer wolf in Wyoming, which was believed to have killed
$25,000 worth of cattle in a period of seven years. So crafty was
this old wolf that he eluded all efforts to capture or kill him in
spite of the fact that a bounty of $500 was placed on his head. But
last year he met his fate through the skill and marksmanship of a
bureau hunter.

CONSERVATION OF NATURAL RESOURCES 305

Another illustration: a pack of eight wolves that had inflicted
losses totaling $20,000 on calves, pigs and sheep about the Arkan-
sas National Forest were all destroyed by a single bureau hunter
in a period of three weeks. Still another old renegade wolf reported
to have destroyed $6,000 worth of cattle on a single ranch besides
making heavy inroads on other ranches, including nine head of
yearling cattle in the last six weeks of his life, finally fell a victim
to a skillfully placed trap of a bureau hunter.

The California Fish and Game Commission estimates that a
mountain lion will kill on an average one deer a week throughout
the year, and that there are about 600 lions in the state. At 52
deer each they would kill about 30,000 deer annually, which is
about twice the number killed by all hunters in the state. From
this it appears that the mountain lion should receive no protection.

Fortunately, the great majority of our important game mam-
mals are not predaceous at all, or in only a slight degree. Fortu-
nately also, some of the species are being conserved fairly well
in some parts of their range. This is especially true of the deer.

The federal and state governments have established a number of
game preserves, some of them under fence. The principal game
animals in these reservations are buffalo, elk and antelope. All
are showing satisfactory increase each year, and there is every
reason to believe that these herds will continue to thrive.

The outlook for the wild elk, antelope, mountain sheep and
mountain goats is not so encouraging.

Of the several species of elk the one commonly known as the
California Valley elk or Tule elk is in most serious danger of ex-
termination. This species formerly ranged over the San Joaquin
Valley in great numbers. About 50 years ago it was threatened
with extermination, but it was saved through the active interest of
Henry Miller, head of the great cattle company of Miller & Lux.

In 1914 the only remaining herd of this species ranged over the
Buttonwillow ranch of Miller & Lux in Kern County. In that
year and in 1915 the California Academy of Sciences with the co-
operation of Miller & Lux distributed 150 of these elk to various
federal, state and private parks in the state, and it is gratifying
to know that in most cases the animals have increased in num-
bers, and that these nuclei of new herds are doing well.

But the original herd in Kern County is in serious danger.
Although it is unlawful to kill any elk in California, the warden
service is poor and the animals are not receiving the protection they
must have if the herd is to be saved. In my judgment the species
is doomed unless more adequate measures for their protection be
taken soon.

Probably the best thing to do would be to enclose with suitable

Vol. XV.—20.

306 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

fence not less than 3 or 4 square miles of land in the region they
inhabit. It would be easy to do this. A strip of land one mile
wide, beginning up toward the foothills where the elk habitually
stay and extending down into the valley about four miles so as to
include about 300 acres of arable land on which alfalfa can be
grown to supply feed in the dry season, is all that is necessary. The
sale of surplus males and other animals from time to time to zoo-
logical parks, etce., would render the herd self-supporting.

Fur-BEARING ANIMALS

Few of us realize what an asset the various states have in their
fur-bearing animals. America’s list of fur-bearers is a long one;
the total number of species and subspecies whose pelts have con-
siderable commercial value as fur is not fewer than one hundred.
Among those of most importance may be mentioned the beaver,
otter, fisher, mink, fur seal, sea otter, marten, muskrat, skunk,
raccoon, weasel, fox, lynx, bobeat, wolf, coyote, and bear. Several
of these are represented in the United States by two or more species
or subspecies.

Not until recently were several of these species in much demand,
but now the lowly muskrat and the much-despised skunk have come
into their own. They are now among the most popular and high-
priced furs.

As Dr. Dearborn, of the Bureau of Biological Survey, has well
said, the demand for fur has existed since primitive man first
sought skins to shield his naked body from the cold. This demand
is fundamental and will endure while man inhabits the earth and
furs are to be had. Its strength can be judged by the volume of
trade it supports.

The fact that many of the fur-bearers are predaceous animals
complicates the problem. However valuable the fur of an animal
may be, if the habits of that animal be such as render it an enemy
of domestic stock or useful game animals, its conservation is not
an unmixed blessing. Such animals must therefore receive special
treatment. Fortunately, the majority of our fur-bearers are de-
structive to other useful species or interests only in a small degree
or not at all, and it is possible to provide laws and regulations for
the conservation and proper utilization that will render their
preservation highly desirable.

Some of the more important species are already seriously de-
pleted; some have been even exterminated in many regions where
they were formerly abundant. The beaver, marten and mink may
be mentioned as examples of this class. Their extermination has
been brought about chiefly by excessive trapping and changes in
the character of their environment. It is believed that most of

CONSERVATION OF NATURAL RESOURCES 307

those which have been greatly depleted can be restored and main-
tained in reasonable abundance if proper laws and regulations be
provided for their protection.

The essential principles of the protection of fur-bearing animals
are few and easily understood. In the first place, there should be
a permanent closed season for a period of years in any region in
which the species has become so seriously depleted as to be in danger
of extermination. In the second place, no animal should be killed
during the breeding season; that is, when its death would mean
the starvation of the young; and fur-bearing animals should be
killed only when their fur is prime.

Perhaps the most important of these is that relating to un-
prime skins. It has been estimated that the value of the furs that
come to the markets is reduced fully 25 per cent. by the large num-
ber of unprime skins. Killing fur-bearers in their breeding season
before the family break-up and dispersal in the fall is a wasteful
practice. Uniform laws throughout the United States prohibiting
traffic in unprime skins should be enacted.

Every trapper or hunter of fur-bearing animals should be re-
quired to secure a license good for one year, and he should be re-
quired to report at the end of the season the number of animals
of each species taken. This would furnish data essential to deter-
mining the value and extent of the fur resources of the state and
the relative abundance of the different species. Such statistics
would inspire people with a desire and determination to make fur
a regular and valuable farm and forest crop.

Under natural conditions or such as can be easily maintained,
one or more species of fur bearers may be found in some numbers
on many of the farms of the country. Hunting or trapping such
animals is a recreation, sport or avocation that appeals strongly to
most country boys. If they do their trapping intelligently, they
will not only profit greatly by the sport it affords but will also
add materially to the income from the farm.

Fur-F ARMING

Recently the possibilities of fur-farming have begun to attract
wide attention.

Figures compiled by the Bureau of Biological Survey show that
there are fur farms in at least 25 states. There are about 500
ranchers raising silver foxes, with 12,000 to 15,000 foxes in cap-
tivity.

Other species on the fur-farms are skunk, raccoon, mink, opos-
sum, marten, muskrat, squirrel and beaver. The business, when
intelligently conducted, is a fascinating and profitable one and can
be carried on successfully in almost any of the states.

308 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The state agricultural colleges and experiment stations, and
state game and conservation commissions should encourage fur-
farming. The United States Bureau of Biological Survey will be
glad to give directions and suggestions as to the methods of fur-
farming that one must follow to insure success.

In those parts of the country where there are small lakes or
ponds surrounded by marshland opportunities for fur-farming are
excellent. Usually in each marsh there will be found from a few
to many muskrats. With proper care and management, the num-
ber can usually be greatly increased and maintained, at the same
time permitting a considerable annual catch. And now that the
muskrat is so popular as a fur, under the trade name of ‘‘Paris
Seal,’’ muskrat farming will prove a very profitable side issue on
the farm.

MaringE MAMMALS

There remains one important natural resource in which this
country is vitally interested, the conservation of which has re-
ceived practically no attention; and this appears all the more as-
tonishing when we realize that in this natural resource are found
not only the largest animals in the world but a number of the most
valuable. I refer to the marine mammals—the whales, fur seals,
walrus, sea lions, sea otters, porpoises, the elephant seal and other
species whose home is in the sea. And it is a curious fact that we
know less about these great and interesting animals of the sea than
we do of any other group of useful animals.

We know a good deal about the Alaska fur seal; a little is
known about the Russian fur seal and the Japanese fur seal, but
searcely anything about the several species in southern waters.

Some years ago, a species of fur seal was not uncommon about
the islands off the coast of California and Lower California. In
the early part of the last century it was very abundant on the
Farallons just off the Golden Gate. One party that visited those
islands in 1808 took in two seasons 130,000 fur seals and many
sea otters. Another party took 33,740 fur seals in 1810 and 39,555
in 1811. The catch in four years was more than 200,000. It has
been thought this species became extinct about 30 years ago. How-
ever, the capture of a living specimen in March (1922) near San
Diego shows that it is not yet extinct; it further emphasizes our
lack of knowledge of the distribution and abundance of our marine
mammals. It also suggests the possibility of reestablishing fur-seal
rookeries on the Farallons and other islands off the coast of Cali-
fornia and Mexico. What a fine achievement that would be!

We know only in a general way what species of marine mam-
mals there really are in the North Pacific; but it is safe to say the
mammalian fauna of the Pacific is the richest in the world. There

CONSERVATION OF NATURAL RESOURCES 309

are probably not fewer than 50 species in the North Pacific and
the total number in the entire Pacific is doubtless much greater ;
but we do not really know. In the North Pacific we may recognize
14 kinds of whales, 12 porpoises, killers, dolphins, ete., one bear,
two sea otters, four fur seals, and a dozen hair seals, harbor seals
and sea lions.

With few exceptions practically nothing is definitely and au-
thoritatively known of the life history of these animals. Their food
and feeding habits, distribution, migrations, breeding seasons and
places—these are but a few of the many things in the life history
of these species about which we would like to know and which we
must know before final measures for their protection can be in-
telligently formulated.

The commercial fisheries of the North Pacific can be properly
understood and regulated only in the light of pretty full knowl-
edge of the whales, seals and other marine mammals. We must
know just what relation the whales, sea lions, harbor seals and
porpoises sustain to the salmon, sardine, herring, cod and other
food-fishes of our coast. The relation of the California sea lion to
the salmon fisheries has long been a matter of dispute. Conclusive
and convineing study of the question has never been made, and no
one is in a position to say just what laws and regulations should
be enacted regarding those species. The same is true of the whales.
Our knowledge of their abundance, distribution and feeding habits
is very incomplete.

Not long ago the Moss Landing Whaling Station of the Califor-
nia Sea Products Company reported they had found in the stomach
of one humpback whale 1,500 to 3,000 pounds of sardines, besides
a miscellaneous lot of smelt, anchovies, shrimp and squid! In
the stomach of a sperm whale were found a 10-foot shark, a piece
of fur-seal skin and a bunch of fishhooks! Some time ago two
killer-whales or Orcas were examined at the Pribilof Islands; the
stomach of one contained 18 fur seals, the other 24. At current
prices of fur-seal skins those meals cost about $1,000 to $1,500 each!

These illustrations are sufficient to show that these species bear
a very important relation to the sardine, fur seal and other com-
mercial fisheries. And they further show the necessity of a thor-
ough study of the relation of these and other marine mammals to
the fisheries.

The Moss Landing Whaling Station furnishes exceptional fa-
cilities for a study of the whales. The California Sea Products
Company which owns and operates this station has very kindly
kept certain records, at the writer’s suggestion, during the past
four years. These records include the following data for each

310 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

whale taken: species, sex, length, weight, stomach contents, date
when taken, place where taken, and size of embryo, if any.

The total number of whales taken by this company on the coast
of California from January 16, 1919, to May 3, 1922, was 832.
Seven different species were represented, as follows: bottlenose 1,
sei 1, California gray 1, sperm 5, sulphur-bottom 5, finback 33,
and humpback 781; total 832.

These figures are of value in that they show the species of
whales that now occur on the coast of California and the relative
abundance of the different species. It is seen that only one—the
humpback—is at all common. The scarcity of the others is sig-
nificant ; indeed, all but the humpback are already commercially
extinct. Only the humpback remains in sufficient abundance to
justify the establishment of a whale fishery on this coast.

In 1853 Captain Scammon estimated that fully 30,000 Califor-
nia gray whales visited the California coast annually. The small
eatch of that species shows clearly that it has been almost exter-
minated on the California coast. It is evident that the humpback
whale also will soon be as seriously depleted unless effective meas-
ures be taken soon for its protection.

While the whales are the largest animals in the Pacific, they are
by no means the only ones that are in grave danger of extermina-
tion and that need protection.

In the early days the southern sea otter was common on the
California coast and about the islands off the coast of Lower Cali-
fornia. According to old Spanish records 9,729 sea otters had been
taken on the California coast prior to 1790. The O’Cain expedi-
tion in 1803-4 took 1,100, the Winship expedition took 5,000 in
1805-6, and a party under a man named Campbell took 1,230, all
on the California coast. From these figures it is evident that the
sea otter was formerly very abundant on the California coast and
that the environment was a very favorable one. It seems that it
should be possible to reestablish the sea otter in those waters.
While none has been seen for several years, there is good reason to
believe a few still survive.

The Guadalupe fur seal was at one time common about certain
islands off Lower California, but none was seen since 1892 until in
March of this year, when one was gaptured near San Diego. This
would indicate that there still exists a remnant of a herd that can
again be built into one of commercial importance.

Up to a few years ago the great elephant seal existed in consider-
able numbers at Guadalupe Island off Lower California. It is now
almost extinct; only prompt action can save it. On the same coast
and in the Gulf of California sea turtles were very abundant not
long ago; now they are said to be very rare.

CONSERVATION OF NATURAL RESOURCES 311

Several other species threatened with early extermination could
be named, but these must suffice.

The Alaskan, Russian and Japanese fur-seal herds are now
fairly safe, thanks to the International Fur-seal Treaty entered into
in 1911 by the United States, Great Britain, Russia and Japan.
The northern sea otter is also protected by the same treaty. While
that treaty has some serious defects it is believed they can be ecor-
rected in 1926 when an opportunity to do so will be afforded. But
this treaty, unfortunately, does not cover whales, walrus, sea lions,
southern sea otter, elephant seal or any of the southern fur seals.

It is perfectly lawful for anybody to kill any of these animals
anywhere on the high seas. No country has jurisdiction beyond
the 3-mile limit. Only by international agreement can they receive
the protection necessary for their preservation and conservation.

The United States should take the initiative in bringing about
an international treaty for the protection of the marine mammals
of the Pacific. The principal countries concerned are the United
States, Japan, China, Russia, Great Britain, Mexico and Chile,
but every country at all interested in the Pacific should be invited
to join in the treaty.

At the meeting of this association held in Berkeley last year a
‘“Committee on the Conservation of Marine Life of the Pacifie’’
was appointed. This committee is now functioning under the Com-
mittee on Pacific Investigations of the Division of Foreign Relations
of the National Research Council. The committee is endeavoring
to develop an interest on the part of the public in conservation of
our natural resources, particularly those of the sea. It is endeavor-
ing to interest the zoologists of the countries bordering on the Pa-
cific in the wonderful animal life of that great ocean. It is making
investigations and assembling data regarding the former abundance
of various species, their present condition, and the causes which
brought about the change.

In its efforts toward creating a strong public sentiment for
conservation, the committee is trying to interest boards of trade,
chambers of commerce, fish commissions, scientific societies, néws-
papers, women’s clubs, and officials of educational institutions in-
eluding colleges, normal schools, and publie schools. It hopes to
make use of the public press and public lectures that the people
may learn something about the wonderful resources of the sea
which we, through ignorance, indifference and greed, are permit-
ting to be seriously if not fatally depleted. The committee plans
to form an association or organization to be known by some such
name as ‘‘The Associated Societies for the Conservation of Marine
Life of the Pacific,’’ and it is hoped to bring into this association
as many as possible of the naturalists, educational institutions,

312 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

chambers of commerce, boards of trade, fish and game commissions,
fishery companies and other interested units found in the various
countries bordering on the Pacific.

It is hoped that public interest in the conservation problem of
the Pacific will in the near future be developed to such an extent
as will result in an international treaty broad enough in its scope
to cover not only all the marine mammals but also the fishes, birds,
and reptiles of the Pacific Ocean.

That our game mammals and birds, our fur-bearing animals and
our marine mammals are among our most valuable natural resources
is not fully realized by many of us. A few figures, however, will
readily convince us that we have in these animals natural re-
sources almost fabulous in their money value. Take for example
the deer: the number of deer killed in 1915 by hunters in 36 states
was 75,000. At 150 pounds each these would weigh 11,250,000
pounds, worth 20 cents a pound, or $2,250,000. It is claimed that
the annual kill of deer in the entire United States could safely be
put at 100,000, worth $3,000.000. Rabbits are a very valuable food
asset. In 1918, 465,000 were killed in the State of New York
alone. In 1919, 2,719,879 were killed in Pennsylvania. In 1920,
293,665 were killed in Virginia. At 20 cents apiece (a very con-
servative estimate) these rabbits had a money value of $695,710,
which is no small item in the food supply of the country. And
this embraces the catch in only three states. In the whole United
States it must have been many times as great.

Now let us consider the game birds. In 1920 hunters in Min-
nesota killed 2,083,991 ducks, geese and other game birds, worth
at least $1,000,000. In the same year there were killed in Virginia
187,582 quail, pheasants, turkeys, doves and woodcock worth more
than $110,000. The take of game animals in the same period was
valued at $350,000, while in New York the game mammals and birds
taken in the same period numbered 1,526,960 valued at $3,239,277.
From these figures it is believed that the game mammals, fur-
bearing animals, and game birds of the United States yield to our
people not less than the stupendous amount of $100,000,000 an-
nually. Surely the conservation of such valuable resources as these
is well worth while.

I should like to say something about the fisheries and the fur
seal, those wonderful resources in which I have been most interested
for many years, but time does not permit.

I can only say that they, too, must receive our most thoughtful
and serious consideration if they are to be rehabilitated and main-
tained in anything like their former productiveness. No nation
can grow populous and great and long survive which, through lack
of vision, continues to destroy those very resources which have
made it great.

SOME THOUGHTS ON IMMIGRATION RESTRICTION 313

SOME THOUGHTS ON IMMIGRATION
RESTRICTION

By Professor ROBERT DeC. WARD
HARVARD UNIVERSITY

A SURVEY of American literature on immigration during the past

twenty-five years emphasizes certain general tendencies.
There has been a singular failure on the part of many writers to
appreciate the larger, more fundamental, more permanent relations
of the problem. The immediate, the temporary, the individual
aspects have been unduly emphasized. There have, of course, been
outstanding exceptions to this broad statement: men of vision, who
have labored earnestly to bring before their fellow-countrymen the
far-reaching racial, economic, political and social relations of alien
immigration. But, in the main, most of what has been written has
not been constructive in the best sense of that term. In view of
the present widespread discussion of immigration in our maga-
zines, in Congress and in our daily newspapers, the writer of the
present article has thought it worth while to consider briefly some
of these larger aspects of the problem as they present themselves
to his mind. There is danger that the public will be diverted from
a really serious consideration of the question as a whole by having
its attention constantly directed to the stories of individual hard-
ship—mostly fictitious or exaggerated—which are being so assidu-
ously fed to the daily press by influences which are opposed to
all restriction.

AMERICA’S ‘‘TRADITIONAL’’ IMMIGRATION PoLIcy

In any discussion of immigration problems reference is sure to
be made to our so-called ‘‘traditional policy’’ of providing an
asylum and a haven of refuge for the poor and the oppressed of
every land. There is a fundamental error in the popular concep-
tion of this ‘‘tradition.’’

The desire that there should be some restriction has existed
from the very foundation of our Republic. Washington questioned
the advisability of immigration except of certain skilled mechanics.
Jefferson expressed the wish that there were an ocean of fire be-
tween this country and Europe, so that it might be impossible for
any more immigrants to come here. The Hartford Convention,
in 1812, proclaimed that ‘‘the stock population of these states is

314 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

amply sufficient to render this nation in due time sufficiently great
and powerful.’’ In spite of these early distinctly restrictionist
views, it was, nevertheless, for generations a national ideal that
America should be an asylum and a refuge. But it must be re-
membered that immigration was then welcomed and encouraged
because it was regarded as a source of national strength. The
noble ideal of a refuge, open to all, had its roots in economic con-
ditions far more than in any generous spirit of world philanthropy.
The country was very sparsely settled. There was an abundance
of free land. Labor was scarce. The number of immigrants was
small. Nearly all of them were sturdy pioneers, of essentially
homogeneous and readily assimilated stocks.

In time this ideal inevitably came into conflict with changing
economic and social conditions. In the face of cold, hard, present-
day facts it has had to be abandoned. These facts are that the
supply of public lands is exhausted; that acute labor problems
have arisen ; that immigration has increased enormously and funda-
mentally changed its character; that our cities are congested with
aliens ; that we have failed to assimilate them, and that large num-
bers of mentally and physically unfit have come to our shores.
Our so-called traditional policy began, in fact, to be abandoned
almost fifty years ago, when Congress first put up the bars against
certain classes of economically and morally undesirable aliens. It
is now obvious that our ‘‘asylum’’ has become crowded with alien
insane and alien feeble-minded; that our ‘‘refuge’’ is a peniten-
tiary well filled with alien paupers and criminals.

The un-American policy is not restriction but indiscriminate
hospitality to immigrants. It is un-American for us to permit any
such influx of alien immigrants as will make the process of assim-
ilation and amalgamation of our foreign population any more
difficult than it already is. It is for the best interests of the alien
as well as of America that our immigrants should be numerically
restricted and wisely and carefully selected.

Our policy of admitting freely practically all who have wished
to come has not only complicated our own problems, but has not
helped the introduction of political, social, economic and educa-
tional reforms abroad. Our idealists tell us that the ‘‘cream’’ and
the ‘‘pick’’ of Europe has been coming here because it is discon-
tented at home; because it wants political and religious and eco-
nomic liberty ; because it wants education, and better living condi-
tions, and democratic institutions. Have we in any way really
helped the progress of these reforms by keeping the safety-valve of
practically unlimited immigration open? By allowing the discon-
tented millions of Europe and of Asia to come here now, are we

SOME THOUGHTS ON IMMIGRATION RESTRICTION 315

likely to hasten, or to delay, the coming of political and social re-
forms in Armenia, in Russia, in Turkey? Our duty as Americans,
interested in the world-wide progress of education, of religious
liberty, of democratic institutions, is not only to preserve our own
institutions intact, but also to help the discontented millions of
Europe and of Asia to shoulder their own responsibilities at home;
to work out there, for themselves, what our own forefathers worked
out here, for us and for our children. Are men and women who
are now leaving their own countries and their own problems be-
hind, likely to be of any real assistance to us in the maintenance
and development of American institutions?

FALLACIES OF THE ‘‘MerutiInG-Pot’’ IDEA

‘‘Never shall ye make the crab walk straight. Never shall ye
make the sea urchin smooth.’’ Thus, many centuries ago, Aristo-
phanes set forth his view of the fallacy of the ‘‘ Melting Pot.’’ We
have been proceeding on the theory that the United States could,
in the great American melting pot, crystallize into a new, homo-
geneous race, better and finer than has ever been known, the mil-
lions of aliens, of all nations, habits and languages, who have
flocked to us from every quarter of the globe. We have thought
that sending the alien children to school, teaching them English,
giving them flag drills, and letting them recite the Gettysburg
Address and read the Declaration of Independence, would make
Americans of them almost overnight. Yet the laws which rule in
the world of the lower animals obtain equally in the case of man.
We can not make a heavy draught-horse into a trotter by keeping
him in a racing stable. Nor can we make a race true to the old
American type by any process of Americanization, essential as
that undertaking is for creating better citizenship. It is distinctly
the trend of modern biological discovery that heredity is, on the
whole, far more important than environment in determining not
only the physical but also the mental characteristics of man. Dr.
Henry Fairfield Osborn, in an address before the recent Interna-
tional Eugenics Congress said: ‘‘We are slowly awakening to the
consciousness that education and environment do not funda-
mentally alter racial values. . . . The true spirit of American
democracy, that all men are born with equal rights and duties,
has been confused with the political sophistry that all men are
born with equal character and ability to govern themselves and
others, and with the educational sophistry that education and en-
vironment will offset the handicap of ancestry.’’

What goes into the melting pot determines what shall come out
of it. If we put into it sound, sturdy stock; akin to the pioneer
breed which first peopled this country and founded its institutions ;

316 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

if these new stocks are not only sound physically but alert men-
tally, then we shall develop a new race here, worthy to carry on
the ideals and traditions of the founders of this country. But if
the material fed into the melting pot is a polyglot assortment of
nationalities, physically, mentally and morally below par, then
there can be no hope of producing anything but an inferior race.

It is often said that each of the different alien peoples coming
here has something to contribute to American civilization; that
we shall be the gainers, not the losers, in the long run. That many
of our immigrants have something to contribute is true. But we
want desirable additions to, and not inferior substitutes for the
good we already have. There is nothing in biological discovery
or principles which would lead us to hope that only the virtues of
the races which are going to make up the future American will
survive, and the vices be eliminated. In fact, the vices and the
undesirable qualities are just as likely to survive as the virtues.
We have, of late years, not been getting the best of Europe.

The immigration question is usually discussed from its eco-
nomic, its political, its industrial sides. Yet its racial aspects are
infinitely more important. The character of the future American
race is to be determined by the aliens who are landing on our
shores day by day. As Dr. Lothrop Stoddard has stated the case,
“‘the admission of aliens should, indeed, be regarded just as sol-
emnly as the begetting of our own children, for the racial effect is
essentially the same.’?’ And Major General Leonard Wood
summed up the Melting Pot problem clearly and briefly when he
said: ‘‘The American cement has about all the sand it will stand.”’

The statement of Aristophanes, above quoted, finds a parallel
in the words of one of the best-known of modern writers on
heredity, Professor Karl Pearson. ‘‘You can not change the
leopard’s spots, and you can not change bad stock to good. You
may dilute it; spread it over a wide area, spoiling good stock, but
until it ceases to multiply it will not cease to be.’’

IMMIGRATION AND THE NEED OF LABOR

A stock argument against immigration restriction is the ‘‘need
of labor.’’ Many, if not most, of the evils which have resulted
from the enormous and practically unselected immigration of the
past twenty-five years have been due to the reckless greed for
‘cheap labor’’ on the part of large industrial, railroad and
mining ‘‘interests’’ in this country. These ‘‘interests’’ have set
pocket book above patriotism. They have been regardless of every
consideration other than that of speeding-up their factories, their
railroad construction and their mine output. To those who realize
that cheap foreign labor is often so cheap that it is dear at any

SOME THOUGHTS ON IMMIGRATION RESTRICTION 317

price; that it is usually, in the long run, socially and politically
very expensive; that a tremendously rapid development of our
country is by no means altogether desirable, and that every immi-
grant is to play a part in the formation of the future American
race, this matter of cheap alien labor presents wholly different
aspects.

As Dr. Madison Grant has recently said, if the only object
sought is a quick development of our country; if within a genera-
tion we want to exploit all our natural resources; to have huge in-
dustrial plants at every turn; to build railroads and highways
paralleling and criss-crossing each other in a fine-meshed network,
then it is doubtless true that a huge supply of cheap foreign labor
will be needed. But is this ‘‘need of labor’’ any adequate reason
for admitting aliens by the wholesale, without giving any thought
to the question whether they are going to be intelligent, law-abiding,
constructive citizens? Any industrial triumph; any phenomenal
exploitation of our resources; any remarkable accomplishment in
the development of transportation which can be achieved only by
means of such labor, will eventually be paid for with a price which
will involve political and racial disaster.

The vital question is not how fast can we possibly develop this
country, but how best can we develop it. We have been assuming
that we could safely admit as many immigrants as can be indus-
trially assimilated; as can, somehow or other, scrape up a living
here, or, failing that, can be supported by our charitable organ-
izations. But the real questions are: how many can be politically
assimilated ; how many can be thoroughly Americanized ; and what
sort of contribution are they likely to make in the development of
our future race? The need of more ‘‘hands’’ to do our labor has
been dinned into our ears for decades. ‘‘Hands across the sea’’
are the cheapest, so we have been importing them. Let us not
forget that we are importing not ‘‘hands’’ alone but bodies and
hereditary tendencies also. It is of vital consequence that the
quality of these human beings who come to us from other lands
should be of the best, so that they shall not injure but improve
our stock. Every day that passes witnesses the landing on our
shores of aliens whose coming here is absolutely certain to.result
in a deterioration of the mental and physical standards of the
American race of the future.

There are doubtless many who, like the present writer, are not
employers of labor, nor daily wage-earners, nor economists, who
may, nevertheless, have certain views on this matter which are
entitled to consideration. To those who belong to this group the
question arises whether any American industry which can not

318 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

prosper without a constant supply of cheap foreign labor is really
worth preserving in a country which boasts of the high standards
of living of its wage-earners and the high character of its citizen-
ship. For any indispensable work which ean be done by relatively
low-grade and unintelligent men and women there would be a
sufficient supply of labor from the natural increase of those who are
already residents of this country. Somewhat higher wages would
probably have to be paid in certain cases and for a while, but if
the price were too high, American inventive ingenuity would very
soon solve the difficulty by means of labor-saving machinery. If a
““cheap’’ man becomes too expensive, machinery inevitably takes
his place. It would doubtless be far better and safer for the United
States to enter upon a period of slower industrial development,
with a labor supply recruited from the loins of its own population
and from a carefully sifted and limited foreign immigration, than
to drive ahead at its previous speed, with its industrial develop-
ment stimulated by means which will inevitably result in a lower-
ing of our political and racial standards. Furthermore, it is gen-
erally agreed even among anti-restrictionists that the majority of
aliens now coming in are unfitted, by training or temperament,
for common labor.

The late General Francis A. Walker laid emphasis upon one
point which deserves mention, again and again, when the argu-
ment is made that we need cheap labor to do certain disagreeable
and degrading jobs. No job, said General Walker, is too cheap
or too mean for a self-respecting man to do. In the early days
all our work was done by Americans, and none of it was neglected
on the ground that it was degrading. The same thing is true in
many of our country districts to-day, wherever there are native
Americans who depend on themselves to do the necessary daily
task. It was not until ignorant and unskilled aliens began to come
in in considerable numbers, and took up the lower grades of un-
skilled labor, that these jobs began to be considered beneath the
dignity of self-respecting Americans.

WILL DISTRIBUTION OF IMMIGRANTS SOLVE OurR DIFFICULTIES?

Anti-restrictionists wilfully, and some restrictionists ignorant-
ly, argue that a better distribution of our immigrants will solve
our problem of assimilation. The difficulty, it is claimed, is not
that there are too many aliens but that they do not go to the right
places. Our arriving immigrants naturally flock to the large
cities, where their compatriots are already congregated, and where
rough construction work and odd jobs are more easily found.
Muck is said about the need of farm labor, yet even if many thou-
sands of aliens were actually distributed where there is a lack of

SOME THOUGHTS ON IMMIGRATION RESTRICTION 319

farm laborers, the majority of them would not be effective. What
our great farming districts need is highly intelligent labor, skilled
in American farming methods, and able to manage modern agri-
cultural machinery. Ignorant, unskilled, non-English-speaking
foreigners, who know little beyond the use of a primitive hoe, are
not wanted.

It is significant that at the last annual session of the Farmers’
National Congress, with delegates from over thirty states in attend-
ance, the following resolution was unanimously adopted:

Resolved, That we are unalterably opposed to the proposed diversion and

distribution of aliens over the farming districts until immigration is rigidly
restricted, numerically or otherwise.

In a recent issue of the Southern Textile Bulletin, emphatic
protest was made against the importation of foreign textile labor
into the South. ‘‘We do not counsel violence,’’ the paper says,
‘“but if violence is necessary to rid our mills of these foreigners,
it were better to have violence now than to see our operatives
forced to live and work alongside a disreputable foreign element.”’

In his able and timely article, ‘‘Throwing away our Birth-
right,’’ in the North American Review for February, 1922, Mr.
William Roscoe Thayer states that ‘‘all attempts to distribute im-
migrants according to certain localities have thus far failed.’’
The ease is cited of a serious effort made some twenty years ago
by the Italian Ambassador to the United States, Baron Mayor des
Planches, to plant colonies of Italians in the Southern States.
The scheme was unsuccessful. Two other specific instances of at-
tempted distribution come to mind. One is the case of the im-
portation of a shipload of picked immigrants by the State of South
Carolina, every one of whom had disappeared within a few months.
The other is that of the more recent importation of Mexican labor-
ers into the Southwest during the war. These aliens were ad-
mitted under special conditions to do certain agricultural work,
and were later to return to their own country. Most of these men
also disappeared and could not be sent home again. In other
words, while it may in certain cases be possible to distribute aliens,
the matter of keeping them where they are sent is a wholly differ-
ent matter. In the final analysis, on however large a scale it may
be carried out, and however effective it may seem to be, distribu-
tion, as President Roosevelt put it in one of his messages to Con-
gress, ‘‘is a palliative, not a cure.’’ It can never solve our immi-
eration problems.

320 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS:
By Professor WILLIAM MORTON WHEELER

BUSSEY INSTITUTION, HARVARD UNIVERSITY

Lecture III. Part 2. Brrs Souirary AnD Socianu

The Meliponine, or stingless bees, are a very peculiar group
of nearly 250 species, all confined to warm countries. Fully four
fifths of the species occur only in the American tropics and only
about one fifth in the Ethiopian, Indomalayan and Australian re-
gions. All the Old World and the majority of the Neotropical
forms belong to the genus Trigona; the remainder of the American
species are placed in a separate genus, Melipona. The stingless
bees are much less hairy and much smaller than the bumble-bees.
Some of the species of Trigona measure less than 3 mm. in length
and are therefore among the smallest of bees. The colonies vary
greatly in population in different species. According to H. von
Ihering, those of Melipona may comprise from 500 to 4,000, those
of Trigona from 300 to 80,000 individuals. The name stingless
as applied to these insects is not strictly accurate, because a
vestigial sting is present. It is useless for defence, however, so
that many of the species are quite harmless and are ealled ‘‘an-
gelitos’’ by the Latin-Americans. But some forms are anything
but little angels. When disturbed they swarm at the intruder,
bury themselves in his hair, eye-brows and beard, if he has one, and
buzz about with a peculiarly annoying, twisting movement. Others
prefer to fly into the eyes, ears and nostrils, others have a penchant
for crawling over the face and hands and feeding on the perspira-
tion, or bite unpleasantly, and a few species spread a caustie secre-
tion over the skin. On one occasion in Guatemala large patches of
epidermis were thus burned off from my face by a small swarm of
Trigona flaveola.

There are three morphologically distinct castes. The queen
differs from the worker in the smaller head, much more voluminous
abdomen, more abundant pilosity, and in the form of the hind legs,
the tibiew of which are reduced in width and furnished with bristles
also on their external surfaces, while the metatarsi are elongate,
rounded and apically narrowed. The worker, therefore, really
represents the typical female of the species morphologically, ex-
eept that she is sterile, whereas the queen, except in her ovaries,

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 321

exhibits a degeneration of the typical secondary characters of her
sex. There is only one mother queen in a colony, but a number of
young daughter queens are tolerated. New colonies are formed by
swarming, that is, by single young queens leaving the colony from
time to time, accompanied by detachments of workers, to found
new nests. The body of the old queen is so obese and heavy with
eggs and her wings are so weak that she can not leave the nest
after it is once established.

The nests of the Meliponine are extremely diverse in structure.
They are usually in hollow tree-trunks or branches, less frequently
in walls. Some of the species nest in the ground, and a few (T.
kohli, fulviwentris, crassipes, etc.,) actually build in the centers

, , fit

FIG. 46
Cerumen spout, or nest entrance of a large colony of Trigona heideri Friese
nesting in a hollow tree at Kartabo, British Guiana. About 1/3 natural ,size.
Photograph by Mr. John Tee Van.
Vol. XV.—21.

322 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

of termite nests. The nest is made of wax, which most of the
species mix with earth, resin or other substances, so that it is
chocolate brown or black and is ealled ‘‘cerumen.’’ The wax
is secreted only between the dorsal segments of the abdomen, and
is produced by the males as well as by the workers—the one case
in which a male Hymenopteran seems to perform a useful social
function. The workers not only collect nectar and pollen but they
seem to have a greater propensity than other social bees for gather-
ing propolis, resins and all kinds of gums and sticky plant-exuda-
tions. And unlike other bees they are also. fond of visiting offal
and the feces of animals. One species is said even to eat meat
(T. argentata, according to Ducke).

The entrance to the nest may be a simple hole, but more often
it is a projecting cerumen spout or funnel, which differs consid-
erably in different species (Fig. 46). In some East Indian Tri-
gonas its lips are kept covered with sticky propolis to prevent the
ingress of ants and other intruders (Fig. 47AB). In most of the
South American species its orifice is guarded during the day by

FIG. 47
Cerumen entrances to nests of Meliponine bees. A. Of Trigona laeviceps
of India in profile; B, same seen from the front (After C. S. P. Parish); C,
nest entrance of Melipona quinquefasciata; D, nest entrance of Trigona limao
After F. Silvestri.

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 323

a special detachment of workers and is closed at night with a
cerumen plate or screen. The interior of the nest presents a pe-
culiar appearance. If it is in a hollow tree-trunk or branch the
cavity is closed off at each end by a thick lump or plate of cerumen
(the ‘‘batumen’’). The nest proper (Figs. 48 and 49), constructed
in the tubular space thus preempted, consists of two parts, one for
the brood and one for the storage of various foods and building ma-
terials. The brood portion consists typically of a hollow spheroidal

FIG. 48

Portion of nest of Melipona scutellaris, showing brood-comb (to the right)and the large honey pots and

Subdiagrammatic drawing from Emile Blanchard.

(to the left).

pollen pots

324 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

FIG. 49 }
Nest of Melipona sp. in hollow log, showing brood-comb (to the left), pollen
pots and honey pots (to the right). Photograph by Dr. E. F. Phillips. About
one half natural size.

envelope of irregular, interconnected cerumen lamin, forming the
walls of an elaborate system of anastomosing passage-ways and en-
closing a large central space occupied by a series of combs of hexa-
gonal cells. There is only one layer of cells in each comb and they
all open upwards, not downwards as in the social wasps. In some
species the combs are regular and disc- or ring-shaped structures, in
others they are arranged in a spiral or more irregularly. Their cells
are used exclusively for rearing the brood. In Melipona and some
species of Trigona they are all of the same size, but in several
South American species of the latter genus single larger cells are
constructed, especially towards the periphery of the combs, for
the rearing of queen larve. All this elaborate arrangement would
seem to be a preparation for a very specialized system of caring
for the young, but such is not the case. The workers, precisely
as if they were solitary bees, put a quantity of pollen and honey
into each cell, and after the queen has laid an egg in it, provide it
with a waxen cover, so that the larva is reared exactly like that of
a solitary bee. There is mass but not progressive provisioning and
the adult bees do not come in contact with the growing larve.
The queen-cells are treated in the same manner, the only differ-

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 325

ence being that they are provided with a greater amount of pollen
and honey. Among the species whose queen cells are no larger
than those in which the workers and males are reared, the queens
emerge with small ovaries and develop them later, but among the
species which build large cells for the queens, the latter emerge
with the ovaries fully developed. These differences are of consid-
erable interest in connection with the queen honey-bee.

Outside the cerumen involucre enclosing the brood combs the
workers construct large elliptical or spherical pots, some for the
storage of honey, others for pollen and in some species still others

FIG. 50
Nest of a small Trigcna (worker only 2.5 mm. long!) representing a new
species near T. goeldiana Friese, in the hollow internodes of a small Crecopia
angulata Bailey (sp. nov.) at Kartabo, British Guiana. a, brood-cells contain-
ing adult larve and pup; b, honey pots. Slightly enlarged. Photograph by
Mr. John Tee Van.

326 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

for propolis. In one species (7. silvestrii) the pollen-pots are
long and cylindrical while the honey-pots are small and spherical.
This same arrangement is known to occur also in one of the Euro-
pean bumble-bees (B. pomorum). The Meliponine may also store
other substances in the outer portions of their nests. In one nest —
of a black Trigona, which I observed at Kalacoon, in British
Guiana, there were several lumps, each weighing 10 to 20 grams,
of a hard substance closely resembling sealing wax in color and
consistency. The species which build their nests freely on the
branches of trees cover them with protective layers of cerumen
arranged like those surrounding the brood combs.

The Old World Trigonas (canifrons, according to W. A. Schulz)
and some of the South American species (timida, silvestrit and
cilipes, according to Silvestri; silvestrit and muelleri, according to
H. von Ihering; and a very small undescribed species allied to T.
goeldiana, which I found in British Guiana, represent a more
primitive stage in the construction of the nest (Fig. 50). The
brood cells in these forms are elliptical and are not arranged in a
comb but are isolated or loosely connected with one another by
delicate waxen beams, or trabecule. They are therefore essentially
like the cells of bumble-bees and solitary bees. It should be noted
also that the Meliponine, like the bumble-bees, tear down their
cells after they have been used and construct new ones in their
places.

The rearing of the brood of all the castes in closed cells, after
the manner of the solitary bees, is very significant, since it is the
only case among the social Hymenoptera of a complete lack of
contact between the adults and the larve. Even the bumble-bees
open their cells from time to time and feed the older larve, and
among the honey-bees the cells remain open throughout larval de-
velopment. It is obvious that the Meliponinew have either retained
unaltered the ancient method of rearing the young in closed cells,
employed by all the solitary bees, or have reverted to it after prac-
ticing a method more like that of the bumble-bees or honey-bees.
As there seem to be no cogent reasons for adopting the latter
alternative, I am inclined to believe that the former is the more
probable and that unlike the wasps these highly social bees have
never passed through a stage of actual trophallactic contact be-
tween mother and offspring. After considering the honey-bees I
shall return to this question.

The Apine, or honey-bees, are separated by a wide gap from
the Meliponine and Bombine and their origin is still wrapped in
obseurity. Certain species, referred by their authors to the genus
Apis, are recorded from the European Miocene (A. adamitica) ,
Baltic Amber and Upper Oligocene (A. meliponoides and hen-

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 327

shaw). The genus as it exists to-day comprises only four species:
dorsata, florea, indica and mellifica, the common honey-bee of our
apiaries. A. indica and mellifica are so very similar in structure
and habits and hybridize so readily that both Friese and von
Buttel-Reepen have regarded the former as a mere race, or sub-
species of the latter. Von Buttel-Reepen, however, has recently
raised indica to specific rank on what seem to me to be rather
dubious grounds. Inasmuch as dorsata, florea and indica are con-
fined to the Indomalayan region, it has been usually assumed that
mellifica, though now cosmopolitan, is also of South Asiatic origin.
But von Buttel-Reepen believes that it had its origin in Germany
and bases his opinion on the existence of the above-mentioned fos-
sils in Germany and on the fact that the true mellifica did not
exist in India till it was introduced by Europeans. The bee orig-
inally kept in that country by the natives was indica. The emi-
nent melittologist’s view is so startling that one is tempted to sup-
pose that he, like some other German investigators, is the victim
of a desire to make his fatherland the source of all good things.
The following considerations seem to me to leave little ground for
his opinion: First, if mellifica was not originally present in India
it is probably because indica happens to be the South Asiatic race
of the species. Second, the type of mellifica, that is, the form to
which Linnaeus first gave the name, is, of course, the dark German,
or northern race, and it is natural to regard the many local races
and varieties in other parts of Europe, in Africa and Asia as mere
modifications of the German type. But such a procedure is un-
warranted in phylogeny, since the selection of the German race
as the specific type was a mere taxonomic accident. Had a Hindoo
entomologist preceded Linnaeus, indica would be the type of the
species, and the Hindoo, aware of the existence of two other species
of Apis in his and neighboring countries and nowhere else, would
properly regard the genus as of South Asiatie origin and the species
indica as having spread to Europe and Africa and as having pro-
duced among others a dark Germanic race. Third, it is by no means
certain that the fossil forms, which have been described from im-
perfect specimens, really belong to Apis or that they are in the
direct line of descent to that genus. And even if we admit this to
be the case, it does not follow that they must have originated in
Germany. Fourth, granting that a race of mellifica existed in
that country during the Miocene, it must either have become ex-
tinct during the Ice Age or have been driven into Southern Eu-
rope. That this identical race and not a new one arising from
southern forms later returned to Germany is a pure supposition.
Fifth, the tropical origin of the honey-bee is indicated by its in-

328 THE “SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ability to form new colonies except by swarming, precisely like the
tropical Meliponine and Vespide. And while it is true that the
climate of Central Europe during the Oligocene and Miocene was
tropical or subtropical, the existence at the present time of at least
three distinct species of Apis in the Indomalayan region and no-
where else makes it seem much more probable that the ancestors
of mellifica emigrated from Asia into Europe than in the reverse
direction, especially as Southern Asia is a well-known center from
which many other animals have been distributed. The spread of
the honey-bee throughout the world is evidently due to its extraor-
dinary adaptability to the most diverse flowers and to a great
range of temperature, to its habit of storing large quantities of
honey and its ability to maintain a rather high temperature in the
hive during periods of cold weather. This unusual plasticity is
peculiar to the species and is not the result of domestication. The
insect, in fact, has never been domesticated.

rue, Gis
Honey-bee (Apis-mellifica), a, worker; b, queen; c, male (drone). Twice
natural size. After E. F. Phillips.

Like the Meliponine the species of Apis have three well-
developed castes (Fig. 51). Normally there is only a single queen
in the colony and she will not tolerate the presence even of another
young queen. Swarming takes place by the old queen leaving the
colony accompanied by a large detachment of workers when a young
queen is about to emerge from her cell, ‘and if several young
queens are to emerge in succession, the older leaves before the next
appears. It will be noticed that this is different from the swarming
of the Meliponinew, since in these bees the old queen remains in
the nest and the young queens accompany the swarms of workers.
When the queen’s eges are fertilized they develop into workers or
queens according to the way the larve are fed, but when unfer-
tilized into males or drones, as is also the case with the eggs that

‘SSOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 329

are sometimes laid by workers. All: the species of Apis make
pendent combs of pure wax, which is secreted only by the workers
and only between the ventral segments of the abdomen. The
combs differ from those of the Meliponine and wasps in consisting
of two layers of hexagonal cells, and the brood cells remain open
throughout larval development, the young being fed progressively.
The three species of Apis represent as many different phylogenetic
stages, which may be briefly described.

A. dorsata is the largest and most primitive form (worker
16-18 mm.; queen 23 mm.; drone 15-16 mm.). It builds from the
lower surface of a branch a single large semicircular comb, some-
times with a superficial area of a square meter. Its cells are regu-
larly hexagonal and all alike. Part of them are used for storing
honey, the remainder for the brood. In this species, therefore, the
workers, queens and drones are all reared in cells of the same
size and shape, like the species of Melipona and many Trigonas.
A. dorsata is a nomadic bee, which builds its comb where flowers
are abundant and after they have ceased to bloom deserts the
structure and builds a new one in fresh pastures. Owing to this
habit, all the attempts that have been made both in Europe and
the United States to establish this bee in apiaries have failed.

A. florea is the smallest species in the genus (worker 7-8 mm. ;
queen 13-14 mm.; drone 12 mm.) and in certain respects represents
an interesting transition between dorsata and mellifica. The drone
is peculiar in having a finger-shaped process on the inner border
of the hind metatarsus. “Like dorsata, florea makes a single
pendent comb, but it is much smaller and narrower and consists
of four different kinds of cells. At the base where the comb sur-
rounds the supporting branch the cells are hexagonal, large and
deep and are used for storing honey. Below these there is a broad
zone of small hexagonal cells for the worker brood and at the
apical fourth still larger hexagonal cells for the drone brood.
Finally, attached to the free border and depending like stalagtites
there are several long conical cells for the queen larve.

A. mellifica and its subspecies indica, ete., differ from dorsata
and florea in nesting in hollow cavities (tree-trunks, caverns,
hives) and in constructing several pendent combs side by side,
each presenting the types of cells seen in florea, except that there
is no special type for storage, the honey being kept in eells like
those used for rearing the worker brood. Moreover, the queen cells
are never built on drone but only on worker comb. The singular
shape of the queen cells (Fig. 52), so very different from the
hexagonal cells, and the fact that they are the only cells torn down
by the workers after being used, indicate that they are archaic

330 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

FIG. 52
Queen-cells of the honey-bee. Natural size. After E. F. Phillips.

structures of considerable phylogenetic significance. They are,
indeed, reminiscent of the only type of cell constructed by the
bumble-bees. But owing to the fact that conical queen cells occur
only in A. florea and mellifica and are the same in both species
we are unable to advance any reasons for their retention among
cells of the highly specialized hexagonal type. On rare occasions

FIG. 53
Comb built by a colony of honey-bees on the branches of a tree. From a
specimen in the American Museum of Natural History by which this photo-
graph and Fig. 54 were contributed.

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS dol

a swarm of honey-bees, failing to find a hive or hollow tree-trunk,
will construct its comb among the branches of trees or bushes.
Such exposed nests have been described by Bouvier, and there is
an unusually fine example in the American Museum of Natural
History (Figs. 53 and 54). It will be noticed that in form each
comb resembles the single comb of A. dorsata or florea.

Except in the development of her ovaries, the queen honey-bee
is a degenerate female, a mere egg-laying machine, entirely de-
pendent on her worker progeny. The pollen-collecting apparatus
of the hind legs, so well developed in the worker and so charac-

FIG. 54
Same comb as shown in Fig. 53, seen from the end.

332 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

teristic of the females of all non-parasitic, podilegous bees and of
the queens of the bumble-bees, is undeveloped, her tongue and
sting are shortened, her brain is smaller and she lacks the
pharyngeal salivary glands of the worker. That these differences
are due to larval feeding is proved by the experiment of transfer-
ring eggs and very young larve from worker to queen cells and
vice versa. Transferring eggs from drone to worker or queen
cells does not, however, alter the sex of the insect reared, since it
develops from an unfertilized egg. Under normal conditions the
time required for the development and the chemical composition
of the food administered to the larve differ for the three castes.
The difference in the rate of development is shown in the follow-
ing table from von Buttel-Reepen: ;
DURATION OF DEVELOPMENT IN THE HONEY-BEE

(After von Buttel-Reepen)
QUEEN WORKER DRONE

DEVELOPMENT OF THE BROOD (DAYS) (DAYS) (DAYS)
Duration of egg (embryonic) development................. 3 3 3
Duration of larvaledeyelopment.....2: 2 c2ssscectes ane eat eee 6 6 6
Duration of spinning and resting period...................... 2 4 7
Changer of: pupay Om We Oe 8. - ence e se eee teeter 5 8 8

TUN Gea a Geese oe see cn nnn dt Lun eae pence eee 16 21 24

The composition of the food, which, for the queens and the
earliest stages of the workers and drones, is a secretion (‘‘royal
jelly’’) of the pharyngeal glands of the worker nurses, is shown
in von Planta’s table taken from the same author:

COMPOSITION OF LARVAL FOODS OF THE HONEY-BEE
(After von Planta)

QUEEN DRONE LARV WORKER LARVE
PERCENTAGES OF LARV UNDER’ OVER UNDER OVER
DRIED SUBSTANCE (AVERAGE) 4DAYS 4DAYS AVERAGE 4DAYS 4DAYS AVERAGE
Proteid” 2221s 43.14 55.91 31.67 43.79 53.38 27.87 40.62
Blaby seta: aca eee 13.55 11.90 4.74 8.32 8.38 3.69 6.03
Sugar) (22h. eee 20.39 9.57 38.49 24.03 18.09 44.93 31.51

We see from these tables that the queen, although the largest
of the three castes, reaches maturity in about 16 days. She is fed
only on ‘‘royal jelly,’’ without admixture of honey or pollen.
These highly nutritious rations (43.14 per cent. proteid) are un-
doubtedly responsible for her very rapid growth. The worker is
given pollen and honey after the fourth day and requires 21 days
to complete her development. The feeding of the drone is similar,
but he receives less sugar and more fat and his development is pro-
tracted to 24 days.

The foregoing considerations suffice to show the complexity of
the whole matter of sex-determination and caste-differentiation in

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 333

the honey-bee. There are libraries of contentious discussion of
these subjects, which can not, of course, be adequately treated in
a general lecture. Although all competent authorities agree that
the drones arise from parthenogenetic or unfertilized eggs and
the queens and workers from fertilized eggs, it is impossible, in
the present state of our knowledge, to decide between two different
theoretical interpretations of the facts. According to one, first
stated by Dzierzon and more recently maintained by Weismann
and his pupils and especially by von Buttel-Reepen, the queen lays
only one kind of egg, which is potentially indifferent but has its
sex determined at the moment of fertilization; according to the
‘other, advocated by Beard, von Lenhossek and Oscar Schulze,
there are really two different kinds of eggs, one of which does not
need to be fertilized and develops into the drone, whereas the other
requires fertilization to be viable and develops into a queen or a
worker. Normally the queen lays unfertilized eggs only in the large
drone cells and fertilized eggs only in the small worker cells and
the peculiar conical queen cells. The hypothesis that the difference
in the width of the cells is the stimulus which causes the queen to
close or open the duct of her spermatheca and thus prevent or
permit the exit of sperm while the egg is passing from the ovaries
on its way to being laid, can not be accepted, because the queen
often oviposits in cells which have had only their basal portion
completed. Moreover, this hypothesis will not apply to the
Meliponine, which rear males and workers in closed cells of the
same size or to cases like those of the solitary wasps described in
the preceding lecture and many solitary bees which regulate the
size of the cell and the amount of provisions according to the sex
of the offspring. These peculiar phenomena, first observed by
Fabre in Osmia, Halictus and Chalicodoma, have been recently
confirmed by Verhéff, Héppner and Armbruster. Thé observations
show that the female bee must be aware of differences between
her eges sometime before she begins to lay them and certainly be-
fore there are any such stimuli as contact of her abdomen with
the walls of the cell.
Referring to the Dzierzon theory, Phillips says: ‘‘The facts
observed in the apiary on which this belief is based are as follows:
(1) If a queen is unable to fly out to mate or is prevented from
mating in some way she usually dies but if she does lay eggs, as
she may, after three or four weeks, the eggs which develop are all
males; (2) if when a queen becomes old her supply of spermatozoa
is exhausted, her offspring are all males; (3) if a colony becomes
queenless and remains so for a time, some of the workers may
begin egg-laying and in this ease too only males develop. The

334 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

author has found that many eggs laid by drone-laying queens fail
to hatch and, in fact, are often removed in a short time by the
workers. This makes it impossible for us to accept Dzierzon’s
statement that all eggs laid by such a queen become males and
the statement must be modified as follows: all of those eggs laid
by a drone-laying queen which develop become males. The poten-
tialities of the eggs which never hatch are not known. In addition
to the facts here stated, the theory of the parthenogenetic develop-
ment of the drone is supported by investigation of the phenomena
of development in the ege.’’ He becomes more explicit in the fol-
_ lowing passage: ‘“‘If we take into consideration the important
fact that not all eggs of an unfertilized (drone-laying) queen
hatch, then the bee does not appear as an exception in nature.
It seems clear, however, that the statement of Dzierzon that all the
eggs in the ovary are male eggs can not be accepted and it is, in
fact, not improbable that the eggs destined to be females die for
want of fertilization, while the eggs destined to be males, not re-
quiring fertilization, are capable of development. It should be
understood that the casting of doubt on Dzierzon’s theory of sex
determination does not invalidate his theory in so far as it pertains
to the development of males from unfertilized eggs.’’

There are also several cases of hybridization that seem to in-
dicate that Dzierzon’s theory is only a partial or approximate in-
terpretation. When a yellow Italian queen bee mates with a black
German drone, the drone offspring, being fatherless, should of
course be yellow like the mother, whereas the workers should com-
bine the characters of both their parents. This is often the ease,
but although von Buttel-Reepen is a staunch supporter of Weis-
mann and adheres rigidly to the Dzierzon theory, he is compelled
to admit that occasionally ‘‘when an Italian queen is fecundated
by a German drone, numerous blended hybrids (‘‘Misehlinge’’)
appear during the first year, but during the second year almost
exclusively Italian, and in the third year exclusively Italian work-
ers are produced, so- that the population must be regarded as
purely Italian.’’ He has himself witnessed this phenomenon and
states that it has also been observed by Donhoff, Dzierzon and Cori.
The only explanation von Buttel-Reepen has to offer is that the
sperm, stored in the spermatheca of the queen, may in the course
of time be increasingly affeeted by the secretions of her spermo-
philous glands, which keep the paternal elements alive during the
three to five years of her hfe. The facts can hardly be explained
on Mendelian principles even if we make all due allowance for the
impurity of the German and Italian strains that produced the
hybrids. It looks as if, at least under certain conditions, workers

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 335

might develop from unfertilized eggs. According to Onions, the
workers of a South African race of honey-bees are able to produce
workers parthenogenetically, and Reichenbach, Mrs. A. B. Com-
stock and Crawley find the same to be true of worker ants of the
genus Lasius.

I believe that Phillips, in the remarks above quoted, suggests
an important fact which has been too little noticed and may ac-
count for much misunderstanding in regard to sex determination in
the honey-bee. Accurate knowledge of the life-history of a par-
ticular individual in a colony of social insects is almost or quite
unattainable, for two reasons: first, the egg can not be isolated
and the larva brought up by hand, like a young chick, because it
requires the presence of nurses of its own species and they will not
rear it under abnormal conditions ; and second, the workers of many
social insects are very fond of eating the eggs and young larve
and these same workers or the queen not infrequently at once lay
eggs in the place of those devoured. This behavior is especially
common and disconcerting among the ants. Now a rigid control
would require not only that the mother insect should be observed
during the very act of oviposition but that the egg and resulting
larva should be kept under constant observation day and night till
the completion of development. <A relay of observers, changing
every few hours for two or three weeks, would therefore be needed
in order to make sure that a particular adult had developed from
a particular egg, and it would be necessary to observe many indi-
viduals in such a manner before we should have the data for ae-
curate conclusions. In fact, we shall need all the resources of a
specially equipped laboratory, with a specially trained staff, for
any final solution of many of the peculiar developmental problems
suggested by the honey-bee and other social insects.

‘Among these problems we should also have to include that of
the differentiation of the two female castes, that is, the problem as
to whether the worker and queen arise from one kind or from two
different kinds of eggs. The experiments of transferring larve
of different ages from worker to queen cells, as previously stated,
and the existence of series of transitional forms between the worker
and the queen, naturally lead to the view that there is only one
kind of female egg and that the character of the larval food after
the fourth day determines whether the adult is to be a worker
or a queen. This may be true of the honey-bee, but, as we shall see,
observations on certain ants and termites indicate that there may
be more than one kind of female egg.

The main object of the rich and abundant food administered
to the larva of the queen honey-bee is evidently the rapid develop-

336 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ment of her ovaries, so that she may begin to lay eggs very soon
after emergence. This is also indicated by the conditions in the
Meliponine. The Melipona queen, which is reared in a closed cell
of the same size as that of the workers and on the same amount of
food, emerges with rudimentary ovaries and has to develop them —
by subsequent feeding during her adult instar, whereas the
Trigona queen, which is reared in a large cell with more food than
is given to the worker larve, emerges with mature or nearly
mature eggs in her ovaries. All these queens, however, are distin-
guished from the cospecific workers by certain degenerate or
primitive characters, which, it would seem, must owe their pe-
culiarities either to the indirect, inhibiting or modifying action
of chemical substances (enzymes) in their food or to the more
direct action of hormones, or internal secretions produced by the
developing ovaries. The great size of the ovaries in the queens of
all these social bees accounts, of course, for their extraordinary
fecundity and the size of their colonies. Cheshire computed the
number of eggs which may be laid during her lifetime by a vigor-
ous, fecundated honey-bee queen as about 1,500,000, and, accord-
ing to von Buttel-Reepen, we should find in her spermatheca no
less than 200,000,000 spermatozoa. It is not surprisisng, there-
fore, that a hive, at the time of its climax development during the
early summer, may contain 50,000 to 60,000 or even 70,000 to
80,000 bees.

In conclusion I may refer to one of the negative peculiarities
of social bees—the absence of that peculiar interchange of nutri-
ment between the adult and larva, or trophalaxis, which seems to
be a powerful factor in integrating and maintaining the colonies
of the social wasps. Among the Meliponine the food and egg are —
simply sealed up in the cell, so that there can be no contact be-
tween adults and larva, and even the honey-bee worker does not °
place the food on the mouth of the larva but pours it on the bottom
of the cell where it can be imbibed when needed. So far as known,
the bee larva, unlike the wasp larva, produces no salivary secre-
tion to attract its nurses, though it might be going too far at the
present time to say that this is certainly not the case. It is quite
probable, nevertheless, that the sources of the development and
perpetuation of adult and larval contact, so essential to the main-
tenance of social life among the Bombinx, Meliponine and Apine,
are to be looked for in other directions. Hermann Miller long ago
pointed out, as I stated in the preceding lecture, that the transi-
tion of the adult wasp from an insect to a nectar and pollen diet
was due to economy of food. These latter substances represent a
very concentrated and energizing food supply and one that can be

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 337

-

more readily obtained in great abundance than insect food. Hence
it is not surprising that a large group of insects like the bees has
become so exquisitely anthophilous, and that the exploiting of
larval secretions is unnecessary. It will be noticed that all three
subfamilies of social bees store quantities of pollen and honey in
open cells and such easily accessible stores of liquid and very finely
divided food make even the reciprocal feeding of the adult workers
in bee colonies superfluous. This storage of food may be at least
one of the reasons why such exchanges of nutriment as we observed
among the social wasps and shall see again in a more exaggerated
form among the ants and termites were either never developed
or were long ago discontinued by the social bees.

Vol. XV.—22.

338 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE PATH AS A FACTOR IN HUMAN
EVOLUTION

By RALPH E. DANFORTH

UNIVERSITY OF PORTO RICO

i path and the wilderness, formerly in harmony, are now at
odds. Certain elements of the wilderness are essential to
the best evolution of man. The path is also essential; therefore a
reasonable measure of harmony between it and the wilderness
should be restored and retained. This restoration and retention
might be included in our broad term conservation.

Millions of years before man became human some of the primi-
tive worms and insects made paths; some of the lower vertebrates
did likewise, and many of the earliest mammals of remote Triassic
times doubtless made paths and runways of many sorts. The
Triassic, Jurassic and Cretaceous together constitute the Mesozoic,
or age of reptiles, which according to some geologists lasted nine
million years; and throughout this long time our earliest mam-
malian ancestors were small creatures, the largest not exceeding
a rat or rabbit in size, hiding for their lives from many a reptilian
foe, both large and small.

With the close of the age of reptiles and dawn of the age of
mammals, which some estimate to have been three million years
ago, mammalian species evolved with great rapidity and in many
directions. Mammals small, medium and large, and of wonderful
diversity were produced. Of these some still made paths of one
sort or another, and many of their constantly evolving offspring
continued to do likewise.

Among our modern mammals we now find many famous path-
makers. When man’s more recent ancestors departed from ar-
boreal life and remained more upon the ground again, like their
remoter pre-arboreal ancestors, they must have made frequent use
of the ready-made paths of their contemporaries, some of which
fell victims to early man, while others at times made of him a
victim. From that time, throughout the many thousands of years
of savagery man made an increasing use of paths, himself be-
coming an important pathmaker where he walked from place
to place repeatedly, yet often departing from his paths to search
the all-surrounding wilderness.

THE PATH AS A FACTOR IN HUMAN EVOLUTION 339

Some of the ablest students of human evolution to-day assert
that earliest man lived in a part of Asia where the physiography
and climate were changing so that the abundant rain-forests were
gradually forced to give place to a dryer and more open park-like
country ; changes which obliged the arboreal inhabitants either to
migrate or to perish or to modify their mode of life. Potent as
such environmental changes may have been as aids to man’s trans-
formation from an arboreal creature to a terrestrial man, there
were doubtless other deeper-seated factors contributing to the
same end. This change from an arboreal to a terrestrial life has
been a fruitful field for thought research and discussion among
men of science, and it is likely that more thoroughgoing investi-
gation may throw more light upon it. But this is a digression
from my theme. Whatever the causes, the fact of the change is
plain, and not doubted by any biologist.

Throughout the long, ensuing age of human savagery man had
his paths, yet breathed the same pure, dust-free air to which the
lungs of his mammalian relatives and ancestors had been accus-
tomed. The lungs of his reptilian and amphibian relatives and
ancestors breathed air equally pure.

The age of savagery gave place to the age of barbarism. Some
of man’s paths became crude streets and highways. Domestic
animals, small or large, strayed or were driven along the ways.
The wilderness became more netted with paths, and portions of it
here and there gave place to crude agriculture. But it still was
essentially the same wild, beautiful, fascinating thing. Wonder
and mystery, game, adventure, peril, excitement and peace were
found in the wilderness. The forests and the mountains, the lakes,
valleys and streams ever lured the early children of men to wander
into the wilderness, seek out its treasures, and learn its secrets by
a life of daily familiarity. Some, less bold, dreaded the wilderness.
Some, precocious in urbane awakenings, kept to the beaten paths.
Some, indolent or effeminate, stayed to be pampered or scolded
by the women. None of them remained within cave or within hut
very long, for daylight was preferable to darkness or flickering
firelight when storm or sleep did not drive them in. Window glass
was not to come until long after civilization had replaced barbarism.
Any opening in a dwelling admitted not only light, but volumes
of outdoor air. Woman’s work must be done out in front of the
primitive dwelling place for light. The indoor life could not be
lived by any one. Such were our forerunners for countless gen-
erations. Our artificialities of the present day are of mushroom
growth, having sprung up, as it were, in a moment in contrast to
the long ages we have been living the more natural, outdoor life.
Our muscles were built for daily exertion, prolonged and varied,

340 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

not for the rocking chair, office chair and automobile. Long hunts
over the mountains, long toil in the fields or at domestic tasks,
these were what trained our muscles, developed our frames, and
made our forebears the sturdy, worthy stock from which our virile
race has sprung. To-day are any of us wasting, through disuse,
our inheritance of strength? Are any developing one-sidedly a
well-rounded nature? Do any miss the free, large, open spaces,
the virgin forest, the untrammeled wilderness? Do any long to
step forth in the morning into a world of natural beauty, reaching
out in boundless prodigality as far as the eye can see? Do any
feel a sense of loss, as though something great had gone, not easily
to be restored? It would not be strange if many felt such secret
stirrings, after so long an inheritance in the wilderness and so
short an adaptation to our present conditions. The wonder is that
so many should have lost, in a few paltry centuries, or even in a
few actual years, the inheritance and the instincts of the ages.
Man’s marvelous plasticity has made possible to-day’s civilization.
The human species has shown great adaptability and variability,
a distinction which is shared by many other species, notably the
internal parasites, which have made such peculiar changes of habit
and habitat in adapting themselves from a free outer life to a life
of confinement and parasitism within some organ of its host. Many
and curious are the changes of life habit which these species have
undergone; and not only have their habits changed, but their ex-
ternal and internal structures have been modified, in some cases
involving the loss of most of the nervous system and all of the
digestive system. There has not yet been time for man to undergo
any physical changes so far-reaching and so permanent as these,
but in the little time in which our European ancestors have
crowded their paths and their dwellings together into what we call
cities, with their smoke and dust and artificial floor and scenery,
our life has changed to such an extent that our bodies are chang-
ing in response so quickly as to alarm the trained physical ex-
aminer.

Life in factory and office and store and home is as different
from the life our ancestors led through the ages as can well be
imagined, more different even, in its essential features, than our
terrestrial wilderness life was from the preceding arboreal life.
The effects on both mind and body are equally radical. The ever
plastic human being responds to these inner and outer changes with
a speed which, compared with the geological ages of past evolution,
bids fair to produce a radically different creature from that which
we have known as our human selves in the past.

Three courses are open to us, and a fourth might be conceiv-

THE PATH AS A FACTOR IN HUMAN EVOLUTION 341

able, but this fourth—a complete break with ‘‘modern civiliza-
tion’’—does not seem at all probable. These three courses are:
(1) that the whole human race be involved in the rapidly growing
whirlwind which in its present stage of development we call, rather
proudly ‘‘our civilization’’ as though we had deliberately planned
it as a complete entity, when no one ever conceived of such a thing,
and no one even to-day has the ability properly to evaluate the
civilization now in existence; (2) that a part of the human species,
reluctant to mutate or evolve into the strange new species which
the onward sweep of ‘‘civilization’’ is producing, deliberately keep
themselves apart in the yet remaining open places, guarding these
zealously as the domain of the creature known to-day by scientists
as Homo sapiens, the remainder of the race evolving rapidly into
some other kind of Homo, or even into a different genus in time;
(3) that the entire race of Homo, not wishing to become anything
other than sapiens, but rather more so, and making use of all his
splendid new means of intercommunication the world around,
construct an intelligent plan to conserve all the best that the wilder-
ness contained and preserve these perpetually in close conjunction
with the best, and only the best, which innovations have to offer.

The wilderness and the path, so easily at odds to-day, must be
restored to harmony, a harmony built upon a foundation which
cannot again be shaken. The best of all that earth and heaven can
yield is none too good for lordly man as he aspires to a better,
greater man in future.

Many questions will arise in evaluating the permanent worth
of the host of innovations daily pressing their almost irresistible
claims upon us. But we will not willingly let the spirit of the ma-
chine grind us in its cogs until we are ourselves converted into mere
machines of clay, reflecting the nature of the machine—civilization
—which ground us.

The great machine civilization, embracing all its component
machines and inventions and discoveries and methods of life,
would then need to be kept thoroughly human, humanized by all
the best that is in the human heart, with all the love of the beauti-
ful, with all the esthetic joy in wild and lovely scenery, with all
the satisfying health from breathing air of wilderness purity, with
all the thrill of action when the muscles and sinews of the man
propel him exultantly through the forest, over the mountains and
through the waters. No mere combination of automobile and cloud
of dust and office chair can truly satisfy the Homo sapiens of the
ages. The path must lead quickly to the wilderness. The wilder-
ness must even pervade and beautify the aggregations of our paths.
The bare, artificial ugliness of the modern city must be stripped

342 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

from it and in various ways replaced by natural beauty. The dust
nuisance must be completely removed from all roads and paths,
which should be clean and sweet as the woodland lane, and these
roads should be so wisely and artistically planned that as few as
possible may suffice. The wilderness should everywhere be en-
couraged and perfected and utilized to the full.

The wilderness is fully able to supply to the maker of paths
much which will administer not only to his esthetic joys, but also
to his highest and most lasting economic good. The ideal world,
in the future, will perfectly harmonize and blend the wilderness
and the path.

The function of the path as a factor in human evolution has
been apparent throughout the preceding lines. Upon the number,
arrangement and nature of these paths, roads and streets depends
the nature of our civilization and the nature of the life we lead,
and this in turn reacts constantly upon ourselves, ‘‘body, mind
and estate.’’ By our evolution we mean all those changes which
take place in our habits of life and thought, as well as the physical
changes constantly taking place in all living beings. Man is one
of the most plastic and changeable of beings, quickly responding
to factors of every sort.

Man can not, even if he should wish to, remain the same from
one century to another. Recent centuries have marked, perhaps,
the greatest changes in the given time, for the greater changes
in our past were the product of uncounted ages. The path will
always be an important factor in our progressive evolution by
reason of the profound, or better, the fundamental bearing it has
upon the kind of life we lead and the kind of being we are or are
to become.

Where the path leads man will follow. To the kind of path
man’s foot conforms itself, and his lungs and his mind and his
muscles and his stomach and his spirt are all affected directly or
indirectly by the nature of the path and where it leads. Man may
to a great extent be the creator of the world he lives in; he will
always be its mirror.

WHY DO WE LAUGH? 343

WHY DO WE LAUGH?

By Professor WILSON D. WALLIS

REED COLLEGE

NLY those who have taken the world seriously can see the
humor of it, and only those who have a keen sense of humor
ean afford to take it seriously. The funny grows out of the serious
as much as it grows out of the humorous. It is only in so far as
the ancients took themselves and their dogmas seriously that we
ean laugh at them; when we find them laughing at themselves we
have hit upon something worthy of our serious consideration, for
their laughter is the gauge of their seriousness.

It is the serious which unwittingly reveals the shallows, as it is
the comic which often plumbs the serious to its depths. It is only
because the child takes his pretensions seriously that we find them
funny; his merriment is not itself funny, though it may sympa-
thetically arouse us to share his laughter. In the latter case, how-
ever, we laugh with rather than at him. Oliver Wendell Holmes
has said that we start by laughing with a man at his jokes, but in
course of time come to laugh at him. This happens only when he
attaches too much importance to his jokes.

As laughter is one way of appraising the serious, so the comic
must be taken seriously if it is to be rated at its true value. No
one understands a joke by laughing at it; he laughs at it because
he understands it. He must moreover, understand it in a flash,
not by a gradually dawning comprehension. To arouse laughter,
his appreciation of the ‘‘point’’ of the joke must be almost in-
stantaneous, however long he may be in preparing for that appre-
ciation. He must have a direct and clear intuition of the situation,
rather than a dim consciousness of it. He must see it in its full-
ness rather than in its parts.

Laughter is essentially a social phenomenon, almost as much so
as is language itself, the two being very similar in origin as m
function. ‘‘Laugh and the world laughs with you’’ may be true
when there is a world society; at present, ‘‘Laugh and your social
group laughs with you’’ would come nearer the truth. Or let us
put it differently and say that when you laugh and how you laugh
depends upon how and when your group laughs, much as your
sentiments and language are determined by the sentiments and

344 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

language of the group. As people mumble to themselves, so they
may chuckle to themselves; yet laughter is no occupation of a
Robinson Crusoe, but the pursuit of a man whose life is spent amid
that of his fellows. Laughter, moreover, serves a useful purpose
in group life, especially on the lower levels where solidarity and
uniformity are necessary in the competition with surrounding
groups. It implies a common standard and is an efficient instru-
ment in holding the group to that standard—a much more efficient
instrument than scolding. A man who cannot laugh is no social
being and is scarcely human. We find no human societies in which
laughter does not figure as part of the social life, as, in fact, a
part of the group language. If scorn is the lash, laughter is the
jolly policeman who keeps the social traffic going after the approved
manner, whose power inheres not in itself, but lies in the tribal
standard which it bodies forth. Ethnologists have not found a
group of human beings who are devoid of laughter of this sort.
A few examples of the expression and repression of laughter in
primitive society will make clear its social utility.

In their perverted pedagogy, the Australians teach the youths
what to do by showing them the things they should not do. As
part of the ordeal of training through which the young men pass
when being initiated into the tribal life, the old men perform
ridiculous pranks which the youth must watch, always restraining
the laughter which they tend to give way to at sight of these ex-
hibitions. A large part of these initiation ceremonies is designed
to give the young men a respect for their elders, this being one way
of inculeating such respect. Laughter at a person is, in a sense,
an assertion of superiority to him, and the youths may not risibly
make such assertion. The performance would be ridiculous if
done by any other than the aged. Performance by the aged takes
it out of the realm of the laughable, for the elders set the standards
for the group. An aged Fijian told Erskine that he was going
out to bury himself because he could not stand the jeers and
laughter of the ladies of the tribe, and said some caustic things
about the callousness of a European who did not care whether he
was laughed at or not. An Eskimo has little of the sensitiveness
which we associate with the intimacies of domestic life, but he can-
not stand the derision and laughter of a rival. He will sometimes
break over the tribal rules and kill the man who laughs at him.
He laughs best who laughs last—that is his argument, and it is a
convincing last word in the dispute. The tribesmen in the plains
area of North America are among the most tireless and daring
warriors in all primitive society, yet they can not stand the laugh-
ter, directed against them, of their fellow-men. Laughter is one

WHY DO WE LAUGH? 345

of the principal means of holding in line the members of the various
warlike organizations which flourish in these tribes. A man of one
of these societies who resents the abduction of his wife by a fellow-
member, this being no violation of the rules of his order, is laughed
at by the other members of the organization until his resentment
passes.

Let these examples suffice. They show that laughter is a means
of expressing and maintaining the group standard. It reminds
people of their place in the social group and is an efficient, if gentle,
reminder that they had better keep where they belong. It is an
expression of the proprieties of the occasion to which the individual
must attend. .

When a person laughs at himself, he is, in the main, assuming
the group standard, applying to himself the standards which the
group applies to him. He assumes in his own person the duties of
policing his conduct.

Little wonder, then, that the group should regard with serious
concern the individual who is lacking in the faculty of laughter.
He is largely on a par with the man who ean not render military
service to the group, who can not serve his fellows in the very
important enterprise of bringing into effective use that group
standard which makes for unity, though for unity at the price of
uniformity. He may be amenable to group standards, but he is
useless in the important task of holding others to that standard.

Laughter, it follows, is individually as well as socially self-
preservative. The laughter of the virtuous man is not that of the
vicious, for the virtuous and the vicious belong to different groups
and are maintaining different standards. There is no equality in
which there is no equality of laughter, no democracy in which
there is no democracy of laughter, no shifting of standards unless
there is a shifting in the things which elicit laughter.

There are, of course, marked intellectual elements in laughter.
The individual may laugh at the group and at their laughter.
Whether he does so depends upon his appreciation of group stand-
ards and upon his acceptance of them. His laughter at them
expresses this assumed superiority over them.

Perhaps the most frequent intellectual element in the situations
which elicit laughter is recognition of the unusual or of the unex-
pected. This frequently harks back to appreciation of departure
from, or unexpected conformity with, group standards. We sud-
denly perceive the situation as in keeping with, or as out of keep-
ing with, the social program, as a neat way of humiliating the
haughty, subduing the insubordinate, or thwarting an unexpected
departure from social routine. The intellectual element is largely
social.

346 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

A like-minded social reference tints the psychological elements
accompanying laughter. The experience is usually pleasurable,
though this is conditioned by the extent to which our laughter is
taken up by others who are present, that is, by the extent to which
it is appreciated by the group. To laugh when no one laughs with
you may be painful.

Laughter is not always elicited by the pleasurable, nor is it
always the expression of pleasure. It may be a means of ex-
pressing displeasure at personal pretensions. We may laugh in
spite of ourselves, though to the spite of another, and to our shame
and remorse, ashamed and sorry even while we laugh. These un-
controllable outbursts show the extent to which we are held in the
erip of the group standard, and the extent to which we enjoy
our assumed superiority.

This sense of elation upon the part of the laugher is almost
always present. It is not the mechanism of the man who stumbles
or fumbles which arouses our laughter, as Bergson would have us
believe; it is rather our elation at our own superiority. If we
know that we must immediately pass through a similar test and
will do no better than did he, his action is to us not nearly so funny
as it would otherwise be. We laugh at the sprightly middle-aged
man whose sight and agility should have saved him from the
banana peel; but we pity rather than laugh at the aged cripple
who had not these aids of discrimination and ready reflexes. Yet
the latter action is much more mechanical than the former. It is
true we recognize our superiority to the latter, but we do not
recognize it in any sense of elation, for we have not placed our-
selves on the same plane for comparison. With the middle-aged
man who is like unto us it is different: he indiscreetly does what
our discretion would not permit us to do. The behavior of the
feeble-minded elicits no laughter from those who have a lively
sense of what feeble-mindedness means; but these same actions
may elicit laughter from those who do not know that the per-
former is feeble-minded, or for whom this information conveys
no real knowledge of his condition. We laugh, in fact, not so
much at the act as at the person performing the act. This is as
true of the situation on the stage as of those in daily life, when alone
as when in a group. Pascal asked: Why do we laugh at a fool,
but do not laugh at the cripple? and answered: The one is crippled
in mind, but does not know it; the other is crippled in body, but
knows it. But, as was mentioned, if he is a congenital mental
eripple, we do not laugh at him; it is only because he ought to know
better that we laugh at him, never because he can not know better.

Now laughter, like any other social tendency, easily overflows

WHY DO WE LAUGH? 347

the channels of its social usefulness and may become a social
calamity rather than a social blessing. We often find it purpose-
less rather than purposive, controverting rather than supporting
the principles which we have laid down. This may e¢all for a more
careful orientation but does not contradict our explanation of
origin and function. As you ean not disprove the physiological
utility of hunger and appetite by pointing to dyspepsia, nor the
use of language by pointing to solecism, so you can not disprove
the use of laughter by pointing to its misuse.

If the above explanation of laughter arouses the laughter of
the critic who reads these pages, his hilariousness will prove my
point, for it will be an expression of his intellectual disapproval
and of his personal elation of superiority ; and if he does not laugh
at it, but takes it seriously, I assume that he has discovered in it
some elements of truth which may turn the laugh on rival theories.

348 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

SOME PROBLEMS OF PROGRESS

By Professor H. M. DADOURIAN
TRINITY COLLEGE

I

ROGRESS is the controlling idea of western civilization. The
man on the street discusses it as much as the philosopher.
The most reactionary claims it no less than the radical. It has its
place in the campaign material of the politician and comes into
the exhortations of the preacher. In fact it is the most widely
accepted doctrine of the present day. Yet the state of progress is
an accomplished fact only in one of the great divisions of human
activity, that is, in science. In the fields of economics and govern-
ment, for instance, it is only a hope and an expectation. I am
not using the term progress in the sense of a sequence of events,
not as the state implied by ‘‘we don’t know where we are going,
but we are on our way.’’ I am using it to denote a state of con-
tinuous advance with ever increasing rapidity toward an ideal

yet definite goal.

The state of change in the field of government or of economics
ean not be called progressive in the above sense of the term. Great
changes have taken place in these fields during the last 150 years,
but their character has been impulsive and intermittent, accompa-
nied with backward and forward oscillations. The political his-
tory of France from the revolution to the present day is a case
in point. Even the history of this country during the same period
is no exception. Although reactions comparable with those in
France have not occurred in this country, it must be admitted that
two of the three great steps towards an ideal of democracy were the
result of revolution and of war. The third great step, the exten-
sion of suffrage to women, was accomplished by peaceful means,
but as a setback we have the constant weakening of the actual if
not the theoretical power of the citizen as a voter, which has been
going on during the last one hundred years as a result of super-
ficial expansion of democracy without commensurate growth in
depth. The lack of simultaneous development of democracy along
other lines—principally along economic lines—has introduced into
the body politic forces and machinery which have made the fran-
chise as meaningless to the average citizen as the right of a small
stockholder to vote in the affairs of a large stock company. The

SOME PROBLEMS OF PROGRESS 349

extension of Hobson’s choice by our two-party system is counter-
balanced, it is needless to say, by the practical identity of the
aims and methods of the major parties.

If we consider any actual event as a necessary and inevitable
link in the chain of history, then the present is in advance of the
past whatever the character of the present state. Even a long
swing backward along the road is a forward stretch if it is unavoid-
able. If we do not take this fatalistic view, however, it becomes
debatable whether we have advanced far, if at all, during the last
hundred years in the totality of our theory and practice of de-
mocracy, social and economic, as well as political.

The intermittent method of advance in the fields of economics
and politics has, in the past, been destructive of wealth, of human
lives, of happiness. It has given rise to suppression, revolution
and war. It has aroused intense hatred between classes and races.
It has produced the misery of filthy slums, on the one hand, and
the debauchery of irresponsible wealth, on the other. If this
method has been ruinous in the past, it may become fatal, at least
to western civilization, if persisted in in the future. This is the
supreme lesson to be learned from the last war and from the de-
velopments of instruments of destruction. Western civilization is
at the parting of the way. It may follow its predecessors in the
path of destruction or it may strike out into the new path blazed
by science.

The idea of progress is less than three centuries old. It did
not become a generally accepted principle until after the middle
of the nineteenth century, and even then only in the western world.
Its late appearance in the history of civilization is due to the
world-wide misconceptions, incompatible with the idea of prog-
ress, which prevailed in the past with regard to the origin and
destiny of the human race and of its habitat. The Ancient Greeks
believed in the cycle theory of civilization. History repeated itself
in a series of cycles. Nothing was, or could be, new under the sun.
On the other hand, the Christians have followed the Hebrews and
earlier oriental peoples in believing in the initial degeneration
theory, according to which man and his world were created perfect
only a few thousand years ago, but on account of ‘‘man’s first
disobedience’’ and fall his race and his world were condemned to
a relatively short and miserable existence and to a final destruc-
tion, except for a chosen few who were to be saved from the wreck-
age of mankind.

There is no room for the idea of progress in either of these
theoriés. Therefore a reasonable doubt as to their validity was
necessary for the birth of the idea, and a more or less complete

350 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

overthrow of the theories for its growth and general acceptance.
This was accomplished by science. It showed that man has evolved
from lower stages of animal life to his present position during a
series of geologic periods of immense duration, and that he is likely
to exist on the earth for unnumbered generations to come without
fear of the world coming to a sudden end. Furthermore, science
demonstrated that with his present biological heritage it is pos-
sible for man to take great strides with ever increasing rapidity
toward understanding nature, formulating her laws, directing her
forces and applying them to life. In short, science made it pos-
sible for man to east aside his gloomy outlook of life and his
attitude of helplessness, and to take the destinies of his race into
his own hands.

But if man is really to control his destiny the state of progress
must be more than a hope and an expectation in all of the major
fields of human activity. The research spirit, the unbiased critical
mind and the experimental method of the scientist must prevail in
the fields of politics and economics as well as in science.

But are not the problems of government and of industry very
unlike those of science and far more difficult? Nobody can deny the
great difference between the problems, but any problem, if it is to be
solved, must be analyzed, formulated and eventually solved by the
human mind. The general line of approach must, therefore, con-
form to the fundamental laws of operation of the mind. There is
no reason, theoretical or experimental, why the scientific method
which has proved equally successful in such varied subjects as
astronomy and biology should not yield great results in the fields
of government and economics. As to the relative difficulty of the
problems no useful purpose is served by a blanket admission, or
denial, unless it is followed by a careful analysis of the causes
which contribute to the difficulties. It is safe to assert, however,
that the greater the difficulty the more forceful is the reason for
applying the only general method which has proved to be inva-
riably successful.

II

My object is to point out some of the prevalent theories which
are blocking progress in the fields of government and economics
(at least as they appear to one scientist), to indicate some of the
lessons which we could learn from the history of science, and to
outline a plan by which the scientific method might be applied in
these fields.

Tradition has been the most formidable enemy of progress in
all ages and in every field. Disguised in the latest and most popu-
lar fashions it has always worked to arrest progress or to misguide.
In the semblance of the guardian of souls, as the custodian of

SOME PROBLEMS OF PROGRESS 351

public morals and safety, in the guises of patriotism, of authority,
of loyalty and in many other more or less reasonable attires, it
has played havoe with human intelligence. It has been driven
out of the domain of science, but in the fields of government,
economics and religion it still holds its own. We have heard so
much about the conflict of science and religion and so little of any
conflict between science and politico-economics. Yet there exists
a real conflict between science and the rest, not so much because
of differences on specific questions, such as the origin of the world,
but because of the incompatibility of tradition with scientific spirit.

Only three centuries ago tradition ruled supreme in science.
For two thousand years the western world had looked back with
eyes fixed on Aristotle, producing a hypnotic state which made
progress wellnigh impossible. Galileo broke the spell by a
single crucial experiment. For centuries the world has been
taught by tradition that heavier bodies fall faster than light ones.
Galileo took a number of balls of different weight to the top of the
leaning tower of Pisa and by dropping them showed that they all
fell at the same rate. The effect of this simple experiment was
startling. It established once for all the experimental method as
the supreme test for truth in science.

It is interesting to note in this connection the state of mind
which tradition creates. The learned professors of the university
of Pisa would not believe their eyes. ‘‘Does he think,’’ they said,
‘‘that by such experiments he can shake our belief in the true
philosophy which teaches us that a hundred-pound ball falls one
hundred times faster than a one-pound ball? Such disregard of
authority is dangerous.’’ In the light of three hundred years of
scientific progress these men appear ridiculous to us. Could we
see ourselves in the light of a commensurate progress in politics
and economics we might be given to greater charity.

One of the obstacles in the way of progress in economics and
government is the prevalent conception of the function of a nat-
ural law. As an illustration, consider the statement ‘‘the laws of
economies are just as immutable as the law of gravitation,’’ which
is often used as an argument against any change in our economic
organization. To the scientist no law is immutable. However exact
our laws may be, they are subject to future revision and extension.
Einstein’s modification of the law of gravitation is a new evidence
of the soundness of this position. The real aim of those who argue
the immutability of economic laws, however, is to imply that at-
tempts to alter the conditions under which these laws operate
amount to attempting to change or to suspend the laws themselves
and consequently are doomed to failure. This is about as sensible as

352 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

telling a hydro-electric engineer who is building a canal to divert
the waters of a river that he is attempting to suspend gravitation.
The law of gravitation operates whatever the condition under
which water is made to flow. Similarly the law of demand and
supply, for instance, operates under all economic conditions.
Whether or not its operation under certain conditions is more
conducive to progress than under certain other conditions depends
upon the conditions. This question can only be decided by a com-
parative study of the actual operation of the law under the two
conditions and not by arguments regarding the immutability of
the law.

Let us take another illustration, this time from the field of gov-
ernment. Chief Justice Taft said in a recent decision, ‘‘The Consti-
tution was intended, its very purpose was, to prevent experimenta-
tion with the fundamental rights of the individual.’’ I suppose this
interpretation is historically correct and justified. The framers of
the Constitution were very much impressed by the encroachments
on the most elementary rights of the individual by Kings and other
government functionaries in the past and wanted to guard against
such possibilities in the future by constitutional guarantees. But
the problem in this connection has become rather a question of
adjustment of the rights of individuals than one of safeguarding
them. The time has come therefore to take the position that our
eonception of individual rights is in the process of growth, that
eonscious experimentation is one of the factors which should con-
tribute to this growth, and that the constitution should become a
guide for and not a barrier against such experimentation.

Again there is a widespread feeling that certain fundamental
conditions necessary for progress in government and economies
are lacking. This feeling is often expressed by the statements
“You can not change human nature’’ and ‘‘change of heart must
come first.’? But are these conditions necessary? Science has
shown conclusively that they are not. It is fortunate indeed that
they are not. For if progress were conditioned by a change in
the nature or in the emotions of man all hope for progress would
vanish into thin air. Human nature has not changed appreciably
since the stone age. The vast amount of effort expanded during
historical time with the explicit object of affecting a change of
heart has produced notoriously little result. These conditions are
neither necessary nor attainable within a reasonable length of time.

There is a condition, however, which is both necessary and
within striking distance, that is a change in the environment, in
the atmosphere, in which human nature functions. The civilized
gentleman of to-day behaves differently from his ancestors of the

SOME PROBLEMS OF PROGRESS 353

neolithic age because the environment has changed and not because
of a change in human nature. The soldier in action with his trench
knife in a German dug-out of the western front is not a wild boar
using his tusks. He is the same man whom you and I used to know
as a fine young man. He has had no change of heart. The stimulii
have changed, that’s all.

The importance for the future of mankind of a clear under-
standing of this point can not be exaggerated. By focusing atten-
tion upon the improvement of the environment in which his nature
functions and upon changing the stimulii which actuate his motives
and impel his passions man may achieve in the next four centuries
the results which he has vainly striven for during the last forty
centuries by trying to change the human heart.

A number of biologists have warned the people of this country
of a grave danger which is threatening to lower the hereditary
qualities of the American people. They claim with good reason
that civilization has upset the processes of natural selection. If
this warning is to produce the desired result, however, it must not
shift the main emphasis from the improvement of environment to
questions of biological selection. The surest and shortest course
to the improvement of our biological heritage les through the
betterment of the conditions which make progress possible. We
ean not afford to confound evolution with progress.

Another fallacy which has impeded progress in all ages is the
bugaboo of the danger lurking in the person of the radical. Now,
what constitutes a radical? Is he really dangerous in the sense that
the general public is made to understand it? In order to obtain an-
swers to these questions which will be free from the prejudices due
to the mores of any one land or of any one age, we must make a erit-
ieal study of the history of the radical in all lands and in all ages.
If we do this we find, first, that the radical has generally been a
man of ideals. His ideals have not always been very high nor his
ideas very practical; yet it must be admitted that his radicalism
has centered around ideas and ideals. Secondly, that most of the
great reformers in religion, in politics, in science (until recently),
and, in fact, in all important phases of life have been accused of
dangerous radicalism by their contemporaries. Thirdly, that the
radical of history has proved to be infinitely less dangerous than the
ambitious or the greedy. If there is one supreme lesson to be learned
from history, it is the fact that personal ambitions rather than
ideas have proved to be disastrous to civilization.

Go through your ancient and modern history and count the
number of wars, for instance, which you can conscientiously lay
at the door of the radical, and then remember that the inocuous
conservative had his share in the few revolutions for which the

VOL. XV.—23.

354 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

radical of history has been responsible. It is decidedly
unfair to deprive King George the Third of a small share in the
glory of the American war of revolution. It would be interesting
and instructive to speculate on the course which the history of the
world might have taken had the radicals of Germany in 1848 and
those of Russia in the sixties succeeded. Would Carl Schurtz and
his friends have proved to be as dangerous as Bismarck and the
ex-Kaiser, or Chaikowsky and his ‘‘circle’’ as destructive as the
late Czar and his entourage?

One of the most potent factors which has contributed to prog-
ress in science is the habit of the scientist to draw general conelu-
sions from carefully considered specific data. This is called the
inductive method of science. After finding that two apples plus
two apples make four apples and that this rule holds true for
rabbits and a number of other objects he arrives at the conclusion
that the rule holds for all objects. If a child had to learn the addi-
tion of each type of objects separately how fast and how far could
it progress? Yet man has behaved when confronted with a new
idea like such a child, especially when the new idea happened to
concern his dominant interest. When philosophy was the dominant
interest in Greece Socrates was accused and condemned for ‘‘eor-
rupting the youth.’’ At a time when religion was all important
in Judea the custodians of public morals arraigned Jesus before
Pilate with the charge ‘‘We found this fellow perverting the na-
tion.’? When tradition and authority of the church were con-
sidered of supreme import Galileo was sentenced to death for ‘‘dis-
regard of authority.’’ ‘‘Heresy,’’ ‘‘sedition’’ and ‘‘disloyalty’’
have been the magic words in all history which have set the hang-
man’s noose into action.

We have learned to tolerate differences of opinion on matters
of religion, to take a sympathetic attitude toward political refugees
from other countries, and even to welcome new ideas in science.
But when it comes to questions of economies and industry we draw
the line. We discuss the French revolution with equanimity. A
mere reference to the American revolution fills us with pride. But
when it comes to the Russian revolution the situation is completely
changed. We ean not see any good in it. We don’t want to see
anything good come out of it. Questions of transmission of
religious control and of political power through heredity do not
excite us for we have never believed in khalifates and have settled
the question of the divine right of kings. But we can not consider
with composure questions of transmission of economic power
through inheritance.

This is an age in which economic questions and problems of
government affecting economic conditions form the sacred grounds

SOME PROBLEMS OF PROGRESS 355

where one must not trespass. Yet absolute freedom of discussion
is far more necessary for progress in economics and government
than in science. The scientist can usually put his theoretical solu-
tion to the test of experiment. He can often build a model to
demonstrate that his solution is practicable. The student of eco-
nomics and of government is less fortunate. To be conclusive the
experiments in his field have to be carried out on a vast scale in
the laboratory of life, over which he has little or no control. The
economist who works out a solution for the problem of the most
efficient organization and operation of the railroads of this country
can not build a model of the country with Belascovian detail and
show the skeptic that his solution is workable. On account of this
handicap, the widest possible opportunity should be open for free
discussion of actual as well as proposed solutions of political and
economic problems. This is the absolute minimum necessary for
any possibility of progress in these fields without recourse to revo-
lution.

Since the world war, many a well meaning person in this coun-
try has tried to do away with this minimum on the ground that
eriticisms of existing conditions and discussions of possible changes
are subversive of democracy and consequently unamerican. These
persons either do not understand the implications of democracy,
or have no confidence in the ability of the people to exercise their
constitutional rights. If the people have to be sheltered and pro-
tected against contact with new ideas, good or bad, they can not
be in a position to govern themselves. Censorship of ideas and
true democracy are incompatible and mutually exclusive.

The road of progress ever penetrates into new and unknown
territory. Exploring, surveying, blazing, felling trees and clearing
the underbrush are just as essential for the extension of the road
as laying the foundation and putting on the top dressing of the
road in the cleared sections. It serves no useful purpose for those
engaged in the later stages of the construction to call the others
idlers or destroyers.

Another popular misapprehension which deserves our attention
relates to the function of parties in political progress. We are not
interested here with the merits of party government compared with
other democratic forms of government. Given the party form of
government, what is the proper conception of the function of
parties? That is the question which we want to consider. Persons
occupying exalted position in one of our major political parties
have attacked independent organizations such as the League of
Women Voters on the ground that political influence should be
exercised only by bodies organized explicitly as political parties.

356 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

One might just as well claim that all research and education in
the theory and application of electricity must be carried on through
duly incorporated electrical companies, preferably through the
Westinghouse and the General Electric companies. Electrical stock
companies are organized for the express purpose of making money
for their owners and not to carry on research and educational work.
Their function is to supply the country with electrical machinery.
If they do a little research work it is only to keep one step ahead
of their competitors. Education means to them the training of
the public to buy their wares. The main body of research in elec-
tricity has been carried on in the study room of the mathematical
physicist and in the laboratory of the experimental physicist.
Edueation has been and will always be the work of non-money-
making institutions. The situation in government is analogous.
The object of parties is to win political campaigns. Their fune-
tion is to administer the country in the way the majority
of the people think it should be administered. No party is qualified,
or ean afford, to carry on research necessary for political progress,
or to teach the public the results of recent researches. Political
education and research work in government must be carried on,
as we are now organized, by individuals and by non-partisan or-
ganizations, if we are to have progress in this field.

III

So far our discussion has centered mainly upon the contrast
between the spirit and attitude which prevails in science, on the
one hand, and in politico-economies, on the other. We will now
consider the scientific method of progress and see in what way it
might be applied to questions of government and economics.

The scientific method of progress consists of two complementary
processes. In one of the processes facts, collected through experi-
ence, observation and experiment, are used to obtain relations
among measurable magnitudes such as length, time intervals,
forces, ete. These relations are then assembled into an ideal struc-
ture. Geometry and the science of electrodynamics are examples
of such ideal structures. In the second process these ideal relations
become guides for the proper handling of known data and for the
discovery of new facts and relationships. The first is the process
of the building up of a theoretical system; the second is the process
of the application of the theory. The two together form the wheels
upon which science progresses. Without theory practice reduces
to the rule of thumb. Without the facts obtained by practice
theory becomes unmanageable.

There are two important details connected with the scientific
method which deserve special mention. First, the scientist defines

SOME PROBLEMS OF PROGRESS 307

as clearly and unambiguously as he possibly can every word which
represents an important concept. Secondly, as his ideal structure
grows by the discovery of new facts and relationships, he takes
scrupulous care to make it more stable and harmonious by re-
arranging, by altering and, if necessary, by discarding certain
parts.

The work of the students of the foundations of geometry of
the nineteenth century and Einstein’s achievements are examples
of how the scientist searches even the deepest and most solid parts
of the foundations of his ideal system for flaws, for weak points, for
incongruities. For 2,500 years Euclidian geometry had stood the
test of experiment and of the strictest logical thinking of the
greatest human minds. Yet the geometrician was not satisfied. Is
the postulate of parallelism an independent assumption or is it a
consequence of the other axioms of geometry? That was the ques-
tion which he asked relentlessly and for which he finally obtained an
answer that brought with it new systems of geometry. The New-
tonian conceptions of space and time formed the solid foundation
of the marvelous structure which science has erected during the
last three centuries. Yet Einstein asked himself ‘‘Are these con-
ceptions of space and time true to nature?’’ and found an answer
which opened a new world for science and philosophy.

In the fields of economics and government there is nothing
comparable with the two complementary processes which form the
scientific method. There is too much operation in these fields, and
too little science, too much of carpentry and too little of geometry,
too many operators of electrical machinery and too few who under-
stand electrodynamics. Students of government and of economics
appear to be more interested in the operation of the present ma-
chinery of organization than in the creation of new and more
efficient machinery, or in the building up of an ideal structure with
which existing organizations could be compared.

Have the students of the foundations of government (if such
exist) examined the famous trio of liberty, equality and fraternity
to see whether these foundations of democracy are compatible with
each other and with nature, or whether the traditions, the laws and
the conventions of democracy are in consonance with its basic prin-
ciples? Is it possible to have both liberty and fraternity? Is there
equality in nature? In what way should liberty be defined so as to
bring it into harmony with the responsibilities and the consequent
constraints implied by the postulate of the brotherhood of man?
How should democracy be organized so as to satisfy the aspirations
of man expressed in the term ‘‘equality?’’

The foregoing questions could be answered and a scientific

358 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

theory of democracy could be developed if a group of brilliant
scientists could be induced to devote ten years of their lives to
the study of democracy in government and in industry, and if they
could be organized for concerted effort. The group would have
the following objectives.

First: To discover and to formulate a set of postulates, or
principles, which are necessary and sufficient for the building up
of a theory of democracy, having regard to the adaptability of
the theory to life and of the postulates to the theory.

Second: To erect upon the postulates adopted as foundations
the theoretical structure of an ideal democracy which wili be
rational and self consistent.

Third: To draw up a working plan by which our actual de-
mocracy could be approached by successive approximations to the
ideal, say, during the next one hundred years.

The experts working for the first objective would be mainly
mathematicians trained in the foundations of geometry and
logicians like Bertrand Russell. The group drawing up the work-
ing plan would contain natural scientists, engimeers, psychologists,
economists and men of practical experience in government and
industry. The group working for the second objective would con-
tain all types of experts.

I do not want to give the impression that the foundations and
the superstructure of the theoretical democracy and the plan for
its materialization could be final. For a scientist finality has no
meaning. The theory as well as the working plan would be modi-
fied and improved constantly in the light of new experience. Yet
I am confident that even the first draft of the theory would be a
good enough model for the irrational and inefficient existing sys-
tems to copy. Nor am I under the illusion that there is a moderate
chance of the working plan being adopted by any country. The
usefulness of the scheme which I am proposing would be increased
if the plan could be adopted. Beyond that the question of its
adoption is not relevant to the scheme. Most of the researches in
mathematics and in natural sciences are carried on with little or
no expectation of practical application. Some of the most useful
applications of science to industry have come about indirectly from
researches which had appeared to have no possibilities of practical
application. The most useful engine ever invented is Carnot’s
ideal engine which can not be constructed except in idea. If direct
application were the deciding factor in the development of mathe-
matics and of natural sciences we should still be savages. The
scheme I have suggested would have its greatest usefulness
through its indirect reflection upon society.

BACOT, A MARTYR TO SCIENCE 359

BACOT, A MARTYR TO SCIENCE

By ARTHUR H. SMITH, Ph. D.
YALE UNIVERSITY

BOVE one of the portals in Memorial Hall at Yale is the in-
seription, ‘‘We who must live salute you who have found
strength to die.’’ This sentiment is dedicated to those students
who gave their lives on the battle field for their country. No
village or hamlet in this or any other country is too small to have
a monument to its soldier dead. Romance, fearless heroism and
tender memories crystallize out of wholesale human combat. But
there have been other struggles which have claimed their share
of human interest—spiritual contests, strife against fear and super-
stition and struggles against disease and pestilence.

The advance of civilization has been made quite as often by
individual effort as by group endeavor. In the history of progress
in medicine we have countless instances of men who have unselfishly
spent their efforts in study and tireless experimentations for the
advancement of knowledge. And then we have those selfless souls
who have given not only their efforts but their lives in the struggle
for mastery over ignorance and disease.

The story of the conquest of yellow fever must always bring
to mind the brave group of army surgeons who carried on their
experiments among the mosquito-infested swamps of Cuba imme-
diately after the Spanish-American war. One of the men, Dr.
Jesse W. Lazear, died with yellow fever, contracted through the
bite of a stray infected mosquito which he refrained from killing
in order to study its method of attack and because he feared to
disturb the patient on whom he was working. That fact is
stranger than fiction is brought home to us again in the account
of the discovery that Rocky Mountain fever is transmitted from
one animal to another by ticks. Through the brilliant work of
Dr. H. T. Ricketts we now know that at times the adult tick ac-
cidentally bites man, thus causing spotted fever. After isolating
the organism responsible for this disease, Ricketts turned his atten-
tion to typhus and discovered that this affection also was trans-
mitted by an insect. It was while pursuing this work in Mexico
that he was stricken with typhus and died. Both Lazear and
Ricketts were fully aware of the virulence of the disease they were

360 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

studying, yet neither hesitated in his attack on the unknown. The
fact that these men fought an intangible and elusive but none the
less deadly enemy with the instruments of the laboratory and
finally gained a victory for human welfare entitles them to a
place among the heroes whose praises are seldom suny but upon
whose achievements the comparative comfort and safety of our
present life so largely rests. It is the account of the latest of
these martyrs of science to which I wish to refer.

The British medical news dispatches have recently reported
the death on April 12th of Arthur William Bacot in Cairo. In
January, 1922, he had gone at the invitation of the Egyptian gov-
ernment to carry on further investigations on typhus, not as a
result of a serious outbreak of the disease, but in an effort to obtain
more definite information about it for preventive measures. Mr.
Bacot contracted typhus while handling infected lice. The career
of this professional-layman who has contributed so much to our
knowledge of insect-borne diseases is worthy of special notice.

Until 1910 he was a clerk in London. On Saturday afternoons
and on Sundays he crept away from his drudgery out of the city
into the country and pursued the study of entomology with pas-
sionate zeal. Apparently he developed his powers for careful,
detailed observation on these week-end trips, for one of his early
discoveries was that the eggs of gnats will not hatch in absolutely
clean water. He became known as an expert on the Lepidoptera
and published accounts of his remarkable experiments upon the
breeding of moths. In all of this early work there was shown evi-
dence of a skill and fineness of technic which was to be useful to
him in his later work; and the enthusiasm and freshness of outlook
of the amateur became so firmly developed that his later profes-
sional entomological work was uniquely characterized by these
very qualities.

Until he was past the prime of life, science was his avocation.
In 1910 came his first commission of a professional nature when
he assisted in the study of the bionomics of fleas for the Indian
Plague Commission under the auspices of the Lister Institute. As
a result of his excellent work, he was appointed to the post of
entomologist of the Lister Institute, an advancement which was
more than justified by his subsequent achievements.

During the next three years he played an important part in
discovering the mechanism by which the plague is conveyed from
rats to man by fleas. Then he went to West Africa and studied
yellow fever, writing a masterful report on the bionomies of the
mosquito responsible for its transmission. It is significant that he
should make a distinct further advance to our knowledge of the

BACOT, A MARTYR TO SCIENCE 361

etiology of this disease, a subject to which American investigators
have contributed much and in connection with which another
martyr, Dr. Lazear, gave his life more than ten years before.

Since 1916 Mr. Bacot had focussed his attention on the biology
of the louse. With remarkable attention to detail he has given us
an account of the growth and moulting of the louse, length of life,
method of ovulation, feeding habits, effect of temperature and
food supply on activity—in short, a complete compilation of the
bionomics of this insect. While these studies were in progress the
experimental animals had to be fed and, since the natural habitat
is the clothing next to the human skin with blood as their food, it
devolved on Bacot to devise methods for keeping these lice in eap-
tivity and at the same time to feed them. During these and subse-
quent years he kept his colonies of stock lice in small, round eard-
board boxes, one end of which was covered with chiffon so that
when oceasion arose, the boxes could be fastened on his arms, legs
or body and the lice given opportunity to feed. Mr. Bacot real-
ized that many insecticides were not subjected to practical tests
before being advocated for use, for that which was effective in
the atmosphere of a closed bell jar in a laboratory might be abso-
lutely useless when applied under the clothing next to a moist skin
at 85°. He planned and earried out experiments testing insecti-
cides, the lice and the substance to be tested being suspended in
cloth bags under his shirt next to his skin. To read, in his own
words, of the matter-of-fact way in which he considered these
unusual procedures is to have an insight into a type of personality
which relegates self to the background and considers steadfastly
the final goal of its efforts. Here, in truth, was an effective union
of mind and body in service to mankind.

These studies prepared him for similar work of a more special-
ized nature, and in 1917 the War Office saw fit to put him on the
committee for investigating trench fever. This disease had been
playing havoe among the British troops. It was reported that
at one time 60 per cent. of all the cases of sickness were those due
to trench fever. According to another report, it caused nine
tenths of all the sickness in one of the British armies. The in-
cubation time of the organism, determined later by experiment,
varies from fourteen to thirty-two days. The victim is suddenly
seized with dizziness, pain in the legs, headache and pain behind
the eyes while his temperature rises to 103 or 104 degrees. Skin
manifestations may occur as erythematous patches. The first at-
tack may last a week, then subside only to appear as a relapsing
type at.intervals of a week or more, each attack lasting from two
to eight or more days. The fever may persist for as long as sixty

362 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

days with a moderately high temperature. Although the disease
is rarely fatal, it is obvious that even a moderate prevalence would
seriously handicap military operations.

Through the efforts of Bacot and his associates on the trench
fever committee, the mystery surrounding the etiology of this
affection has been cleared up. It was shown that the malady was
louse-borne, that lack of opportunity to change clothing and uncer-
tain bathing facilities incident to field conditions contributed to
its spread, that a louse which had bitten a victim was capable of
transmitting the disease to another person through its bite, that
inoculation could be obtained by rubbing the feces or body tissues
of the louse into a broken surface (as might be done in seratching),
and that the dried urine of the victim was infectious. In addition,
Bacot showed that in the intestinal tract and feces of lice capable
of transmitting trench fever there occurred coeco-bacilli-like bodies,
not stainable by the ordinary bacteriological methods, but which
were similar to the rickettsia of Rocky Mountain fever. He later
decided that the rickettsia of trench fever were identical with
those seen in cases of relapsing fever. Such clear-cut evidence,
pointing the way to very definite methods of combatting this af-
fection, was particularly welcome at this time of stress and estab-
lished Bacot in the front rank of medical entomologists, though he
was not trained in medicine.

In 1920 he went to Poland as a member of the Typhus Re-
search Commission of the League of Red Cross Societies. He took
his own supply of uninfected lice which he had bred and grown
in his London laboratory and which he maintained on his own
person. After arriving in Warsaw several months were lost due
to lack of laboratory facilities. Before active work on typhus was
begun, Bacot fell sick with trench fever. During the course of his
illness he kept accurate notes of his symptoms and fed lice with
his blood. He observed the appearance of rickettsia in his stock
lice which until his sickness had been free from them. During
his convalescence and for some time afterwards, he followed the
occurrence of rickettsia in the lice which he had fed and was able
to show that the blood of trench fever patients when fed to lice
caused the appearance of these bacteroid bodies in the lice as long
as three months following the clinical recovery from the disease.

After returning to England Bacot continued his studies on
infection of lice. Late in 1921, before the Royal Society of Medi-
cine, he gave a demonstration of a method for louse infection. The
procedure involved the rectal injection of blood into the louse with
a capillary pipette while the insect was held under a slip of paper
on the stage of a binocular microscope. All who saw it were im-

BACOT, A MARTYR TO SCIENCE 363

pressed by the skillful technic and dexterity shown by Bacot dur-
ing the course of the demonstration. Working with these minute
animals, using specially devised microtechnic, Bacot fully realized
the dangers to which he was exposed because of the infectious
character of the excreta of the lice, once they had fed on typhus
blood. These facts serve to emphasize the high order of purpose
and intensify the sacrifice he made.

An American architect recently said that the English really
know how to live. If they know how to live, they also know how
to play and many of them have achieved that happy combination—
the proper relation of their vocation to their avocation. The
typical Briton works at his stint that he may support his hobby
and it is in the pursuit of the latter that he lives his life, expands
his soul and produces. In the personality of Mr. Bacot we have
an example of just such a balance between that which must be done
and that which pleases to be done. His hobby became his ruling
passion, gradually absorbed his whole life, lifted him to eminence
and finally placed him among the immortals—those who have given
their best that others may better live.

364 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

MODERN STUDY OF THE ATOM
By Professor ALAN W. C. MENZIES

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY

REALITY OF ATOMS AND MOLECULES
N the latter part of the last century many distinguished men of
science still doubted that reality underlay the atomic and
kinetic theories and therefore preferred to deal with chemical
phenomena mainly from the standpoint of energy changes. Chief
among these prophets of the energetic school was Wilhelm Ostwald.
After working over the material for the new edition of his ‘‘Out-
lines of General Chemistry,’’ however, Ostwald wrote in 1908:
‘‘T am now convinced that we have recently become possessed of
experimental evidence of the discrete or grained structure of mat-
ter, which the atomic hypothesis sought in vain for hundreds and
thousands of years. The isolation and counting of gas ions, on
the one hand, which have crowned with success the long and bril-
liant researches of J. J. Thomson, and, on the other, the agree-
ment of the Brownian movements with the requirements of the
kinetic hypothesis, established by many investigators and most
conclusively by J. Perrin, justify the most cautious scientist in
now speaking of the experimental proof of the atomic structure of
matter.’’ When, therefore, even the foremost protagonist of the
energetic school has come into the ranks of the atomists, there
can now be little doubt that the evidence points to the reality of
atoms and molecules, at least in the minds of those who are com-
petent to judge. It may be added that much new evidence has
accumulated since Ostwald wrote in 1908. We may, therefore,
consider that the ground has been cleared of that type of ob-
structor who denies the existence of atoms other than as figments
of the imagination.

In what follows I wish to present, for the benefit chiefly of
those who have not had opportunity to follow the literature of the
subject, a picture of the atom as we envisage it to-day. To do
this most briefly, one can not in everything follow the historical
development of the last thirty years. It is quicker, and often
clearer, to give results first with supporting evidence afterwards,
to employ a deductive as well as an inductive method.

MODERN STUDY OF THE ATOM 365

THE PRESENT-DAY ATOM

Let me, therefore, say at once, and, for brevity, in a very
didactic manner, that atoms are built up of two and only two
kinds of building materials, bricks, or units of construction,
namely protons and electrons. Under like conditions, all protons
are alike and all electrons are alike. The chief attributes of these
protons and electrons may be simply tabulated thus:

MASS ELECTRIC DIAMETER
(AT REST) CHARGE IN CM.
ODS ST ee ee nee oy 1/1845 —l 3.8 & 10-13
SCT SA SS aa a Reema 1 +1 2 >< 10-16

The hydrogen atom consists of one proton and one electron.
The unit of mass here employed is a mass 1/1846th part less than
that of the hydrogen atom itself. The precise value of this mass
in grams does not here interest us any more than does the precise
value of the unit electric charge expressed in terms of the con-
ventional electrostatic units.

Every atom consists of a positively charged nucleus in which
is concentrated nearly all the mass of the atom, and this nucleus
is surrounded by a number of electrons sufficient to neutralize the
nuclear charge. The atom as a whole is, of course, electrically
neutral. For hydrogen, the positive nucleus consists of but one
proton; but, in all other atoms, the positive nucleus contains what
are called intranuclear electrons as well as protons. The value
of the net positive charge on the nucleus of any particular type
of atom is equal to the atomic number of the atom, that is, the
ordinal number the atom would receive if all our 92 elements were
numbered in order of increasing atomic weight, or, better, because
of the three standard disorderly cases of potassium-argon, nickel-
eobalt and iodine-tellurium, in order of rank in the periodic tabu-
lation of the elements. The roll of the chemical elements, as we
shall see, was called first, if incompletely, by one Moseley in 1914,
and, of the 92 now on the roll, five elements are yet absent. The
number of extranuclear or planetary electrons in chemical atoms,
therefore, runs from 1 for hydrogen, 2 for helium, 3 for lithium,
ete., up to 92 for uranium, the heaviest atom not yet extinct. The
number of planetary electrons is the same as the atomic number
of the atom.

The outside diameter of atoms is of the order of 1 to 510-5 em.,
or 100,000 times the diameter of the electron, so that it is evident
that the spacing of the nucleus and extranuclear electrons in an
atom is a very open one, more so than in our solar system, in which,
also, our central sun is inordinately large for true relative dimen-
sions. So far as the volumes of the discrete structural units, pro-

366 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tons and electrons, are concerned, therefore, atoms are filled chiefly
with emptiness or void. Granting that the planetary electrons
are so few in number, never over 92, and so light in weight, it is
obvious that, as has been said, the main mass of the atom must
be concentrated in its nucleus. To illustrate the make-up of an
atomic nucleus, consider, for example, the case of the atom of
fluorine. Its atomic weight is about 19. Therefore its nucleus
must contain 19 protons, which would furnish a positive charge
of +19. But its atomic number is 9, and hence its nuclear charge
is +9. To reduce a positive charge of 19 to 9 will require the
presence of 10 electrons in the nucleus, ten negative units of
electrostatic charge thus offsetting ten of the positive units.

As regards the picture of the atom developed so far, there is
much unanimity. The kind of questions not yet solved are those
about the detailed constitution of the nucleus, and the arrangement
of the extranuclear electrons. Further study might therefore
be divided into (1) study of the nucleus and its constitution, and
(2) study of the extranuclear portion of the atom and its possible
arrangements of electrons, with the orbits or oscillations in which
they are engaged. But we shall not follow this program.

Having placed before you a broad idea of the present-day
conception of the structure of atoms, I wish now to go back and
look at some of the methods of study that have led to the knowl-
edge we have gained.

ELECTRONS AND PROTONS

Our knowledge of the electron has been reached chiefly through
a study of the discharge of electricity through gases, with which
the name of Sir J. J.-Thomson is so closely associated. We should
not forget, however, that, as early as the seventies of last century,
Sir William Crookes observed streamers of light emerging from
the cathode of highly evacuated discharge tubes. These he con-
sidered were composed of matter in a new, fourth state which he
called ‘‘radiant matter.’’ Certain German investigators thought
the streamers were due rather to an ether wave motion analogous
to light. It was not till 1895 that Sir J. J. Thomson showed that
Crookes had been correct. The cathode rays are now known to
consist of streams of swiftly moving electrons. Like any other
particles that carry a charge, these electrons are deflected from a
straight line course by either a magnetic or an electrostatic field
properly applied, and, by using known field strengths of both kinds
and measuring the resulting deflections of the electrons, the re-
lation e/m between their charge and their mass ean be ascertained.
This is a method of measurement of very fundamental importance.
Very high speed electrons of different, definite speeds are ejected

MODERN STUDY OF THE ATOM 367

‘

by certain ‘‘radioactive’’ atoms at the moment when such atoms
break up, and a study of e/m for these electrons has shown that,
if the charge is the same, the apparent mass increases with the
measured speed of the electrons in a manner that harmonizes pre-
cisely with what would be anticipated on theoretical grounds if
their mass were entirely what is called electromagnetic, or entirely
due to their charge. Knowing that the mass of an electron is
entirely electromagnetic in origin, we can then, assuming a
spherical form, calculate by electromagnetic rules its radius, which
comes out with the value noted above.

Individual electrons have been isolated by Millikan and others,
and their charge evaluated precisely in electrostatic units. No
electric charge that was a fractional part of that of an electron
was ever encountered in this work, but only whole number multi-
ples of it. From this it appears that negative electricity comes in
small unit amounts or grains, like pepper. In other words, nega-
tive electricity, like matter, is atomic. At present we know less
about the proton, or unit positive charge, than about the electron;
its much greater mass, if electromagnetic, gives it a correspond-
ingly smaller radius, as noted above, because, for the same charge
on a spherical surface, electromagnetic mass varies inversely as
the radius of the sphere.

ORIGIN OF X-RAYS

The electrons in a discharge tube, such as an X-ray bulb, can
be made to move with very high speeds, and so to carry much
energy. They are stopped abruptly by striking the atoms that
constitute the target in the bulb, and, by transferring some of
their own energy, stimulate radiation of short wave light on the
part of certain of the extranuclear electrons belonging to these
atoms. They likewise themselves emit general wave radiation as
they slow down. The very existence of these so-called X-rays,
emerging from such targets, was not observed until 1896, and
they were not known to consist merely of short wave length light
until 1912.

X-Rays AND CRYSTAL STRUCTURE

I may remind you that one of the most successful methods of
studying and analyzing common light is by means of a Rowland
diffraction grating, which consists of a large number of fine lines
ruled exceedingly closely together on a transparent or else re-
flecting surface. Such a grating will perform its analytical fune-
tion only provided the ruling or grating space is sufficiently close
compared with the wave length of the light being tested. A picket
fence is a possible Rowland grating, but is far too coarse to give

368 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

useful results. So likewise a real Rowland grating is far too
coarse to give appreciable diffraction of X-rays, because these are
of such short wave length. In 1912 it occurred to the Swiss Laue
that in ordinary crystalline substances we have ready-made very
minutely spaced diffraction gratings, of skeletal type, indeed, and
in three instead of only two dimensions of space. Stated other-
wise, he thought the atoms of which the crystal is built might fur-
nish centers to diffract the X-ray light, and these atoms are
already arranged by Nature in rank, file and column with perfect
regularity and with the requisite close spacing. Laue’s expecta-
tions were brilliantly fulfilled, and the method has been developed
by the Braggs in England, by Dr. Hull at Schenectady and by
many others.

Because it is based on a relationship between the spacing of
the layers of atoms and the wave length of the light diffracted
by them, this powerful modern method of analysis may be em-
ployed in either of two ways, namely, to study (a) either the light
wave length or (b) the spacing of the atoms. A single relationship
connects these two unknowns. To get a value to start from, the
atomic spacing in, say, sodium chloride can be computed from
the known number and plausible crystallographic arrangement of
atoms in one cubic centimeter of crystalline salt. Hence we can
find the wave length of some particular easily-generated mono-
chromatic X-ray light, which we can thenceforth use conveniently
as our yard-stick in measuring atomic spacings in other crystals.

RESULTS FROM THE X-RAY SPECTROMETER

fa). Moseley in 1914 tried many different elements as targets
in the X-ray bulb, analyzed the resulting X-rays by means of a
erystal, and found that each element emitted general X-radiation,
but also its own characteristic sets of X-rays of but a few kinds,
that is, each element emitted a characteristic X-ray spectrum,
consisting of but a few spectral lines peculiar to the element. Se-
lecting a particular type of emitted light (K, L, ete., series) for
making comparisons amongst the elements, Moseley arrived at the
remarkable result that the square roots of the wave frequencies
varied in progressive stepwise fashion from element to element,
giving a series of equal whole-number steps that would, if com-
plete, run approximately from 1 for hydrogen to 92 for uranium,
just as the atomic numbers do. Any missing step was conspicu-
ous, and indicated clearly an element lacking. From this we have
learned that we must search for just five new elements, and that
we must adjust our atomic numbers to allow for the elements that
are missing.

MODERN STUDY OF THE ATOM 369

It may here be remarked that the ordinary old style light
spectra emitted by the chemical elements in the flame, are, spark,
sun or stars are of much more complex character than these sim-
pler X-ray spectra. The latter give us information in regard to
those extranuclear electrons which, after suffering displacement,
gain positions of stability nearest to the nucleus; while the former
longer wave light spectra inform us of the relatively slower radia-
tions of those electrons that reach stations of stability in the outer
regions of the atom. Within the last few years, both types of
spectra have been so extended as to overlap, and the former out-
standing gap of four octaves of light frequency has been com-
pletely bridged.

(b). The distances apart of layers of atoms in erystals are
of an order smaller than one millionth of an inch. Small as are
these distances, however, they are measurable by the X-ray
spectrometer with an accuracy much better than one hundredth
of one per cent. Given the crystallographic data of a crystal and
its atomic arrangement, one may, by assuming the atomic weights
of the constituent atoms, determine the density of the crystal by
X-ray analysis with an accuracy superior to that of the more
usual older methods. Conversely, if the density of the erystal is
known, but the atomic weight of one of the constituent atoms is
unknown, this may similarly be determined. Of greater interest,
however, is the employment of the X-ray spectrometer to determine
the arrangement of the atoms in a erystal. This can be done with
a good deal of assurance for crystals belonging to the erystallo-
graphic systems of higher symmetry. Simple substances, such as
the pure metals, usually crystallize in such systems, and have been
subjects of fruitful study. Especially interesting to the organic
chemist is the erystal lattice of diamond, in which each carbon
atom is surrounded by four others at equal distances from it and
in the directions of the four corners of a tetrahedron from its
center of gravity. It has heretofore been tacitly assumed that
the nuclei of the atoms in the crystal acted as simple point centers
for diffracting light; but closer study reveals evidence of the posi-
tion of certain extranuclear electrons which are in all probability
those that constitute the valence bonds of the carbon. It is further
apparent that these valence electrons, if not stationary, at least
patrol stations other than the nucleus. This is confirmatory of
the Lewis-Langmuir theory of atomic structure, to be mentioned
shortly. Of even greater interest to the organic chemist are the
recent studies by means of the X-ray spectrometer of the possible
arrangement of the atoms in naphthalene, anthracene and allied
substances. Viewed from one standpoint, the carbon atoms in

Vol. XV.—24.

370 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

diamond le at the corners of hexagons bent at their corners so as
to fit on puckered surfaees, or surfaces composed of V-like corru-
gations lke galvanized roofing without rounded bends. In spite
of its different crystalline form, very different hardness, ete.,
graphite, the other crystalline form of carbon, exhibits an identical
arrangement of carbon atoms in puckered hexagonal formation,
but with the planes containing the hexagons further apart. As-
sumption of this same corrugated hexagonal structure, which ap-
pears so favorable for carbon atoms, satisfies the experimental re-
sults obtained with crystals of naphthalene in the X-ray spec-
trometer. One can not say that the organic chemist’s customary
graphic formula for naphthalene and its allies has been inde-
pendently proyed correct; but it has at least been shown that this
time-honored formula is in complete harmony with the new ex-
perimental facts.

ARRANGEMENT OF EXTRANUCLEAR ELECTRONS IN ATOMS

Passing from the arrangement of atoms in molecules to the
arrangement of the extranuclear or planetary electrons in indi-
vidual atoms, we reach a field where the experimental facts, chem-
ical or spectroscopic, are more difficult of present interpretation,
and where, at present, we are largely being guided and, I should
add, stimulated by hypothesis. The hypothesis at present most
acceptable to the chemist, doubtless because it was designed to fit
the chemical rather than the spectroscopic facts, is that of Lewis
and Langmuir; and this may be most easily visualized by the aid
of models of atoms. Here we have the electrons patrolling definite-
ly localized stations which are arranged in concentric shells round
the nucleus. Similarity in number and arrangement of stations in
the outermost shell makes for similarity of chemical properties,
and so accounts for the well-known family resemblances of a
chemical kind among the atoms. Furthermore, for many of the
commoner atoms at least, the number of electrons in the outermost
shell that gives the greatest stability is, on this ‘‘octet’’ theory,
eight. If we personified such atoms, their chief ideal in life would
be to secure, by hook or crook, an outside shell of precisely eight
electrons; and this ideal motivates all the chemical reactions of
such atoms. The two possible mechanisms by which the octet
ideal is achieved are by reciprocal lending and borrowing or else
by sharing electrons, corresponding to the conceptions of electro-
valence and covalence, respectively. Atoms that already have
eight electrons in their outer shells, like neon and argon, have no
motive for any chemical action, and, as is well known, are entirely
inert. By these new conceptions of valence, certain molecular
structures are anticipated to be closely similar (isosteric) which

.

MODERN STUDY OF THE ATOM 371

would be entirely dissimilar according to the older ideas of valence ;
and the close similarity of crystal form (isomorphism) actually
observed in many such cases, a stumbling block and even a reproach
to the chemical crystallographers of but ten years ago, strongly
confirms the correctness of the newer views in these instances.

’ Less interested in the chemistry of the atoms, Bohr and his
followers have been more concerned in devising an atomic model
that will explain the kinds of energy radiated by an atom as light
when one of its extranuclear electrons falls from a location of
higher to one of lower potential energy, this light having a fre-
queney which depends not on the final environment reached by the
electron but rather on the energy made available by the fall. This
theory is brilliantly successful, but hitherto only in the two sim-
plest cases. If the planetary electrons all revolve in simple
ellipses round the nucleus, there is insufficient localization of fields
of force around the atom to satisfy the valence demands of the
chemist, even although the orbits be not in the same plane. To me,
the possibility of twisted or looped orbits round the nucleus would
offer more satisfaction ; as also would a complex electron to account
for the facts of radiation. .

Because both these types of hypothesis as to the arrangement
and activities of the extranuclear electrons are at present in a
somewhat speculative stage, I prefer to pass on to tell of other
matters closer to the facts reached by the modern methods of study.

SPONTANEOUS DISINTEGRATION OF ATOMS: ISOTOPES

All of our atoms of atomie weight over 206 are observed to have
the proclivity to disintegrate. The nucleus of the atom of Ura-
nium-1l, for example, has a mass about 238 and a charge of +92.
Oceasionally, such an atomic nucleus, for cause utterly unknown,
suffers a cataclysm in which the nucleus of a helium atom is ex-
pelled with enormous speed. (A helium atom consists of a minute
nucleus built of 4 protons bound together by 2 electrons, which is
surrounded by two planetary electrons). This expelled portion,
endowed with terrific energy of motion, is called an alpha-particle.
Because it lacks the two planetary electrons of the helium atom,
it bears a double positive charge, and the moving alpha-particle
can therefore be studied in the magnetic and electrostatic fields
and the ratio measured of its charge to its mass, by which measure-
ment its nature was divulged. On picking up two _ planetary
electrons the alpha-particle becomes a helium atom. The precise
volume has been measured of helium gas generated in this wise
from radioactive material ejecting alpha-particles in numbers that
can be counted one by one, and so has been enumerated directly

372 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the number of helium atoms per cubic centimeter of the helium
gas collected.

After throwing out its alpha-particle, the residual portion of
the Uranium-1 atom, having lost 4 protons, possesses a mass 234
instead of 238. It has lost from its nucleus also 2 electrons, and
therefore a net charge of (4—2) or +2. Its atomie number is
thus smaller by 2, that is 90, and its ordinal position in the
periodic table is two places below and to the left of Uranium-l.
It is, in fact, a new element, named Uranium-X,, which resembles
the element Thorium. But it is a short-lived element, and soon
expels from its nucleus an electron, or beta-particle, yielding a
residual product, called Uranium-X,, of the same atomic weight
234, but of atomic number 91. This disrupts with loss of another
beta- particle even sooner than the last, producing the atom of an
element, called Uranium-2, of atomic weight still 234, but of atomic
number 92. But 92 is the atomic number of Uranium-l from
which we started. Thus Uranium-1 and Uranium-2 have the same
nuclear charge, +92, and must have the same arrangement of
extranuclear electrons, for this is ordered by the nuclear charge,
and not appreciably by the nuclear mass. Thus, the outsides of
U-1 and U-2 will be identical, and on the outside of an atom do its
chemical properties depend. Consequently, U-1 and U-2, falling
in the same ordinal position in the periodic system, are identical
chemically and therefore inseparable by chemical means. Such
elements are called isotopes. They have the same nuclear charge.
Elements with the same nuclear mass are called isobars, as U-X,,
U-X.,, and U-2.

After a chain of successive disintegrations involving losses of
8 and 6 alpha-particles (mass 4) respectively, both uranium (mass
238) and thorium (mass 232) produce atoms with the nuclear
charge of lead. On account of their different parentage, however,
these two types of lead atoms would be expected to have masses of
206 and 208 respectively. They have each been isolated, from
uranium and thorium minerals respectively, and found to possess
atomic masses closely as expected.

Most of the known radioactive or spontaneously disintegrating
elements have atomic weights of 206 or over. But rubidium and
potassium are also radioactive, as are one of the constituents of
common brass and also the metal platinum, although these latter
atomic species disintegrate at an exceedingly slow speed and emit
alpha-particles so lacking in energy that they are difficult to de-
tect. There is no reason why the habit of disintegration should
not be general among elements. In any case, we are clear that
isotopic atoms, whether formed in a process of disintegration or in

MODERN ‘STUDY OF THE ATOM 373

a process of evolution, should be identical chemically, and so, like
birds of a feather, should be found together. The question then
arises, how many of our elements are mixtures of isotopes, indis-
tinguishable by chemical difference? The question can be answered
only by physical methods. If the isotopes are heterobaric, of dif-
ferent mass, then they can be identified and separated because of
their difference in mass. Speed of diffusion or of free evaporation
depends on mass, and so the elements mereury and chlorine have
both been shown to consist of mixtures of heterobaric isotopes.

THE Mass SPECTROGRAPH

But the most fertile method yet employed to recognize hetero-
baric isotopes is that devised by Sir J. J. Thomson, depending on
the fundamental fact, already mentioned above, that different
values of the ratio charge to mass of a charged particle moving in
a high vacuum will give rise to different degrees of deflection in
the magnetic and electrostatic fields. A gas or vapor particle con-
taining the element under investigation is therefore given a posi-
tive charge in the discharge tube, and its resulting deflection is
studied. Such a particle may acquire more than one unit charge,
but such multiple charges cause no confusion. Refinement of this
beautiful method in the hands chiefly of Aston has shown us that
the elements Li, B, Ne, Mg, Si, Cl, A, K, Ca, Ni, Zn, Br, Kr, Rb,
Sn, Xe, Hg, are all, at least as we have them ordinarily available on
this planet, mixtures of isotopes; whereas H, He, Be, C, N, O, F,
Na, P, As, I, and Cs have been studied and proved simple. Pub-
lished results on no others are yet available. Only those elements
which can readily be obtained in stable gaseous form have yet
been investigated; but as soon as any of the less volatile elements
or their compounds are obtained in suitable gas form, additional
results of interest will be forthcoming. Because his measurements
in the mass spectrograph of the masses of most atoms had an ac-
curacy of 0.1 per cent., Aston was enabled to discover that the
atomic weights of the chemical elements investigated, save hydro-
gen, are invariably whole numbers on the scale oxygen=—16, to
the degree of accuracy mentioned. The fractional value 35.46
found by chemical analysis for chlorine, for example, is explained
by that element’s consisting of certain proportions of two isotopes
of masses 35.0 and 37.0 respectively. Thus is the century old
hypothesis of Prout, that all atoms have masses that are whole
number multiples of the mass of the hydrogen atom, resurrected
and rehabilitated, but with a unit of mass almost 0.8 per cent.
less than that of the hydrogen atom. Mathematical rigor in this
‘“whole number rule’’ is, however, not to be expected for a reason
that will now be referred to.

374 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

A NEw PossIBLE SouRcE OF CosMIcAL ENERGY

Hydrogen, in Aston’s mass spectrograph, appears to have an
atomic mass of 1.008 (0O=16), precisely as found by the chemists.
Hydrogen, however, is unique among the elements in having no
electrons but merely one proton in its nucleus. In all other atomic
nuclei there are electrons packed close to the protons, and this
close packing of charges of opposite sign is expected, by electrical
theory, to influence the electromagnetic mass of the complex by an
amount dependent on the closeness of packing. If we could build
a helium atom from the materials which are correctly furnished
by four hydrogen atoms, there would ensue a loss of mass of about
0.8 per cent., since the atomic weight of helium is 4.00. This mass,
however, can not be destroyed, but must appear, according to the
relativity theory, as an equivalent amount of energy. The quan-
tity of energy concerned in the transformation of 1 gram of hydro-
gen to helium, namely 8 milligrams, or about the weight of one fifth
of a postage stamp, corresponds to what, as electrical energy. at ten
cents per kilowatt hour, would cost $20,000. ~

If such a synthesis of helium from hydrogen may be supposed
to be going on in the sun, we have a much needed explanation of
the sun’s present brightness at his known old age.

EXPERIMENTAL UTILIZATIONS OF ALPHA-PARTICLES IN INVESTIGATION

The alpha-particles expelled from radioactive elements are by
far the most energetic entities with which we are yet acquainted.
The swifter kinds have, for unit mass, an energy of motion 400
million times greater than that of a rifle bullet. Being, helium
nuclei without cireumambient planetary electrons, they are very
small, and readily shoot through atoms, knocking out their extra-
nuclear electrons right and left. The damaged atoms soon pick up
other electrons to fill the gaps, and thus suffer no permanent
change. Alpha-particles pass through thin glass, leaving no hole.
Very occasionally, an alpha-particle will make a bullseye collision
with the nucleus of an atom. The consequence of this collision,
in the case of nuclei of some light atoms, is that the nucleus struck
is disintegrated, with the expulsion of a single, swift-moving pro-
ton. The experiment succeeds in the case of B, N, F, Na, Al, and
P nuclei. In the ease of aluminium, Rutherford found that the
single protons expelled have an energy of motion that is 40 per
cent. greater than that of the alpha-particle missile that struck
the atom. What remains of the aluminium nucleus is still under
investigation, but it is permanently changed and is certainly no
longer aluminium. Thus, in transmuting an element, we obtain
free energy. The alchemists expressed this allegorically when they
identified the philosopher’s stone, which would transmute metals,

MODERN STUDY OF THE ATOM 375

with the elixir of life, a source of ever fresh life or energy. Our
enthusiasm for this transmutation is duly restrained by the know]l-
edge that only about two per million alpha-particles make bullseyes
on the aluminium nuclei.

In the case of the heavier atoms with their more highly charged
nuclei, the alpha-particle, of the speed hitherto at our disposal,
apparently loses too much energy in the approach to be able to
effect disintegration of the nucleus. Its path is sometimes bent
back in a large angle deflection, by an elaborate study of which
in the case of gold the existence of the minute, positively charged
nucleus of atoms was first established. The nuclear charges of
gold, platinum, silver and copper have each been directly evaluated
by this method, and agree with the atomic numbers of these atoms
to 1 per cent., the known value of the experimental error.

THE DURATION AND PossIBLE REPETITIONS OF GEOLOGICAL TIME

The unchanging and, so far as all experiment goes, unchange-
able spontaneous disintegration of heavy atomic nuclei has geo-
logical interests both in view of the time periods involved and also
of the energy emitted in the process. Thorium disintegrates into
thorium-lead, which is stable, at a rate which we have been able to
ascertain. The ‘‘range’’ or distance travelled through matter by
the expelled alpha-particles is strictly related to the rate of the
various disintegrations, and such ranges and rates have ever re-
mained constant for thorium and its descendants as evidenced by
the constancy of the diameters of the range ‘‘halos’’ surrounding
microscopic thorium inclusions in rocks of various ages. The
diameters of these halos agree, also, with the ranges in air of the
alpha-particles as studied to-day, and so the thorium clock has
ever run at the same rate. Some thorium minerals contain lead
whose measured atomic weight shows that it has practically all
been derived from the decay of thorium atoms. From the ratio
of the number of thorium atoms remaining to the number of those
originally present, many of which are now represented by lead
atoms which they produced, one can compute the age of the min-
eral, which thus gives a date to early paleozoie times of 150 million
years back. Similar calculation from uranium minerals gives a
period over 900 million years, but there is reason to believe that
the uranium clock formerly ran fast, or, rather, that it appeared
to run fast owing to the former presence of a third isotope of
uranium, now almost extinct, of speedier rate of decay than what
to-day we call U-1.

Rock analysis shows that, assuming percentage composition”
similar to that on the surface, there is enough radioactive material

376 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

in a depth of only 12 miles of the earth’s crust to supply by its
daily disintegration all the heat the earth radiates daily into space.
If an appreciable amount of radioactive material exists below this
depth, as seems certain, then heat must slowly be accumulating
within the earth’s non-conducting crust. Eventually, therefore,
if no compensating heat-absorbing process is taking place within,
an unstable state will be reached when the underlying incandescent
material will perforce evert itself to the exterior and there dis-
burden itself of its accumulated heat by radiation into space at a
very rapid rate proportional to the fourth power of the tempera-
ture. This is the earth’s incandescent epoch. When the crust
has cooled down again sufficiently, a new geological epoch of per-
haps 200 million years may begin, to be followed in turn by an-
other incandescent epoch, and so on, alternately, but more and
more slowly, until the radioactive materials, if not regenerated,
have by disintegration lost their available energy. This alternation
the Brahmans have symbolized in their cosmogony as the indraw-
ing and outbreathing of the breath of Brahma.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 377

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

CURRENT COMMENT
By Dr. Epwin E. SLtosson
Science Service

EVOLUTION WORKING
BACKWARD

ONcE farmers planted the nubbins
of their corn and the potatoes that
were too small to sell. Now they
know better. They cut up their finest
potatoes to plant, and every grain of
their seed corn is pedigreed as care-
fully as a Colonial Dame. The result
is seen in the doubled yield in pota-
toes richer in starch and corn richer
in protein. Modern agriculture is
fertilized by science.

The most backward branch of biol-
ogy is the infant science of sociology.
It is only just beginning to get its
eyes open, to see things; in time, per-
haps it will be able to do things, like
the older sciences. But there is need
of haste. The age of instinct is pass-
ing, the reign of reason has not come.
Man has been pushed up to his _pres-
ent position. He has succeeded in
slackening the pressure. Will he go
forward rationally, of his own free
will, or sink back until again he falls
under the sway of the blind and
merciless forces of the struggle for
existence ?

A decrease in the birth rate is not
necessarily a misfortune to a country.
Very likely, for instance, the British
Isles have now all the population they
can support in comfort under present
economic conditions. The alarming
thing about it is that the breeding is
from the poorest stock instead of the
best. Whatever objective standard
one may take this is true. A statis-
tical study of the population of
Great Britain showed that in the dis-
tricts where there was the most over-
crowding, the cheapest type of labor,
the lowest degree of culture and edu-

cation, the highest percentage of
pauperism and lunacy, the greatest
criminality and the highest death
rate from tuberculosis and infantile
diseases, there the number of chil-
dren was greatest in proportion to
the possibly productive wives. It is a
clear case of the survival of the un-
fittest, the reversal of evolution. No
race can maintain its efficiency and
virility against sueh reactive forces.

The future of a country depends
ultimately upon the character and
ability of its people. Increase of
wealth, advance of science, improve-
ment in education, discoveries in .san-
itation, juster social conditions, all
the achievements and hopes of the
present age will be of little benefit
to posterity if there is a decline in
the native quality of the race. It
would be disastrous to hand over a
more perfect and complicated govern-
mental machine to inferior engineers.

' One seventh of the present generation

will be the parents of one half of the
next. Therefore, two generations of
selection, natural or designed, would
completely transform the character of
a nation. Is this seventh composed
of the best men and women that we
have?

This is what is going to determine
whether civilization shall advance or
retrograde. Galton’s ideal of euge-
nics may be too much in advanée of
the age to be practical, but at least
something could be done to awaken
the people to the imminent dangers
of dysgenies.

ATOMS OF LIGHT
THE discovery of the X-rays in
1895 acted like the discovery of gold
in an unexplored country. It opened
the way to the exploration of a field
of unsuspected wealth of new knowl-
edge and to the radical reconstrue-

3

78 THE SCIENTIFIC .MONTHLY

Wide World Photos

PROFESSOR A. L. HERRARA
The distinguished biologist of Mexico, who is visiting the biological institu-
tions of the United States.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

tion of some of our time-honored and
fundamental conceptions.
up to us the atom, the ne plus ultra
of the chemist, and showed within it
a system of revolving bodies far
more numerous and complicated than
the solar system. Already our
knowledge of these electrons, whose
existence was unsuspected a few years
ago, is greater than our knowledge
of the molecules, and we can study
them with much more facility be-
cause they carry charges of electricity
which betray their presence in the
minutest number. A single electron
can be detected while the smallest
number of gas molecules which can
be discerned with the spectroscope is
about ten million million.

The tendency of the times is to ex-
tend the atomic theory into new tields,
to speak of atoms of electricity, of
energy and of light. The corpuscle,
the smallest known particle of nega-
tive electricity, is only one seventeen-
hundredth the mass of the atom of
hydrogen. The smallest unit of posi-
tive electricity, on the other hand,
seems to be equal to the atom of hy-
drogen. It is possible, however, that
this positive particle may be a com-
plex of many positive and negative
particles and that the individual pos-
itive corpuscle when isolated as the
negative one has been may prove to
be equally minute.

The discovery of the
stores of energy compact in the atom
in the form of the electrostatic po-
tential energy of its negative cor-
puscles gives one a peculiar sensation.
It is like finding out that there is a
barrel of gold and a dynamite bomb
in the cellar of the house. But a
gram of hydrogen would be capable
of developing more heat than the
burning of thirty-five tons of coal.
Since energy is wealth we have every-
where enough to make us all rich
““Heyond the dreams of avarice’? for-
ever, but we have no way of unlock-
ing this storehouse. This may be for-
tunate for us since Professor J. J.

enormous

It opened.

379

Thomson, of Cambridge, says, ‘‘if at
any time an appreciable fraction
were to get free the earth would ex-
plode and become a gaseous nebula.’’
Professor Thomson, in compensation
for our natural disappointment at
being frightened off these preserves
by such a terrifying spring-gun, re-
minds us that on every sunny acre
7,000 horse-power of radiant energy
from our solar dynamo is going to
waste and that it is neither impossi-
ble nor dangerous to utilize it.

THE LITTLE ENEMIES OF MAN

EARLY in the history of the human
race man learned how to conquer the
mastodon. He has yet to learn how
to master the microbe. Whales and
elephants are now almost extinet, but
mice and flies still increase and mul-
tiply, and the bacteria, smallest and
most dangerous of all, find new ways
of attacking us. It is only within
the last few years. that has
learned which his greatest enemies
are, and he has not yet found
weapons against them. The explorer
in tropical jungles used to fear the
lions, tigers and pythons;' now he

man

protects himself most carefully
against the mosquitoes and _ tsetse.
Mars has afflicted the human race

less than Beelzebub.

Although we theoreticaliy accept
the conclusion of science that a man’s
foes are those of his own household,
we are not yet aroused to the neces-
sity of waging war in earnest against
them. We have a secretary of navy
and we give him millions for defense,
but we have no secretary of sanita-
tion, though that is a more necessary
office. It is quite improbable that
any American will be killed by an
invading army this year, but our land
is invaded by millions of mosquitoes
and flies armed with deadly weapons
and certain to slaughter thousands.
Years of study and experimentation
before we learn
but

will be necessary
how to fight our
already enough has been done to show

insect foes,

380 THE SCIENTIFIC. MONTHLY

Photograph by Harris and Ewing

DR. GEORGE P. MERRILL
Head curator of geology in the United States National Museum, to whom
the National Academy of Sciences has awarded the J. Lawrence Smith Medal
for his investigations of meteorites.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

what can be accomplished if we go
about it in the right way. Many of
the sanitary measures of the past we
now know to be crude, clumsy and
misdirected, yet they are fixed in the
popular mind and remain on our
statute books. People still talk about
the dangers of miasma and sewer
gas, and think a deodorizer is a dis-
infectant.

We are far from acting up to our
lights. The housewife wages war
against vermin, but she does not
realize that they are more dangerous
than trolley cars. She gets more ex-
cited at the discovery of a moth than
a fly, although the former only
attacks clothing, not its contents. We
have drain pipes in our walls to carry
off disease, but beside them are con-

veniently arranged passages by which |

roaches can carry diseases from flat
to flat, so that everybody has a fair
chance to cateh whatever is going.
Our windows are hospitably open to
the malarial mosquito and typhoid-
bearing fly. Over our clothing on
the street cars crawl unmentionable
insects carrying unmentionable dis-
eases. In the fashionable hotel and
restaurant the napery and porcelain
are immaculate and the waiters are
scrupulous; what goes on behind the
sereen and in the market is another
story. “We have got past the days
when we kept the pig in the parlor,
but we still keep the dog in the
parlor, which is quite as bad. On the
street we see the pet dog gnawing a
decaying bone and nosing the foulest
spot to be found, and a moment later

he is cuddled in the arms of his fair |

and fastidious mistress and licking
her cheek. We have yet to realize
that it is the dogs which are not mad
that are the more dangerous. They
injure more people by their kisses
than their bites.

In primitive days man had to asso-
ciate with the lower animals. He
needed dogs and horses and he very
properly made friends of them. He
is now learning how to’ do without

381

them, and he should, like a snob who
has risen in the world, exclude them
from his circle of intimates. The
house is not intended for a zoological
garden. Insects and animals may be
our worst enemies.

THE BIRTHPLACE OF THE EELS

THE final chapter in the life story
of the eel has been written by the

Danish expedition under Dr. Joh.
Schmidt, which has recently returned
to Copenhagen. The breeding

grounds have been found between the
Bermudas and the Leeward Islands,
Where the sea reaches a depth of
more than a mile.

The origin and mode of reproduc-
tion of the common eel have been for
centuries a matter of speculation. It
has long been observed that large eels
migrate toward the sea in autumn and
that in the spring little elvers are
found under stones on the seashore
and ascend the streams in vast num-
bers. A group of small transparent
salt water fishes, known as Lepto-
cephali, were described in 1763, but
no one guessed that they were in any
way related to the eels.

In 1864, Theo. N. Gill, of the
Smithsonian Institution, published
the conclusion that these Lepto-
cephali are the young or larve of the
2els, and this was confirmed through
direct observation by Yves Delage in
1886. Beginning the following year,
Professor Grassi made careful studies
of the development of the eel in
Sicily, observing the transformation
of Leptocephali into the conger and
other genera of eels, and in 1894 the
larva of the common eel was dis-
covered.

It was evident that the spawning
of mature eels occurred in the sea,
and now the place has been discov-
ered by Dr. Schmidt. The European
species deposit their eggs to the
south. and east of the Bermudas,
while the-American species breeds to
the south and west of the islands.

Wide World Photos
The ship Dana, returning to Copenhagen with the Danish deep sea expedition
which found the breeding place of the eel near the Bermudas. '

Wide World Photos
The Dana at Elsinore, where it was boarded by Prince Valdemar of Denmark

and Prince George of Greece, both of whom are seen in the door of the cabin,
while the leader of the expedition, Dr. Johs. Schmidt, director of the Carlsberg
Laboratory, is seen at the extreme left.

THE PROGRESS

The former make a three-year migra-
tion to the shores of Europe from the
North Sea to Italy, while the latter
journey to the American coast from
New. England to the south in a few
months or a year.

The Leptocephali after their trans-
formation into elvers ascend the
and sometimes travel over-
or up

streams
land from stream
the faces of dams and along the sides
of rocks in search of sufficient water.
The eels lve for fresh
waters, the period being from five to
In the
eels

to stream

years in
as many as twenty or thirty.
autumn some of the mature
travel back to the sea, the males then
being from twelve to eighteen inches
in length, the females never less than
eighteen. At the original breeding
places they. spawn and-die.

THE TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE OF:
SEPTEMBER 21
By IsaseLt M. LEwIs
Science Service
Some of the points at
eclipse expeditions were located on
September 21 are the Maldive Isl-
ands in the Indian Ocean, Christmas
Island about 250 miles south of the
west end of Java, Wallal on the
western Goast of Australia, Cordillo
Downs in‘central Australia, to which
instruments and supplies were trans-
ported by camel trains from Ade-

which

OF SCIENCE 383
laide, South Australia and Goondi-
windi in the southern part of Queens-
land. The longest duration of total-
ity was five minutes and
seconds at Wallal.

The Kodiakanal Observatory expe-
dition from South India in charge of
Director Evershed was in the Maldive
Islands. On Island the
eclipse was awaited by expeditions
the Royal Observatory of
Greenwich and the combined expedi-
tion Holland
which were joined by observers from
Java. The British has
been on the island since the last of

nineteen

Christmas
from
and

from Germany

expedition

March making extensive preparations

for testing the Einstein theory of
relativity. It is essential for this
purpose to photograph the field of
stars in which the sun will be found
at the time of eclipse several months
tt
as the Einstein theory requires, the
rays of light from stars near the sun
are deflected from their course at the
time of eclipse owing to the attrac-

before or after the eclipse date. ‘

tion of the sun’s mass, a comparison
of photographs taken when the sun is
in this field of stars at eclipse with
photographs taken months
previous when the sun was not in the
field will show ithe displacement of

several

the star images required by the
theory.
A number of eclipse expeditions

From Nature.

Shadow track during total solar eclipse of September 21, 1922.

384

were located at Wallal, West Aus-
tralia, owing to the generosity of the
Australian government in placing at
the disposal of the eclipse expeditions
a transport of the Australian navy.

Some of the expeditions that ac-
cepted this offer of the Australian
government are the Crocker eclipse
expedition of the Lick Observatory,
California, in charge of Professor
W. W. Campbell; an expedition from
the University of Toronto which in-
cluded Dr. R. K. Young, of the Do-
minion Astrophysical Observatory,
Victoria, B. C., and an expedition
from the Observatory of Perth, West
Australia. The transport left Free-
mantle, the port of Perth, the last of
August and will bring members of
the expeditions back to that port
after the eclipse.

The chief object of several of the
expeditions was to test the EHinstein
theory which requires that stars near
the sun that are visible when the
sun’s rays are temporarily blotted
out shall be displaced from their nor-
mal positions by amounts depending
upon their angular distances from
the rim of the sun. It will be re-
called that the deflections both in
direction and amount
theory were obtained by the British
observers at Principe, Africa, and
Sobral, Brazil, at the time of the
total solar eclipse of May, 1919. This
is the first opportunity that has been
afforded since that date to obtain an
additional test of this prediction of
the relativity theory.

required by

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS

WE record with regret the death of
William S. Halsted, professor of sur-
gery at the Johns Hopkins Medical
School; of Rollin D. Salisbury, pro-
fessor of geographical geology at the
University of Chicago; of Dr. Harold
C. Ernst, professor of bacteriology in
the Harvard Medical School; of Ste-
phen Smith, distinguished for his
contributions to public health, who

THE SCIENTIFIC

MONTHLY

had nearly reached his hundredth
birthday; of Arthur Ransome, the
English authority on public health,
who died at the age of ninety-two
years; of W. H. Hudson, the English
ornithologist and writer on natural
history, and of Edward M. Eidheer,
formerly expert in the Austrian
bureau of chemistry.

THE British Association for the
Advancement of Science held its
ninetieth annual meeting at Hull
from September 6 to 13 under the
presidency of Sir Charles Sherring-
ton, professor of physiology at Ox-
ford and president of the Royal So-
ciety. Professor Mangin, director of —
the Paris Museum of Natural His-
tory, presided over the meeting of the
French Association for the Advance-
ment of Science held at Montpellier
from July 24 to 29.—The Association
of German Scientific Men and Physi-
cians held its hundredth meeting at
Leipzig from September 18 to 24.
One of the public addresses was by
Professor Albert Einstein.

A pRIZE of $25,000 to be awarded
annually to a chemist of the United
States for contributions to chemistry
was announced by the Allied Chem-
ical and Dye Corporation of New
York, at the recent Pittsburgh meet-
ing of the American Chemical So-
ciety.

THe French Senate has unanimous-
ly voted 2,000,000 franes to observe
the hundredth anniversary of the
birth of Louis Pasteur, which will
take place this year. The Senate in
voting the appropriation described
Pasteur as the ‘‘symbol of French
science. ’’

Tur late Prince of Monaco has
bequeathed sums of one _ million
francs each to the Academy of
Sciences, the Academy of Medicine,
the Institut Océanographique, the
Institut de Paléontologie Humaine of
Paris, and the Musée Océanographi-
que of Monaco.

THE SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

NOV EMBER. 1922

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS’
By Professor WILLIAM MORTON WHEELER

BUSSEY INSTITUTION, HARVARD UNIVERSITY

Lecture IV—Ants, THEIR DEVELOPMENT, CAsTES, NESTING AND
FEEDING Hasits

N one occasion several years ago when I was about to lecture

on ants in Brooklyn, a gentleman introduced me to the audi-

ence by quoting the sixth to eighth verses of the sixth chapter of
Proverbs, and then proceeded in utter seriousness to give an inti-
mate account of their author. He said that Solomon was the
greatest biologist the Hebrews had produced, that he had several
large and completely equipped laboratories in which he busied
himself throughout his reign with intricate researches on ant
behavior and that the 700 wives and 300 concubines mentioned in
the Bible were really devoted graduate students, who collaborated
with the king in his myrmecologieal investigations. The gentleman
deplored the fact that the thousand and one monographs embody-
ing their researches had been lost, and concluded by saying that
he was delighted to introduce one who could supply the missing
information. As he had consumed just forty-three minutes with
his account of Solomon and his collaboratrices, I had to confess my
inability to ‘‘deliver the goods’’ in the remaining seventeen. From
what recondite sources of biblical exegesis the Brooklyn gentleman
drew his information I have never been able to ascertain, but I
am sure that Solomon’s few myrmecological comments, which have
come down to us from about 970 B. C., are very accurate—far
more accurate than that story of Herodotus, written some 500 years
later, of the gold-digging ants of India, which were as large as
leopards, and whose hides were seen by Nearchus in the camp of
Alexander the Great, and whose horns were mentioned by Pliny
as hanging, even in his time, in the temple of Hercules at Erythre.

1 Lowell Lectures.

Vol. XV.—25. ,

386 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

This and the many other ant stories invented or disseminated by
ancient and modern writers are certainly not devoid of interest,
but the actual behavior of the insect is so much more fascinating
that you will pardon me for not dwelling on them.

The Formicide constitute the culminating group of the stinging
Hymenoptera and have attracted many investigators for more
than a century and especially during the past thirty years. Unlike
the honeybee these insects make no appeal to our appetites nor even
to that vague affection which we feel for most of the common
denizens of our forests, fields and gardens, but only to our in-
quisitiveness and anxiety. Hence the vast literature which has
been written on the ants may be said to have been prompted by
scientific, philosophic or mere idle curiosity or by our instinct of
self-preservation. In the presence of the ant we experience most
vividly those peculiar feelings which are aroused also by many
other insects, feelings of perplexity and apprehension, which
Maeterlinck has endeavored to express in the following words:
‘‘The insect does not belong to our world. Other animals and even
the plants, despite their mute lives and the great secrets they enfold,
seem not to be such total strangers, for we still feel in them, not-
withstanding all their peculiarities, a certain terrestrial fraternity.
They may astonish or even amaze us at times, but they do not
completely upset our calculations. Something in the insects, how-
ever, seems to be alien to the habits, morals and psychology of our
globe, as if it had come from some other planet, more monstrous,
more energetic, more insensate, more atrocious, more infernal than
our own. With whatever authority, with whatever fecundity, un-
equalled here below, the insect seizes on life, we fail to accustom
ourselves to the thought that it is an expression of that Nature
whose privileged offspring we claim to be. . . . No doubt, in
this astonishment and failure to comprehend, we are beset with an
indefinable, profound and instinctive uneasiness, inspired by be-
ings so incomparably better armed and endowed than ourselves, con-
centrations of energy and activity in which we divine our most mys-
terious foes, the rivals of our last. hours and perhaps our suc-
CeSSOrs. he

The similarities which the ants, as one of several families of
aculeate or stinging Hymenoptera, necessarily bear to the wasps
and bees, are so overlaid by elaborate specialization and idiosyn-
erasies that their primitive vespine characters are not very easily -
detected. I wish to dwell on some of these specializations, but be-
fore doing so, it will be advisable to give under separate captions
a brief summary of what I conceive to be the fundamental pe-
culiarities of the ants:

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 387

(1) The whole family Formicide consists of social insects,
that is, it includes no solitary nor subsocial forms such as we
found among the beetles, wasps and bees. We are therefore unable
to point to any existing insects that might represent stages leading
up to the social life of the ants. Within the family, nevertheless,
we can distinguish quite a number of stages in a gradual evolution
of social conditions from very simple, primitive forms, whose
colonies consist of only a few dozen individuals, with a compara-
tively feeble caste development, to highly specialized forms with
huge colonies, comprising hundreds of thousands of individuals
and an elaborate differentiation of castes.

(2) The number of described species of ants is approximately
3,500, but if we include their subspecies and varieties, many of
which will probably be raised to specific rank by future, less con-
servative generations of entomologists, we shall have more than
double the number. This is far in excess of the number of all
other social insects, including both the groups I have already con-
sidered and the termites. The ants are therefore the dominant
social insects.

(3) This dominance is shown also by their geographical dis-
tribution, which is world-wide. There are ants everywhere on the
land-masses of the globe, except in high aretic and antarctic lati-
tudes and on the summits of the higher mountains. The number
of individual ants is probably greater than that of all other insects.
With few exceptions, the termites are all confined to tropical or
subtropical countries, and the number of social wasps and bees
in temperate regions is very small.

(4) We found that the social wasps arose from the Eumenine
solitary wasps and the bees from the solitary Sphecoids. All the
authorities agree that the ants had their origin in neither of these
ancestral stocks, but among the Scolioids, a distinct offshoot of the
primitive Vespoids. Of the four modern families of the Scolioids,
the Psammocharide, Thynnide, Mutillide and Scoliide, the last
seems to be most closely related to the ants. Since they must be
traced to ancestors which were winged in both sexes, the Thynnids
and Mutillids, which have wingless females, are excluded, and the
family Psammocharide is not very closely allied to the Formicide.

(5) The ants, unlike the social wasps and bees, are eminently
terrestrial insects. They inherited and seem very early to have
exaggerated the terrestrial habits of their primitive Scolioid ances-
tors. The majority of the species in all parts of the world still
nest in the soil. Many of them later took to nesting in dead or de-
eaying’ wood, and more recently a number of species, especially in
the rain-forests of the tropics, have become arboreal and nest by
preference in the twigs of trees and bushes or construct paper or

388 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

silken nests among the leaves and branches. The terrestrial habit
led to a permanent phylogenetic suppression of the wings in the
workers, an ontogenetic loss of the wings in the queens and a
diminution of the eyes in both of these castes. A few very archaic
ants still possess large eyes like the wasps and bees, but in the
great majority of species, which are more or less subterranean,
and therefore practically cave-animals during much of their lives,
the eyes have dwindled, and in many species have almost or com-
pletely disappeared. The great abundance of ants in the desert,
savanna and prairie regions of the globe indicates that they arose
during some period of the Mesozoic, perhaps during the Triassi¢
or Liassic, when the climate was warm but arid. Their extensive
adaptation to low, damp jungles, with their rank vegetation, seems
to have developed during the Cretaceous or early Tertiary. The
ants therefore resemble the solitary wasps, which are still con-
spicuously abundant in hot, arid regions. Both groups are repre-
sented by only a small number of species in cool, moist regions,
like New Zealand, the British Isles and certain mountain ranges,
like the Selkirks of British America.

(6) In the social wasps and bees we found that the worker,

|

FIG. 54

Stigmatomma pallipes, a primitive, subterranean Pcnerine ant of the United

States. The winged individuals are virgin queens and are very similar to

the workers. Nearly twice natural size. (Photograph by J. G. Hubbard and
OWS strong)

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 389

or sterile caste, though distinctly differentiated, is, nevertheless,
very much like the queen, or fertile female. In ants the differ-
ences are much greater. Even when, as in many primitive ants
(Fig. 54), the worker resembles the queen in size and form, it
never possesses wings, and in most ants the two castes are so dis-
similar that they have often been described as separate species.
The male ant, too, is much less like the queen than is the corre-
sponding sex among the social wasps and bees (Fig. 57). It is
evident, therefore, that all three castes are more, highly specialized.
In many ants, as we shall see, the worker, queen and male may
each become differentiated into two or more castes, a phenomenon
which is nowhere even suggested among the wasps and bees.

(7) Very long and intimate contact with the soil has made the
ants singularly plastic in their nesting habits. While most social
wasps and bees construct elaborate combs with very regular, hexa-
gonal cells of such expensive substances as paper and wax, the ants
merely make more or less irregular galleries or chambers in the
soil or dead wood or if they construct paper or silken nests avoid
a rigid type of architecture. Hence the great variability of nest-
ing habit in the same species. This plasticity and saving of time
and labor are very advantageous, because they enable the insects,
when conditions of temperature or moisture become unfavorable
or when bothersome enemies settle too near the nest, to change
their habitation readily and without serious loss to the colony.
Espinas long ago noticed the importance of the terrestrial habits
of ants. He says: ‘‘Ants owe their superiority to their terrestrial
life. This assertion may seem paradoxical, but consider the excep-
tional advantages afforded by a terrestrial compared with an
aérial medium in the development of their intellectual faculties!
In the air there are the long flights without obstacles, the vertigim- -
ous journeys far from real bodies, the instability, the wandering
about, the endless forgetfulness of things and of oneself. On the
earth, on the contrary, there is not a movement that is not a con-
tact and does not yield precise information, not a journey that
fails to leave some reminiscence; and as these journeys are deter-
minate, it is inevitable that a portion of the ground incessantly
traversed should be registered, together with its resources and its
dangers, in the animal’s imagination. Thus there results a closer
and much more direct communication with the external world. To
employ matter, moreover, is easier for a terrestrial than an aérial
animal. When it is necessary to build, the latter must, like the
bee, either secrete the substance of its nest or seek it at a distance,
as does the bee when she collects propolis, or the wasp when she
gathers material for her paper. The terrestrial animal has its
building materials close at hand, and its architecture may be as

390 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

varied as these materials. Ants, therefore, probably owe their
social and industrial superiority to their habitat.’

(8) The plasticity of ants is shown even more clearly in their
care of their young, which are not reared in separate cells but in
clusters and lie freely in the chambers and galleries of the nest
where they can be moved about and easily carried away or hidden
when the colony is disturbed or the moisture and temperature
conditions are unfavorable. Like their continual contact with
their physical environment, their intimate acquaintance with their
young in all their stages has been an important factor in the high
psychological development of the Formicide.

(9) A similar plasticity characterizes their feeding habits. As
a group they feed on an extraordinary range of substances: the
bodies and secretions of other insects, seeds, delicate fungi, nectar,
the saccharine excreta of plant-le, scale insects, ete. Some species
seem to be almost omnivorous.

(10) All this adaptability, or plasticity in nesting and feeding
habits is, of course, an expression of a very active and enterprising:
disposition and has resulted in the formation of a vast and intri-
cate series of relationships between ants and other organisms, in-
cluding man. These restless, indefatigable, inquisitive busybodies,
forever patrolling the soil and the vegetation in search of food,
poke their noses, so to speak, into the private affairs of every living
thing in their environment. Nor do they stop at this; they actually
draw many organisms, by domesticating them or at any rate at-
taching them to their nests or bodies, into the vortex: of their cease- ©
less, impudent activities. Nearly every week during the past
twenty years I have received from some entomologist somewhere
on our planet one or more vials of ants with a request for their
. identification, often because they had been found associated with
some insect or plant which the sender happened to be investi-
gating. In the next lecture-I shall describe a number of . the
strange partnerships into which ants have entered as a result of
their inordinate and unappeasable appetites.

As my time is limited I shall select for discussion only a few
of the topics suggested in the foregoing summary, namely, the
main taxonomie divisions of the family Formicide, polymorphism,
or the development of castes, the origin and growth of colonies,
the structure of the alimentary canal in adult and larval ants and
the evolution of the feeding habits.

In their main outlines, at least, the phylogenetic relationships
of the various subdivisions or subfamilies of the Formicide have
been clearly established. There are seven of them: the Ponerine,
Cerapachyine, Doryline, Pseudomyrmine, Myrmicine, Dolicho-

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 391

FORMICINAE

MY PMICINAE

DOLICHODERINAE

PSEUDOMYRMIHAE
PONERINAE

CERAPACHYINAE

DORYLINAE

SCOLIOID

ANCESTORS.
FIG. 55
Ancestral tree showing the putative phylogenetic relations of the family
Formicide as a whole and of its subfamilies to one another.

derine and Formicine. The Ponerine constitute the primitive,
basic stock of the family and have given rise to the six other sub-
families, which are represented in the ancestral tree (Fig. 55)
as so many branches. Their thickness roughly indicates their vigor
or comparative development and their height their degree of spe-
cialization and dominance in the existing fauna. All the sub-
famihes are well represented in the tropies of both hemispheres,
but in the north temperate region nearly all the species belong
to the two largest and highest subfamilies, the Myrmicine and
Formicine. In temperate North America and Eurasia there are
very few Dolichoderine and Ponerine and no Cerapachyine nor
Pseudomyrminez. A small number of Doryline extend as far north
as Colorado, Missouri and North Carolina (35° to 40°) and to about
the same latitude on the southern shores of the Mediterranean.
With the exception of a series of peculiar parasitic genera,
which are represented only by males and females, all ants possess a
sharply defined worker caste. In primitive groups, like the

392 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Ponerine, Cerapachyine and Pseudomyrmine, the worker is nearly
as large as the queen but lacks the wings and has therefore a more
simply constructed thorax, the compound eyes are smaller and the
simple eyes or ocelli are minute or absent. In the three sub-
families mentioned the worker is monomorphie, that is, it always
has the same form though it may vary somewhat in size. In the
four remaining subfamilies (Doryline, Myrmicine, Dolichoderine
and Formicine) we find the same uniformity of the worker in
many species, but in a considerable number it has become highly
variable, or polymorphic, as a result of agencies which have acted
independently in each subfamily or even within the limits of a
single genus (Figs. 57 and 58). In such eases the workers can
be arranged in-a graduated series, beginning with large, huge-
headed individuals more like the queen in stature, and ending with
minute, small-headed individuals, which may be very much smaller
than the queen. Such a series exhibits not only great morpholog-

FIG. 57 Ns

A small Myrmicine harvesting ant of Texas, Pheidole instabilis, with poly-

morphic worker caste. a, soldier; f, worker; b to e, forms intermediate be-

tween the soldier and worker (lacking in most other species of the huge genus

Pheidole) ; g, queen (dedlated) ; h, male. The figures are all drawn to the
same scale.

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 393

FIG. 58
Portion of a colony of a common Formicine ant (Camponotus americanus),
comprising virgin, winged queens and workers, the latter showing the un-
stable polymorphism in stature and size of head, characteristic of most species
of the genus. (Photograph by J. G. Hubbard and O. S. Strong.)

ical but also great functional differences among its members. The
largest individuals commonly act as policemen or defenders of the
colony, but in some species their powerful jaws enable them to
erush seeds or the hard parts of inseets, so that the softer parts
may be exposed and eaten by the smaller individuals (Fig. 57).
The latter excavate the nest, forage for food, nurse the young and
in some species devote all their energies to the cultivation of the
fungus gardens. In a graduated series like the one described
we usually call the largest workers ‘‘maxime,’’ the smallest
‘‘minime’’ and the intermediate forms ‘‘medie,’’ the word
‘‘operariz’’ (workers) being understood in each ease. Now in
some ants only the two extremes, the maxime and the minima,
of the polymorphic series proved to be serviceable to the colony,
so that all the intermediate forms (medizw) have been eliminated,
leaving the worker caste distinctly dimorphic. In such ants we
eall the maxime ‘‘soldiers’’ (milites) and the minime ‘‘workers’’
(operari#). This condition has been attained in several genera
and subgenera among the Myrmicine and Formicine (Pheidole
(Fig. 57), Oligomyrmex, Colobopsis, ete.). In still-other genera,

‘

394 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

where soldiers were not needed or were too expensive to rear and
maintain, on account of their great size and appetites, they too
have been eliminated and the worker caste is represented only by
the tiniest individuals of the originally polymorphie series (Care-
bara, Tranopelta, Pedalgus, Solenopsis, ete.). There is therefore
an enormous difference in these ants in size and structure between
the queen and the only surviving worker form of the species. In
Carebara, e. g., the queen is several thousand times as large as
the worker! Nevertheless, both are merely extreme female forms
of the same species and may, of course, develop from the eggs of
the same mother.

But the worker is not the only caste that has become dimorphie.
In some species there are two distinet forms of queen, in others
two distinct forms of male. In these cases one of the forms is
winged, the other usually apterous. And here again, by suppres-
sion of the winged female or winged male, the wingless form may
become the only surviving fertile form of its sex in the species.
All these developments are interesting because they indicate that
the distinctions among the various eastes have arisen gradually
by eontinuous or fluetuating variations and that the survival and
persistence of some of them and the elimination of others have led
to the sharply discontinuous series of castes which we find in
many ants. :

It is obvious that some of the differences between the various
castes, especially those in size, are due to differences in the amount
of food consumed during the larval stages, but the profounder
morphological differences which separate the queens, soldiers and
workers, must be due to other causes. We must suppose either
that the food administered to the larve differs in quality or that
there are several different kinds of eggs, some of which develop
into fertile, other into sterile forms. In a sense the latter would be
mutations, like the various sterile forms of the evening primrose,
which make their appearance generation after generation from
some of the seeds of the fertile forms. In the ease of the ants,
however, we find that the workers not infrequently lay viable eggs,
and though they are never fertilized’ and generally develop into
males, the latter may mate with queens and thus be a means of
establishing a representation of the characters of their worker
mothers in the germ-plasm of the species. The peculiar anomalies
known as gynandromorphs, that is, individuals partly male and
partly. female, which occasionally oceur among ants, also indicate
that the queens, soldiers and workers arise from as many different
kinds of eggs, since there are three different kinds of gynandro-
morphs, exhibiting respectively combinations or mosaics of male
and queen, male and soldier and male and worker characters. It

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 395 »

is difficult to see how such perfectly definite combinations could
be produced by larval feeding, and it is equally difficult to account
for them as the results of internal secretions. In the present state
of our knowledge we can only surmise that the differences between
the queen and worker castes were originally ontogenetic and de-
termined by feeding, as they still are in the social wasps and bees,
but that in the ants the germ-plasm has somehow been reached
and modified, so that an hereditary basis for caste differentiation
has been established.

The ant colony may be initiated and developed by one of two
different methods which I shall call the independent and the de-
pendent. The former is peculiar to the nonparasitic; the latter to
the parasitic species. Leaving an account of the ants which employ
the dependent method for the next lecture, I would say that the
great majority of ants establish their colonies in essentially the
same manner as Vespa and the bumble-bees. The winged, virgin
queen, after fecundation during her nuptial flight, descends to
the ground, rids herself of her wings and seeks out some small
cavity under a stone or piece of bark, or excavates a small cell in
the soil. She then closes the opening of the cell and remains a
voluntary prisoner for weeks or even months while the eggs are
growing in her ovaries. The loss of the wings has a peculiar effect
on the voluminous wing-museles in her thorax, causing them to
break down and dissolve in the blood plasma. Their substance is
earried by the circulation to the ovaries and utilized in building
up the yolk of the eggs. As soon as the eggs mature, they are laid
and the queen nurses the hatching larve and feeds them with her
saliva till they*pupate. Since she never leaves the cell during all
this time and has access to no food, except the fat she stored in
her abdomen during her larval life and her dissolved wing-muscles,
the workers that emerge from the pupe are all abnormally small.
They are, in fact, always minime in species which have a poly-
morphic worker caste. They dig their way out through the soil,
thus establishing a communication between the cell and the outside
world, collect food for themselves and their mother and thus enable
her to lay more eggs. They take charge of the second brood of
egos and larve, which, being more abundantly fed, develop into
larger workers. The population of the colony now increases
rapidly, new chambers and galleries are added to the nest and the
queen devotes herself to digesting the food received from the
workers and to laying more eggs. In the course of a few years
numerous males and queens are reared and on some meteorologic-
ally favorable day the fertile forms from all the nests of the same
species over a wide expanse of country escape simultaneously into
the air and celebrate their marriage flight. This flight provides

396 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

not only for the mating of the sexes but also for the dissemina-
tion of the species, since the daughter queens, on descending to
the ground, usually establish their nests at some distance from the
parental colony.

It will be seen that the queen ant, like the queen wasp and
bumble-bee, but unlike the queen honeybee, is the perfect female
of her species, possessing not only great fecundity but in addition
all the worker propensities, as shown by her ability to make a nest
and bring up her young. But as soon as the first brood of workers
appears, these propensities are no longer manifested. That they
are not lost is shown by the simple experiment of removing the
queen’s first brood of workers. Then, provided she be fed or have
a sufficient store of food in her body, she will at once proceed to
bring up another brood in the same manner as the first, although
she would have manifested no such behavior under normal con-
ditions.

As already stated, this independent method of colony forma-
tion is the most universal and is followed alike by tropical and
extratropical ants. It is undoubtedly the primitive method and,
as we shall see, the one from which the dependent method has been
derived. It differs from that of Vespa and Bombus, nevertheless,
in leading to the formation of perennial colonies even in temperate
and boreal regions. The queen ant may, in fact, live from 12 to
17 years and although, like other aculeates, she is fecundated only
once, may produce offspring up to the time of her death. Unhke
the queen honeybee she is never hostile to her own queen daughters,
and in many species of ants some of these daughters may return
after their marriage flight to the maternal colony ‘and take a very
active part in increasing its population. In this manner the colony
may become polygynic or pleometrotic, and in some instances may
contain a large number of fertile queens. When such a colony
grows too large it may separate into several, the queens emigrating
singly or in small companies, each accompanied by a detachment
of workers, to form a new nest near the parental formicary. This
behavior is exhibited by the well-known mound-building ant
(Formica exsectoides) of our New England hills. You will notice
that its mounds usually occur in loose groups or ¢lusters and that
the workers of the different nests are on friendly terms with one
another and sometimes visit back and forth. We may, of course,
eall the whole cluster a single (polydomous) colony, but it really
differs from a number of colonies only in the absence of hostility
between the inhabitants of the different mounds. In certain
tropical ants, like the Doryline (Figs. 59 and 60), however, I am
inclined to believe that the only method of colony formation is
by a splitting of the original colony into as many parts as it con-

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 397

FIG. 59
Argentinian legionary (Doryline) ant Eciton (Acamatus) strobeli. Workers
showing polymorphism and male, photographed to the same scale as the four
smaller workers. (Photograph by Dr. Carlos Bruch.)

FIG. 60

Dorsal arid lateral view of the wingless queen (dichthadiigyne) of Eciton
(Acamatus) strobeli. Same scale as Fig. 59. (Photcgraph by Dr. Carlos
Bruch.)

398 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tains young queens. These huge, clumsy creatures (Fig. 60) are
always wingless and must therefore be fecundated in the nest, and
since the colonies, which comprise hundreds of thousands of work-
ers, are nomadic and keep wandering from place to place, they
must become independent entities as soon as they are formed.

We possess no accurate data on the age that ant colonies may
attain. Some of them certainly persist for 30 or 40 years and
probably even longer. In such old colonies the original queen has,
of course, been replaced by successive generations of queens, that
is, by her fertile daughters, grand-daughters and great-grand-
daughters, and the worker personnel has been replaced at a more
rapid rate, because the individual worker does not live more, and
in most instances lives considerably less, than three or four years.

The feeding habits of ants are so varied and complicated that
it will be advisable before considering them to describe the struc-
ture of the alimentary canal in both adult and larva. The mouth-
parts of the adult are of the generalized vespine type and consist

FIG. 61

Sagittal sections through the heads of ants. A, of queen Lasius niger with
the mouth open (After Janet). B, of queen Camponotus brutus with the
mouth closed. #, tongue; 0, oral orifice; ph, pharynx; h, infrabuccal pocket;
pe, pellet in situ, made up of solid particles of food refuse and strigil sweep-
ings. Note stratification in the substance of the pellet, indicating successive

meals or toilet operations.
»

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 399

of a small, flap-like upper lip, or labrum, a pair of strong, usually
toothed mandibles, a pair of small maxille and a broad. lower lip,
or labium. The maxille and labium are each provided with a pair
of joimted, sensory appendages, the palpi. The mandibles, which
are really the ant’s hands, vary greatly in shape in different genera
and are used not only in securing the food but also in many other
activities, such as digging in the earth or wood, transporting other
. ants or the young, fighting, leaping, etc. Liquids are, of course,
merely imbibed and swallowed, but solid food is seized and crushed
with the mandibles and the juices or smaller particles licked up
with the tongue, which is a roughened pad at the tip of the lower
lip (Fig. 61¢) just anterior to the opening of the duct of the
salivary glands. The small particles thus collected are carried
back into a small chamber or sae, the infrabuceal pocket (Fig. 61h),
which lies immediately below and anteriorly to the mouth-open-
ing (0). This pocket is an important structure since it serves as
a receptacle not only for the more solid particles of food but also
for the dirt, fungus-spores, ete., which the ant. collects during her
toilet operations, for the ant is an exquisitely cleanly insect and
‘devotes much of her leisure to licking and burnishing her own
smooth or finely chiseled armor and that of her nest-mates. More-
over, the tip of the fore tibia is furnished with a beautiful comb
or strigil which can be opposed to another comb on the concave —
inner surface of the fore metatarsus. The ant cleans her legs and
antenne by drawing them between these combs, which are then
drawn across the mouth, with the result that any adhering dirt
is carried off into the infrabuccal pocket. In this manner the dirt
and the solid or semisolid food particles are combined and the
whole mass moulded in the infrabuceal pocket into the form of a
roundish oblong pellet (Fig. 61B pe). After any liquid which it
may contain has been dissolved out and sucked back into the
mouth, the pellet is cast out, so that no solid food actually enters
the alimentary canal. All adult ants therefore subsist entirely
on liquids.

The alimentary canal proper is a long tube extending through
the body and divided into sections, each with its special function.
The more anterior sections are the mouth eavity, the pharynx
(Fig. 61 ph), which receives the duets of certain glands, and the
very long, slender gullet, which traverses the posterior part of the
head, the whole thorax and the narrow. waist, or pedicel of the
abdomen as far as the base of its large, swollen portion, the gaster.
Here the gullet expands into a thin-walled, distensible sac, the
erop, which is used for the storage of the imbibed liquids. At
its posterior end the crop is separated from the ellipsoidal stomach
by a peculiar valvular constriction, the proventriculus. The
hindermost sections of the alimentary tract are the intestine and

400 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the large, pear-shaped rectum. The crop, proventriculus and
stomach are the most interesting of these various organs. Forel
calls the crop the ‘‘social stomach,’’ because its liquid contents
are in great part distributed by regurgitation to the other members
of the colony and because only a small portion, which is permitted
to pass back through the proventricular valve and enter the stom-
ach, is absorbed and utilized by the individual ant. That the erop
functions in the manner deseribed can be readily demonstrated by
permitting some pale yellow worker ant to gorge herself with syrup
stained blue or red with an aniline dye. The ant’s gaster will
gradually become vividly colored as the crop expands. Now if the
insect be allowed to return to the nest, other workers will come up
to it, beg for food with rapidly vibrating antenne and protrude
their tongues, and very soon their crops, too, will become visible
through the translucent gastric integument as they fill with the
stained syrup. Then these workers in turn will distribute the
food by regurgitation in the same manner till every member of
the colony has at least a minute share of the blue or red ecropful
of the first worker.

The alimentary tract of the helpless, legless, soft-bodied ant
erub or larva is much simpler than that of the adult. The mouth-
parts are similar but more rudimentary. As a rule, the mandibles
are less developed but in some larve they are strong, dentate and
very sharp. The lower lip is fleshy and protrusible and provided
with sensory papille instead of palpi, and the unpaired duct of
the long, tubular and more or less branched salivary glands opens
near its tip. The mouth-opening is broad and its lining in many
species is provided with numerous transverse ridges beset with
very minutes spinules (Fig. 62C). Larger, pointed projections
or imbrications may also cover the basal portions of the mandibles.
All these spinules and projections are probably used in triturating
the food but perhaps when rubbed on one another they may also
produce shrill sounds for the purpose of apprising the worker
nurses of the hunger or discomfort of their charges. The gullet
is long and very slender and opens directly into the large stomach,
which throughout larval life is closed behind, that is, does not open
into the intestine. A communication with the more posterior por-
tion of the alimentary tract is not established till the larva is about
to pupate. Then all the undigested food which has accumulated
in the stomach since the very beginning of larval life is voided as
a large black pellet, the meconium.

In the larve of the Pseudomyrmine (Figs. 62, 68 and 64) there
are certain very peculiar additional structures which may be briefly
described. The head is not at the anterior end of the body as in
other ant larve but pushed far back on the ventral surface so that
it is surrounded by a great hood formed from the three thoracic

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 401

/ GAEE LL/ ey
CLE AED:

4

FIG. 62
Larva of Pseudomyrma gracilis. A, ventral; B, lateral view; C, head and
adjacent portions of same enlarged; D, sagittal section through anterior por-
tion of larva. o, oral orifice; x, exudatoria; t, trophothylax, or pocket, which
holds the pellet; (pe), deposited by the worker nurses and which is eaten by
the larva. Note the hooked dorsal hairs of the larva, which serve to suspend
it from the walls of the nest. a, mouth cavity, more enlarged to show the
fine spinules (also seen in C), which serve to triturate the pellet and probably
also as a stridulatory organ.

Vol. XV.—26.

402 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

FIG. 63
A, ventral; B, lateral view of the first larval stage (“trophidium”) of the
Ethiopian Pachysima latifrons, showing the peculiar appendages (“exuda-
toria”) surrounding the head. These belong to the three thoracic and the
first abdominal segments.

segments, and the first abdominal segment, which lies immediately
behind the head, has in the midventral line a singular pocket, the
trophothylax (t). Furthermore, each side of this segment and
each ventrolateral portion of the several thoracic segments is de-
veloped as a peculiar protuberance or appendage, which functions
as a blood-gland, or exudatorium (2).

Unlike the adult ants the larve can devour solid food, though
they are often fed, at least in their youngest stages, with liquids
regurgitated on their mouths by the worker nurses. The larve of
the Pseudomyrmine are fed with the pellets (pe) from the in-
frabueeal pocket, which are placed by the workers in the tropho-
thylax where they are within easy reach of the mandibles and can
be gradually drawn into the mouth, triturated and swallowed.
Some primitive ants (Ponerine, some Myrmicine, ete.) actually
feed their young with pieces of insects or entire small insects,
which are simply placed on the ventral surface of the larva within
reach of its mouth-parts.

In a former lecture I referred to the fact that the larve of
the social wasps, either before or after feeding, produce droplets
of a sweet salivary secretion, which are eagerly imbibed by the
adult wasps, and I designated this interchange of food between
adult and larva as trophallaxis. I have recently made some ob-
servations which show that the ant larve also produce secretions
which appeal to the appetites of their nurses. These secretions
are more varied than in the wasps. Certain ant larve undoubtedly

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS | 403

supply their nurses with saliva, but many or all sweat a fatty
secretion through the delicate general integument of the body,
and the larval Pseudomyrmine produce similar exudates from
the papille or appendages above described. Although these various
substances are produced in very small quantities they are of such
qualities that they are eagerly sought by the adult ants. This
explains much of the behavior which has been attributed to ma-
ternal affection on the part of the queen and the workers, such
as the continual licking and fondling of the larvae, the ferocity
with which they are defended and the solicitude with which they
are removed when the nest is disturbed. In other words, a de-
eidedly egoistic appetite, and not a purely altruistic maternal
anxiety for the welfare of the young constitutes the potent ‘‘drive’’
that initiates and sustains the intimate relations of the adult ants
to the larve, just as the mutual regurgitation of food initiates and
sustains the similar relations among the adult workers themselves.

I am convineed that trophallaxis will prove to be the key to
an understanding not only of the behavior I have briefly outlined

Second, third and fourth (adult) larval stages of Pachysima latifrons, show-:
ing the gradual dwindling of the exudatoria. A and B show the trophothy-
lax (t); and B also shows the food pellet pe; which is the pellet formed in the
infrabuccal pocket of the worker nurse; x, exudatcrium. See Figs. 62 and 63.

404 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

but also of the relations which ants have acquired to many kinds
of alien organisms. In the accompanying diagram (Fig. 65) I
have endeavored to indicate how trophallaxis, originally developed
as a mutual trophic relation between the queen ant and her brood,
has expanded with the growth of the colony, like an ever-widening
vortex, till it involves, first, all the adults as well as the brood

Trophic Relations
of Ants to Plants.
Myrmecophytes

Trophic Relations
of Ants to Insects
outsida the Rest.

Trophallaxis
batween Ants of
Different Species,

irophallaxis
between Ants and
True Guests,

Trophailaxis
botween Adult
Ants,

Trophallaxis
between Mother

or Adult Workers

and Larval Brood,

Mutual Regurgi-
tation of Food

Symphily

Social Parasitism

Trophobiesis

FIG. 65
See text for explanation.

and therefore the entire colony; second, a great number of alien
insects that have managed to get a foot-hold in the nest as
scavengers, predators and parasites (symphiles) ; third, alien social
insects, that is, other species of ants (social parasites) ; fourth
alien insects that live outside the nest and are ‘‘milked’’ by the
ants (trophobionts), and fifth, certain plants that are regularly
visited or even inhabited by the ants (myrmecophytes). These
extranidal relationships, represented by the two outer rings in
the diagram are, of course, incomplete or one-sided, since the
organisms which they represent are not fed but merely cared for or
protected by the ants. In my next lecture I shall have more to

say about some of these relationships.
(To be continued)

WATER 405

WATER’
By Professor LAWRENCE J. HENDERSON

HARVARD MEDICAL SCHOOL

a task of science is one that may be fulfilled quite directly
a by providing useful information of a practical sort for our
immediate needs, or it may furnish us with general ideas which,
if we are skilful enough and intelligent enough, we may use to ex-
plain a great variety of phenomena. These general ideas when
combined make up our conception of the universe. The latter
function of science is the more important one. It is the one that
brings science close to philosophy. It is the one that arouses the
ereatest interest and enthusiasm in those who pursue the task of
science. When we look for generalizations of this kind we always
seek simple explanations of nature, confident that they may be
used as guides to our action in particular cases and as means for
gaining an ever increasing control of the world that we live in.
Everything in the history of science justifies us in saying that it is
the general interpretation of nature which, especially in the last
hundred years, has given man his extraordinary increase in ma-
terial power, an increase in power which he has used far from
wisely no doubt, but which for better or for worse he possesses.

In the ancient world there were a certain number of advances
of this kind. The history of geometry, in spite of the labors of the
last century and in spite of Einstein, is to a great extent ancient his-
tory. The few necessary general conceptions that the Greeks found
out enabled them to develop a complete science of geometry, enabled
them to be good surveyors, enabled them to begin to understand
how to lay out the heavens and the earth in their astronomy and
in their geography, enabled them to see how to make buildings,
and to do a great many practical things.

But in the main the really important, the really general ideas
of science, are modern, and of course the most interesting ones
have to do, at least so most people will think, not with statie things,
not with space taken by itself, but with dynamic things, with the
question of what is happening in the world. On the whole, the
most interesting and the most important generalizations of science

1This lecture was one of the public series given in Boston on Sunday
afternoons recently under the auspices of the Harvard Medical School.

406 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

will be judged by most men to be those that tell them what is hap-
pening in the world, how things happen and how those happenings
may be, if possible, changed to their own advantage, and how they
may be interpreted so as to yield a philosophy.

Of course everyone knows that the first step in this direction
in modern times, the first step of great importance, was the inter-
pretation of the phenomena of our solar system. It was the labors
of Copernicus, of Galileo, and of Newton that enabled men to look
at the sun and the moon and the planets, and to think quite clearly
and quite simply and without any sort of difficulty at all about
what their movements and their apparent changes in position and
in form indicated. But, once more, it is not so much our solar
system as it is our own earth that interests us, and until we come
down to the earth and examine the happenings on the surface of
the earth we are necessarily a long way from those things that
interest us most.

How shall we state abstractly what is happening on the earth?
That is one of the great questions for science as well as for phil-
osophy, for sociology, and for all the other intellectual activities
of man. What is happening on the earth? Of course there are
an indefinite number of answers to that question; but if we seek
the strictly scientific answer of physical science I think there can
be very little doubt that it is possible to put it in a few words which
make our interpretation of the changes in nature surrounding us
surprisingly simpler than they otherwise would be.

Men in antiquity and in all ages have vaguely perceived an
answer to this question. Perhaps many of you have heard of the
famous remark of Thales, who is often thought of as the founder
of philosophy and mathematics and science, that water is the
origin of all things. This statement seems to many people to-day,
I suppose, ridiculous, or at all events very exaggerated, but it is in
fact much less ridiculous and much less exaggerated than you may
suppose. A little later Empedocles and Aristotle, extending the
elements from one to four, included water along with earth, air,
and fire as the elements of which the world is made up. No doubt
the word ‘‘element’’ is used in a sense a little different from our
ordinary idea of an element to-day, but we still speak of the Aris-
totlean idea when we talk about exposure to the elements. Of these
elements water is in many respects the most interesting. Never-
theless, while it was always clear in antiquity, as it has been in
modern times, that water is very important in the world that sur-
rounds us, its real importance is a comparatively recent discovery.

In the first place, it was only a century and a half ago when

WATER 407

Cavendish and Watt and others first found out that water is not
itself what the chemist now calls an element, but that it is a com-
pound, a compound of hydrogen with oxygen, a substance that can
be formed by burning hydrogen gas in air or in oxygen. With
this discovery a new road was opened, not only for chemistry and
for physiology, but for the general interpretation of nature. Even
before that time men had begun to understand the meteorological
eycle, to perceive that there is going on on the earth a physical
process which may be very briefly described as the evaporation of
water from the ocean, from lakes and streams, and from the moist
land, its dissemination as water vapor throughout the atmosphere
by the winds, its precipitation as rain and snow and hail and dew,
its collection into streams, but not a rapid collection, for it persists
for long periods of time in the soil and underground, and finally
its return to the ocean and reevaporation. That had been per-
ceived, as I say, quite clearly before the discovery of the chemical
nature of water.

After that discovery another thing became apparent, that all
that is happening in living organisms, in animals, and in plants
on the earth, may be regarded in one sense as a part of this great
meteorological cycle, this great cycle of water in its evaporation
and condensation and flowing back through definite channels; for,
as you know, our rivers persist, our streams persist, the circulation
takes place in a very definite and very definitely canalized way.
As I say, when men had made out the chemical nature of water
they were able to see that water and earbonie acid are taken up
by the plant, taken, if you will, out of the meteorological cycle and
built up into sugar and starch, and then, sooner or later, turned
into a great variety of substances, the substance of the plant, in
short. These in turn serve as the food of the herbivorous animals,
of cattle and sheep, and they are not greatly modified when built
up into the body of the ox or the sheep. Next they may be con-
sumed by man, or by a carnivorous animal, and are made over into
the materials of his body. But sooner or later they are turned out
into inorganic nature, excreted, as water and carbonic acid, after
being burned in the body, once more to become a part of the
meteorological cycle.

That, I submit to you, is a fair statement, which no doubt needs
a great deal of enlargement, a fair statement in terms of physics
and chemistry, of what is happening on the surface of the earth.
What is happening on the surface of the earth is, first of all, a
circulation of water, a circulation of water which we recognize in
the fall of rain, in the flow of streams, which we recognize equally
in the growth of plants and in the feeding of animals on plants,

408 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

and in the burning up of material in the body of the animal—of
course a circulation of water and of other things, other things
which in the total are very numerous and certainly very difficult
to know in all cases, but fundamentally a circulation of water.

I have not touched upon the energy of the process, the side of
the question that is represented by the energy that goes into the
water to evaporate it off the surface of the ocean, that goes into
the green leaf to turn water and carbonic acid into sugar and
starch, or the energy that comes out again in the form of muscular
activity and body heat in you as you live, when you convert starch,
sugar, and other things formed from them in the plant, back to
water and carbonic acid. But let us say in the beginning that what
is happening on the surface of the earth is this circulation of water,
and let us add that it is a circulation which is driven by the energy
of the sun, which is driven both in the one eyele, in the meteorologi-
eal cycle, by the sun’s heat evaporating the water, and in the other,
the organic cycle, by the sun’s energy making possible the forma-
tion of sugar and starch from water and earbonie acid.

In the first place, this process depends upon the great amount
of water that there is on the earth. There is enough, if the earth
had a perfectly smocth surface, to cover the whole earth, to a depth
of two to three miles. How much of this is circulating it is very
difficult to say. The amount is large. For instance, at the Equator
evaporation takes off a layer of perhaps about seven feet every
year from the tropical ocean. Of course the evaporation is less in
other localities, and it is much less where there are no great bodies
of water, but that will perhaps give you some idea of the magnitude
of the process.

How much is the energy involved in this process? How much
work is done? How much energy of the sun does it take to evapo-
rate so much water? A few square miles of the tropical ocean are
taking up solar energy in the process of the evaporation of water
to such an extent that if that energy were available in the bodies
of the people of the United States, it would run all their bodies;
that is to say, all the work that we are capable of doing, plus all
the heat that we produce, is equivalent to an amount of energy
which is no greater than that involved in evaporating the water
off a very few, perhaps ten, square miles of the surface of the
tropical ocean. So you see that not only is there a vast amount
of water being evaporated, but that amount of water carries with
it, involves in its evaporation, a prodigious amount of energy.

Another way of studying the process is to try to form an idea
of the run-off of the rivers of the earth. It has been estimated
that the run-off is yearly, for all the rivers of the earth, about 6,500

WATER 409

cubic miles of water; that is to say, if you were to take a band a
little more than two miles wide from Boston to San Francisco,
and imagine it to rise up one mile into the air, that would give
you a solid equivalent to the volume of water that pours back into
the oceans yearly. And that of course is only a fraction of the
water that evaporates yearly, because a great deal that evaporates
and falls to the ground never reaches the ocean at all.

This prodigious amount of water carries with it to the ocean
what seems to be an almost equally prodigious amount of other
material. There are something like 5,000,000,000 tons of dissolved
substance in the river waters going back to the ocean yearly, and
nobody knows how much undissolved sediment there may be. This
dissolved material has been leached out of the earth, it is being
leached out of the earth all the time, and the record of it is the
accumulation of dissolved substances in the ocean as well as that
long continued action of sedimentation which is on the whole the
greatest of geological processes.

In the sea, as a result of this, nearly all the chemical elements
are contained in solution, most of them, to be sure, in such small
amounts that they can not be measured, but so many of them are
there that the sea water is quite a different thing from anything
else in the world, and can not be imitated. Nobody ever made an
artificial sea water that would serve the purposes of sea water as
an environment for simple marine forms, as well as sea water
itself. You may make as careful an analysis as you please of the
sea water. You may put into pure distilled water all the things
that you ean find in the sea water, and then if you try to make
organisms live there they will not live in it—some of them, at least,
will not—as well as they will live in genuine sea water.

There is a good deal of resemblance between the salts dissolved
in our blood and the salts dissolved in sea water. This has led Quin-
ton to speculate about the use of sea water for medical purposes.
He has made many experiments by diluting it to the proper degree
and injecting it into the body. It has been suggested by Pro-
fessor MacCallum that our blood is, so to speak, descended from
sea water, that in the course of evolution somehow or other the
fluids of the body originated as sea water. Of course single-celled
organisms have no blood. When multi-cellular beings came into
existence, where did the fluid which bathes the cells come from,
provided multi-cellular individuals did develop from the uni-
cellular? It is not a wild assumption to suppose that sea water
furnished the inter-cellular liquid, that it was the material that
first surrounded the several cells making up the complex organism.
If you look into the whole story of comparative physiology that

410 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

idea, while it must not be pushed too far, seems not an extravagant
one, and if so, it is interesting to reflect that in that original simple
fluid, simple compared with our blood in most respects, there were
nevertheless a vast number of substances that had been leached
out of the earth’s crust in the course of millions of years.

This peculiarity of sea water depends upon the fact that water
is, among all the liquids that we know, on the whole the best sol-
vent, the one that can dissolve the greatest number and the greatest
variety of substances of all kinds. That of course is a statistical
statement. There are some things that water can not dissolve
which can be dissolved by a great many other things; but by and
large, taking everything that we know, taking all the chemical sub-
stances that we know, there is not anything which on the whole is
a better solvent, or capable of dissolving a larger number of things,
or greater quantities of them, than water.

Well, that is one of the very decisive facts in the meteorological
eyele. It is one of the great factors in determining the geological
action of water, in determining a large part of the evolution of
the surface of the earth. And, on the other hand, in the organic
eyele, in men, in animals, and in plants, water, always present in
large quantities—your own body is three quarters water—con-
tains a great number of things dissolved in it. This solvent action
is certainly no less important in physiology than it is in geology.

Not only does the water in your bodies, the water in the blood,
the water inside the cells, the water in the lymph, contain a great
many things dissolved in it, but it is almost exclusively in solution
that things penetrate into your body. That of course may seem
to you a strange statement. You are well aware that you eat
many more or less solid substances—anybody ean swallow a lump
of sugar, which is certainly a solid—but in fact what is geometric-
ally inside your body is not necessarily physiologically inside your
body. The digestive tube is physiologically not inside the body,
and the process of digestion turns most substances that are swal-
lowed in solid form into soluble products, which are dissolved
in water and then in solution pass the real physiological barrier,
the wall of the intestine, and so enter the body. This is no less
true of the substances that are excreted from the body. The waste
products are turned out of the body in solution, and if it were not
possible to turn them out in solution it is very diffieult to imagine
by what kind of physiological device it would be possible to carry
on the activities of really active bodies and get rid of the waste
products that have been burned up in the course of their activity.

This great circulation of water has another very important
influence upon the world, and upon the world of life, and that is

WATER 411

its effect upon climate. Every one knows how much more steady
is the state of the weather on small islands at great distances from
continents than in most other places. Every one knows how much
milder the climate is, how much cooler in summer and warmer in
winter, at the sea shore than a comparatively small number of
miles inland. This phenomenon depends upon water.

How does it depend upon water? What is the effect that water
exerts in that respect? Well, there are several factors. In the
first place, it takes a great deal of heat to raise the temperature
of water, or, as the physicist says, the specific heat of water is high.
If you take, for instance, a pound of water and a pound of almost
anything else—there are a few substances that are harder to heat
than water—and heat them over a carefully regulated flame for
a certain length of time, and measure the rise in temperature, you
will find that the rise in temperature of the water is less than that
of the other substance. As I say, there are a few exceptions, but
there are very few. The result is that an ocean or a lake absorbs
heat, and does not itself rise very much in temperature.

Again, the evaporation of water takes up heat. Every one
knows that. Every one knows that in order to evaporate water
away at all rapidly you must heat it, and the amount of heat that
is taken up in this evaporation of water is greater than in the
evaporation of anything else; that is to say, you have got to put
more heat into water in order to boil away or to evaporate, let us
say, a pound of it, than you have in order to evaporate a pound
of anything else. Thus the more rapid the evaporation the more
effective the resistance of water to the rise of temperature, and
for that reason the cooler the climate in the marine region com-
pared with the climate in a region where there is no water to
evaporate. This is one of the most important of all economic factors
on the earth. It is a factor that, as much as any other one, per-
haps, determines whether a given part of the earth is or is not
really favorable for a high and active and prosperous civilization.

But these factors are no less important in your own body than
they are in determining the climate. As you know, you are con-
stantly producing a considerable amount of heat, and that heat has
somehow or other to be got rid of. If it were not, your body tem-
perature would continue to rise. Well, in the first place, if your
body were not mostly water, and therefore such that it takes a
great deal of heat to raise its temperature one degree, a little ex-
ercise might be impossible. If it were not for the fact that it takes
so much heat to raise the temperature of the body a little, on ac-
eount of the presence of water as its principal constituent, if it
took only that amount of heat which is necessary upon the average

412 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

to raise the temperature of most substances one degree, running a
mile might be quite sufficient to produce a coagulation of all the
albuminous material in the body, and therefore death.

That is to say, the regulation of the temperature of the human
body rests first of all upon this fact: that you have to heat water
so much in order to raise its temperature a little, and then, in the
second place, upon the effect of evaporation. The effect of evapo-
ration is to cool the body very much, because you have to put a
lot of heat into water in order to evaporate it, and since evapora-
tion is the only way of cooling the body when the temperature of
the environment rises to the temperature of the body this is a
matter of the first importance, as everybody knows from his own
experience in hot summer weather. It is a priceless advantage in
the economy of your body that so much heat is taken up in the
evaporation of water during sweating.

One of the factors that greatly influence the circulation of
water on the earth is the way in which it clings in the soil. Indeed
water clings better, on the whole, than any other substance. This
is due to the phenomenon which everybody has heard of as eapil-
larity, and which is well illustrated by the action of a sponge in
soaking up water. If you study this process you will find that it
is easy to represent the sticking power of a liquid in the soil or in
any finely divided matter by the height to which it can rise in a
small capillary tube, in a very fine tube. Water rises to a very
great height relatively to other substances in such a tube, and for
the same reason it sticks very tight in the soil and water rises to
a great height in the soil. That is one reason why great portions
of the earth are habitable, or at least can grow crops. If water
did not stick as well as it does, a large portion of the fertile earth
would be sterile.

But here again we have come upon a property of water which
is just as important in the body as it is in the meteorological cycle.
The living cell may be compared to a microscopic swamp, to a
swamp of inconceivably fine dimensions. There is water running
through it, and it consists of a very intricate meshwork of only
partly known nature. In this swamp—this microscopic swamp,
if I may call it that—these same forces, these same capillary forces,
are of decisive importance. And here again it is the particularly
ereat capillary activity of water that is one of the factors that
determine the nature of physiological processes.

There is one more point that I want to refer to about the in-
organic, the meteorological cycle, because it is a particularly in-
teresting and important one, although this one seems to have no
highly important direct bearing upon our own bodies and our own

WATER 413

life process. What causes rainfall? It takes a good many things
to produce a precipitation of rain, but we may begin at the begin-
ning and say that at least you can not have rain falling out of
the air unless the air has become supersaturated with water vapor.
The way to bring about that condition is to cool air that is pretty
moist, because the amount of water vapor that the air can hold
varies with the temperature. For instance, if you go down to the
freezing point, to 32 degrees Fahrenheit, the amount of water va-
por when the air is quite saturated is almost exactly one half of
the amount of water vapor that is in the air at about 50 degrees
Fahrenheit. Suppose, then, you have air that is three quarters
saturated at 50 degrees Fahrenheit. Cool it down to 32 degrees
Fahrenheit and it becomes not three quarters but three halves
saturated; that it to say, it has 50 per cent. more water than it
ean hold. That water will come out in the form of rain.

This difference, a difference of 100 per cent. in the amount of
water vapor that the air can hold, is far greater than the difference
in the amount of the vapor of any other substance that the air can
hold. That is to say, if you had any other substance at 50 degrees
Fahrenheit, any other substance whatever, and the air were just
three quarters saturated with it, and you cooled it down just to
32 degrees Fahrenheit, then you would not have reached the satura-
tion point and the vapor would not fall out.

If there were not this property, rain would be a comparatively
rare occurrence. Moreover, unless rain falls, unless water comes
out of the air, there can not be further evaporation, because you
ean only evaporate into air which is more or less empty, so far
as the water is concerned; that is to say, the whole meteorological
eycle, the circulation of water, depends upon the rate of precipita-
tion quite as much as upon the rate of evaporation, and the rate
of precipitation of water is great because of this property of water.

I think I have perhaps said enough to make clear to you some-
thing of the natural importance of water. Such are the reasons
why it is possible to say that what is happening on the earth in the
last analysis is a circulation of water and the results of that cireu-
lation. This is true not merely because there is a great deal of
water on the earth, but also because water is a remarkable sub-
stance that has a good many unique peculiarities. But in dis-
cussing these properties, I have thus far spoken only about what
may be ealled the physical peculiarities of water. Water is quite
as important a substance chemically, and indeed I think we may
say that the most important clues that we find in the properties
of water to our understanding of what is happening in our every
day life are to be found in the chemical properties of water rather

414 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

than in its physical properties. This leads us back to the great
French chemist Lavoisier, the most eminent victim of the French
Revolution and the man who perhaps made the greatest contribu-
tion to science of the eighteenth century.

Lavoisier, studying the process of burning, of combustion, of
oxidation as we call it, discovered that when things burn they
combine with oxygen. Those of you who are not chemists and who
have not studied chemistry will of course always feel a certain
discomfort when one talks about the union of atoms. Atoms can
not be seen. They are hard to imagine. But somehow or other
the burning of tin for instance or the burning of mereury,
is the combination of one or more atoms of the one ele-
ment with one or more atoms of the other element. Tin and
oxygen combine to form the oxide of tin. The atoms
somehow or other fasten themselves together. That is what
Lavoisier found out. He did not express it in terms of atoms, but
he saw that these elements combined. So it is in the case of the
burning of hydrogen, and water is a compound of hydrogen with
oxygen. Atoms of hydrogen, two in number, combine with one
atom of oxygen to form H,O, according to our present way of
stating the ease.

Well, having discovered the nature of combustion, Lavoisier
turned to all kinds of cases where there was combustion. He
proved, for instance, with Laplace, the great astronomer, in one
of the most remarkable collaborations in the history of science,
that in the last analysis our life activity, so far as chemical, is
oxidation. The oxygen that we breathe into our lungs is com-
bined with the various elements that make up our foods, and then
the products are turned out as carbonic acid gas, which is nothing
but the oxide of carbon, the result of burning carbon, and water.

Then, reflecting further upon this, reflecting not only upon the
chemistry of the process but also vaguely upon the energy that
was involved, so far as it could be represented by the heat of the
process, Lavoisier saw the real nature of the process, Lavoisier saw
the real nature of the organic cycle and stated it clearly. He per-
ceived that plants draw from the air that surrounds them and
from the mineral kingdom the necessary materials of their organ-
ization; animals take from the plants that which the plant has
formed, directly in the case of the herbivorous animals, indirectly
in the ease of the carnivorous animals, and build it up into their
bodies, and finally the processes of combustion, fermentation, and
putrefaction are continuously returning to the inorganic world
the materials that were taken up originally by the piant. Of course

WATER 415

these materials are not merely water, nor merely water and carbon
dioxide, but also other substances.

But note this. In the organic cyele water and earbon dioxide
are free; the other things are fixed. Those things that are free
in the physical sense are also free in the economic sense, under a
wide variety of circumstances. You don’t have to pay, at least in
New England and in many parts of the world, for the water and
carbon dioxide which are the principal foods of the plant; all that
you have to pay for are the so-called fertilizers, which make up an
infinitesimal fraction of the material taken up by the plant. In-
deed, if it were not for the mobility of water and carbon dioxide
in this cycle that Lavoisier first understood, there would be no
vegetation on the mountain tops. How could the material get
there? The mountain tops would necessarily be bare. Not only
the mountain tops, but everything would be bare except the waters
of the earth. It is because water and carbon dioxide circulate,
circulate rapidly and penetrate everywhere and stick when they
get there, that there is a widespread vegetation, that there is an
intense organic activity on the earth.

But now what of this process that goes on in the plant? la-
voisier could not understand it. It goes on in the green leaf, and
the green leaf is truly the symbol of life. It is the starting point
of life. It is the factory in which are created the materials of your
body and mine, of the body of every living thing. These materials
are created by the conversion of water and carbonic acid gas into
sugar and oxygen through the influence of solar energy and with
the fixation of that energy. Sunshine, water and earbon dioxide,
if one may speak very loosely, are the components in the green leaf
from which sugar or starch and oxygen are produced. The oxygen
is turned out—the oxygen, please note, that had combined pre-
viously in your body with hydrogen and earbon in the burning
that is the essential process of your own activity. In the leaf this
process is reversed. The energy of the sun is fixed in the leaf, and
that is the source of the driving force of your body and of the
driving force of every animal body.

And not only that, it is the source of our fuels generally. If
you will reflect for a moment, and remember that not only wood,
but coal and petroleum, gasoline, what you will that is combustible
upon this earth, is stored solar energy that has been fixed in the
green leaf in the past, you will realize the extraordinary economic
importance of this process. You will then realize that the cycle is,
in fact, not only from the standpoint of the material changes, but
also from the standpoint of energy, of horse power, of what you

416 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

must buy and pay for as a source of any sort of material activity,
the decisive factor on the earth.

Since we can increase this process of photosynthesis, since there
are still portions of the earth that are not adequately utilized, it is
conceivable that one of the solutions of the problem of the increas-
ing demand for energy may be to grow more available energy, for
example, in the Amazon basin, where there are forests that it does
not pay to cut at the present time. We might, for instance, turn
a vast amount of solar energy that is not being utilized at the pres-
ent time, or that is being expended in a manner that we can not
ourselves turn to account into starch and sugar, into indus-
trial aleohol, and so get a substitute for gasoline. That is an idea
that has been in the minds of chemists, of course, for many years.
One does not know how economic conditions will develop. At all
events, we have here the clue to an understanding of the sources
of energy on the earth. Aside from the fixation of energy in the
organic cycle, and aside from the water power and other sources
of energy in the inorganic cycle, there is little enough of any kind
of energy that is available.

You might perhaps have expected me to say something about
water in medicine, since this is a medical school lecture. Water is ©
indeed important in medicine, but not, I suspect, in a manner
that makes it possible for a lecturer to explain in two words its
importance. There are diseases involving water. Of course dropsy
involves the physiology of water in a remarkable degree. And
there are processes that might be regarded as in a certan sense the
opposite of dropsy, such as the curious dehydration of sick babies.
In many eases they lose water, and it is difficult, or impossible, to
get it back again. I can only say that perhaps because these are
in some respects simple phenomena—i say in some respects—we
know just enough about them to know that they are so complicated
that it is really difficult to explain them or even to understand
them at all.

And so I shall, I fear, have to omit the more practical and
immediate bearings of the physics and chemistry of water upon
the organism, especially under pathological conditions. It is the
principal constituent of our bodies, it is the principal substance
that enters our bodies, it is the principal substance that leaves our
bodies, and it is, as I have said, that substance whose movement in
the inorganic world and in the organic world constitutes the first,
the most fundamentally important, activity in the world that we
live in.

INTELLIGENCE TESTS 417

INTELLIGENCE TESTS OF CERTAIN
IMMIGRANT GROUPS

By Professor KIMBALL YOUNG
UNIVERSITY OF OREGON

HE influx of the foreigner into this country only became a
Ah serious problem with the shifting of the Old World source of
the immigration from North to South Hurope. The early situation
in our national history was relatively simple. We had up to the
Revolution, and forty years beyond, what constituted a genuine
colonization. In fact, it was only after 1820 that a definite count
was made of immigration. Even from this date until the Civil
War, though the arrival of new-comers from Europe was con-
stantly accelerated, the type of migration made for colonization
of our free land and permanent citizenship.’ In the two decades
following the outbreak of the Civil War, the curve of yearly in-
crease of immigration began to rise very rapidly, yet the source of
the stream still remained Northern and Western Europe and the
British Isles. The destination of this immigration, however, began
to be more and more the rising industrial centers of our country
and decreasingly so the rural districts—although it appears that
the peasantry of Seandinavia and Germany often continued into
the free lands of the Far West, the industrial workers of Great
Britain, Germany and the bulk of the Irish went into the urban
centers more particularly. Wherever this immigration went, it
nevertheless fitted fairly readily into our socio-economic folkways
and mores, and the biological amalgamation of the ‘‘Older Immi-
eration,’’ as it has been called, was in line with the racial stocks?
already in the country.

1The existence of free land in America has had considerable influence
upon our theories of government, our attitudes toward property, freedom and
the socio-economic order generally. The significance of free land for racial
amalgamation and cultural assimilation has been no less important, but less
often noted.

2 Race is used in this article in the popular rather than in the strict anthro-
pological sense. Properly speaking there are no ‘‘races’’ in Europe, but only
‘*sub-races.’’ Cf. Retzius, ‘‘The So-Called North European Race of Man-
kind.’’ Jr. Roy. Anthrop. Institute, 39: 277-313. Cf. also introductory chap-
ter in Reuter, E. B., The Mulatto (1918) on use of term ‘‘race.’’

Vol. XV.—27.

418 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

With the ever-increasing concentration of industrial controls
and the accompanying specialization, and withal simplification of
production processes due to the introduction of machine methods,
the demand for cheaper, semi-skilled and unskilled labor became
imperative. The rise of Germany to industrial power, the reach-
ing of a point of stable population growth in Great Britain and
the Scandinavian countries eliminated them as sources of this cheap
labor. In consequence, we have a noteworthy change to the South
and Southeast of Europe, and even to Western Asia, for this sup-
ply. In the short span of twenty years the shift in the center of
gravity of the immigration to this country became the ‘‘common
talk’’ of economies, sociology, political science and demography.
The following table illustrates the now familiar facts:

TABLE I38

SHOWING THE SHIFT IN THE SOURCE OF IMMIGRATION TO THE UNITED STATES
(In terms of percentages of total from various sources)

Country Year Percent. Year Percent.. Year Pereenw
Great Britain. el. 1882 22.8 1907 8.8 1914 6.0
Mer rien iy; (ps ess eee 1882 31.7 1907 2.9 1914 3.0
SKOeA CORN tena NN meee Sars te aa 1882 13.3 1907 3.9 1914 2.0
Total Western European

COUNTS) \eoete aia... 1882 71.3 1907 17e¥ 1914 4 vase
Mitaalig | VES At eee geen 1882 4.1 1907 22.2 1914 26.5
PATI SETO- ENUM GAT; Yeteer sens deen onan 1882 3.7 1907 26.3 1914 25.6
RUSsian) AME eeseereeee eee 1882 2.7 1907 20.1 1914 23.0
Total Southeast and Eastern

OD jm oo) oYe hte ane sess ee a 1882 18.2 1907 75.5 1914 75.6

The complete significance of this change in the source of our
immigration we do not yet know. If the theory of General F. A.
Walker be true, we may doubt whether immigration has been as
important or necessary for the growth of the country, since 1850
anyway, aS some persons imagine. Had we had no immigration
from the middle of the last century on, according to Walker, our
present population would be as large as it is to-day, but racially
we should be a much more homogeneous people, or, at least, in the
way of becoming so.

Now the meaning of the coming of the ‘‘New Immigration,’’
as that from Southern Europe has been called, in the matter of
racial mixture is an unknown quantity. The writer believes, how-
ever, that there is accumulating evidence from studies in general

3 Table compiled from Ellwood, C. A., Modern Social Problems (1913)
and reports of immigration. The term ‘‘Russian Empire’’ in the table
included Russian Poland and other sections now cut away from the former
empire. Racially most of the contribution from Russia was Hebraic or Polish
rather than strictly Russian.

INTELLIGENCE TESTS 419

intelligence of certain immigrant groups, at least, which material,
coupled with the results of researches in the inheritance of mental
traits, should cause us to consider rather carefully the bearing
which these facts may have on features of the racial mixture that
will surely come out of the shift in the source and nature of im-
migration.*

The present paper will deal specifically with certain samples of
the South European immigration in terms of general intelligence.
The special question is: Leaving aside physical characteristics,
differences in emotional traits and cultural contacts, what are the
significant findings of psychology concerning the general intelli-
gence of certain of these immigrant groups that have come to us
so overwhelmingly in the past thirty years?

The nature of general intelligence need not detain us here.
The uninformed should refer to the long series of important studies
upon this question initiated by Binet in France, and expanded by
Stern and his pupils in Germany, and particularly by Goddard,
Terman, Thorndike and Yerkes in the United States, and more
recently still taken up by a group of English psychologists—Webb,
Burt, Hart and others. There are obviously several problems as to
the exact nature of so-called general intelligence, its growth, its
importance in successful life career, and especially as to its in-
nateness (that is wm potentia). On the latter point, the evidence
at hand seems sufficiently valid to establish that general as well as
specific abilities are transmitted by heredity. The precise biological
nature of the units involved we do not yet know. Special talents
may actually turn out to be due to the presence of separate units
in the germ plasm, and all-around ability may be due to a conflux of
several factors—multiple and difficult to segregate in the chromo-
somes. Whether in fact, general intelligence is shown to be simply
a convergence of special traits in certain patterns, as Thorndike
might assume, or whether due to a more general factor as Spear-
man seems to hold is unimportant for our present paper. Though
the entire data on the mechanism of inheritance are not at hand,
and even admitting that the subtle influences of environment have
not always been completely segregated and controlled in the studies
made, the writer believes that our social programs for education,
Americanization, amalgamation of the foreigner racially, can not
nonchalantly ignore these important implications.

4 Studies of the second and third generation of certain immigrant stocks
are beginning to accumulate, but so far we lack psychological measures of the
mental capacity of these various generations,—more especially of the strains
that have gone into the mixtures. The writer, however, is in much sympathy
with such studies as Drachsler’s and others.

420 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The studies of Galton, Woods, Pearson, Davenport, Thorndike,
Earle, Starch, and others revealing the inheritance of intellectual
traits appear reliable enough, irrespective of the peculiar biological
form which subsequent research may reveal, to make the present
status of the mentality of immigrant groups, if known, rather
prognostic, to say the least, of what the mentality of the future
generations of these peoples will be. In other words, the evidence
appears rather conclusive for the inheritance of mental abilities,
and if general intelligence tests reveal a given level of intelligence
in an immigrant group may we not assume that we can predict
something of the mental endowment which such a group will add
to the future mixtures with other racial groups?

It is well recognized by all persons interested in racial men-
tality and has been recently reiterated by Major Leonard Dar-
win® that what we want is a high average intelligence in the masses,
not a small group of selected superior intelligences, with the bulk
of the population of low or inferior intelligence. Out of the con-
stantly changing matrix of a high average intelligence will arise
the superior-minded persons who will be able to make the outstand-
ing cultural contributions of the future, while the good average
mentality of the masses makes for solid eitizenship, appreciation
of high cultural values and successful group spirit. Any mixture
which will lower the level of intelligence of a group and restrict
the variability of the same will be deleterious. For instanee, if the
average intelligence of certain of the South Huropean stocks which
have come to us in the past twenty-five years should prove to be
as high as that of the older American stock (i. e., of North Huro-
pean ancestry) the problem of mixing the older ana the newer
stocks, so far as general intelligence is eoneerned, will not be se-
rious. However, on the other hand, if the Latins, say, who come
to us should prove to be but four fifths as intelligent on the average
and less variable when compared with the North European off-
spring in this country, the racial mixture between the two may be
damaging to the welfare of the country.

With the methods of testing general intelligence that have
come out of psychological investigation and with the implication
of heredity in mental endowment, let us review the significant
studies which throw light on the matter of immigrant mentality.
On the basis of these we may then be able to note certain important
bearings of these findings on the problem of immigration as it

relates to racial mixture and the general intelligence of our future
population.

5 Darwin, L., ‘‘The Field of Bugenie Reform.’’ THE Screntimric
MonrHLY, 13: 392.

ee

se Bg

a

a he er =

=

a
eT

ee

INTELLIGENCE TESTS 421

The writer will review three or four studies made during the
past five years which deal with racial stocks in various parts of
this country and will then add notes on his own contribution which
grew out of a rather extended investigation of certain South Eu-
ropean groups in California.

In one chapter of the published data from the psychological
testing of men in the army® is shown the relative standing in the
mental tests of the foreign-born men of various nationalities found
in that portion of the army which was tested. Each man tested
in the army was given a final letter rating ranging from A to HE
depending upon his raw score in either the alpha, beta or individ-
ual test. The alpha, as is now well-known, was devised for literates
of ten years mental age and above, the beta was devised primarily
for men of low-grade mentality, but was also used for illiterates
or for men who did not understand the English language well
enough to handle alpha. The individual tests were exclusively used
for low-grade mentalities who did not score well or at all in the
group tests (alpha and beta.) The men of high mentality were
given ratings of A and B. Men in these classes were considered,
other things being equal, as being prospective officer material.
Grades C and D made up men of the grades of privates, but those
of D rating were discovered to be rather poor military ‘‘risks,’’ to
borrow a term from insurance practice.

The following nationality groups are selected as samples from
a longer list showing the rank order of countries according to the
percentage of men in each nationality group receiving their final
letter ratings in D, D—, and E, and also in A and B.

TABLE II?

SHOWING THE PERCENTAGE OF MEN OF SAMPLE NATIONALITIES RECEIVING FINAL
LETTER RATINGS UNDER THE GIVEN CLASSIFICATIONS

Nationality Per cent. D, D—and E Per cent. A and B
MRotalpawWihite: (Dirac tis cer oo ee een eee 24.1 12.1
SMe One TONY COUTEEICS erste se ee eee eee nee an Ey 4.0
Giirye em 20 Ch SoS ee re Sem 2: 8.7 UBHi
RODMIAI Yh 2a nace fs css eaut das atde cee 15.0 8.3
ROW Ge Orit cae oie: Fc ae Oe se eee ea 19.4 4.3
PARIS Ted eM eee oss LE 11 ee Se Se he 3.4
Diy rfe Eolya 6 EA Mes nade wl ete enone nNOH OTe CU Se NP re 39.4 4.1
EVEL SST Moses ee aed ik Gs eee EL as ee 60.4 2.7
VITA Dt RE tet Se Lege eee Ee LL lh a 63.4 8
LECALH Xa In tade ADAM Ore eMen Ree amen site Let ete Alf te yy Wea 69.9 3)

6 Memoirs of the National Academy of Sciences, 15. Psychological Ex-
amining in the United States Army, Pt. III, pp. 693-700.

‘op. cit. p. 696: The omitted nationality groups fall variously in the range
of the percentages given in this table. The totals for the white draft and for
the total foreign nationalities are given for comparison.

422 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

In general the superiority of the Nordic stocks over the others
is evident in this table. No assertions of language handicap can
be brought against these findings, for the men who were unable
to manipulate the verbal test, alpha, were given the performance
test, beta, or the individual performance tests. Over 85 per cent.
of the Italian group, more than 80 per cent. of the Polish group
and 75 per cent. of the Greeks received their final letter grades
from the beta or other performance examinations. The corre-
sponding percentages for the Northwestern Europeans were: for
the English, about 8 per cent, for the Germans slightly over 30
per cent., for the Swedish about 58 per cent.

It is interesting to compare these figures with those compiled
for the Southern and Northern negro draftees: 82.1 per cent. of
the former received final letter ratings of D grade or lower; for
the latter the like percentage was 47.2. It will be enlightening to
recall these comparisons of the negro draft with the Italians and
others when reference is made to Miss Murdoch’s investigation.

Dickson’ in his study of first grade school children in certain
publie schools in California, while his number of cases was small,
found important differences in the intelligence quotients of the
various groups when tabulated unaer racial stocks. A summary of
his data follows:

TABLE III

SHOWING DIFFERENCES IN INTELLIGENCE QUOTIENTS IN FIRST GRADERS
BY RACIAL STOCK

Race No. of cases Median I.Q.
SOP EUTRL Set eac Ee aie eee os oo ec, Se eae nomi lee ee ema 37 78
PP OTUU UCSC (ee cseee ese coset ore coehea ca saenteh scans eecocnsabecsnpncct en stueteces 23 84
italian’ (chiefly, Southern® [taiiy)) es) -2 eee seen 25 84
INiorth- Hr o pea mpm pO rrisse es 22 22 ee oe eee ees 14 105
American (North-European ancestry).......................--. 49 106

With the average intelligence as measured by careful Binet tests
revealing such differences in children of the first grade (the chil-
dren were practically all of the same chronological age) would not
the educability, the future economic success, and the contributions
to national culture and well-being be differentially in favor of those
of higher intelligence? True, the overlapping in such groups is
considerable. The figures do not mean that all the Spanish do
but four fifths as well as the children of North European stock.
Some of the Spanish children have intelligence quotients above the
average of the latter groups, but, on the other hand, the lower
quotients of the Spanish group fall below the quotient of the lowest
American child. So, too, the Portuguese and Italian groups over-

8 V. Dickson, Unpublished Ph.D. thesis (Stanford, 1919), Tables from
notes of Dr. L. M. Terman. Dickson’s study will soon be off the press.

INTELLIGENCE TESTS 423

lap the other groups greatly. It must never be ignored that in
dealing with averages in intelligence tests, the matter of varia-
bility must also be taken into account.®

The objection might well be raised that the differences in these
racial groups found by Dickson are due to accident of environment
which would be eliminated later. Would not, for example, school
contacts wipe out, in large part, these differences? Might not home
infiuences, such as use of the foreign tongue by parents and chil-
dren, affect the standing of the Latin children in these tests?

With a view to investigating these and allied questions, Miss
Thomson’? five years later undertook the re-testing with Binet tests
of the same children whom Dickson examined. In a period five
eighths the total length of time demanded by our elementary public
school curriculum one would imagine that any grave handicaps of
language or family background would be largely overcome. After
correcting Dickson’s tables on the basis of chance errors in chrono-
logical age in his group, and eliminating, of course, from her group
the eases which could not be found for re-testing, she presents the
following table:

TABLE IV
SHOWING THE CHANGE IN MEDIAN I. Q. IN FIVE YEARS FOR RACIAL GROUPS
Race 1916 median I.Q. 1920 median I. Q.
Total South Eur op ears ee See eee eee ee eee eee 88.0 85.5
WOREW PUGS) fae. ee ele a eee 88.3 74.0
Americans) (from! One) SCHOO) ese see seeeeee sess 111.0 110.5
Americans (from second school)............:..-.....----- 102.3 95.0

In another table somewhat differently arranged showing the
ancestry of the pupils she gives the following from her own data:

TABLE V
SHOWING THE MEDIAN I. Q. OF CERTAIN RACIAL GROUPS IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS
Race Median I. Q. Range of I. Q.
South’; Huropean=::::..-f2\2.2 22 ee eee eee 81.0 51 to 117.5
INonthiebire pea born! 10.25 k) ec areas soe 97.5 79 to 114.0
American born (North Huropean ancestry )............ 102.0 62 to 139.9

While the number of cases is small for wide conclusions, it is
apparent that the American group not only has the highest median

9It is unfortunate that the P. E.’s of these distributions were not at hand.

10 Thomson, Mildred, ‘‘ Validity of Stanford-Binet Tests as a Basis of
Prediction of School Suecess’’ (A.M. thesis—Stanford University, 1920—
unpublished). It must be noted that Miss Thomson was unable to secure
more than two-thirds of the same children as Dickson tested, but there is
no reason for believing this reduction in the number of cases was due to any-
thing other than chance. Speaking in terms of intelligence, there is as much
likelihood of an American family moving away as a foreign one.

424 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

I. Q., but that it is the most variable in range of I. Q. Miss Thomson

notes:
It seems that as a whole the tests are as accurate a judgment of the
mental capacity of the low foreign clement as of the American children...

As to the matter of the alleged language handicap of the children
of foreign parentage she comments:

Had language difficulty caused the first low median, the central tendency
to change would now be plus. (That is, the overcoming of the language
handicap by additional years in school would raise the median I. Q.) ....
It seems evident that although the tests involve the use and understanding of
language, low scores result not from the failure to understand, but from the
failure to comprehend.

Miss Murdoch" has studied four racial groups in certain publie
schools in New York City in order to discover any mental differ-
ences in these groups with special reference to hght on the problem
of Americanization. Her groups included Hebrew, Italian, ‘* Ameri-
ean’’ and negro boys in the upper grades. The children all under-
stood Enelish, the Italian group being especially hand-picked, that
is to say, only the boys who in the opinion of the school authorities
did not suffer from any language handicap were tested. Miss Mur-
doch believes this selection of Italians was in favor of the brighter
boys in this nationality. The children were not selected by age,
but by grade, ranging from the fifth to eighth, inclusive, which
means that the age groups ten, eleven, twelve and thirteen were
most frequently represented. This grade selection, however, elimi-
nated from the comparison all the pupils ten, eleven, twelve and
thirteen who were still in the lower grades. This means that the
selection was likely in favor of the more intelligent pupils of these
age groups. The groups came from two different sections of New
York City, both described as rather ‘‘undesirable.’’ The writer of
this article says:

At least, between Jewish and Italian boys and between white and colored

boys respectively, no allowance for difference in neighborhood environment
need be made.

The test used was devised by Pressey along the lines of the army
alpha. Close to 500 cases each of Jewish, American, and Italian
boys and 225 negro boys were examined. The Hebrew and Ameri-
ean children had practically the same averages in the tests. The
Itahans and negroes while running somewhat together, with the
latter slightly better, were decidedly inferior to the other two
groups as measured by these tests. Taking the twelve-year-olds

11 Murdoch, K., ‘‘A Study of Race Differences in New York City.’’ School
and Society, 11 (1920): 147-50.

INTELLIGENCE TESTS 425

who were tested as a sample—in the Italian group 13.5 per cent.
equal or exceed the 50th percentile or median of the Jewish boys;
24 per cent. of the negroes exceed the median of the Jewish; and
50 per cent. of the Americans likewise. For the three age-groups
having the largest numbers in the total group studied, i. e., the
eleven, twelve, and thirteen-year-olds—the average is 15.5 per cent.
for the Italians, 30.5 per cent. for the negroes, 53.7 per cent.
for the ‘‘Americans’’ equaling or exceeding the median for the
Hebrews.”

Whether the children studied according to age in relation to
test results, or by grade location the Italians maintained ‘‘their
position at the foot of the four races.’’ Language can not account
for the low scores of the Italian, for, as already noted, those who
were suffering from difficulties with the English language were
excused from the tests. Miss Murdoch writes:

The fact remains that Italians who were thought by their teachers, prin-
cipal, and the neighborhood social workers to be laboring under no language
handicap were found to be very inferior to the other three races.

However, since the test used by Miss Murdoch was based upon
verbal concepts, in part at least, the accusation may still be made
that the Italan home does not furnish the English tools to its chil-
dren so well as the Hebrew, negro, or American. Let us look fur-
ther to see what additional studies have shown.

In order to test the matter of alleged language handicap and to
investigate the general question of mental differences in immigrant
groups in this country, the writer of the present article undertook
in the years 1919 and 1920 to apply psychological tests to the ehil-
dren of certain South European and Latin American immigrants—
viz.: South Itahans, Portuguese, and Spanish-Mexicans—and to
compare the same with groups of children of Northern and Western
European aneestry.** Over 90 per cent. of the Latin stock (as we
may call the former for brevity) studied were born in this country
and practically all of the children of the latter stocks, or Non-Latin
as they have been called. The survey was made in several cities
and towns of the west-central portion of the state of California.

Several measures of mental differences, direct and indirect,
were made. Such outside criteria as the grade location, teachers’

12'The number of negroes at these ages is too small to warrant any wide
conclusion concerning the intelligence of negroes compared with Italians. The
negroes were a much more highly selected group perhaps than the Italians,
further, the Northern negro is on the average higher than the average intelli-
gence of the entire race in this country.

18 This study will be published soon in The University of Oregon Publi-
cations under the title: ‘‘Mental Differences in Certain Immigrant Groups.’?’

426 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

estimates of intelligence and of the quality of schoolwork were
made and compared with the results of the psychological tests
themselves. Of the latter there were two batteries of so-called
general intelligence tests: the first, the army alpha, is a verbal
test based quite extensively upon language and dealing with con-
cepts of verbal nature; the other, a slightly modified army beta,
adapted to school children who understand at least a modicum of
English necessary for instructions. Rather than selecting the
school children from certain grades the writer selected all the
twelve-year-old children in the schools which avoided the biased
sampling that must have arisen had children in one or two grades
only been selected. By this method, then, all the twelve-year-olds
from the entire public school systems in the communities surveyed
were studied irrespective of their grade location. Incidentally the
manner in which these twelve-year-olds distributed themselves
through the grades indicates once again the fact that chronological
age is no criterion to the pedagogical age of a child, of whatever
racial stock.

This is no place for a detailed report of the findings in this
study, but the pertinent facts for the problem of immigrant men-
tality will be briefly given. It was found that the actual grade lo-
eation of the children is the best single criterion of their intelli-
gence aside from the mental tests themselves. The comparative
standings of the Latin with the non-Latin groups shows that the
modal grade for the latter is the low seventh, for the South Italians,
the high fifth, for the Spanish-Mexicans, the high fourth, for the
Portuguese, the fifth.1* On the basis of the teachers’ estimates of
general intelligence on a seven-rank scale the Italians are on the
average .8 of one class-rank below the ‘‘Americans,’’ the Portu-
guese are over one class-rank below the latter, and the Spanish-
Mexicans over one and one quarter class-ranks below.

Coming directly to the results of the tests themselves, the im-
portant fact for us is that of overlapping of intelligence in the
groups. The following tables give first the absolute differences as
measured by the tests, then the measurement of the overlapping:

TABLE VI
(A)

SHOWING THE DIFFERENCES IN AVERAGES AND IN VARIABILITY IN GROUPS

Race group Median Alpha P.E. dist. Median Beta P. E. dist.
eAmervean (7) | Uae eee oo o2) Od: 18.48 68.88 7.03
Ufa ma. 2222 se eee ke 24,92 13.90 54.75 10.90
Portugtese |) yoo eh 22.00 15.65 52.03 9.88
Spanish-Mexiean. ¢ s2c-c-- coe. -conc-0c0: 23.67 12.82 52.96 10.76

14 The Portuguese group was not segregatable into half grades.

INTELLIGENCE TESTS 427

(B) ALPHA RESULTS
SHOWING PERCENTAGES OF FOLLOWING RACIAL GROUPS EXCEEDING THE QUARTILES
OF THE AMERICAN GROUP (Actual and theoretical)15

Per cent. exceed. Per cent. exceed. Per cent. exceed.

American Q1 American Median American Q3
Race group (Actual) (Theor.) (Actual) (Theor.) (Actual) (Theor.)

C1 DET Vl 24.50 22.66 7.00 4.95 1.00 eats)
PBOMUWGOUCSE! -cc-cndeseceneas 22.50 23.88 10.00 6.55 2.00 1.07
Spanish-Mexican _ ...... 21.50.... 17.36 6.80 2.81 75 .20

(C) BETA RESULTS (as under B)
LUG 5 aor 33.40 31.21 18.00 16.11 8.25 6.94
IPOTUUSUCSO! | <.sccessn-c-n- 29.00 25.46 13.75 11.51 4.15 4.09
Spanish-Mexican ...... 30.40 27.76 15.50 13.79 6.40 5.59

From the average for the American twelve-year-olds it looks
at once as though measured by the alpha the Latins are decidedly
inferior to the Americans. The beta averages, while more nearly
alike for the Latins and Americans, still show a marked superiority
for the latter. It must be noted that the range of the beta units
is just half that of the alpha, hence the differences in the actual
figures in the table are not indicative of the real differences re-
vealed. It is still true, however, that the Latins approach their
competitors more closely in the beta than in the alpha tests. The
latter is based, as we noted, upon verbal concepts, while the latter
is a so-called performance test operated independently of lan-
guage. Were it not for the differences shown in other measures
of intelligence, as, for instance, grade location, teachers’ estimates
of intelligence, and school marks, it might be imagined that the
differences brought out in beta are more truly significant of the
differences in ability than alpha. I have shown elsewhere that this
is not the case,'® but space prevents a lengthy discussion of the
matter here. The following points summarize these facts:

First, the beta tests proved too easy for the American twelve-
year-olds who were above their years in intelligence. This means
that the tests were not diagnostic enough for these children and
that there was a piling up of high scores for these children at the
upper end of the scale. This narrowing of the spread of their
actual abilities is the reason for the lower P.E. of the Americans
in beta as compared with the Latins. Had the tests been more
suited to their real mental capacities, some of them would have
scored higher and the average for their group would have risen,
and their variability as a group would have been greater. For the
Latins the tests proved well suited for their capacities.

15 The figures tabulated under ‘‘theoretical’’ are the computed measures
of overlapping when the reliability of the tests are known. Cf. Kelley, T. L.,
‘*The Measurement of Overlapping.’’ Jr. Educ. Psychol., 10: 458ff.

16 Discussed in writer’s study mentioned in footnote No. 13 above.

428 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Second, checking the alpha by correlation against the outside
eriteria, such as, grade location, teachers’ estimates of intelligence,
and the school marks, it was found that the alpha, the verbal test,
was more diagnostic of the mentality and hence educability of the
Latins and the Americans both than was the beta. In addition
these correlations go to indicate that the asserted language handicap
under which the foreign children are supposed to labor does not
exist, at least so extensively as imagined.’ As Miss Thomson put
it the failure in the tests and in school is not based so much on
failure to understand as failure to comprehend.

The measures of overlapping (sections B and C of above table)
reveal more significant facts of mental differences in these groups
than the differences in average score. If these tests are at all true
measures of differences, and there is certainly much evidence that
they constitute the best measure of mentality science has yet pro-
duced, may we not assume that the extent of the overlapping among
the groups clearly concerns an important problem before us, name-
ly: the relation of these differences to future racial mixture which
is subsequent to our enormous immigration? If there is anything
preponderant in mental heredity it appears that this question must
be answered.

Taking the South Italian group as a sample of the Latins and
near Latins (as we may term the Spanish-Mexicans),—if they
equalled the American group, 75 per cent. of them should exceed
the first quartile or 25 per cent. of the latter. As a matter of
fact in alpha less than 25 per cent. of them exceed the lowest 25
per cent. of the Americans. So, too, with the median or second
quartile, but 7 per cent. of the South Italians exceed the lower 50
per cent. of the Americans, and but 1 per cent. exceed the upper
25 per cent. of the latter.

It may be that alpha is unjust to the Latins even though there
is considerable evidence that it is on the whole quite adequate for
diagnosis of mental differences. It may even be that the language
difficulty which a proportion of the Latins eertainly had when
they entered the public school has persisted until its effects are

17 It is rather interesting to recall that thirteen years ago Ayres in his
book, Laggards in Our Schools, pointed out that language difficulty did not
operate as a factor in school retardation. He wrote: ‘‘Wherever studies
have been made of the progress of children through the grades, it has been
found that ignorance of the English language does not constitute a serious
handicap.’’ (p. 116). Of course no one would argue that in children newly
arrived in this country from foreign countries speaking another language
would not be handicapped in the period of acquiring our tongue. But beyond
that period, the trouble in retardation lies in other directions. .

INTELLIGENCE TESTS 429

felt as late as five or six years after entry.'* Therefore for those
who would still maintain that alpha is too distinctly advantageous
to American children, the overlapping in beta, in spite of the fact
that the evidence is clear that this test is unfair to the American
twelve-year-olds, still shows the latter superior. But 33 per cent.
of the Italians exceed the lowest 25 per cent. of the Americans, but
18 per cent. exceed the lower 50 per cent. and’ but slightly over 8
per cent. the upper 25 per cent. There is no evidence that the beta
was in any way unfair to the Latins either in content or presenta-
tion. All the children were tested by the writer personally in small
eroups and in each session members of all the racial stocks were
present. The Portuguese and the Spanish-Mexicans compare less
favorably with the Americans than the South Italians.

We may now conveniently summarize the results of the experi-
mental findings on this subject before passing to interpretative
paragraphs.

The army tests on recruits and draftees showed that the Latins
and other Southern European (also certain Eastern European)
eroups were decidedly inferior to the men who were natives of
Northern and Northwestern Europe. The Dickson-Thomson studies
have presented good evidence that the intelligence of the racial
eroups, at least of those investigated, does not improve by eduea-
tion, and further that in the samples which they study the Latin
eroups are on the average eight tenths (.8) the average intelligence
of the American children of North European ancestry. Murdoch’s
survey revealed that as measured by the Pressey seale of general
intelligence, the Italian groups which she studied were decidedly
inferior to the American and Hebrew ehildren tested, and even
slightly lower than the negro children measured at the same time.
Her twelve-year-old group (which we noted was a selected’ sample)
compares quite noticeably with the writer’s. In her results she
reports that 13.5 per cent. of the Italians equaled or exceeded the
median of the Americans. The writer’s figure for a similar meas-
urement of overlapping was but 7 per cent., but the difference
may be due partly to the nature of the test and partly to the fact
that his sample was not at all handpicked. It may be due to
actual differences in the intelligence of the group. The important
point, however, is the likeness of the two studies.

18 The writer in answering those who maintain that all differences in
mentality (barring the extreme feeble-minded) are due to environment and
opportunity, is always puzzled to know how these persons account for the dis-
tribution of children at 12 years of age, some in third, fourth, fifth, sixth and
seventh grades, when they all started in school at the same time.

430 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

One may use norms which were developed’® for translating the
alpha scores of school children into Binet mental ages. If this is
done it is found that the Latins measured are on the average two
years retarded as compared with the American groups studied.
Again the caution must be repeated that the range of scores in each
eroup is wide, meaning that the differences are relative not abso-
lute.

Space forbids further comment on the studies themselves, but
we must turn before concluding to a few paragraphs on the
probable bearing of these findings upon the problem of immigra-
tion and the mixture of immigrant stocks in this country.

If the researches into mental heredity have the validity which
we suspect, then the differences shown in these investigations just
cited are simply reflections of what is found in the general adult
population. The findings of racial differences in immigrant stocks
revealed in the army lend weight to this assumption. Further
it is interesting that the preliminary testing of the Japanese and
Chinese made in California indicates that these Oriental immi-
erant stocks compare very favorably with the American popula-
tion of North European ancestry in the same neighborhoods.
Surely the language handicap is of greater potency in the
Oriental than in the European. So it seems that these methods
of testing have enough pertinence to make us pause and consider
the meaning of their findings.

As noted at the outset of this paper, we have shifted the source
of our immigration from North to South and East Europe, and
further we have drawn more and more upon a low type of peas-
antry as compared with the rather good average industrial and
agricultural classes that formerly came to us from German, Sean-
dinavian and Anglo-Saxon countries.

As we noted above*® the problem of mixing racial stocks is one
of producing high average intelligence in the masses so as to lay
the biological chances for the production of each generation of the
superior persons who will make the greatest advances for their
generation. If the mentality of the South Europeans who are
flooding this country is typified by the mentality of the three groups
studied by the writer and others, the problem of future standard
of living, high grade citizenship and cultural progress is serious.
The writer does not attempt to say whether these findings are

19 From norms developed by Drs. 8. C. Kohs and W. M. Proctor at Stan-
ford University (1918-19). Cf. Proctor, W. M., ‘‘Psychological Tests and
Guidance of High School Pupils.’’ Jr. Educ. Research, Monog. 1, No. 1, pp.
70 (1921).

20 supra, p. 5.

INTELLIGENCE TESTS 431

typical of the entire racial groups from which these samples came.
None of these studies is an investigation of the whole population of
Portugal, South Italy, Spain or Mexico. They are surveys of these
stocks as actually found in the usual immigrant settlements in
this county. However, the writer stands firmly upon the ground
that the evidence points to the fact that these samples are very
typical of the immigrants who reach this country from these Euro-
pean sources. Is not this after all the significant thing? For in-
stance 85 per cent. of the total immigration from Italy in the past
30 years has been from the same districts of South Italy from
which the largest sample of the writer’s own investigation and that
of Mr. Dickson and Miss Thomson came. The indirect evidence is
that Miss Murdoch’s Italian subjects were also from South rather
than North Italy. In fact it is not impossible that the Italian in
California is even a little superior on the average to his confrére
who has neither energy nor ambition to get out of the industrial
centers where most of these people first settle in our country. Of
the Portuguese the writer can only venture a guess that he is much
like the Portuguese found elsewhere in the United States, princi-
pally in New England. The Spanish-Mexican groups appear
typical of the immigrants of this stock.

Does not the evidence accumulating, one phase of which has
been reviewed here, point conclusively to the fact that a continued
deluge of this country of the weaker stocks of Europe will ulti-
mately affect the average intelligence of the population of this
country? It is comment everywhere that the better stocks are
losing ground compared with the poorer in the matter of offspring.
The more intelligent classes are practicing, in one way or another,
a conscious control of the number of their children. The result of
this must mean a shifting in the average intelligence of the popu-
lation toward that of the poorer stocks. Now hybridization of
stocks is already taking place. It does not seem to be true that
the inferior stocks always mix with their own kind—the history
of the Kallikaks and such like proves that these stocks are con-
stantly sending out their tenacles into the higher biological strains.
Have we not been caught in the myth of the Melting Pot and in a
sort of pious wish that all was well and that nothing could happen
to us? The general economic progress of the past fifty years may
have made us myopic of the larger meaning of these accompanying
changes in our population. As Irving Fisher put it :?4

Mechanical inventions . . . have given us more and more room for expan-
sion and we have mistaken this progressive conquest of nature for a progres-
sive improvement in ourselves.

21 Fisher, I.: ‘‘Impending Problems of Eugenies.’’ THe Screntiric
MonrTsLy, 13: 215.

432 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Certain sentimentalists have talked elibly of assimilation of
racial stocks. This presupposes the capacity of one stock com-
pletely to take over another and make as the original stock was.
There may be cultural assimilation (even this is doubtful in a
technical sense), but there can not be biological assimilation. What
we have is amalgamation, and as Conklin and others have pointed
out, amalgamation means a hybrid stock, a stock compounded out
of the elements of the two or more strains running into the new
generation.

It is true that biologically the mixing of the North and South
European is hardly analogous to the mixing say of the white and
the black races or the whites and the mongoloids. Biologically as
previously noted?? the HKuropean stocks are actually sub-races.
Furthermore in reference at least to the latter stocks the problem
is not an all or none principle. If these tests of general intelligence
are at all significant it is evident at once that there is considerable
overlapping in the various groups. For the future of this country
a careful selection of the best in all the European stocks might be
thought desirable. However, it is a common assumption of breeders
and eugenists that for the production of a stable, homogeneous,
strong stock isolation, group inbreeding and some occasional, but
not too great, influx of exotic strains is necessary.??> The incoming
of even somewhat distinct racial stocks might be profitable if of a
high average intelligence and wide variability.

What we want, then, in brief is such a selection of Huropean
peoples that they will add variety to our population but not lower
its intelligence. We have, of course, the comparable problem of pre-
venting the continuance of inferior lines in the present population
in this country without adding any more congenital liabilities to
our people.

In conclusion the writer wishes to submit a few comments upon
the practical phases of immigration problems which he believes
grow out of these partial but significant investigations of mentality
In immigrant stocks.

(1.) There must be a change in public opinion as to the de-
sirability of large numbers of immigrants. We acquired the habit
previous to 1914 of pointing proudly each year to the rising influx
of foreigners into our land. The economic exploitation of cheap,
unintelligent labor from abroad has fastened a serious racial as
well as social-economic problem upon us. It has resulted in con-
siderable ethnie displacement. The ‘‘Older Immigration’’ has con-

22 Supra, p. 2—ref. Retzius, ete.
*3 Cf, East and Jones, Inbreeding and Outbreeding, p. 264.

INTELLIGENCE TESTS 433

stantly lost ground in the face of the ‘‘New.’’ The public opinion
of this country needs arousing to opposition to the policy of eco-
nomic stimulation of immigration to this country for the profits of
the few at the expense of the general well-being.

(2.) This means that immigration should be controlled in the
interests of the national welfare. The present law is inadequate,
unjust and ill-administered. To base the percentages of admission
on the number of immigrants of various nationalities in this coun-
try in 1910 is merely to continue relatively the same evils as here-
tofore. At present there seems to be some evidence that desirable
people from Northern Europe and certain English colonies are
being kept out while the ratio for Italians and Southern and
Southeastern Europeans is large because of the ‘‘high’’ tides of
immigration which they reached previously. Moreover, a literacy
test is not an adequate criterion of the kind of persons we want.
Due to inequality of educational opportunities in Europe, it is
likely that persons of good intelligence may be barred because they
can not read or write while persons really subnormal, but possessed
of a modicum of education are able to pass the meagre demands
on their reading and writing abilities at the gates of the country.
Davenport has suggested a study of family strains in Europe, but
this is expensive and impractical of execution.

The writer believes a set of well-worked out physical and psy-
chological tests applied to all applicants for entrance into this
country would assist in rejecting those whom we do not want.
While the psychological tests are not perfect, they are far superior
to any other scientific means which are available. The remarkable
success of mental testing in our military organization during the
war should dispel serious doubts as to the practical value of psycho-
logical tests for determining intelligence rankings and from that
predicting success at tasks such as modern complex society de-
mands. It would well repay our government to spend a consider-
able sum if necessary (say half the cost of one battleship) to de-
vise under expert advice a set of tests to fit the needs of the im-
migration bureau. With adequate time at their disposal a body
of experts could arrange a battery of tests, with norms, superior
to anything yet at hand. Tests could be devised which would take
into account the different linguistic and cultural backgrounds of
the applicants, and further the non-verbal test offers possibility of
expansion that is still unknown. On the basis of such tests, legal
enactment could determine the standards to be set. In addition,
if necessary, some differential standards on absolute numbers ad-
missible any year could be laid down. It seems to me that there is
not a better piece of service for the National Research Council than

Vol. XV.—28.

434 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

an attack upon this problem with an effort to secure the national
government’s support and adoption.

True, there remains after such a program, if it is ever accepted,
the entire matter, noted already, of the inferior strains in the pop-
ulation now present in our country. Were we to set out on a sen-
sible program regarding the immigrant, we should be led ulti-
mately into another analogous one concerning the inferior stocks
already extant in our population. Linking up these two programs
with a sane educational policy we might look forward to a true
national greatness. For who doubts that the contributors to a high
culture must be a high-minded race?

On the other hand, if we continue our present muddling, ir-
rational, hit-and-miss method of dealing with these two related
problems and the country becomes more and more inundated with
inferior stocks, the questions of American citizenship, education
and cultural progress will be increasingly difficult of solution. In
fact, ultimately such problems as we now see them will be sub-
merged in the low standards of life and culture which arise out of
a lessened average intelligence in the general population.

The picture may be pessimistic. It should arouse us to action.
To those who are pragmatists and meliorists the matter is not
hopeless, except in so far as the individuals and communities in-
volved fail to recognize the gravity of the matter and naively close
their eyes to the realities. Blind leaders of the blind, we may well
shake our heads in serious meditation. But if the public conscious-
ness of the country, under good leadership, realizes the problem
soon enough there is no reason why we should not successfully
solve this issue and assure our country’s place of leadership in the
world.

CONCEPTUAL THINKING 435

CONCEPTUAL THINKING’
UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH

By Dr. WALTER LIBBY

N the recent newspaper controversy concerning evolution, one
of Mr. Bryan’s supporters displayed some impatience at the
emphasis placed by scientists on resemblances. He protested in
the name of logic against what seemed to him an undue insistence
on resemblance, resemblance, resemblance! But unless we take
account of the similarity among phenomena, how are we to ar-
range and classify the data of physics, chemistry, botany and
zoology, or arrive at the concepts of which the propositions and
syllogisms of the logician are composed? We can have no science
of distinct existences ununited by the bond of likeness. It is only
by virtue of resemblances that we are enabled to pass from the
observation of particulars to the consideration of universals. Bain
and other psychologists are so far from belittling the ability to
discover the bond of similarity among phenomena, often apparently
unlike, that they regard it as characteristic of the man of genius.
For James, genius is the possession of similar association to an
extreme degree. To the type of genius that notices the identity
underlying cognate thoughts belong the men of science, and it

is in the concept that the conscious identification takes place.
Conception, or the cognition of the universal aspects of phe-
nomena, can be illustrated from the history of the biological
sciences. For example, what Linnaeus ealled the ‘‘System of
Nature’’ was in reality a system of concepts. His eclassifi-
cation of plants, though it prepared the way for more natural
classifications, was crude, because based on superficial similarities.
He, as Harvey-Gibson says, ‘‘elaborated a complex and beautifully
arranged and catalogued set of pigeon-holes and forced the facts
that Nature presented to him into these pigeon-holes, whether they
fitted the receptacles or not.’’ His zoological concepts were like-
wise inadequate. Suffice it to recall his vague use of the terms
Insecta, Vermes and Chaos. The likenesses revealed in animal
structure by the comparative anatomists from Hunter to Cuvier
and Owen led to a sharper definition of concepts and a more satis-
factory classification. Paleontology afforded new materials for
1 The second lecture in a series entitled ‘‘The Psychology and Logie of

Research’’ given before the Industrial Fellows of the Mellon Institute, Feb-
ruary 14 to May 2, 1922.

436 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

comparison. Lamarck introduced the term Invertebrate. Embry-
ology and the use of the microscope led to fresh observations of
likeness and to the establishment of the natural affinities of species
and genera. Here might be mentioned particularly the discovery
of the notochord—the key, as it has been ealled, of vertebrate
anatomy—and the consequent use of the term Chordata. The
coming of evolution made possible a phylogenetic classification of
organisms and a subtler differentiation of biological concepts.

The dominance of conceptual thinking in the classificatory
aspects of science is fairly obvious. For example, in adopting the
terms Quercus alba, Q. rubra and Q. salicifolia, the seventeenth-
century taxonomist merely associated a definite nomenclature with
the distinct concepts of Virginian woodmen, who had observed the
likeness of American and British oaks. In other aspects of science,
where the importance of the concept is far less obvious, it is none
the less real. In the study of human anatomy by means of dis-
section it is generalized or conceptual knowledge that one seeks
and retains. Anomalous or exceptional structures—such as a
triceps muscle in place of a biceps, or an over-developed panniculus
carnosus—are either disregarded and forgotten, or remembered
as anomalies and exceptions. In any ease, what the student retains,
after two years spent in the dissecting-room, is a generalized knowl-
edge of the structure of the human body and not a memory of the
particular cadavers that seemed to occupy the focus of his atten-
tion. The case is somewhat similar with your natural history mu-
seum. The biological collections consist wholly of dead symbols
of living things. Bones are frequently represented by masses of
limestone or silica. A single specimen may do duty for a species,
genus or order. The mere external surface—the shape—may alone
be preserved. Only one stage in an animal’s development may be
exhibited, or only one posture—the Megatherium pulling down a
tree or a dinosaur in a more or less characteristic pose. Hach speci-
men has value not as representing an individual but as symboliz-
ing a group. Hach concrete object, like a word in a catalogue,
serves to recall a concept.

The importance of cultivating the habit of conceptual think-
ing has been definitely recognized since the time of Plato, and
Plato’s master, Socrates. The majority of people, according to
the Platonic dialogues, are the slaves of their senses and never
attain to a system of clear concepts. They fail to translate their
perceptions into conceptions and to pass from the sensible world
to the supersensible or intelligible world. Plato valued the sciences
with which he was best acquainted—mathematies and astronomy—
because they tend to wean the mind from what is sensory and
transitory to what is conceptual and eternal. The concept triangle,

CONCEPTUAL THINKING 437

the triangle of definition, is more real than any of its visible repre-
sentations. Discipline in conceptual thinking is perferable to
utility. ‘‘You amuse me,’’ he writes, ‘‘by your evident alarm lest
the multitude should think that you insist upon useless studies.
Yet, indeeed, it is no easy matter, but, on the contrary, a very
difficult one, to believe that in the midst of these studies an organ
of our minds is being purged from the blindness, and quickened
from the deadness, occasioned by other pursuits—an organ whose
preservation is of more importance than a thousand eyes; because
only by it can truth be seen.’’

Plato’s philosophy is interesting for us because modern science
is Just such a system of clear concepts as he had in mind, and it is
a mistake to interpret his intelligible world as something invisible
to-day but accessible to the senses at some future time. The scien-
tist must turn away from the sensuous world of the artist and the
child to the intelligible world of mathematics, physics and biology ;
from the eight or seven little boys seated on a fence to cube root
and prime numbers; from the panorama of many-colored nature
to the conceptual world of elements, atoms, ions and electrons.
The sciences are a sort of shorthand way of conceiving phenomena.
They do not give us nature in its richness and fullness. In the
words of Mephistopheles, ‘‘Gray, dear friend, is all theory, and
green the golden tree of life.’’ Picturesqueness is sacrificed by
the scientist for the sake of clearness and economy of thought. He
easts his net now for one kind of fish, now for another. For an
artist like Monet, water may be a shimmering variegated surface ;
for the child it may mean ‘‘to drink;’’ while for the chemist it
may be H,O, or, if he conceives it as an aleohol, H.OH.

Of course science has no monopoly of clear conceptions. In in-
sisting on the value of an education in conceptual thinking, Plato
had in mind the training of leaders in ethics and statesmanship,
and thus anticipated by a few centuries the publicists and phil-
osophers who to-day advocate, as a novelty, the application of the
intellect in social and political reform or proclaim the cultivation
of the scientific habit of mind as the sole means of maintaining and
advancing contemporary civilization. He would have recognized
Lincoln as a man of clear conceptions, gained through a unique
self-education, by living in close contact with man and nature,
by reading a few books with extraordinary care, by poring over
the statutes of Indiana, studying grammar, arithmetic and sur-
veying, conning the dictionary, passing in review the life of Wash-
ington and the history of the United States, following with a
frontiersman’s imagination the exploits of Robinson Crusoe, ab-
sorbing the wisdom of Aesop’s Fables, weighing the moral prin-
ciples of The Bible and The Pilgrim’s Progress. Indeed,

438 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

clear conceptual thinking, the scientific habit of mind, was con-
sciously cultivated by the moral philosophers of Greece, notably
by Socrates, whose chief distinction is that he subjected to critical
examination such concepts as virtue, temperance and justice.
Speaking of this pioneer work, Stout says: ‘‘It is only at a late
stage of mental development that an attempt is made to distinguish
an identical or persistent element of meaning pervading the vary-
ing significations of a word. When the attempt is made, it con-
stitutes an epoch in the history of thought. It is the beginning of
definition and of the scientific concept.’’

Conception, or thinking the same in like circumstances, has
its complement in discrimination. Association by similarity is
offset by dissociation, integration by disintergration, synthesis by
analysis, and the observation of congruity by the observation of
incongruity. In this respect, there is a marked difference between
one individual and another. Experiment shows that one student
may recognize readily ten shades of gray where his classmate has
the greatest difficulty in discerning any difference in shade what-
ever. Similarly, one mind is alive to shades of meaning that make
no impression on another. Aristotle, the greatest of all scientific
intellects, trained for twenty years in the school of Plato in con-
ceptual thinking, the most acute among the Greeks, as he has been
ealled, in noting differences and making distinctions, carried his
investigations into almost all the realms of knowledge. His suc-
cess was most marked in fields where his aptitude in the employ-
ment of general concepts was supported by a wealth of observa-
tional data. This is particularly remarkable in his researches in
biology. In the Historia Animaliwm, for example, one discovers
the trained thinker bringing order out of chaos by the application
of the intellect to the facts of experience, so called. It is the cus-
tom among historians of a conservative type to belittle the medieval
followers of Aristotle, and above all the scholastics. But even to
scholasticism modern science is deeply indebted for the develop-
ment of logic in general, and for the definition and differentiation
of concepts in particular.

The use of language is the indispensable concomitant of clear
conceptual thinking. We can not think of one of the lower ani-
mals advancing very far in logical thought. He is bound down
for the most part to the fleeting images of things, and lacks the
word (logos) by which they might be made permanent and inde-
pendent of the continuum of experience. The intellectual develop-
ment of the child proceeds as a rule pari passu with its command
of appropriate terms. ‘‘Out of hundreds of English-speaking
children,’’ says Terman, ‘‘we have not found one testing signifi-
cantly above age who had a significantly low vocabulary;

CONCEPTUAL THINKING 439

and, correspondingly, those who test much below age never
have a high vocabulary. Occasionally, however, a subject tests
somewhat higher or lower in vocabulary than the mental
age would lead us to expect. This is often the case with
dull children in cultured homes and with very intelligent children
whose home environment has not stimulated language develop-
ment. But even in these cases we are not seriously misled, for the
dull child of fortunate home surroundings shows his dullness in
the quality of his definitions, if not in their quantity; while the
bright child of illiterate parents shows his intelligence in the
aptness and accuracy of his definitions.’’ Terman thus makes it
clear that intelligence is not to be gauged by the extent of one’s
vocabulary, but by the exactness with which concepts are defined.

In the interests of the progress of both science and democracy,
it is important that training in the precise use of words—especially
the derivatives of those languages from which we draw our general
eoncepts—should not lag behind other conditions of the develop-
ment of the immature. As Walter Lippmann says, ‘‘ Education
that shall make men masters of their vocabulary is one of the
central interests of liberty.’’ Franklin’s success, both as a states-
man and a scientist, was in no small measure owing to the severe
drill in the use of the English language to which he subjected
himself. Two other self-educated research men, namely, John
Hunter and Michael Faraday, who, on first thoughts, might seem
to bear witness against the view that language training is of im-
portance in scientific investigation, prove on examination to fur-
nish testimony in corroboration. John Hunter received little if
any schooling. He turned in contempt from the opportunity of
studying the classics at Oxford. Although, after reaching ma-
turity, he was brought, through the closest association with his
brother, William Hunter, in contact with scholarly traditions, he
never overcame the defects of his early education. We are in-
debted to him for such concepts as ‘‘arrested development’’ and
‘secondary sexual characters,’’ but his pages are strewn with
terms like ‘‘the stimulus of death,’’ ‘‘the stimulus of imperfec-
tion,’’ and ‘‘sympathy,’’ to which he assigned a significance now
impossible to recover. The lack of language training, in spite of
Hunter’s genius and vivid personality, was detrimental to his
influence as a lecturer and writer. Owing to this shortcoming,
science has not yet reaped the full harvest of his tireless energy
in research. For example, the recapitulation theory, as stated by
him, seems to-day little more than a literary curiosity, though it
may have influenced the progress of embryology through the inter-
pretation of the younger Meckel. The case of Faraday was some-
what different from that of Hunter. Having received an elemen-

440 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tary education, Faraday became apprenticed to a book-binder.
For years he spent his leisure time in reading scientific works. At
the age of twenty-one he gained the favor of Sir Humphry Davy |
by a lucid report of some lectures delivered by Davy at the Royal
Institution. Faraday became Davy’s assistant, traveled on the
Continent with his patron, studied foreign languages, and made
definite efforts to acquire the oratorical arts of Davy, a recognized
master of scientific diction. Faraday’s opportunities for language
training, however, came just a little too late. He sometimes con-
fessed his difficulty in formulating the ideas that occurred to him.
He sought aid at the University of Cambridge and was indebted
to Whewell for such terms as ‘‘electrolysis,’’ ‘‘electrolyte,’’ ‘‘ion,’’
ete.

Language permits us to summarize nature, to express it
schematically, to seize upon certain aspects of it—that is, to analyze
phenomena with certain purposes in view. For Priestley the
part of the atmosphere that supports life was ‘‘pure dephlogisti-
eated air.’’ Lavoisier substituted a new term and a new concep-
tion, viz., ‘‘oxygen.’’ Davy spent a great deal of time proving
that Lavoisier had a false conception of the element discovered
by Priestley. We retain the name after having modified the con-
cept. This we do with the greater freedom, seeing that the classical
term ‘‘oxygen’’ is not self-explanatory, as is the analogous term
‘“Sauerstoff.’’ Gases were known in the last quarter of the eight-
eenth century as ‘‘kinds of air,’’ or ‘‘factitious airs.’’ As late as
1766, Cavendish ealled hydrogen ‘‘inflammable air.’’ In 1783
and 1785, he made experiments that justify the conceptions ex-
pressed by the terms ‘‘hydrogen’’ and ‘‘nitrogen.’’ It was almost
impossible to think clearly concerning earth, air, fire, and water,
the so-called elements, without having the terms ‘‘oxygen,’’ ‘‘nitro-
gen,’’ ‘‘hydrogen,’’ ete., as symbols of the concepts corresponding.

Counting, measuring, weighing—the application of mathe-
maties—must be regarded as among the best means of sharpening
up our conceptual thinking. One classical example is Lavoisier’s
use of the balance in establishing the nature of combustion and
giving phlogiston the quietus. ‘‘About a week ago,’’ he wrote on
November 1, 1772, ‘‘I discovered that sulphur in burning, so far
from losing weight, rather gains it; that is to say, that from a
pound of sulphur more than a pound of vitriolic acid may be ob-
tained, allowance being made for the moisture of the air. It is
the same in the ease of phosphorus. The gain in weight comes
from the prodigious quantity of air which is fixed during the com-
bustion and combines with the vapors. This discovery, which I
have confirmed by experiments that seem to be decisive, has made
me believe that what is observed in the combustion of sulphur and

CONCEPTUAL THINKING 441

phosphorus may equally well take place in the case of all those
bodies which gain weight on combustion or calcination. I am per-
suaded that the gain in weight of the metallic caleces is owing to
the same cause.’’ Lavoisier followed up this work by the caleina-
tion of tin in 1774, and in the same year—after Priestley’s dis-
covery of ‘‘pure dephlogisticated air’’—by the oxidation of mer-
eury. In 1777, Lavoisier stated: that in all cases of combustion
heat and light are evolved; that bodies burn only in oxygen (or air
éminement pur, as he at that time ealled it) ; that oxygen is used
up by the combustion, and the gain in weight of the substance
burned is equal to the loss of weight sustained by the air.

The differentiation of terms and concepts is so necessary an
accompaniment of the advance of science that no collection of
examples can be regarded as adequate or as even fairly repre-
sentative. Though Lavoisier in 1777 succeeded in giving to the
concept ‘‘combustion’’ a much more clearly defined meaning than
had attached to the ‘‘fire’’ of the ancient philosophers or the
‘*flame’’ of Francis Bacon, in 1789 he still included ‘‘ecaloric’”’ and
‘‘light’’ in his table of elements. In spite of the definition by
Robert Boyle of the concept ‘‘element,’’ and the attempt of New-
ton to determine the meaning of ‘‘atom,’’ these ideas, inherited
from the remote past, were at the close of the eighteenth century
about to enter on a new series of transformations. In the seven-
teenth century Boyle’s contemporary, John Ray, ascribed to the
term ‘‘species’’ a definite, if not a final, significance, and Syden-
ham, seeking to establish by clinical observation distinct species of
disease, succeeded in differentiating measles from smallpox, in
defining chorea, in modifying the significance of the term
‘‘hysteria,’’ ete. Progress in science may involve lessening or in-
creasing the extension of a familiar term, determining anew the
distinction between familiar terms, and introducing new clearly
defined terms. Pasteur’s studies in molecular asymmetry involved
a reconsideration of the terms ‘‘tartrate’’ and ‘‘racemate’’ and a
delimitation of the concepts which each of these terms expressed.
An advantage is gained by substituting the unfamiliar ‘‘neuras-
thenia’’ for the familiar ‘‘neryousness,’’ partly because the new
term is unambiguous and partly because it is devoid of every popu-
lar connotation. In fact, our scientific terminology has become
so much a thing apart that one may overlook the relationship be-
tween a common term like ‘‘weight’’ and a more technical term
like ‘‘mass.’’

The researches of Schleiden and Schwann, which led up to the
statement of the cell theory, were affected and, to some extent,
vitiated by traditional conceptions concerning ‘‘cellular tissue’’
and the ‘‘cell.’’ Robert Hooke was the first to use the term ‘‘cell’’

442 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

in describing organic structure. He had examined charcoal, cork,
and other vegetable tissues under the microscope and described
them in 1665 as ‘‘all perforated and porous, much like a honey-
comb.’’ He could discover no passages between the minute cavities
or cells, though he took it for granted that the nutritive juices to
be seen in the cells of green vegetables had some means of egress.
Hooke’s observations were verified by his contemporaries. Grew,
in describing the microscopic structure of plants, mentioned the
infinite mass of ‘‘little cells or bladders’’ of which certain parts
are composed, and Malpighi described the cuticle of the plant stem
as consisting of ‘‘utricles’’ arranged horizontally. Caspar Wolff
in his doctor’s thesis (Theoria Generations, 1759) reported the
observation of cells and ‘‘little bubbles’’ which developed in the
homogeneous layers of the embryo. In the works of Bichat, the
founder of histology, the term ‘‘cellular tissue’’ was used, as in-
deed it is to-day, to indicate a certain kind of connective tissue.
Treviranus and Link described the cells in vegetable tissues in
1804, the latter maintaining that they are closed vesicles incapable
of communicating with each other. Professor John H. Gerould
has recently pointed out, in the pages of The Scientific Monthly,
the important part taken by Lamarck, Mirbel (the disciple of
Caspar Wolff), and others in the development of the conception
of the ‘‘cell’’ and of ‘‘cellular tissue.’’ After the appearance of
Moldenhawer’s Contributions to the Anatomy of Plants (1812),
which demonstrated that the cavities of vegetable cells are separated
from each other by two walls, the attention of observers was di-
verted from the cell contents to the cell wall. The consequent
misconception of the nature of the cell was in part corrected by
Robert Brown’s discovery of the cell nucleus and by the later dis-
covery of protoplasm. It was before the full significance of the
eell contents was realized that the cell theory was conceived by
Schleiden and Schwann.

It is evident that advances in scientific thinking imply the use
of clear concepts and clear terms. The term ‘‘neuron,’’ employed
by the early Greeks in the sense of ‘‘thong’’ or ‘‘sinew,’’ was ap-
plied by the anatomists of the fourth century B. C. to the tendon
as well as to the nerve. A considerable treatise alone would suffice
to trace its subsequent meanings and those of its derivatives and
at the same time to give an account of the investigations that from
the time of Herophilus and Erasistratus have contributed to the
elucidation of the concepts in question. The terms that represent
to-day the so-called chemical elements have no doubt undergone a
similar series of transformations in meaning. Distillation, erystalli-
zation, and other refining processes had to be brought into play
before the concept—the spirit, the essence, the thing in itself—
could be realized.

“WHO’S WHO” AMONG AMERICAN WOMEN 443

“WHO’S WHO” AMONG AMERICAN WOMEN

By Professor STEPHEN S. VISHER and
GERTRUDE HOVERSTOCK

INDIANA UNIVERSITY, BLOOMINGTON

ATTELL has made some stimulating statistical studies of the
more eminent scientific men, including the distribution of
their birthplaces and of their present residence.t Some years ago
a study of the distribution of the first ten thousand persons in
‘“Who’s Who in America’’ appeared in this journal.? The conclu-
sions drawn from these studies, while not to be seriously doubted,
are so interesting that it appears worth while to test them
by a similar study of a different group of notable people—
the 1,687 women included in the last edition cf ‘‘Who’s Who in
America’’ (Vol. XI, 1920-21), especially the 1,582 women concern-
ing whom biographical data are given.

The distribution of the place of birth of 1,551 women who
gave this information is indicated by districts in Table 1, as is
also the ratio between eminent women and the general population
of 1880.

TABLE 1
BIRTHPLACES OF WOMEN IN ‘‘WHO’s WHO IN AMERICA’’

Number per

100,000 at

District Number Per cent. 1880 census
JeMiSy f= LOH vd Fe 6 ee ace pecs 333 21.5 8.3
Middle) -Atlantic...:.2<-.224..2..000 eee 511 33.0 4.3
Mast North Central... 22.2.2 222 4 ee 347 22.4 3.1
Wiest North: ‘Central... ees 99 6.2 0.5

OTLEY ae tt ee tl ee 101 6.5 1.6 —

Mountain and: Pacific: ....25--2.-0o ee 49 3.2 2.8
IGEGUPTE . COMNETIOS a aasanncere ee 112 7.2 a

This table reveals the prominent share New England has had
in the production of eminent women, and the small share which
the southern and western halves of the nation have had. ‘‘Who’s

1J. McKeen Cattell: ‘‘Families of American Men of Science.’’? The
Popular Science Monthly, May, 1915, and Tue Screntiric MonrTHLy, October,
1917 (reprinted in ‘‘ American Men of Science,’’ third edition, 1921). An
earlier study based on the starred scientists in the first edition is reprinted
in the second edition of ‘‘ American Men of Science,’’ 1910.

2 Scott Nearing: ‘‘The Geographical Distribution of American Genius,’’
The Popular Science Monthly, Vol. 85, pp. 189-199, 1914.

444 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Who in America’’ is published in Chicago and is edited by an
Ohioan.

Of scarcely less interest than the variation among the districts’
is the variation among the individual states in the number of
famous women they have produced. Table two shows for each
of the leading six states the number and proportion of eminent
women.

TABLE 2
Six LEADING STATES IN THE PRODUCTION oF EMINENT WOMEN

Per cent. Ratio per

of total 100,000 of Number now

eminent general popula- residing in

State Native women tion in 1880 the state

New) Monks se suey An il 291 19.0 5.8 550
Massachusetts .............-...--. 171 11.2 9.5 237
TO: COA DUES) 117 7.6 Safi 46
Pennsylvamia — ......2..1--4..----- 113 7.4 2.7 90
HD eKa wk yag ante beehe N ULE Ak ie Una 90 5.8 3.0 107
JO oko beens yy MmAe LU Leh UE eat 43 2.8 2.1 20
IMGimn Gs Ota hare ee ees Le 43 2.8 6.6 24

Table three gives the number of eminent women born in each
state and the number now living there.

TABLE 3

BIRTHPLACE AND RESIDENCE OF EMINENT WOMEN BY STATES

State Native Resident
VAST ATED UTIN EU een ee Ee vee aera 19 10
PN Ay 0% Ys) US EN LeU e a e 0 1
VeNo oho 0 (SEEN AtOY 2 tae aU IRE LENA 5 2
Galli orm ayer see hele 8 UL A 28 78
Wolo ste ae RIE Le ee eee 0 14
Cf chal ea kT Fie Ne RPA aioe Me GRAN AC SL YOU 54 62
TDL even Te yee ee ee CTA A Oa 5 i
EN Koy ea Webi) Vee AU A OOS 3 6
GOT Oey ie ee ee 9 13
LECH ahh eae hee a a UI A RR HRMS Pa IOS TA 1 1
OM ayy Me SENOS AERA ET SOV TELE 90 107
Mei cnn ciuaeesee eee UY NORTE SNOPES Wh RAED 43 20
CIFOSUVIEL NR re oem Coe eo CL MPM 24 11
TERCERA epee ET AN ae BS 15 9
rom inc isya geet tk aN rane Oe 32 22
faye bE Wee H ae | yeu ee Raa PR ee ONE AY yet te 14 2
Tea ie ee 2 Lg 43 21
ANTEER gh 1 be EAR a HC SR 28 80
IMPARSA CHISTES Ny cscee clos uhs UMN Meee 171 237
UVB Fee: 7 NN MUR 8 POE oP atl Ae 33 17
IVETE SOEs Fee ch ART TU eey 18 24
D4 GESFSAESI EH 0) 0} bi) Maa CRs CUNEO A ea LEE 10 2
NU Dokst= {040 ftp) y SS UR eRe ER EL UE ed 36 25
BA's roy enysezly ok: i) Rac ese eae Mee a Lee aM TS DB 2

INFO TS Sai eee eT Ue 5 3

“WHO'S WHO” AMONG AMERICAN WOMEN 445

INIGK ENG ESAS ao ober eo MUU Ui Ede D Ye ae 2 2
New? Elampshire 2s eee ao eueteeeeoe 27 14
ING) WOR SOs? cso AD oe 33 58
UNTerenit Wee O20. uot eee OLE LR aN RN ql 2
ING Wi ip WOT oe. SURAT aga ea aa 291 550
BNowtbyan @aro lim aye ee aera i Mee ff 11
NOTH MD AKO ba LA eI eR a 2 2
( O}LATCG) NH Cus AIAG Rca Nan Eat Re TT 7, 46
(OSIM aN(a ja FA pear OM MRD Aram aie ON 1 1
CO hefcf (0) 0 aan A Bee LUAU OY 4 7
IRONS LV ANT A, | 22ctke CUE a eee 113 90
bod ete lslan Gis hs a One 16 11
South Carolina ee UN ae, 4 3
South Dakota) Wee es if 0
WENN ESSE (o/s. 2.221 Se a NE ee 20 10
MIN OSA patie eT Sle UNC aU 6 5
[Utrera 2 2S Lee 3 3
NVIG@EINVONIE iy Bees oe a sace ee ee a cea 22 3
AU(itcfea bits A piectimereenyeer epee MeN eer 35 16
PiU COM) encase A aes ag ae of 12
VG S bry VAI PEIN ea ea 2 We cee a die bee 6 5
IWS COTS LMNs |) nse 02a LEAN MD AI an 32 15
IWVay OTe NCU aa ee ee 0 3
Countries! outside Wey See ee eens 112 48
INOG) Movie mes Qh a ME Ate A 136

Motegi ees 2 a eee ee ee 1,687 1,687

This table indicates that Colorado, Wyoming and Arizona,
having a population of 260,000 in 1880, produced no women who
have been included in this issue of ‘‘Who’s Who in Amerieca.’’
Furthermore, Idaho, South Dakota, New Mexico and Oklahoma,
having a total population of 451,000 in 1880, have each produced
only one. Thus these seven states with a population in 1880 of
712,000 are represented in ‘‘Who’s Who’’ by only four women.
On the other hand, New England, which had a searcely larger popu-
lation in 1880, contributed 333 eminent women. Similarly, the
Southern States, with an 1880 population somewhat greater than
that of New England and the Middle Atlantic States combined,
produced only 99 famous women in contrast with 844 from these
northern states. Not only were few eminent women born in the
South about 1880, but still fewer now reside there, 63 vs. 99. The
North Atlantic and New England States have attracted many no-
table women with the result that 1,148 of the 1,687 women listed
now live there. In other words, these states produced 54.5 per
cent. of the eminent women, but now have 68 per cent. of the
nation’s total.

This great centralization of production of famous women and
of their present distribution may be due to the following in-

446 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

fluences: The presence of more educational institutions in the
northeast, and the greater emphasis placed on education there.

Unquestionably there are sectional differences in ideals. In
parts of the South, for example, an intellectually ambitious woman
is not in favor.

The fact that men outnumber women in the West tends to
encourage early marriage in the West. Relatively sparse popula-
tion and more recent occupation also tend to cause life to be on a
somewhat more primitive plane, with less opportunity or incentive
for the type of achievement recognized by inclusion in ‘‘Who’s
Who.’’ Western women who do not marry early are more likely
than eastern women to have opportunity to become school teachers,
clerks or business women.

Selective emigation certainly helps explain the distribution of
the birthplaces of the eminent. As a rule, the highly intellectual
type do not become frontiersmen. Pioneering ealls for physical
vigor and daring rather than high education or unusual intelli-
gence. Furthermore, the highly intelligent type generaily are in
fair circumstances, and it usually is the poor who emigrate, not
the well-to-do. Hence, for a number of reasons, there is a ten-
dency for the intellectual type of people not to emigrate, unless
it be as missionaries, but to remain where they can make the most
use of their ability and education. Thus many have remained in
the older states, or have moved into the older communities in the
Middle West, rather than going to the Newer West. Consequent-
ly, few infants possessing unusual intellectual endowment are
born on the frontier or in the Newer West.

The presence of nearly ten million negroes in the South reduces
the South’s contribution of eminent women in proportion to its
total population, for no negress is included in this volume of
‘“Who’s Who.”’

The climate of the North is more favorable for mental activity
than is the often rather enervating climate of the South. It like-
wise favors physical vigor and thus increases accomplishment.
Climate also doubtless has played a part in reducing the produc-
tion of eminent women in parts of the West. While the climate
of the arid and semi-arid west may possibly favor intellectual
activity and physical vigor, it can not be disputed that the fre-
quent droughts, unseasonable frosts, etc., have tended powerfully
to encourage the emigrating of the exceptionally alert and re-
sourceful people. Such people tend to go into regions where the
opportunities are less uncertain.

In addition to place of birth and residence, note was taken
of occupation, education and state of marriage. It was found that

“WHO’S WHO” AMONG AMERICAN WOMEN 447

53 per cent. of the last 950 women in ‘‘Who’s Who”’ are married.
Many occupations are followed. Eighteen chief types were listed.
The most important eight, with the number engaged in each, and
the per cent. of the total are shown in Table 4.

TABLE 4

OCCUPATIONS OF WOMEN IN ‘‘WHO’s WHO IN AMERICA’’

Occupations Number of women Per cent. of women
AWiritOls 573.2. 2-2 33 de Sa eee | 714 45.3
EEL tL OI 2a posses kt nen ee 244 15.6
Social, workers) =..2.- so) ee 127 8.0
JF) ChE Ae MA a ree ALN ik. tos ht ADM lily 7.5
ICEL CSSOS) (oie. ee eu £2 Mea one 63 3.9
SILC) ee ae AO. Ik SSIES 46 2.9
PEGG ONS) eee? be.2 Wes Sb en aD 34 2.1
PIV SICI ATS, | rec. ck te ee eee 28 1.7

In addition to these eight, there are lawyers, politicians, religious
workers, librarians, scientists, lecturers, explorers, musicians, busi-
ness women and those interested in home economics. Thus there
is a very wide range of activities.

From Table 4 and other data a few conclusions appear war-
ranted. One is that women receive recognition for writing more
readily than in most activities. Nearly one half of the 1,582
women whose biographies are given are writers. On the other
hand, comparatively few teachers have attained the fame of the
type indicated by inclusion in ‘‘Who’s Who,’’ most of the ‘‘edu-
cators’’ included being administrators such as deans and presi-
dents. Indeed, a considerable number of women are holding ad-
ministrative positions.

The higher education of women was also noted, and it was
found that 88 per cent. report training above the secondary school.
Of the two groups attending college or college and university,
exactly one half of the women report training in women’s colleges.

TABLE 5
Type of training Number of women Per cent. of women
(Oa Weve) Fase pe Bo eS eo oor 440 27.9
AUUREV GPS)! foo 2 prea eee eee wiles 216 13.7
S| LTTE) ERR a oe ena chap ice Soe Soe 466 29.5
College and university... 2._.2.-2.-- 205 13.0
Collegevand special... ee 39 2.4
University and specials... 200-22. o-oo. 23 1.5
NOME MMENELONC Cte ccaterrsenns noeen see meee 190 12.0

This table indicates that few women who do not take advan-
tage of existing opportunities for higher education (beyond the
secondary or high school) now attain national fame.

448 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

GO TO THE BEE

A CONTRIBUTION TO THE PERMANENCE OF ARISTOCRACY

By Dr. DAVID STARR JORDAN
STANFORD UNIVERSITY

667 FYHE Leisure Classes, the Chief Support of the Nation they

adorn’’—such was the topic of a remarkable sermon de-
livered not long ago to an audience of superior people, by the
Reverend Vicar of Girlington, England, whose actual name I do
not give lest my feeble words fail to interpret his lofty ideals.
From the press notices that came under my eye, it appears that
the admi:ed and admirable vicar finds his mission in the salvation
of British aristocracy through its complete restoration to the ranks
of leisure. In his judgment the aristocrats or superior persons
serve society best by standing as examples of human perfectibility.
This is the end they should seek, through utter surcease from all
worry, all effort and all personal hopes and desires.

The vicar would indeed make of the upper classes a group, not
of hereditary rulers, but of elect examplars of what humanity may
become, a condition to be open to a chosen few to whom is granted
release from the sordid side of life. From such relief the great
body of the British people are of course excluded—not from any
fault or deficiency of their own, but simply because there is not
leisure enough to go around. Thus for the chosen the mass must
live; the many gather honey for the few to enjoy. But in fair-
ness—and this I take it is the vital part of the vicar’s contention—
all should have an equal chance in the beginning.

A rationally organized society would then consist of two classes
which for convenience the vicar might call the laborers and the
leisurers. To the former belongs the capitalist as well as the
workman; all indeed who work with hand or tongue or pen or brain
labor alike. The leisurer alone enjoys that perfect serenity which
comes from fearing nothing, wanting nothing, hoping for nothing.
True happiness rests on a division of duty. A natural cleavage lies
between those who create and those who enjoy, each condition
having its own peculiar delight. Between the two yawns a great
gulf which society crosses only at its peril.

The vicar’s discourse harks back to the words of Solomon, ‘‘Go
to the ant; consider her ways and be wise,’’ an injunction inciting
alike to modesty and to thrift, two virtues of which the ant is a

GO TO THE BEE 449

model. She knows her place and keeps it. Aspiration goes with
aviation ; having no wings, she never tries to fly.

But in addressing the leisurer the vicar would modify his text:
‘““Go rather to the bee; consider his ways and be wise.’’ Physically
the bee resembles the ant, but his social system is organized on a
more exalted basis. With him, the leisure class is unquestionably
the chief support of the society it adorns. And now to make clear
the vicar’s appeal, I find it necessary to amplify the too meager
report given in the Girlington Guardian, and without holding the
speaker closely responsible, I may draw for the moment from the
fascinating observations of the noted apiarist of Brussels, Maurice
Maeterlinck.

Two salient facts at once appear: first, bee society maintains
its own aristocracy ; second, its leisurers, having no hereditary claim
for distinction, are chosen by lot and by no effort of their own.
As the young bees are about to hatch, their faithful nurses construet
a few cells of extra size and feed the occupants on a special food,
the “‘royal jelly’’ of the apiarist. These selected individuals, the
‘““queens,’’ then grow up in an atmosphere of leisure. To produce
the harmonious and perfect bee for which the toiling workers exist
is the culmination of the apiarian system.

In carrying the analogy into human society, the essential point
(as I think the vicar would agree) is that among men as among bees,
no injustice shall be done. Leisurer and laborer must both exist,
but as both are of one lineage, each should have an equal chance for
the great prize of existence. That ‘‘the rank is but the guinea’s
stamp, the man’s the gold’’ is literally true. Royal jelly and a royal
cell make the bee-aristocrat. The difference between queen and
worker is purely one of bringing up; the two are of the same blood,
the queen becomes regal without effort of her own.

By like means human society may breed its aristoecrats—so
reads the lesson to be learned from the bee. The queen exists not
for her own sake, nor by inherited right. Neither should a lord
among men, his only true function being to round out the humanity
of his fellows, show what man has it in him to be if brought up
without work or worry, marred by no trace of struggle, no fear of
defeat, by nothing which wrinkles the brow, makes callous the
hands, nor hardens the heart! Lacking this perfect ideal, end and
aim, humanity can never realize itself.

Perfection, by the very nature of things, is denied the laborer.
Yet how vital it is that perfection should exist! Plainly, however,
only a few can be leisurers, though in life’s grand lottery all may
start alike. The needs of the hour eall for the ‘‘man with the hoe,’’
the woman at the washtub. Some must toil and spin that the
human lily may be properly arrayed. Mark, too, the perfect rose,

Vol. XV.—29.

450 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

‘‘its own excuse for being,’’ yet dependent on stem and leaves and

roots for very existence. Moreover, its glowing petals are but
leaves transformed and perfected. Thus from the lily or the rose
one may draw the same lesson as from the bee and the ant.

In his implied criticism of the British aristocracy of the re-
nowned Victorian era, the vicar proceeds with becoming modesty.
It would seem indeed presumptuous in the holder of a living, the
eift of a gentleman of the county, to say one word in dispraise of
conditions as they are. The very essence of organized religion is
conservatism.

Yet some one must turn his face towards the light, and every
student of history knows that the ‘‘Decline of Aristocracy,’’ as
defined by one of its illustrious examples, Mr. Arthur Ponsonby,
is now imminent. The only way of avoiding decadence is to place
aristocracy on a democratic basis, as it were, to open its doors to
all, but at the same time keep the passage narrow so that few can
enter. ‘‘Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way’’ that leadeth
to perfection.

The Victorian system is open to eavil on three sides: it is
hereditary : it is open to invasion by wealth, it is used as a reward
for achievement.

As for heredity, one easily sees that mere aristrocratic descent
does not guarantee a perfect leisurer. ‘‘Blue blood’’ tends to run
thin, and in-and-in breeding plays havoe with the human stock as
well as with dogs and horses. Furthermore, inheritance smacks of
privilege, and the iconoclastic Georgian Age will have none of it,
No youth is now willing to follow his father’s trade. The son of a
tailor no longer sits cross-legged on a bench if fate has taken him
early in hand, the son of a non-conformist preacher becomes prime
minister—and one never knows where it is all going to stop! But
any healthy boy, caught young enough, is soon aligned with the
customs and opinions of his entourage. Set among gentlemen, noth-
ing is easier than to act like a gentleman! As a matter of fact every
wise butler soon acquires a manner as lordly as that of his master,
whom he often instructs in the higher etiquette. Frequently he has
had longer experience, and has given to items of behavior more
serious thought. A sympathetic moisture of the eye and a gentle
lowering of the voice in delicate moments may come as natural to
him as toa bishop. Stephen Leacock of Montreal, a noted American
tourist, gives an amusing account of his call upon an ambassador
of the United Kingdom. At the end of a discussion concerning the
weather and the future of the Empire, he was still doubtful as to
whether he had met the ambassador or his butler. To test the
matter, therefore, he slipped a gold sovereign into the hand of his
host. The coin was accepted, but in such a detached and dignified

GO TO THE BEE 451

manner that the visitor’s uncertainty was not dispelled by his
maneuver.

With a ‘‘young person,’’ the process of adaptation is even more
rapid and sure. The charwoman’s daughter brought up as a lady
yields to none in ladylike perfection. Napoleon even went so far
as to propose that women should have no hereditary rank at all,
but content themselves with the title of their consorts. Presumably
his experience with the stalwart insistence of his otherwise plebeian
sisters whom he had personally ennobled determined his attitude
in that regard. But most of us are familiar with the career of the
Honorable Lady Burnett, a woman of humble origin as her friends
admit—once a milkmaid or (according to traducers) a barmaid,
who became through an exalted marriage ‘‘the arbitress of the
elegances for all the region about her husband’s manor house.”’
From the Morning Post one learns that ‘‘she used, queen-like, to
reign; nay, pour at tea in the newest and tightest of white gloves,’’
and with that undefinable je ne sais quot which marks the true
aristocrat !

An aristocracy has been defined as ‘‘a social superstructure
reared on a foundation of bestness.’’ There is but one permanent
basis for ‘‘bestness.’’ This is implied in the thousand year old
motto of the aristocratic Winchester College, ‘‘Manners makyth
man,’’ or in the modern vernacular, ‘‘Handsome is as handsome
does.”’

The vicar, himself of humble birth but aristocratic connections,
admits freely that it is too late in the day to lay stress on lineage.
We all claim Adam as a forbear, and not one of us has ever had
even a single ancestor weak enough to die in infancy. Leisurer
or laborer, each has weathered the storm; in that sense, all are
noble alike. Genealogists also affirm that we unmixed English
people are all of Plantagenet stock, most of us through the first
three Edwards, descended from William, Alfred and Charlemagne.
Indeed, one eminent authority classes all Englishmen together as
the ‘‘inbred descendants of Charlemagne,’’ and Charlemagne (as
we know) was at the head of a League of Nations, being at once
King of France, Emperor of Germany, and Overlord of Europe.
Noble blood indeed is ours, but unfortunately so many share it that
it can not serve as a test of aristocracy.

Again, large numbers of our so-called nobility have arisen
through long years of struggle directed toward that end. Social
extrication is a form of hard work, and labor of whatever kind
mars the soul as it wrinkles the brow. A furrowed face is of itself
a badge of serfdom. A mind too alert, an ambition too urgent,
tends to defeat the purpose of social adornment. To diffuse sweet-
ness and light is not an arduous occupation. Indeed to give

‘

452 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

thought to it or to make it a result of definite effort is to fail in
the most important element. The leisurer who goes down into
the East End to mend the manners of the poor would do better
to confine himself to awarding the conventional goose and
bottle of ale at the happy season of Christmas. Those who
have pursued this policy enjoy a devout gratitude height-
ened by its rarity. If life for the laborer was all ale and goose
—or beer and skittles, as vulgarly paraphrased—no one would
know his place, and the barriers betwixt laborer and leisurer so
carefully built up in the long centuries of England’s glory would
be completely broken down.

Browning paints the ideal leisurer as a king who ‘‘lived long
ago in the morning of the world’’ with a forehead ‘‘calm as a babe
new born.’’ This is an enchanting ideal, but the further descrip-
tion (so familiar that I need not quote it here) does not fit their
lordships of to-day. No one would take it for a portrait of North-
eliffe, Carson, or Birkenhead, whose bustling activities keep the
realm in turmoil. An aristocracy founded on labor of mind or
hand is not a elass of leisurers. Like my Lord Bottlebrush and
the ‘‘Duchess of Draggletail’’ in Thackeray’s satire, however high
the circle in which they move, their manifest lack of noble repose
only swells the confusion.

Moreover, no genuine aristocracy can be founded solely on
wealth. The ‘‘bounder-nobility’’—as an irreverent press styles
them—are noble in their own eyes alone. In an exalted circle
money should never be thought of, much less mentioned! The
bee queen builds no cells and gathers no honey. No increment of
beebread or royal jelly is due to her own activities, or received by
inheritance. Queen and environment are alike parts of one sys-
tem. So it should be with a true aristocracy. No quest of gold, no
promotion of enterprise, no regret over the past, no worry for the
future, no will to know, no call to govern, no mission to control, no
fear of loss, no hope of gain, ought to intrude to break the perfect
peace. Kept in place by a reverent society, the Lord of Leisure need
only pose as the glint of a sunbeam across the trail of the toilers,
merely strew flowers along the pathway of life, in short be like

Roses in their bloom
Casting their petals ever on the grass
Over the way the Beautiful must pass.

II
To all this there is an intensely practical side. If aristocracy
is to endure (and without it this would be a dreary world indeed)
it must be constituted aright. It must reject the false bases of
heredity, effort and wealth. It must not be the reward of dis-

GO TO THE BEE 453

tinction, nor be attainable by any competitive examination. Its
door should open to all on equal terms, even though straight the
gate and narrow the way. The present House of Lords, now
swollen to seven hundred members, including almost everybody
able and willing to pay the price, will die of its own accord. Let
it alone. Let the climbers of yesterday keep on climbing, while
we remove the ladders behind them. Let the men who replenish
the party treasuries receive in the name of our gracious Kine—
our sole true aristocrat—whatsoever honors their patriotism de-
serves; but for the good of society let us build a new class in a
new way. Should we fail in that endeavor the iconoclasts of the
day will cast us all into the melting-pot from which no leisurer
returns, an upshot the vicar would sadly deprecate.

To select noblemen by primogeniture is a process comparable to
choice by loaded dice; the cast is made before the heir is born.
Nothing could be more undemocratic, nothing in reality more un-
fair to men and women of the race in general. Then let our lords
be chosen by lot from among the people at large, let us pick a cer-
tain number of babies to be our future leisurers, and feed them
on royal jelly* or the nearest parallel to that condiment our gracious
King may secure.

All expense involved should of course be carried by the people.
In the United Kingdom are some 48,000,000 men and women. Let
each pay alike; the assessment would then be so small that no one
would even notice it. Let each contribute say a penny yearly for
social inflorescence—for the perfected blossom of humanity. Such
trifling levy would amount in the aggregate to £200,000 sterling,
which, judiciously invested, would yield an assured annual income
of £10,000, a sum quite adequate to provide for a leisurer through-
out life. And the contribution by everybody of one shilling, a tax
still absurdly small, would support twelve members of the new
aristocracy each year.

The necessary sum once collected, the infant chosen should be
entirely healthy, and so attested by a Court physician accustomed
to the needs of the leisure classes. It ought also to be a manchild,
and its future mate, having no title in her own right, would be-
come a ‘‘Lady’’ by courtesy, even as now the wife of the knighted
erocer or jockey is recognized as ‘‘Lady’’ Jones or Atkins because
her husband has been touched by the flat of the King’s
sword and allowed to write ‘‘Sir’’ before his name. Only through
an impartial selection may aristocracy and democracy be satis-

1 This expression is of course purely figurative, because no product of
Cross and Blackwell serves our indicated purpose. It is with the general
problem of perfected environment that we have to deal.

454 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

factorily reconciled; and only when begun before effort, am-
bition or deterioration has set in can the budding leisurer be ade-
quately trained by nurse and butler in the thoughts and manners
proper to a perfect lord. Otherwise, less lovely traits might have
become stiffened beyond remedy.

As his lordship grows up, the necessary allowance should come
to him in regular sums only. He should never forestall, never
hoard, never gamble, never speculate, never go into trade, never
run into debt, never have anything left over after Christmas! He
should support society as society has supported him; but chiefly
he and the lady he may happily choose must remain through life
‘‘on the hills as gods together, careless of mankind.”’

True, as the noble Lord Tennyson once observed, ‘‘kind hearts
are more than coronets,’’ but there is nothing in the plan to inhibit
possession of both at once. A coronet, moreover, may be very be-
coming as well as very welcome to My Lady. For our new-made
lord will never marry for money nor as a rule where money is—
all dowry acquired being turned over to the state; and what more
exquisite pleasure than that of a young maiden unexpectedly chosen
for the high distinction of a coronet! Let us also notice the amazing
widening of the possible range of choice when no dowry need be
sought.

Doubtless a new title ought to be devised for the consummate
flower of leisure. Lord, Duke, Earl, Knight—all these hark back
to the discarded emblems of war, ‘‘the faded fancies of an elder
world.’’ The vicar himself, I believe, was undecided, but the plan
developed from hints given in his discourse should not fail
just because a suitable name is not immediately forthcoming. The
hellenistie term, ‘‘Bianthine,’’ ‘‘flower of life,’’ would be appro-
priate, but it seems rather long, used as we are to the abrupt Saxon
“‘Lord and Lady,’’ or the Norman ‘‘Sir.’’ ‘‘Flovite’’ (flos-vite)
might do; represented by the letters F. V. it would be a natural
contrast to M. P., and a pleasing reminiscence of F. F. V.,
the designation of certain Elite of the United States of America.
This again suggests that the word Elite itself, a good Norman ex-
pression much valued by our Gallic allies, may be the term we are
seeking.

In any ease, the title selected should in some way indicate one
chosen from among many, first among equals, the bloom of exist-
ence, the triumph of aspiring democracy reaching the goal of per-
fection amidst the leaven and the levelling of the commonry. And
we hope that the admirable vicar may find ample support in his
noble crusade to make the British peerage once more a counsel of
perfection.

THE FOOD RESOURCES OF THE SEA 455

THE FOOD RESOURCES OF THE SEA
By GEORGE W. MARTIN

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF BOTANY, RUTGERS COLLEGE,
NEW BRUNSWICK, N. J.

RIMITIVE man got his food as his competitors did—that is
to say, he picked it up or killed it where he could find it.
Very early in his civilized career he ceased to be a hunter and
began to cultivate the land; in fact, the beginnings of civilization
and of agriculture were contemporaneous. Since that time the
pressure of increasing populations demanding to be fed has been
a prolific source of human strife. There are not lacking economists
who would maintain that the recent catastrophic war in Europe
was the direct result of an increasing demand for food on the part
of the rapidly multiplying German nation. JEHast, in THE
Screntiric MontrHiy for December, 1921, points out that the agri-
cultural resources of the United States can in all probability not
support in reasonable comfort more than two hundred million
people and that the present indications are that our population
will reach that figure within the next century. Furthermore, we
ean not count on importing food indefinitely, since by the time our
own population reaches its limit, the now scantily peopled parts
of the world will produce little or no food in excess of the needs
of their own greatly augmented populations. His is but one of
many voices warning us that there is a limit to the number of
human beings whom the earth can support, and however we may
disagree with the various estimates as to what the limit may be,
we can not doubt that it exists, and that, historically speaking,
we are rapidly approaching it. The purpose of this article is,
however, not to consider this question in detail, but merely to
point out one source of food of which the possibilities are still
largely unrealized.

If we were to-day still depending upon the chase as the main
source of our food, most of us would be dead, or, rather, we should
never have been born. Yet so far as the oceans, which cover three
fourths of the surface of the earth, are concerned, we have made
little essential advance over the methods of the primitive fisher-
men. The flocks and herds of the sea still roam freely in their
native haunts, and we cast our lines and nets over their feeding
grounds, and catch what we can. Our operations are on a larger

456 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

seale, it is true, than those of our predecessors, our tackle is su-
perior, our nets larger and stronger, and, by equipping our fishing
vessels with steam or gasoline power, we have enlarged the area we
can cover. Once the fish are landed, we have an elaborate system
of distribution and marketing, so that cities a thousand miles
inland can have fish a day out of the ocean shipped to them in
fast refrigerated cars. There is also a little direct utilization of
the plants of the sea. In certain parts of the world, notably in
China and Japan, and to a less extent in HKurope, a few of the
alez are eaten by man or his domestic animals, or gathered to be
utilized in some minor industry. But so far as the actual cultiva-
tion of the sea’s resources as distinguished from their mere ex-
ploitation is concerned, we have made only the feeblest beginning.
The reasons for this are, of course, the uncontrollability of the sea
as compared with the land; its instability; the vastness of the
oceans and the relative inaccessibility of much of their area; and
especially the difficulty of attempting to control living organisms
in the sea, out of man’s natural element, as they may be controlled
on the land where he is at home. Yet if the demand becomes in-
sistent enough we ean not doubt that methods will be devised
which will give us the desired results. To question that would
be to admit that man has neared the culmination of his evolutionary
career and is preparing to bequeath the mastery of the earth to
his successor, whoever that may be.

The bulk of the food supply which we have come to expect the
ocean to furnish us is animal. Animals that live in the sea are,
however, no less dependent upon plant life for their food than are
land animals. We all know that the beef we eat is built up from
the grass and grain upon which the cattle have fed; and, while
there are many animals that feed upon other animals only, sooner
or later the cycle goes back to the green plants. This is because
the green coloring matter contained in plants is the only substance
known that can so combine carbon and water as to form the
carbohydrates that are the fundamental materials of which all
living beings, whether plants or animals, are constructed. The
plants living in the sea are then the equivalents, so far as the life
of the sea is concerned, of the land plants. Like land plants,
they not only need carbon and water, but certain mineral salts.
Of these, those that furnish them with nitrogen and phosphorus
are most important, since they are most apt to be present in in-
sufficient quantity and thus to be limiting factors. The plants in
the sea are continually using these substances and are continually
dying or being eaten by animals. Sooner or later there comes a
time when by the death and decay of the plant or animal most of

THE FOOD RESOURCES OF THE SEA 457

these materials are returned to solution. Part, however, have been
transformed into insoluble compounds and are lying inert in the
depths of the ocean. Thus there is a constant loss of nutrient
salts. This loss is replaced by drainage from the land, the great
rivers carrying constantly into the ocean an almost incredible
amount of dissolved minerals in addition to suspended matter.

Another important requirement of plants is light. Plants on
land receive the full benefit of the sun’s rays as we know them.
Plants living under water receive only a portion of the rays that
reach the land. Part of the light that strikes the water is reflected,
and the part that penetrates the water is gradually absorbed in
passing through that medium, the red and yellow rays first, the
blue and violet last. This differential absorption is reflected in
the curious and well-known vertical distribution of marine alge
according to color—the green kinds growing in shallow water, the
browns in an intermediate zone and the reds in the deepest water,
although there are, of course, numerous exceptions to this general
rule of distribution. Another property of light is that it is re-
fracted by water, and the greater the angle at which the rays strike
the water the greater will be the refraction. In the tropics, where
the rays are practically vertical, the amount of refraction is in-
significant, but in high latitudes, where the rays strike the water at
a sharp angle, the refraction is marked, as a result of which the
rays are bent into a more nearly vertical direction, thus inereas-
ing their penetration in depth and partly compensating for the
unfavorable angle at which they strike the water. The penetra-
tion is also markedly affected by the amount of suspended matter
and the number of microorganisms present in the water. Helland-
Hansen was able to show that in the Atlantic Ocean south of the
Azores, on a bright summer’s day, light is abundant at a depth of
100 meters, still including at that depth a few red rays. At 500
meters the red rays have completely disappeared, but blue and
ultra-violet rays are still plentiful, and may be detected at 1,000
meters, but have completely disappeared at 1,700 meters. Ht is
not probable, however, that under the most favorable conditions
photosynthesis may be carried on at depths greater than 200
meters.

Temperature is less directly important in the sea than on land
since there is no great danger of injurious extremes being reached.
Indirectly, its importance lies in the fact that carbondioxide is
much more soluble in cold water than in warm, (Fig. 1) and it
is probably this, rather than the direct influence of temperature
which accounts for the fact that the most luxuriant development
of plant life is in the colder waters of the earth.

458 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

0.6
o4
02
CO; at
re = 3
re) 10° 20 aio) 40° C.
= 32° 50° G8? 86° 104° F.

Fig. 1. SOLUBILITY OF CARBON DIOXIDE IN WATER. CUBIC CENTIMETERS OF C09
SOLUBLE IN 1 C. C. OF WATER, REDUCED TO NORMAL TEMPERATURE AND PRESSURE

On the basis of habitat, marine plants may be divided into two
great groups. On all coasts, and in shallow waters near the coasts,
there is usually a conspicuous zone of ‘‘seaweed.’’ This is known
as the benthos, from a Greek word denoting bottom, because it
occurs attached to the bottom on the shelf of shallow water sur-
rounding the coasts. The plants of the benthos are extremely
varied and range in size from microscopic to very large, the giant
kelps of the northern Pacific sometimes reaching a length of nearly
four hundred feet. We are accustomed to think of these plants
as alow, and most of them belong to one or another of the great
algal groups, but the most important of all the plants of the benthos
is not an alga but a flowering plant, belonging to the pondweed
family, and not very distantly related to the grass family, which
is the most important economic family of land plants. This is
Zostera marina, the common eel-grass. Zostera marina or some
of its near relatives occurs on almost all the ocean shores of the
globe, being absent only in the extremely hot and extremely cold
portions. It grows in water varying from a little over a meter
in depth at low tide, to depths of fifteen or twenty meters in cer-
tain clear Mediterranean waters; and in waters varying in salinity
from that of the sea water of the open ocean to that of brackish
bays and estuaries of less than half full salinity. It prefers mud,
but will grow nearly as well in sand. It will not grow, however,
where the bottom is composed of loose stones nor where the wave
action is severe, and these localities are inhabited by the true
alge. The windrows of dead ‘‘seaweed’’ commonly found east up
on our Atlantic shores are very largely composed of Zostera. A
few other flowering plants occur in salt or brackish water, but
they are relatively unimportant.

THE FOOD RESOURCES OF THE SEA 459

The algx of the benthos occur, as previously stated, in three
rather indefinitely limited zones. In the quiet waters of shallow
bays we find a great many green and blue-green alge. Such forms
as Ulva lactuca and Enteromorpha intestinalis, both often called
sea lettuce, are typically found in such situations. The branching,
feathery masses of Cladophora and the thick green felt of
Vaucheria are also often prominent. The blue-green alge are en-
tirely microscopic, but often occur in great abundance. A species
of Lyngbya frequently forms felted mats two or three inches thick
and many feet across. Masses of Spirulina as large as a dinner
plate are common. The plants which grow between tide levels
or just below low tide, at places where there is considerable wave
action, belong mostly to the brown alge. Various rockweeds,
belonging to such genera as Fucus and Ascophyllwm, are common
in northern waters, and the gulfweed, Sargassum, is typical of the
forms growing in the warmer waters. below low tide level the
great kelps—the Laminarias and their allies—are the largest
plants of the ocean, the larger species occurring, however, only
in the cooler waters. The alge of the deeper waters are mainly
the reds, and the farther south we go the greater becomes the
preponderance of the red algw. It must be remembered, however,
that red, brown, green and blue-green algw are more or less inter-
mingled at all depths and in all latitudes. All the plants we have
been considering are alike, however, in that they occur only near
the shores, except in cases where they have been torn loose from
their fastenings and carried by currents into the open sea. The
Sargasso Sea of the Atlantic Ocean is merely an area outside of
the track of the great oceanic currents and therefore constituting
a huge eddy in which such material accumulates, growing vegeta-
tively to a certain extent and finally dying and sinking.

If the only marine plants were in the benthos, in spite of the
local luxuriance of its growth, the great mass of the ocean would
be a desert, incapable of supporting anything like the amount of
life which actually exists in it. There is, however, another great
group of living organisms, the plankton. The plankton comprises
those plants and animals that are neither attached to the bottom
nor able to swim against a current, but normally live floating in
the water and carried by it from place to place. Some of the
animals of the plankton are of rather large size—such, for example,
as the Portuguese man o’war and some of the larger jellyfish.
Most of them, and all the plants, are microscopic. The plants, in
fact, are all unicellular, although the cells are often united into
filaments or colonies of various shapes. Two groups of plankton
organisms are of special importance: the diatoms and the peridines.

460 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The diatoms are unicellular plants occurring in all waters, but
especially abundant in the colder parts of the ocean, growing in
enormous numbers in the Arctic and Antarctic regions and reach-
ing in temperate waters their maximum development in the cooler
months of the year. They are unicellular organisms, enclosed m
two silicious shells, one fitting over the other much as the lid fits
the bottom of a pill box. In shape they are extremely varied, and
the shells are usually marked with intricate patterns and often
decorated with spines and knobs.

The peridines constitute a curious group of unicellular organ-
isms intermediate between plants and animals. Some of them are
holophytie or plantlike in their method of nutrition, others are
saprophytic, absorbing dead organic material dissolved in the
water, some are parasitic in the body cavity of small animals, such
as copepods; a large number are holozoic, capturing and ingesting
their food just as animals do. The peridines very largely replace
the diatoms in the tropical seas, and in temperate waters attam
their maximum numbers in the warmer months when the diatoms
are at a minimum. This seasonal distribution is very possibly cor-
related with the diminution of the carbon dioxide content of the
warmer waters. The peridines may be naked, or provided with a
simple or elaborate armor of cellulose, the same material as that
of which plant cell walls are composed. Whether armored or not,
they are always provided with two flagella, one, hair-hke, which
trails behind them, the other a ribbon-like undulating structure
typically encircling the body in a special groove provided for it
and giving to the organism a rotatory motion.

In spite of their minute size it may fairly be said that the dia-
toms and the holophytic peridines are to the ocean what the
grasses are to the land. What they lack in size is more than com-
pensated for by their extreme abundance and rapidity of reproduc-
tion. Under favorable conditions hundreds of thousands of them
may exist in a liter, so that the water is distinctly colored and is
almost soupy to the touch.

A third group of important plankton organisms, entirely holo-
phytic in their nutrition, is known as the Coccolithophoridae.
These are brown-pigmented forms secreting very regular calcareous
shells and occurring in the warmer parts of the open ocean. Most
of them are extremely minute and while they are known to occur
in extremely great abundance at times, because of their small size
little is definitely known about their distribution or relative im-
portance.

In addition to these groups of organisms, the zoospores and
gametes of algwe are liberated in enormous number at certain sea-
sons of the year, and add their contribution to the food supply of

THE FOOD RESOURCES OF THE SEA 461

the plankton, while there are numerous brown and green flagel-
lates belonging to other than the three groups mentioned.

The phytoplankton exists everywhere at the surface of the ocean
and for a considerable depth below the surface. Certainly it is
fairly abundant as far down as a hundred fathoms in those parts
of the ocean where the light approaches the vertical. It is, however,
much more abundant near land than in mid-ocean, mainly because
the organisms near land are in more immediate contact with the
nutrient materials washed from the land into the sea, and tend to
exhaust the supply before these materials reach the open ocean.
The ratio between the number of plankton organisms near land as
compared with the number in the open seas has been given as fifty
to one, but this estimate, for reasons which will be apparent later,
is probably much too high.

It is not enough to know life in the ocean qualitatively. It was
long ago realized that it must be analyzed quantitatively. The
earliest quantitative studies were those of Hensen, beginning about
1880, and modern work on the problem may be said to begin with
him. He devised the forerunner of the present-day plankton net
and attempted to account for the production of the sea by his eol-
lections. His nets missed all the smaller organisms and failed to
secure many of the larger ones. Hensen realized this and at-
tempted to allow for it in his caleulations but his results were nec-
essarily very imperfect. He succeeded in imparting new impetus
to such studies, however, and deserves the credit due to a pioneer
worker in a difficult field. The amount of food required by the
animals of the sea is so much in excess of the amount shown to be
produced by these early methods that Piitter (1907-1909) argued
that the nutrition of marine animals was on an entirely different
plane from that of land animals, and that a Jarge number of them,
especially the smaller ones, absorbed dissolved organic matter di-
rectly from the water without the mediation of plants. Piitter’s
arguments have not been generally accepted and more recent
studies have invalidated many of them. Nevertheless, it is pos-
sible that something of this sort is more general than we realize.
Mitchell has recently (1917) reported on experiments strongly in-
dicating, although perhaps not proving, that so highly organized
an animal as an oyster can utilize dextrose dissolved in sea water,
transforming it into glycogen and storing it.

In 1911 Lohmann showed that many of the organisms that pass
through the plankton net may be secured and studied by the use
of a centrifuge. This, again, marked a great advance. He showed
that these smaller organisms, for which he proposed the convenient
term ‘‘nannoplankton,’’ existed in enormous numbers in parts
of the sea which the net collections seemed to show were barren,

462 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

and found that certain animals—Appendicularia e. g.—were very
efficient collectors of these minute forms, sometimes feeding on
them almost exclusively. Gran reports a similar experience in the
Straits of Gibraltar. Net collections showed very little plankton in
the water, but the stomachs of Salpae when examined were found
to be crammed with forms too small to be retained by the nets.
Even centrifuging fails to get many of these forms since they are
often lighter than water or as light, or are so delicate that the
operation destroys them. Allen has devised a dilution culture
method similar in principle to those used in making bacterial
counts. He adds to a quantity of filtered sea water a few drops of
a nutrient solution, sterilizes it, and adds to it a known quantity
of the sea water to be investigated—say, one cubic centimeter.
After thorough shaking, this is poured into about a hundred sterile
flasks and put in a north light for a few days. The flasks are then
examined and the organisms that have developed in them identi-
fied, and the number of different kinds that are found in each flask
are recorded. A given species is recorded only once from each
flask and sinee at least one individual of the species must have been
introduced to permit such development, the count is still too small.
By actual experience this gave results of 464 organisms per cubic
centimeter or 464,000 to a liter. Bacteria were disregarded. The
centrifugal method applied to the same water gave a count of
14,450 to a liter. Allowing for duplication in some of the flasks
and for the failure of many forms to develop under laboratory
conditions Allen concludes that a count of 1,000,000 organisms per
liter would be conservative. That is, one organism to each cubic
millimeter. Assuming an average size equivalent to a sphere with
CO Sick TIE. a diameter of five microns, that
is not excessively crowded, as the

diagram will show. (Fig. 2.)
In this country, Moore, fol-
lowed by Grave, attempted to
} calculate the ‘‘food value’’ or
areas of water on the basis of
similar plankton counts, work-
ing with special reference to the
nutrition of oysters. They found
out what organisms occurred in
greatest numbers in the oysters’
ie aie stomachs, studied the rate of
Fig. 2. COMPARATIVE SPACE OCCUPIED feeding and then proceeded to
BY AN ORGANISM 6 MICRONS IN pDIAM- collect and analyze samples of

ETER IN A CUBIC MILLIMETER :
(1/1,000,000 tareR) of WATER water over actual or potential

THE FOOD RESOURCES OF THE SEA 463

oyster beds, finding out just how many of these organisms
occurred to the liter. They then carefully calculated the
volume of each organism and by multiplying the volume by the
number of times a given organism occurred in a unit volume of
water and adding the totals, the ‘‘food value’’ was secured. This
method gave much valuable information, but the results can not
be regarded as final for several reasons. For one thing, organisms
differing so widely as diatoms and peridines are not comparable
on the basis of their volumes, as has been pointed out by Brandt
and Juday. Again, in a locality where oysters are not naturally
erowing, their introduction often materially increases the supply
of food, since their shells form substrata and their excreta help in
the nourishment of numerous food organisms. Finally, they took
no account of the food value of the nannoplankton nor of the
detritus, which may be very considerable.

The most elaborate attempts to calculate the production of the
sea have been those of the Danish biologist Petersen and his asso-
eiates. As a result of their studies, these workers have come to
the conclusion that the plankton plays a very small part in the
nutrition of the animals of the sea and that the fundamental food
of all marine forms in northern waters at any rate is the ‘‘dust-
fine detritus’’ of the sea bottom, derived primarily from the eel-
erass, Zostera. As an indication of the degree of progress which

Kattegat
the figures indicate thousands of tons
Bl is

Plankton

Plaice ete. 5 Cod etc. © Herring etc. 7
nt tt |

Predato CR :
a4 igs ce 1

Useful animals

Useless animals 5000

Zostera
24000

Fic. 3. ANIMAL LIFE IN THE KATTEGAT DERIVED FROM ZOSTERA, AFTER PETERSEN

464 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

these workers have made, the preliminary conclusions in the life
in the Kattegat may be cited. The Kattegat is the rather shallow
body of water between eastern Denmark and Sweden, having an
extreme length of 150 miles and an extreme breadth of about 90
miles. It is assumed that about half of the total amount of
Zostera annually produced in this area is washed elsewhere by the
currents. The balance, estimated at 24,000,000 tons, serves as the
basis for the animal life of the area. (See chart, Fig. 3.) The
useless animals, that is, those that are of no value to man and do
not serve as food for fish, feeding directly on the Zostera, amount
to about 5,000,000 tons. Useful animals, mainly those capable of
serving as food for fish, are estimated at 1,000,000 tons. These
are not all utilized by food fish, however. Starfish account for per-
haps 200,000 tons; 500,000 tons are eaten by the larger gastero-
pods and crustaceans, of which only a part are consumed by fish ;
while plaice and other flatfish consume about 50,000 tons, producing
5,000 tons of human food annually. Cod are much less economical,
since they get their food at third hand, so to say, and each ton of
the 6,000 tons produced annually represents about one hundred
times as much of the original synthesized organie food. On the
other hand, the cod help to keep down the predatory gasteropods
and crustaceans. The herring is the most important food fish
feeding on the plankton, (mainly on copepods) and it in turn is
eaten by the cod. Perhaps the most striking feature brought out
by these figures is the comparatively trifling amount of human food
finally produced from such a large amount of organic material.
So much, then, for the life naturally existing in the ocean.
How may our utilization of it be more intelligently directed? Ob-
viously the most economical use of it as food would be for man or
his domestic animals to eat it directly. So far as the use of alge
as food for human beings is concerned, we cannot expect, for the
present at least, any considerable increase over the insignificant
amount now consumed in the United States. In some countries
algw have been used as food for stock for centuries, and recent
experiments have indicated that cheap and effective treatments
may make possible a substantial increase in such use. It has re-
cently been shown that the kelps exhibit wide variation in their
carbohydrate as well as in their iodine content during the growing
season and future utilization, to be profitable, must take such
fluctuations into account so that the plants may be harvested at
the proper season. We would not think of doing anything else in
the case of a land plant. And it may be mentioned in passing
that the old method of burning kelps for potash and iodine content

THE FOOD RESOURCES OF THE SEA 465

cannot be regarded as anything but a wasteful process even when
temporary conditions permit it to compete with other sources of
these products, as during the world war. Recent experiments in
Sweden have suggested that dry distillation will yield, not only the
potash and iodine formerly sought, but numerous other products,
including illuminating gas, acetic acid, methyl alcohol, formic acid,
acetone and creosote.

-Since, however, man prefers to harvest the plant life of the sea
indirectly, those animals which feed directly on the plants are able
to increase with less waste and at a more rapid rate, considered in
total populations, than those which feed on other animals. Most
of our food fish, for example, feed on smaller fish; these in turn
feed upon small crustaceans and the latter eat the microscopic
plants and detritus, so that in many instances the fish we eat are
removed three or four steps, perhaps more, from the original food
source. This is more significant than may seem apparent at first
glance, since it involves an enormous waste. Before any organism
can grow, the energy needed merely to live must be supplied, and
by the time a crustacean is eaten by a minnow, or a minnow by a
food fish, it will, on the average, have consumed a quantity of food
several times its own weight. These facts are well brought out in
the diagram and statistics of Petersen, previously quoted. The
edible shellfish, however—oysters, clams, mussels and the like—
feed for the most part directly on the marine plants and this is
one reason why the extension of the shell fisheries represents so
much promise.

_ The carp is one of the few edible fish which lives directly on
vegetable food. In the United States most people do not, it is
true, regard this species as particularly edible but since it is largely
eaten in Europe and raised for the purpose, it will serve as an
excellent example of what such a fish may produce. The statistics
on this fresh water fish are particularly valuable because they are
not subject to the sources of error which hamper attempts to meas-
ure the productivity of the sea. The amount of fish produced. in
carp ponds has been calculated as ninety-five pounds on the average
each year per acre. Brandt calculated the productivity of Kiel
Harbor as eighty-nine pounds per acre annually, but the latter
figures are much less exact. The average yield of beef on good
land in the United Kingdom is seventy-three pounds per acre an-
nually. The beef is much superior in food value, pound for pound,
but it is also much more costly to produce. There are many inlets
of the sea where conditions are almost as readily controllable as
they are in the fresh water ponds. ‘Such, for example, are the
shallow enclosed sounds on the Atlantic coast of the United States

Vol. XV.—30.

466 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

—Great South Bay in Long Island, Barnegat Bay in New Jersey,
Albemarle and Pamlico Sounds in North Carolina and parts of
Chesapeake Bay. These enclosed areas are at present producing a
great deal of human food, but only a small part of what they might
produce under proper management. On a larger scale, the Baltic
and North Seas of Europe are similar regions where, if not sea
culture, at least an intelligent harvesting of the seas’ resources is
yearly becoming more possible because of the careful studies which
have been made by the English, German and Scandinavian biolo-
cists, whose countries are chiefly interested in the matter.

Before we can expect to make substantial advance we must
have a much more comprehensive knowledge of the ecology of the
sea than we have at present. For example, we may class the animals
of the sea roughly into those which are valuable to man and those
which are not, but when it comes to determining to which of these
classes any particular species belongs, difficulties arise. The dif-
ference which direct and indirect utilization of food makes has
already been pointed out. Some useful species which get their
food at second or third hand, that is, by eating other animals, prey
largely on forms that would not otherwise be converted into human
food; some, on the other hand, eat species that are good human
food. Thus, drumfish are good human food, but they may at times
consume large numbers of oysters which are still more valuable to
man than they are. Starfish, which are utterly useless forms, alsu
attack oysters, but this case offers no perplexities. A very large
number of animals are useless in the sense that they occupy space
and consume food which might otherwise be utilized by useful
species. The snails, sponges, sea anemones and some of the mus-
sels of our northern waters belong to this group. However, in
the case of most marine animals only a complete account of their life
histories, together with the life histories of their associated forms
is sufficient to enable us to know whether they are, in the long run,
valuable or harmful from the human standpoint and whether it
would be wise for us to attempt to overturn the balance which we
find them maintaining in nature.

Another phase demanding careful study is the effect on the
marine life of the waste materials which are constantly being
poured into our waters, especially in the vicinity of our great cities.
So far as industrial wastes and oil are concerned, the effect is
wholly bad, and the questions at issue are: How much of this dis-
charge is necessary? How can the pollution best be restricted to
the necessary minimum? The sewage problem is more complex.
The addition of large amounts of rich nitrogenous fertilizing mate-
rial to our waters could be made a great source of wealth if it were

THE FOOD RESOURCES OF THE SEA 467

properly utilized, and even under our present hit or miss methods
it results in a marked enrichening of the marine flora in favored
localities. On the other hand, the danger of disease transmission
is so well recognized and is illustrated by so many striking exam-
ples that large areas of sewage-polluted waters are eliminated as
sources of food in whole or in part. How to utilize this valuable
asset without endangering public health or spoiling the recreational
value as well as the food value of our coastal waters is one of the
biological problems of our day.

Finally, it may be reiterated that shellfish culture offers the
most immediate hope for effective utilization of the sea’s re-
sources. The economy of direct utilization of plant food by these
animals has been emphasized. Most shellfish, ike land crops, stay
where they are planted. Even the seallop, which can swim about
after a fashion, is restricted in its movements and could readily
be controlled. Oyster culture is already a great and important
industry but it has not nearly approached its possibilities. Clam
culture is still in an embryonie stage and scallop culture has as
yet merely been suggested. When some of the problems confront-
ing the establishment of these industries have been solved we may
hope to have acquired additional information concerning the
ecology of the sea which will help us in our approach to the more
difficult problems of the future.

It is recognized that there are numerous economic phases in-
volved in attempts to increase the productivity of the sea, but con-
sideration of these would be beyond the seope of this paper. When
social and economic forces demand additional food at reasonable
prices, the biologists must be prepared to show where and how this
may best be obtained.

SSOULVATV ALOOS FHL 10 GvVaH

THE ALBATROSS 469

OUR GREAT ROVERS OF THE HIGH SEAS—
THE ALBATROSS

By Dr. R2 WY SHUFELDT

FELLOW OF THE AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGISTS’ UNION,
WASHINGTON, D. C.

N going over the literature devoted to ornithology, we find that
but a small part of it refers to the birds known as Albatrosses.
Alexander Wilson, the famous American ornithologist, never once
mentions any of them in his work; and Audubon, who had splen-
did opportunities to study them in nature as well as in museums
and private collections, touched upon those he had heard of, or
studied skins of, in the lightest possible manner. In volume VIIT
of his work in my library, I note that he devotes but a single para-
graph to the description of the genus (Diomedea). Apart from
the deseription of characters, he gives but three and a half lines to
the Yellow-nosed Albatross; a few lines more to the Black-footed
Albatross, and four lines and a half to the Dusky Albatross—the
last-named being the only one he figures. He was indebted to a
‘‘Mr. Townsend’’ for skins of all these species, the latter having
collected them ‘‘not far from the mouth of the Columbia River.’’
As to the Black-footed Albatross, Audubon says: ‘‘It is clearly
distinct from the other two described in his work, namely, the
Dusky and the Yellow-nosed; but I have received no information
respecting its habits. Not finding any of the meagre notices or
descriptions to which I ean refer to agree with this bird, I have
taken the liberty of giving it a name, being well assured that,
should it prove to have been described, some person will kindly
correct the mistake.’ He named it Diomedea nigripes, the Black-
footed Albatross, and it is the name we have for the species to-day.
In the last A. O. U. ‘‘Check-List”’ (1910), in addition to the
bird just mentioned, we recognize four other species as belonging
to the North American avifauna, namely, the Short-tailed Albatross
(D. albatrus) ; the Laysan Albatross of Rothschild (D. immuta-
bilis), and the Yellow-nosed and the Sooty Albatrosses (7. culmi-
natus and P. palpetrata). These are all Pacifie Ocean birds,
though the Yellow-nosed species is said to have ‘‘accidentally
oceurred in the Gulf of St. Lawrence.”’
Personally, I do not recall ever having seen an Albatross in

470) THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

nature; only a few of our ornithologists have, and, as just stated,
neither Wilson nor Audubon fared any better. However, I have
earefully examined quite a number of them in the collections of -
the United States National Museum; and not long ago, Dr. Charles
W. Richmond, Assistant Curator of the Division of Birds of that
institution, kindly loaned me the head of a specimen of the Sooty
Albatross. It had no artificial eyes, and apparently was simply a
head and nothing more—not even bearing any label or history.
This head I photographed on side view, reducing it about one fourth,
furnishing the print with an eye. That print is here reproduced
as an illustration to my article.

Audubon’s deseription of the beak of this species is so obscure
as to be of but little value.

The plumage of the head—a rich snuff-brown—is soft and com-
posed of fine feathers, and there is a narrow white stripe of short
feathers surrounding the posterior half of the eye-ld on either
side of the head. The beak is glossy black and formed as shown
in the eut. .

There is in existence a wonderful literature on the Albatrosses,
especially when we consider how few species there are compara-
tively speaking. The old figures of them in the works are often very
erude; while, upon the other hand, some fine photographie repro-
ductions in different works are wonderfully fine and of great value.
Among these are the remarkable photographs obtained by the Hon.
Sir Walter Rothschild of the immense numbers of the Laysan
_Albatrosses, nesting on the island of that name; of the dreadful
practice of carting away the eggs of that species, taken at the
same place, and many others. Then Mr. Dudley Le Souef, Director
of the Melbourne Zoological Garden, has furnished us with a fine
photograph of the White-capped Albatross on its egg, which latter,
according to Professor Moseley, is held in a sort of pouch to be
found. between the legs of the bird.

Some species of these birds have a ‘‘tip to tip’’ measurement
of the wings of no less than eleven feet and a few inches. It is a
well-known fact that in the southern seas, where sailors have fallen
overboard, they have been attacked in the water by one or more
of these giants of the feathered race, and a poem on an ineident
of this sort would quite offset the experience of the ancient mariner
who shot the albatross, which furnished Coleridge with the mate-
rial for his famous verses.

The marvelous flight of one of these birds has been graph-
ieally described by Mr. Froude, who tells us that “‘the albatross
wheels in circles round and round, and forever round the ship—
now far behind, now sweeping past in a long, rapid curve, like a
perfect skater on an untouched field of-ice. There is no effort;

?

THE ALBATROSS 471

watch as closely as you will, you rarely or never see a stroke of
the mighty pinion. The flight is generally near the water, often
close to it. You lose sight of the bird as he disappears in the
hollow between the waves, and catch him again as he rises over
the crest ; but how he rises and whence comes the propelling force,
is to the eye inexplicable: he alters merely the angle at which the
Wings are inclined; usually they are parallel to the water and
horizontal; but when he turns to ascend or makes a change in his
direction, the wings then point at an angle, one to the sky, the
other to the water.’’

The bird of this group usually referred to in prose or poetry
is the Wandering Albatross (D. exulans) ; and it is said that speci-
mens of it have been collected having an alar extent of no less than
twelve feet. It is a bird with extraordinary power of flight, and
Professor Hutton has well deseribed the remarkable power’ these
birds possess in that direction. ‘‘Suddenly he sees something
floating in the water,’’ says this authority, ‘‘and prepares to alight;
but how changed he now is from the noble bird but a moment be-
fore, all grace and symmetry! He raises his wings, his head goes
back, and his back goes in; down drop two enormous webbed feet,
straddled out to their fullest extent; and with a hoarse croak, be-
tween the ery of a raven and that of a sheep, he falls ‘souse’ into
the water. Here he is at home again, breasting the waves like a
cork. Presently he stretches out his neck, and with great exertion,
of his wings runs along the top of the water for seventy or eighty
yards, until, at last, having got sufficient impetus, he tucks up his
legs, and is once more fairly launched in the air.’’

Another distinguished British writer on this subject, Professor
Moseley, in describing their mating habits informs us that ‘‘when
an albatross makes love, he stands by the female on the nest, raises
his wings, spreads his tail and elevates it, throws up his head with
the bill in the air, or stretches it straight out forwards as far as he
ean, and then utters a curious ery. . . . Whilst uttering the ery,
the bird sways his neck up and down. The female responds with
a similar note, and they bring the tips of their bills lovingly to-
gether. This sort of thing goes on for half an hour or so at a
time.”’

There is great danger of the entire genus of Albatrosses be-
coming entirely extinct in the comparatively near future, and for
several very good reasons. In the first place, many are shot and
killed by passengers and others from the decks of vessels of all
descriptions sailing on the high seas. This practice claims its
quota every year, and no use is ever made of the poor birds thus
ruthlessly slain. Again, many are caught with hook and line, but

472 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

these are usually released after being hauled aboard and giving
an exhibition of their walking powers on the deck of the vessel.
Another practice leading to their extinection—outranking all the
others—is seen in the wholesale collection of their eggs for the
markets of the western coasts of the Americas. The eges used to
be gathered, and stifl may be, on their breeding grounds, more
particularly on the Island of Laysan, by the cartload, none being
left for the perpetuation of the species. At least this was not
looked out for in the early days of this most reprehensible trade.
Whether it is still going on I am unable to say; but should it be,
steps ought to be taken to bring it to an end.

In our bird fauna, the nearest relatives of the Albatrosses are
the Fulmars, the Petrels and Shearwater. All these species possess
the peculiar anatomy of the external nostrils—being designated in
the vernacular as the Tube-nosed Swimmers, while in technical
science the name Tubinares stands for the group.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

473

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

CURRENT COMMENT
By Dr. Epwin E. Stosson
Science Service

RELATIVITY AND THE ECLIPSE |

On September 21 the theory of
relativity was put to the proof. After
the results of the photographs then
taken have been measured we may
perhaps know whether Einstein is to
be ranked with Copernicus and New-
-ton, among those who have revolu-
tionized man’s conception of the uni-
verse, or whether he will be regarded
merely as the author of an ingenious
mathematical theory of limited appli-
cability to reality.

For the last three years the theory
of relativity has been the topic of
lively discussion extending far beyond
the scientific circle, for the public
realized that some interesting issues
were somehow involved in its incom-
prehensible mathematics. More than
a thousand books and uncountable

articles have been published on Ein- |
stein; all sorts, pro and con, physical |
and metaphysical, experimental and |

speculative, serious and
Prizes have been offered for explana-
tions in ordinary language. Personal,
political, religious and racial pas-
sions and prejudices have been
aroused. Einstein was the first Ger-
man scientist to be welcomed since
the war, in England, France and the
United States, but in his own country
he has to go into hiding to escape
assassination by the junkers.

It is a remarkable example of how
the progress of science may continue
spite of political conflict that
during the world war Einstein should
have sat quietly in his study in Ber-
lin thinking out his theory and that
during the world war English astron-
omers should have been quietly study-
ing his work and preparing to put it

in

frivolous. |

_ cautious creatures and not all of

tion

to the test at the earliest oppor-

| tunity.

This opportunity came on May 29,
1919, when there was a total eclipse
of the sun. For Einstein had pre-
dicted that when the stars about the
darkened disk of the sun were photo-
graphed they would appear as though
pushed out of their positions. This
is one of the consequences of his
theory of relativity, which is designed
to supplant, or at least to supple-
ment, Newton’s theory of gravita-
tion.

According to Einstein, a ray of
light from a star passing close by a
heavy body like the sun is drawn out
of its straight course a little, some-
what as though it were a stream of
material particles, but to a greater
extent than Newton’s would
allow for. To an astronomer looking
up at the star along this crooked
path and not making allowance for
the bend, it would seem that the star
had been moved away from the sun
a minute distance (1.74 seconds of
are). Of course this effect is the
same at all times, but it can only be
observed when the sun’s disk is com-
pletely shadowed from us by the
moon’s coming between.

law

So the British astronomer royal,
Professor Eddington, sent out two
eclipse expeditions in 1919 to points
where the eclipse could be observed,
one to the west coast of Africa and
the other to the east course of Brazil.
When he to develop and
measure up his photographs, he
found that the stars about the dark-
ened sun were displaced in the direc-
and close to the pre-
dicted by Einstein.

This was good evidence in
stein’s favor, but

came

amount

Ein-
are
them

scientists

‘BSunox ‘iq pue ssoy ‘qd “V “ueyO ‘V ‘OD “Ad
‘say ‘SWEPY “A ‘DO “Aq ‘suepy “SII “WeUO SST

Md ‘f¢ ‘f¢ ‘1ejduniy ‘¢ ‘A Ad ‘sputysoy ‘O ‘d ‘f ‘soavorsiey Lf ‘yorn®) “TH “T[oaxe
TRITVM LOZ “VIpBIJSNy UW104S0 AA ‘yjaog wWory oanpivdop toy} OF rortd poydeasoyoyd ‘Az1vd asd

ALUVd USdIION NVITVUISAVY NaaLsdM HAL

qpqdwep “MoM “AG ‘Teqdwep
‘Smoot “fF “A ‘LO}ISSON ‘OD ‘ox
0} 4fo, ‘surpueyg

SOJOUd

uvyo ‘SII

:8ulyyIg ‘wuNN “IW ‘YD ‘Q100W ‘H ‘£ ‘id ‘89}8X “S ‘O
W VIN “ff 23U8M

)9 OY} FO Scoqtuow IT,

ePIA PILOA

©

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

were ready to accept so startling a
theory as this without further con-
firmation. The weather was very
cloudy in Africa, and the only good
photograph obtained at the South
American station was one taken with
a four-inch lens and showing seven
stars around the sun.

But there has been no other total
eclipse observable till this year and
this is not so good a one. There
were no bright stars near the sun, in
fact only one visible to the naked eye
among those close enough to the sun
so that their displacement could be
measured. But there were four or
five faint stars that may have been
caught on a sensitive plate with a
good telescope.

Unfortunately too, the eclipse oe-

eurred in a highly inconvenient part
of the earth. Its track was along
the Indian Ocean and through the
heart of Australia where there are no
observatories and few people. The
best point was on Christmas Island,
lying west of Australia and south of
Java. This island only measures
eight by twelve miles and has a pop-
ulation of about 250, according to the
latest census. But it was selected by
the British, German and Dutch ex-
peditions for it was in the middle of
the track of the eclipse. The dark-
ness there lasted five minutes and as-
tronomers can do much in five min-
utes. It appears, however, from
cable despatches that the weather
conditions were bad. An expedition
from the Lick Observatory, Califor-
nia, was stationed on the west coast
of Australia, and the Observatory of
Adelaide sent a party into the arid
interior of Australia, which involved
five weeks of travel by camel train
but which was pretty certain to get
cloudless weather. In Australia the
weather was favorable.

If the astronomical expeditions
now in the field bring home con-

firmation of. the results of the eclipse

of 1919,- then we may have to get
used to all sorts of queer ideas, be-

| but

475

sides crooked beams of light in empty
space. We may have to give up the
force of gravitation and the ether
and the constancy of mass and the
distinction between matter and en-
ergy. We may get to talking about
the curvature of time, the weight of
heat, kinks in space, atoms of energy,
four dimensions, world-lines and a
finite universe. We may be called
upon to come to conceive of arrows
that shrink and bullets that get
heavier the faster they travel; of
clocks that go slower the faster they
travel and of a future that turns
back and tangles itself up in the
present.

' TANGLING UP THE TIME LINE

EINSTEIN’S theory of relativity is
like a magician’s bag. There seems
to be no end to the queer things that
can be pulled out of it. The more it
is studied the more paradoxical it
appears.

The latest thing I have seen is the
queerest, the idea that the future may
get tangled up in the present or even
in the past. It is all worked out
mathematically in a book just trans-
lated from the German, Weyl’s
‘¢Time-Space-Matter.’’ Too mathe-
matical for most of us, but the point
in plain language is this:

Here is a line representing the
course of time extending from the
dim past into the indefinite future:

Past Future

The present iis the point where I
stand, looking both ways like Janus

not seeing any end in either
direction. I am continually moving

or being moved straight along the
time road from left to right. Every
instant I step from the past into the
future. Every instant a bit of time
is taken from the future and added
to the past, though neither gets any
smaller or larger since both are in-
finite. The past time and the future
time are permanently separated by
the moving present where I am and

Copyright Harris and Ewing
PRESIDENT SAMUEL W. STRATTON
of Standards since its establishment in
sachusetts Institute of Technology.

Director of the Bureau 1901, now
elected president ef the Mas

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 477

there seems no chance of the two
kinds of time ever getting mixed up
for they extend in opposite directions.

But waitt—here’s a disconcerting
idea. If I roll up the paper I ean
make the future touch the past. I
can overlap them. I can put A.D.
into B.C. and what becomes of chro-
nology then?

We are used to this curving of ap-
parently straight lines in space ever
since 1492 when men found that they
were not living on a flat earth but on
a sphere. If I travel straight east
from this town I shall eventually
come back to it from the west. How
far I shall have to go depends upon
where I live. If my home were on
the equator, I should have to travel
25,000 miles to get to my starting
point. If it were near one of the
poles, I could do this astonishing
stunt in the course of a morning’s
walk.

Now, according to LHinstein, the
time line is like the space lines. The
framework of the world is measured
by four dimensions, three of -space
and one of time, namely, the up-
right-left, to-fro, past-future
lines. But these are not rigidly fixed.
They may be bent and distorted like
a bird cage that has been twisted and
crushed, though every wire remains
intact and conn ected to the other
- wires just the same.

Wherever there is a bit of matter,
wherever there are electrical or mag-
netic forces, there the time and space
lines are more or less distorted.
Einstem, reasoning from this idea,
saw that a ray of light from a star,
passing close by a heavy body like
the sun, would not travel straight,
but would be bent a little out of its
course. The eclipse of 1919 brought
the first chance to test Einstein’s
idea, and the astronomer royal of
Great Britain went to Brazil and
took a photograph of the shadowed
sun and seven stars about it. And
the seven stars seemed shoved out of
their customary places just as if in

down,

the region around the sun the space
and time were puckered up in the way
Einstein said they “were. When the
eclipse of September 21, 1922, came,
eight parties of astronomers were on
the watch to see if the observations
of three years before were confirmed.
We have not heard their verdict
yet, but, if their photographs measure
up according to Einstein formula we
shall have to get accustomed to the
idea that time—like the tariff—is a
local issue; that time measurements
like space measurements are relative,
not absolute, and that we are not
sure of the constancy of our stand-
ards of measure in either case. When
two things happen in our presence we
may be pretty sure which comes first.
But if one event is here and another
in Mars we can not be sure about
priority with any conceivable system
of clocks and signals. What seems
past from one standpoint may seem
future from another, for the time
line may not run straight. Is your
present condition in any the
result. of your future actions? Can
the light of a match be seen before
the match is lit? Such a thing is
conceivable in the generalized theory
of relativity though, like most other
conceivable things, it does not occur
or is never known to occur in reality.
But it is hard to get used to this
strange new notion that the future
may curl around in some sort of a
circle and so come into the past.
Did £ say ‘‘new’’? It was. a slip
of the pen. For the idea is old. I
open a volume of Egyptian antiqui-
ties and I see carved on a monument
of the Pharaohs a serpent with its
tail in its mouth, the symbol of eter-
nity, of which time is a segment. But
what the Egyptians merely guessed at
Einstein is putting to the proof.

way

HOW THE CHEMIST MOVES

THE WORLD

THE chemist provides the motive
power of the world, the world of
man, not the sinanimated globe.

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

World Wide Photos

THE QUEST AT PLYMOUTH
The Quest, the vessel of the Shackleton-Rowett Antarctic Expedition, on its
arrival in Plymouth Harbor on September 16, after the expedition on which
it embarked on September 17 of the previous year

Archimedes said he could move the
world if he had a long enough lever.
The chemist moves the world with
molecules. The chemical reactions of
the consumption of food and fuel
furnish the energy for our muscles
and machines. If the
only get control of the electron, he
will be in command of unlimited en-

chemist can

ergy. For in this universe of ours
power seems to be in inverse ratio to
size and the
mightiest.
When we handle particles smaller
than the atom, we can get behind the
elements and may effect more mar-
velous transformations than

The smaller the building blocks, the

minutest things are

ever.

greater the variety of buildings that.

can be constructed. The chemistry
of the past was a kind of cooking.
The chemistry of the future will be
more like astronomy; but it will be a
new and more useful sort of astron-
astronomer might

omy such as an

employ if he had the power to re-
arrange the solar system by annexing
a new planet from some other system
or expediting the condensation of a
nebula a thousand times.

The chemist is not merely a
manipulator of molecules; he is a
manager of mankind. His discoveries
and inventions, his economies and
creations, often transform the condi-
tions of ordinary life, alter the rela-
tions of national power and shift the
currents of thought, but these revo-
lutions are effected so quietly that the
chemist does not get the credit for
what he accomplishes, and indeed
does not usually realize the extent of
his sociological influence.

For instance, a great change that
has come over the world in recent
made conditions so
unlike those existing in any previous
period that historical precedents have
no application to the present prob-
lems, is the rapid intercommunica-

years, and has

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

tion of intelligence. Anything that
anybody wants to say be com-
municated to anybody who wants to
hear it anywhere in all the wide world
within a few minutes, or a few days,
or at most a few In the
agencies by which this is accom-
plished, rapid transit by ship, train
or automobile, printing, photography,
telegraph and
wireless, chemistry plays an essential

“an

months.

telephone, wired or
part, although it is so unpretentious
a part that it rarely receives recog-
nition. For instance, the expansion
of literature and the spread of en-
lightenment, which put an end to the
Dark Ages, are ascribed to the inven-
tion of movable type by Gutenberg,
or somebody else, at the end of the
fourteenth But the credit
belongs rather to the unknown chem-

century.

ist who invented the process of mak-
paper. The
stamped their bricks and lead pipes
with type, but printing had to wait

ing ancient Romans
>

479

more than a thousand years for a
supply of paper. Movable
not the essential feature of printing,

type is

for most of the printing done now-a-
days is not from movable type, but
We could
if necessary do away with type and

from solid lines or pages.

press altogether, and use some pho-
tographic method of composition and
reproduction, but we could not do
without The of
wood-pulp paper has done more for

paper. invention
the expansion of literature than did
the invention of rag paper 600 years
ago.

Print is only an imperfect repre-
sentation of the sound of speech, a
particularly imperfect representation
in the case of English because we
not tell half the words
sound from their spelling. But the
phonograph gives us sounds directly,
and the
extended the range of a speaker, un-

can how

audion and the radio have

til now a speaker may have an audi-

OFFICERS OF THE QUEST

W orld

Wide Photos

After the death of Sir Ernest Shackelton, Commander Frank Wild succeeded

him as leader of the expedition.
eenter is Commander Wilson.

He is shown second from the left.
Mr. Wilding is shown on the right

In the
with the

camera,

480

ence covering a continent and in-
cluding generations yet unborn. What
these inventions do for sound, pho-
tography has done for
sense of light. By means of them
man is able to transcend the limita-
tions of time and space. He can
make himself seen and heard all
round the earth and to all future

the sister

years.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS
WE record with regret the death of
Alexander Smith, formerly professor
of chemistry at the University of
Chicago and Columbia University; of
Alice Robertson, formerly professor
of zoology in Wellesley College; of

David Sharp, formerly curator of the |

Museum of Zoology of the University
of Cambridge and editor of the
Zoological Record; of F. T. Trouton,
emeritus professor of physics in the
University of London, and of HE.
Bergmann, director of the Chemisch-
Technische Reichsanstalt, Berlin.

Sir ERNEST RUTHERFORD, Caven-
dish professor of physies at the Uni-
versity of Cambridge, has been elect-
ed president of the British Associa-
tion for the Advancement of Science

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

in succession to Sir Charles 8. Sher-
rington. The meeting next year will
be at Liverpool; the following year
the meeting will be in Toronto.

Dr. Rospert A. MILLIKAN, chair-
man of the board of the California
Institute of Technology and director
of the Norman Bridge laboratory of
physics, has been appointed a mem-
ber of the committee .on intellectual
cooperation of the League of Nations’
to succeed Dr. George E. Hale, direc-
tor of the Mt. Wilson Observatory,
who has resigned from the committee
owing to the state of his health.

Proressor W. L. Bragg, of Man-
chester University, who, ‘together
with his father, Sir William Bragg,
was awarded the Nobel Prize for
physics in 1915, delivered on Sep-
tember 6 the lecture in Stockholm as
prescribed by the statutes of the

| Nobel Institution.

TaIs Siliman Memorial
Lectures at Yale University will be

year’s

| delivered by Dr. August Krogh, pro-
| fessor of

zoophysiology in Copen-
hagen University. Professor Krogh
has taken for his general topic ‘‘ The
Anatomy and Physiology of Capil-
laries.??°_ ,

THE SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

DECEMBER, 1922

THE VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA AND
NEW ZEALAND

By Professor D. H. CAMPBELL

STANFORD UNIVERSITY

HOSE parts of the world which for one reason or another are
completely isolated show very plainly the effects of this isola-
tion upon the animals and plants which inhabit them. The degree
of specialization in these organisms is to a certain extent an index
of the length of time the region has been shut off. A comparison
of these organisms with those of other regions may throw light upon
such problems as the changes in the distribution of land and water
upon the earth’s surface in the course of ages, and thus be of great
interest to the geologist and geographer as well as to the biologist.
If we compare the lands of the northern hemisphere, as they
now exist, with the principal land masses of the southern hemis-
phere, we find the former to be very much more extensive than
the latter. In the north there is a marked preponderance of land
in the polar and subpolar regions, which merge into the temperate
regions in both the American and Eurasian continents. In the
southern hemisphere there is an extensive almost absolutely barren
polar continent, but the regions corresponding to the subarctic
land masses of the north are entirely occupied by water; and the
south temperate regions are completely separated from the antare-
tie continent by a wide stretch of sea.

Moreover, the temperate regions of Australasia, South Africa
and South America are widely separated from each other by the
Atlantic, Pacific and Indian oceans. In extent the temperate re-
gions of the south are much less than those of the northern hemis-
phere. As might be expected, this condition of things is accom-
panied by a much greater diversity in the temperate floras of the
southern hemisphere than is the case in northern latitudes. This
perhaps reaches its maximum in the Australasian region, the com-
pletely isolated Australian continent and the islands of New Zea-

Vol. XV.—31.

482 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

land having extremely specialized floras which are of very great
interest to the student of plant geography.

While Australia and New Zealand are usually grouped together
geographically as ‘‘Australasia,’’ they differ much from each other
in their vegetation, although having more or less in common. New
Zealand is separated from Australia by over a thousand miles of
sea, and many of the most characteristic Australian types are quite
absent, and others only very sparingly represented. Owing to its
very much greater size and range of climate, Australia, as might
be expected, possesses a much more extensive flora than the rela-
tively small islands of New Zealand.

The completely isolated continent of Australia is almost exactly
the size of the continental United States exclusive of Alaska.
The Australian climate, however, is very different. The north-
ern portion of Australia is within the tropics, the tip of York
Peninsula being only 11 degrees from the equator, while the south-
ernmost part of the continent scarcely touches the fortieth degree
of latitude. The adjacent island of Tasmania extends about three
degrees further south. The climate is therefore much warmer on
the whole than that of the United States or Europe, the coolest
regions in the south having a climate comparable to that of Califor-
nia or the Mediterranean. At the north a true tropical climate
prevails.

The topography of Austraha is much less varied than that of
the United States. There are no mountains comparable to our great
western ranges, and there is a marked dearth of large rivers and
lakes. The principal mountain masses are close to the eastern
coast, a succession of mountain ranges and highlands extending
from the York Peninsula to eastern Victoria and Tasmania. In
Queensland there are some definite mountain ranges, but for the
most part the high land is a plateau sloping gradually westward,
with more or less definite escarpments toward the east. These
escarpments sometimes exhibit abrupt gorges cut by the streams.
These are well shown in the Blue Mountains west of Sydney. The
highest point in Australia is Mt. Kosciusko, 7,300 feet, situated in
New South Wales near the Victoria border.

This highland region and the adjacent coastal areas have for
the most part a good rainfall, but there are no large rivers. The
heaviest rainfall is in the coastal region of North Queensland where
at certain stations it may exceed two hundred inches annually and
averages one hundred and fifty.

Inland, however, the rainfall diminishes rapidly, and a third
of the continent is said to have ten inches or less annually and
another third less than twenty. This means that two thirds of
the area of Australia must be classed as desert or semiarid, and

VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA 483

much of it unsuited to agriculture, although vast areas are more
or less adapted to grazing, which at present in much of the com-
monwealth is the most important industry. There is a more or less
marked wet and dry season in most of Australia, as on our own
Pacifie coast. In the south most of the rain falls during the winter
months, May to September; in the north the heaviest rains fall
in the summer. June is the wettest month in the south, January
in the north.

Northern Australia, lying entirely within the tropics, has for
the most part a genuinely tropical climate, hot and humid in the
coastal districts. In the more elevated regions of the plateau, how-
ever, there may be sharp frost during the winter months, June to
August. In August of last year I observed bananas and other
tender plants cut down by frost at an elevation of 2,000 to 3,000
feet, in latitude 17°. On the coast, however, frost is quite unknown,
and the forest shows a genuine tropical luxuriance.

The wettest region in Australia is in northeast Queensland, on
the coast, about latitude 17°. In this region a short range of pre-
cipitous mountains rises directly from the coast to a height of over
5,000 feet, the highest land in the state. At the foot of this range,
the precipitation is very heavy. One place, Babinda, which I
visited in August, 1921, had already registered over two hundred
inches for the year, and it rained almost incessantly during my
stay.

The low swampy forest about Babinda was almost impenetrable,
the trees loaded down with creepers of various kinds, among which
the rattan palms were only too conspicuous. Throughout the east-
ern tropics the thickets of rattans are a great hindrance to progress
in the forest, as their tough, horribly spiny twining stems make
absolutely impenetrable tangles, natural barbed-wire barriers.
Climbing Aroids and species of Vitis and Piper are also abundant
as well as various other lianas.

In these wet lowland jungles, the palms reach their fullest de-
velopment, forming a conspicuous and beautiful feature of .the
vegetation. One of the commonest and most attractive species is
Archontophoenixz Cunninghaniana, often cultivated under the
name Seaforthia elegans, and one of the most beautiful of all palms,
with its smooth slender trunk and crown of graceful feathery
leaves. No feature of the Australian vegetation is more beautiful
than the groves of these lovely palms.

Serew-pines (Pandanus) abound in this region and there are
also a number of species of Cyeads. Australia is especially rich
in these’ ancient plants. The most widespread genus is Macrozamia,
of which there are several svecies, the genus having representatives
in all the states. The two other Australian genera, Cycas and

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Pic. 1. TROPICAL RAIN-FOREST, NORTH QUEENSLAND

VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA 485

Bowenia, are confined to tropical Queensland. The latter genus,
peculiar to Australia, differs much in appearance from any living
Cycads, in its solitary bi-pinnate leaves, rather suggesting a
bracken fern.

In the dryer parts of the Queensland coast the rain-forest is
replaced by a more or less mixed forest, composed in part of
Eucalyptus, and in part of tropical rain-forest types, like Ficus.
A forest of this type may be seen occupying the sandy soil in the
neighborhood of Cairns, the principal port of North Queensland.

A feature of the coast in this district is the mangrove formation
along, the shore and the banks of the streams flowing into the sea.
Several genera are represented, the most important being the wide-
spread Rhizophora and Avicennia.

Some interesting ferns were noted in this region, the most
striking being a gigantic Angiopteris which was seen in several
places in the vicinity of Babinda.

Immediately back of the coast the land rises rapidly to a plateau
reaching an extreme elevation of about 4,000 feet, but averaging
2,000 to 3,000 feet over most of its extent.

This table-land has an ample rainfall, and on the better soils
develops a fine forest which yields extremely valuable timber.
Much of the timber has been destroyed, but there are still some
remnants which are accessible, and these are really magnificent
examples of tropical forest growth. This tropical rain-forest 1s
known in Queensland by the very inappropriate name of “‘Serub”’
and is confined to the rich basaltic and alluvial soils.

The trees of this forest are mainly of Malayan affinity, and are
tall with lofty straight trunks yielding a large amount of fine
timber. Some of them, especially the Kauri (Agathis Palmerston‘)
and ‘‘Red Cedar’’ (Cedrela toena) reach a very large size. The
latter was formerly abundant and sometimes: attained a diameter
of upwards of ten feet. It has been largely exterminated, but an
oceasional fine specimen may still be seen, and the same is true of
the Kauri. i

Belonging to the same family (Meliaceae) as the cedar are
several species of Flindersia, which are locally known as “‘hickory,”’
‘“maple,’’ ‘‘beech,’? and other woods not in the least related to
them. Other characteristic trees are Elaeocarpus, (Tiliaceae),
Aleurites Moluccana, widespread throughout Polynesia; Sideroxy-
lon (Sapotaceae), Eugenia (Myrtaceae) and others. The charac-
teristic Australian family Proteaceae is represented in the rain-
forest by several species of Grevillea, Stenocarpus, Macadamia and
other genera. Grevillea robusta of southern Queensland is often
grown in California as an ornamental tree.

This upland forest has much finer trees than the lowland forest

NTIFIC MONTHLY

1

u

THE SOLE

486

TRUNK OF GIANT FIG, NEAR YUNGABURRA, NORTH QUEENSLAND

Fie. 2.

VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA 487

near the coast, but the palms and some other tropical types are
almost entirely absent, and the development of the epiphytes and
hanas is not so marked, although these are by no means absent.
Many of the large trees, as is so common in rain-forests everywhere,
show a conspicuous development of buttresses at the base of the
trunk.

The giants of the forest are species of Ficus, the size of which
is amazing. As in most tropical lands the genus is well represented
in northern Australia, some species extending as far south as
Sydney. Like so many other species of Ficus, these giant Queens-
land figs begin life as epiphytes, the descending roots finally
coalescing more or less completely, and strangling the host tree.
The descending roots are produced in great numbers and in one
tree that was seen, the huge conical trunk formed by the united
roots was said to measure 120 feet in circumference at the ground,
and the enormous spreading crown was in proportion.

While the predominant forest on the plateau is ‘‘scrub,’’ there
are large areas occupied almost exclusively by open Eucalyptus
forest. This Eucalyptus forest is the dominant type of vegetation
over much of Australia, but in the region in question is restricted
to areas of sandy soil. The line between the ‘‘scrub’’ and the
Eucalyptus forest is often very sharply marked, and is probably
determined by the difference in the soil.

In southern Queensland, in the neighborhood of Brisbane, the
Euealyptus forest predominates, though there are also areas oc-
eupied by ‘‘serub,’’ but many of the strictly tropical species of
North Queensland are absent.

Probably the most striking tree of South Queensland is the
‘“*Bunya’’ (Araucaria Bidwilli) a coniferous tree confined to a
relatively small area in this region. It reaches a large size, and
is valuable for its timber. The big seeds were much prized as food
by the aboriginals. This handsome tree is frequently cultivated
in California, where it seems very much at home. A second species,
A. Cunninghami, is much more widely diffused, and was seen in
extensive pure stands on some of the islands off the coast of Queens-
land.

An analysis of the constituents of the scrub vegetation of
Queensland and New South Wales shows that it is largely made up
of genera widespread through the Indo-Malayan region, or closely
related to these, and may very properly be considered a part of the
ereat Malayan flora. Such types as the figs, palms, screw-pines,
Araceae, many epiphytic ferns and orchids are characteristic of
the whole Indo-Malayan region; and as it is evident that northeast
Australia was connected at no very distant period with the great
island of New Guinea, it is pretty certain that this portion of the
Australian flora is derived from the north.

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

488

BOTANICAL GARDENS, BRISBANE

BUNYA PINES (ARAUCARIA BIDWILLI),

9
vo.

Fic.

VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA 489

This Malayan flora is best developed in northeast Queensland,
some of the forms like the pitcher plants (Nepenthes) and certain
genera of palms (Borassus, Areca, Caryota, ete.) being confined to
the York Peninsula, Australia’s northernmost extension, which is
separated from New Guinea by only about 100 miles of water.

Some of the Malayan types, like Cedrela and two or three
palms, and a considerable number of others, extend southward to
the borders of Victoria; but this vegetation is confined to regions of
ample rainfall and rich soils, and the number of these Malayan
types diminishes rapidly toward the south.

While the scrub vegetation is made up for the most part of
the Malayan types there are a number of genera probably of
Australian origin. Such are the fine trees Tristanea (allied to
Euealyptus) the silky oak (G@revillea robusta), Stenocarpus and
Macadamia of the Proteaceae, a family which reaches its maximum
development in Australia.

The luxuriant serub-forest disappears as one proceeds inland,
and with the diminishing precipitation is replaced by the open
Eucalyptus forest. Still further inland in Queensland are exten-
Sive open grass lands or prairies which afford pasturage to great
herds of cattle.’

To the south of Queensland is the state of New South Wales,
the first colony to be established in Australia. The coastal region
is a continuation of that of southern Queensland and has much the
same vegetation as the latter, but the Malayan elements diminish
toward the south, where there is an increasing proportion of true
Australian types such as Euealyptus and Acacia. The scrub, how-
ever, retains a decidedly tropical aspeet, with tall palms and tree-
ferns in abundance.

Much the greater part of the state, however, is far too dry for
such forest growth, and is occupied by a very different type of
vegetation. This is almost purely of Australian origin and is
more or less decidedly xerophytie in character. The predominant
trees are various species of Eucalyptus forming open forests with
the sandy soil between occupied by a great variety of low shrubs,
often with extremely showy flowers. Herbaceous plants are less
conspicuous, although there are coarse grasses and a good many
perennial plants growing from tubers, corms or bulbs. The
Myrtaceae, so abundant in Australia, have numerous species of
Leptospermum and Melaleuca; the Leguminosae include many
species of Acacias, ‘‘ Wattle’’ in the vernacular, and a bewildering
array of showy Papilionaceae ; several beautiful species of Boronia

1 Maiden, J. H.: ‘‘ Australian Vegetation,’’ p. 207. Federal Handbook
for Australia, Melbourne, 1914.

MONTHLY

SCIENTIFIC

THE

490

AANGAS ‘SNUGUVD

TVOINV.LO

‘; DIT

.

VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA 491

‘and Eriostemon (Rutaceae) and many other striking and unfa-
miliar flowers abound. The Proteaceae, as everywhere in Aus-
tralia, are much in evidence, the most abundant being species of
Hakea, Banksia and Grevillea. To this family belongs one of the
most gorgeous of Australian flowers, the ‘‘Waratah,’’ whose mag-
nificent scarlet flowers are the pride of New South Wales. Another
very striking plant peculiar to New South Wales may be men-
tioned—the giant torch lily (Doryanthes excelsa), bearing an
enormous cluster of great scarlet lilies on a stout stalk ten or
fifteen feet in height.

Victoria, the smallest state, occupies the southeast corner of
Australa, and is about the size of Kansas. It is the best eulti-
vated, and apparently the most prosperous state of the common-
wealth. Much of the state has a climate adapted to the cultivation
of most crops of the north temperate zone, and better suited to the
North European settlers than the hotter parts of Australia. Its
smaller size and more uniform rainfall result in a lesser variety
of vegetation than in the larger states; but in the mountain dis-
triects of the east are found the tallest trees in Australia, close rivals
of the California redwood. These forests of giant gums with their
heavy undergrowth of tree-ferns and other luxuriant vegetation
-are among the finest in the world. Where the forest has been
cleared, the land is some of the best in the commonwealth.

The distinctive Australian flora is seen at its best in West
Australia. This immense state occupies the entire western third
of the continent, and is almost completely separated from the
eastern states by exvensive deserts, and is itself very largely a
region of extremely low rainfall. There is, however, a small region
occupying the extreme southwest portion, which has a fairly heavy
rainfall, and this district possesses a flora which for variety and
beauty has scarcely a rival anywhere in the world.

Travelling overland from Victoria one traverses the rather un-
interesting state of South Australia, and then proceeds by the
recently completed line over the desert to West Australia.

This desert is not unlike certain parts of our own western arid
regions, often suggesting parts of Nevada or Arizona. While ex-
‘tensive tracts show only sparse salt-bush (Atriplex, Kochia), much
“resembling the sage-brush deserts of Nevada or Utah, more often
_there is a fairly heavy growth of small trees, interspersed with
low shrubs, and sometimes bunch grasses and a few flowering
herbaceous plants.

The commonest trees are, as usual, species of Eucalyptus, but
other abundant trees are species of Casuarina, whose thin leafless
twigs simulate the needles of a pine. These curious trees, while
not exclusively Australian, being also found in the Malayan region,
reach their maximum development in Australia.

492 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

3

&
Fe
*
:
{
i
’

Fig. 5. GIANT GUM-FOREST, VICTORIA

VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA 493

The commonest shrubs are species of Acacia and dwarf
Eucalyptus, the former at the time of my visit being covered with
masses of golden bloom, which enlivened the prevailing dull gray
green tints of the foliage. A species of sandal-wood grows in this
region as well as a number of other interesting trees and shrubs.

Comparatively few showy flowers are seen, aside from the
Acacias. Occasionally masses of pretty pink and white everlast-
ings are encountered, and a gorgeous scarlet pea (Clianthus
Dampier).

As the western coast is approached the country becomes some-
what less arid, and presently there appears along the railway line
an increasing profusion of beautiful flowers, until before Perth,
the terminus of the railway, is reached, the train travels through
a veritable garden of brilliant bloom. The beauty and variety of
this wonderful floral display must be seen to be appreciated. While
some of the flowers, such as the great variety of pea-shaped blos-
soms, suggest familiar northern types, many are entirely strange
with little suggestion of relationship with any northern genera.

Whole families, quite unknown to this northern botanist, are
richly represented. Thus the Goodeniaceae, a characteristic
Australian family, has a large number of extremely showy species
of Goodenia (yellow), Dampiera and Leschenaultia (blue), one
of the latter, L. formosa, of a wonderful blue that would put to
shame an Alpine gentian.

Ground orchids are very abundant, some of them of great
beauty. They belong largely to special Australasian genera,
Caladenia, Diuris, Thelymitra and other quite unfamiliar ones.
The little sundews of northern bogs are here represented by an
extraordinary assemblage of species, some slender, half climbing
plants four to five feet high with flowers the size. of small roses.
Pink Boronias and Tetratheea (Tremandraceae), yellow Hib-
berties (Dilleniaceae) are a few of the many beautiful novelties
among the lower growing species; while Banksias, Hakeas and
Grevilleas of the Proteaceae; Leptospermum, Callistemon, and
Melaleuca of the Myrtaceae, are the predominant larger growths.

Of the Monocolyledons, aside from the orchids already referred
to, and various grasses and sedges, there are a number of attractive
species. The Iridaceae are represented by species of Patersonia
with pretty blue or purple flowers. Of the lily-family are several
species of Thysonotus, with delicate fringed petals, and Burchardia,
whose umbels of pretty white blossoms suggest an Allium or the
Californian Brodiza.

Peculiar, if not beautiful, were the extraordinary grass-trees,
or ‘‘black-boys,’’ as they are commonly ealled in the West. The
larger species develop a stout trunk and somewhat resemble an

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

494

Photograph furnished by Mr. C. E. Lane-Poole.

GRASS-TREES (XANTHORRH@A PREISSI1), WEST AUSTRALIA

6.

Fie.

VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA 495

arborescent Yucea, but the leaves, which are very numerous, are
slender and more or less drooping. The insignificant flowers are
borne on a elub-like spike, sometimes six or eight feet high. The
plants are said to flower especially freely after a recent fire, and
a grove of these strange plants with hundreds of these upright
flower-spikes is one of the most striking botanical sights of Aus-
tralia. A related genus, Kingia, is confined to western Australia.

Among the most extraordinary flowers of West Australia are
the ‘‘Kangaroo Paws’’(Anigozanthus). These flowers are of the
most bizarre coloring—bright green and scarlet, yellow and black,
red and yellow, or pure green. The genus is unknown outside
West Australia. The only Gymnosperm noted was a Cyead, Macro-
zamia Fraseri. This is very common, and is regarded as a serious
pest, as animals are often poisoned by eating the young foliage in
time of drought. Throughout the less arid parts of West Australia,
this wonderful floral display may be seen in the spring, August to
November. It perhaps reaches its culmination in the Albany dis-
trict on the south coast. Certainly the variety of flowers near
Albany surpasses anything the writer has seen in any part of the
world.

I was unable to visit the Island of Tasmania, which differs
much in its topography and climate from the mainland of Austra-
lia, and is much more like New Zealand in these respects. It is:
very mountainous and in many parts, especially in the west, the
rainfall is extremely heavy. This heavy precipitation and rela-
tively low temperature resemble the climatic conditions in the
south island of New Zealand, and there is a considerable degree
of resemblance in the vegetation of the two regions.

In common with New Zealand there is an important element of
the flora closely related to, or even identical with, South American
species. Some of these ‘‘Fuegian’”’ plants are found also in the parts
of the adjacent state of Victoria and also as Alpines in the moun-
tains further north.

The most striking of these are the evergreen beeches (Nothofa-
gus spp.)which are a notable constituent of the flora of southern
Chile and also of New Zealand. These are the sole representatives
of the Cupuliferae (oaks, beeches, ete.) found in Australasia.

The visitor to Australia is immediately impressed by the prc-
dominance of the Eucalyptus forest, and indeed this is the com-
monest tree genus. While much of this open forest is extremely
monotonous and unattractive, it must be remembered that among
the more than two hundred species there are some of the stateliest
and mést beautiful trees known anywhere. The great Karri
forests of West Australia and the giant gum forests of Victoria,
as well as some of the Eucalypts from the rich mountain forests

496 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

of New South Wales and Queensland, are some of the most mag-
nificent the writer has ever seen.

In the spring, when the new foliage is developing, many species’
show beautiful golden and ruddy tints in the young leaves that
are in strong contrast with the gray-green of the adult foliage of
most species. In the arid regions of the interior there are dwarf
species shrubs of moderate size remarkably resistant to drought.

The flowers of some species of Eucalyptus are very beautiful
and produced in great profusion. As in so many Myrtaceae the
numerous stamens form the showy part of the flower and are pure
white, pink or searlet in color. The splendid F. ficifolia with bril-
liant scarlet stamens is a favorite ornamental tree in parts of Cali-
fornia.

The Myrtaceae, aside from Euealyptus, are very largely de-
veloped in Australia, being second in number of species in the
Australian flora,? more than eight hundred having been described.
Allied to Eucalyptus are Tristanea, Angophora and Synearpia, all
fine trees of large size.

In the moister and warmer areas of the coast are members
of the widespread genera Myrtus, Eugenia and Barringtonia, the
latter entirely tropical in its habitat, a very beautiful tree with
large glossy leaves and big white flowers. The genus is common
throughout the Malayan region and the southern islands of
Polynesia.

More characteristically Australian and represented by many
species are the genera Leptospermum and Melaleuca, very widely
distributed and often forming extensive thickets. Some of the
Melaleucas are small trees; the Leptospermums are as a rule shrubs
of medium size. The flowers are usually white and produced in
great profusion, so that some species are very attractive when in
flower and prized as garden ornaments. Other characteristic
Myrtaceae are the showy red ‘‘bottle-brushes’’—species of Callis-
temon and the pretty fringed flowers of the West Australian Verti-
cordias.

First in number of species in the Australian flora is the great
family of Leguminosae, with over one thousand species. Acacia
leads with upwards of four hundred, ranging from tiny shrubs a
few inches in height to large trees. The Acacias are popularly
known as ‘‘wattle,’? and in the spring the profusion of golden
bloom of many species makes them very conspicuous. Some of
these Australian wattles are common in cultivation and often
ealled ‘‘Mimosa.’’ The majority of the Australian Acacias are
of the ‘‘phyllodineous’’ type, 7. e., the feathery leaf-lamina is sup-

2 Maiden, loc. cit., p. 166.

VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA 497

pressed and the flattened leaf-stalk, or ‘‘phyllode,’’ looks like a
simple lanceolate leaf.

The section Papilionaceae, or Pea family, contributes a host
of showy flowers to the floral show. Nearly all of these exhibit
very brilliant colors, pink, crimson, ‘scarlet, orange, yellow, blue
and purple, and the flowers are borne in profusion. Many belong
to strictly Australian genera—e. g., Chorizema, Gastrolobium,
Jacksonia, ete., and comparatively few are in cultivation.

The third family, in point of numbers, the Proteaceae, has not
a single representative in the United States, and is almost entirely
absent from the northern hemisphere. About two thirds of the
species belong in Australia, and South Africa is next in number
of species. The Proteaceae are mostly shrubs of moderate size,
but a considerable number are arborescent, becoming forest trees.
Of these trees, the most important are the species of Grevillea
Banksia, Stenocarpus, Macadamia and several others peculiar to
the rain-forests of Queensland. The handsome Grevillea robusta
is a fine tree frequently seen in California, and a few other species
of Grevillea and Hakea are less commonly seen in gardens; but
many fine species, well worth cultivation, are still to be seen only
in the wild. Grevillea is the largest genus and is widespread in
Australia. The flowers are often very showy, pink, scarlet or
yellow. Hakea, next in number of species, has as a rule rather
inconspicuous flowers.

Few Australian trees are more peculiar in habit than some of
the Banksias, whose stiff serrate leaves and huge oblong heads of
yellow flowers are most peculiar and striking. The great majority
of the Proteaceae are xerophytic, but a few inhabit the scrubs
of New South Wales and Queensland. Perhaps the finest flowers
among the Proteaceae belong to the ‘‘Waratah’’ of New South
Wales, previously referred to. Other important families, nearly
or quite confined to Australia, are the Tremandraceae, Goode-
niaceae, Candolleaceae and Casuarinaceae.

Reference has already been made to some of the Australian
Gymnosperms, which are extremely interesting. The Cycads have
already been mentioned, as well as the Araucarias and Kauri of
Queensland. The coniferous types of the northern hemisphere are
absent, the nearest relation being the genus Catlitris, which is re-
lated to the cypresses.

The Yew family or Taxaceae, however, is remarkably developed
in the southern hemisphere and has a number of extremely inter-
esting forms in Australia and especially Tasmania. Podocarpus,
of which a small number of species occur in the warmer parts of
the northern hemisphere, is the most important Australasian genus,

Vol. XV.—32.

498 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

and comprises a number of large and valuable trees, as well as
some smaller ones. Species occur in all the states.

Certain genera, absent from the mainland, are found in Tas-
mania and New Zealand. Such genera are Phyllocladus and
Dacrydium, as well as several others.

Ferns and their relatives are scarce or entirely wanting in a
very large part of Australia, owing to the prevalence of arid and
semi-arid conditions unsuited to these moisture-loving plants.
There are, however, regions where they abound and are an
important feature of the vegetation. The ubiquitous bracken-
fern (Pteridium aquilinum) often covers large tracts of open
land, as in northern regions; and in the moist gullies of the Blue
Mountains of New South Wales and the forests of Victoria or in
the rain-forests of the north there is a rich assortment of
Pteridophytes, including some very fine treeferns, interesting
Lyecopods and the curious Psilotum and Tmesipteris, whose life-
histories, which long baffled the botanist, have at last been revealed
through the labors of Lawson and Holloway.

In the rain-forests are many epiphytic species, of which the
extraordinary stag-horn ferns (Platyeerium) are the most con-
spicuous; but there are also a good many of the beautiful and
delicate filmy ferns (Hymenophyllaceae).

NEw ZEALAND

New Zealand comprises two large islands of about equal size
and several adjacent ones of very much smaller dimensions. The
northernmost point of the North Island is about 34° south latitude,
and the South Island extends to south latitude 47°. The total
area of the islands is about 100,000 square miles.

New Zealand presents a marked contrast to Australia, both m
its topography and climate. Its relatively small area results in
a climate of distinctly insular character, with very much less
range of temperature and precipitation than is the case in con-
tinental Australia. Owing to its higher latitude, the climate as
a whole is rather cool, but severe cold is rare in the lowlands. It
is comparable with the climate of Britain, but especially in the
North Island is considerably warmer. Owing to the proximity of
the sea, there is less difference between North and South than might
be expected. Thus between Auckland in the North Island and
Invereargill, about ten degrees further south, there is less than
ten degrees difference in the average temperature.

For the most part rain is abundant and well distributed, and
much of the country shows a luxuriant growth of forest. There
are certain regions, however, notably the Canterbury Plain of the
South Island, which have a relatively scanty rainfall and are

VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA 499

mostly destitute of trees. These grass-covered plains may be com-
pared to the prairies of the mid-west of the. United States.

The topography of New Zealand is for the most part exceed-
ingly rugged, with much higher mountains than those of Australia.
In the North Island are extensive voleanie formations, some of
which are still active. In the Rotorua district, familiar to tourists,
are numerous hot springs and geysers much like those of the Yel-
_lowstone and in addition there are active voleanic craters.

In the neighborhood of Auckland are a number of very perfect
extinct cones, and on the west coast is Mt. Egmont, over eight thou-
sand feet high. To the south lies the Wellington district, extreme-
ly rugged in character. The harbor of Wellington, surrounded
by steep mountains, opens into Cook’s Strait, separating the North
and South Islands.

The South Island shows less extensive evidences of voleanie
activity than the North Island. It is distinguished by the lofty
snow-clad range of the Southern Alps near the west coast, culmi-
nating in the majestic Mount Cook, over twelve thousand feet
high, snow covered for most of its height and with extensive
glaciers reaching nearly to its base. The southwest coast is in-
dented by numerous fiords, which are said to present a magnificent
spectacle.

The Southern Alps exercise a great influence on the climate
of the South Island, intercepting a very large part of the moisture
from the seaward side. Between the mountains and the coast
there are stations with as much as two hundred inches of rain
annually, while Christchurch on the east coast has only about
twenty-five inches, and there are a few stations with even a lighter
precipitation. This dry region is mostly destitute of trees, the
ground being covered with coarse tussock-grasses. The contrast
between these dry grasslands and the densely forested regions of
rainy Westland is most striking.

To the south of the great mountain range the conditions are
more uniform, and the whole southern end of the South Island
is covered with forest.

The North Island originally was almost completely covered
with heavy forest, in which the most important tree was the Kauri
pine (Agathis australis). Very little of this splendid forest re-
mains, and the Kauri is almost extinct. A few small tracts have
recently been reserved, and I had an opportunity of visiting one
of these in the extreme northern part of the island. This new
park is of limited extent, but is a typical example of the magnificent
Kauri forest which once covered the desolated regions now oe-
cupying most of the surrounding country.

The Kauri is entirely different in appearance from any conif-

by
S
en)
a
z,
S
~S
<2)
~~
Ry
~
i
Ss
=
DO
WD
Sa)
Ry
By

KAURI FOREST, NORTH I LAND, NEW ZEALAND

VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA 501

erous tree with which the American botanist is familiar. In its
younger stages it shows the symmetrical pyramidal habit of most
conifers, but the early branches finally fall off, leaving a perfectly
smooth cylindrical bole with very little taper. This columnar
trunk may reach a height of sixty to eighty feet, or even more,
with a diameter of eight to ten feet, or it is said of twice this size.
At the top there are several enormous diverging branches forming
an immense spreading crown which overtops the other trees of
the forest and gives the tree a most characteristic appearance.

The interior of the Kauri forest, with the huge smooth gray
columnar trunks, is most impressive, and only rivalled by the
great coniferous forests of the Pacific Coast, or the Cyptomerias
of Japan. The New Zealand Kauri must rank as one of the giants
of the vegetable kingdom.

Associated with the Kauri are a number of other trees, inelud-
ing several other Conifers or rather Taxads, as these belong to the
Yew family. Of the latter the most important are the ‘‘Totara’’
(Podocarpus Totara) and ‘‘Rimu’’ (Dacrydiwm cupressinum),
both valuable timber trees. The curious Phyllocladus trichomi-
noides with flattened twigs (cladodes) looking like small fer::-
leaves, is not uncommon in this region. Some other characteristic
trees are Weinmannia sylvicola (Saxifragaceae), said to be the
commonest tree in New Zealand, and Beilschmiedia tarare, be-
longing to the Lauraceae.

A number of fine shrubs, e. g., Coprosma, Pittosporum, Notho-
panax and others are common, and as in all New Zealand forests
ferns are much in evidence. The abundant and beautiful tree-
ferns lend a special charm to the New Zealand forest. The finest
of these is Cyathea medullaris, which may reach a height of up-
wards of fifty feet and is the finest tree-fern with which I am ac-
quainted.

‘Other interesting ferns are several species of Gleichenia, and
the climbing fern, Lygodium articulatum, which is said to climb
to the top of lofty trees. Filmy ferns (Hymenophyllaceae) are
common in the damp shady woods, but are hardly as abundant or
luxuriant as in the rain-forests of the South Island.

Epiphytes abound in the rain-forests and include many con-
spicuous mosses and liverworts as well as ferns and various flower-
ing plants. Among the latter are a number of orchids, but these
are mostly inconspicuous species, far inferior in beauty to some of
the fine Australian epiphytic orchids. Perhaps the most conspicu-
ous epiphyte is a very common liliaceous plant, Astelia solandera,
forming great tufts of stiff sword-shaped leaves on the trunk or
branches of many trees. It very often is seen on the slender stem
of the Nikau palm, forming great bunches completely surround-

502 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 8. TREEFERNS, NEW ZEALAND

VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA 503

ing the trunk. This palm (Rhopalostylis sapida), is the only palm
native to New Zealand. ©

Where the land has been cleared it is often invaded by the
ubiquitous bracken (Pteridiwm aquilinum), and another plant
which quickly takes possession is the ‘‘Manuka’’ (Leptospermum
scopartum), closely resembling some of the Australian species.
When in bloom the shrub is decidedly ornamental, with myriads
of pretty white flowers.

In open, more or less swampy districts, all over New Zealand,
two extremely characteristic plants can hardly fail to attract at-
tention. These are the native ‘‘flax’’ (Phormium tenax) and the
‘“eabbage-tree’’ (Cordyline australis), often grown in California
under the name Yuecca-palm. The flax yields an abundant and
valuable fibre, which is manufactured on an extensive scale and
is one of the most important products of the country. At the time
of my visit both of these striking plants were in flower. The flax
sends up from its tuft of broad leaves, five or six feet high, scapes
about twice as tall, bearing racemes of tubular red flowers which
are much frequented by honey-sucking birds. The stately Yucea-
like Cordylines bear immense panicles of small white fragrant
flowers.

Among the most widespread trees of New Zealand are several
species of Metrosideros, a genus occurring throughout Polynesia
and Australasia. M. robusta, the ‘‘Rata,’’ is a very beautiful tree
with glossy green leaves and bright red flowers. Like Eucalyptus,
to which it is not very distantly related, the bright-colored stamens
are the showy part of the flower. Another species, M. tomentosa,
also with showy flowers, is abundant about Auckland, and several
other species, some of them climbers, occur in various parts of
New Zealand. WM. robusta begins life as an epiphyte, the trunk
of the older tree being made up of the united descending roots, as
is so often the case in many species of Ficus.

The southern portion of the North Island has a somewhat dif-
ferent vegetation from that of the Auckland district. The Kauri
is quite absent from this region, and in some districts there are
forests of evergreen beeches much like those of the South Island.

In the immediate vicinity of Wellington the forest shows many
of the same trees as that further north, e. g., Podocarpus, Dacry-
dium, Metrosideros, Weinmannia, Beilschmiedia and _ others.
Among these is one of the two species of Proteaceae found in
New Zealand. This is a handsome tree, Knightia excelsa, some-
what resembling the Australian Banksias.

One of the most interesting small trees is a Fuchsia, F.
excorticata, New Zealand having three species of this otherwise ex-
elusively South American and Mexican genus.

504 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Photograph by Dr. L. Cockayne.

Fic. 9. CABBAGE-TREES (CORDYLINE AUSTRALIS) AND NEW ZEALAND FLAX
(PHORMIUM TENAX)

Shrubby Compositae are common in New Zealand. The genus
Olearia, much like Aster, is well represented, some species having
fine flowers, others like O. ilicifolia with handsome evergreen
foliage. Another peculiar genus is Raouwlia, which includes the
‘‘vegetable sheep,’’ R. eximia. Some other characteristic shrubs
noted near Wellington are species of Melicytus, Elaeocarpus,
Myrsine and Sophora. SNS. tetraptera, with brillant yellow, very
conspicuous flowers, is one of the few really showy New Zealand
shrubs.

Wellington has an attractive if not large botanical garden of
which the most interesting feature is a small ravine in which are
erowing many of the native trees and shrubs as well as some fine
ferns and liverworts. Some of the treeferns are very tall and
make a fine show. Of the liverworts the most notable is the re-
markable Monoclea Forsteri, a giant among liverworts. This
species is abundant about Wellington and also in various part of
the South Island. The only other species known occurs in tropical
America.

In the botanical gardens in Wellington are some fine exotic
conifers, including a number of Californian species. One of these,
the Monterey pine (P. radiata) is extensively planted in New Zea-

VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA 505

land, where it grows with extraordinary rapidity and furnishes
a large amount of timber.

Across the harbor from Wellington at Day’s Bay is a consider-
able extent of forest made up almost exclusively of two species
of evergreen beeches (Nothofagus fusca and N. Menziesii). This
forest is much more open than the mixed forest which prevails
over most of the country near Wellington. These beeches, except
for their much smaller leaves, are not unlike the true beeches of
northern forests. They also remind one, in general habit, of the
tree alders of the Pacific Coast.

‘Cook’s Strait, separating the North and South Islands, does not
seem to form an appreciable barrier to the migration of plants
between the islands, there being little difference in the vegetation
on the two sides of the Strait. Probably the separation of the
two islands took place at a comparatively recent date, so that there ©
has not been time for any marked change in the vegetation.

The important city of Christchurch is surrounded by the
famous Canterbury Plain, an open grassland which like our west-
ern prairies is admirably adapted to agriculture.

The trip across the South Island from Christchurch to the
west coast is full of interest to the botanist and includes some
magnificent scenery. I had the good fortune to be accompanied
by Dr. L. Cockayne, the well-known botanist, whose knowledge of
the native flora is both extensive and accurate.*

The Canterbury Plain, where it has not been cultivated, is
covered with tussocks of coarse grass, and this is true also of the
lower slopes of the mountains on the eastern side. The most
abundant species is Festuca Novae Zealandeae, but Poa caespitosa
was another common and conspicuous species.

The change from this open grassland to the first beech forest
is very abrupt, and marks the beginning of the western rainy dis-
trict. The beech forest is very dense, and composed exclusively
of the mountain beech (Nothofagus Cliffortiana).

At the summit of Arthur’s Pass, about 3,000 feet elevation,
the increasing moisture becomes more evident. The open stony
ground supports a heavy growth of herbaceous plants and low
shrubs. In this formation is found perhaps the most beautiful of
all new Zealand flowers, Ranunculus Lyallu. This fine plant has
very large undivided peltate leaves, and clusters of pure white
flowers two inches or more in diameter, borne on stout stalks a
foot or more in height. Another charming flower is Owrisia
macrocarpa, with large flowers something like Mimulus.

3 Dr. Cockayne’s book, ‘‘ New Zealand Plants and Their Story,’’ Welling-
ton, 1919, is an admirable account of New Zealand vegetation.

506 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The sub-alpine serub of this region is composed of a number
of very characteristic species. The most casual observer cannot
fail to note the Dracena-like Dracophyllum Traversu, a small
tree with clusters of reddish leaves at the tips of the straggling
branches. In spite of its Yucca-like habit, this is a heath of the
family Epacridaceae. Various shrubby Veronicas, a genus devel-
oped to a remarkable degree in New Zealand, are abundant and
several shrubby Compositae (Olearia, Celmisia, Senecio) abound.
A curious leafless leguminous shrub, Carmichelia sp., 1s noted and
a species of Gaultheria, and an Araliad (Pseudopanax lineare) are
not uncommon. Along the roadside the mountain flax (Phormiwm
Colensov) is frequent. The descent on the west side, through the
magnificent Otira Gorge, is one of the finest pieces of scenery in
New Zealand. The very steep walls of the gorge are densely
covered with luxuriant forest from crest to base.

The very heavy rainfall of this district is attested by the
luxuriant rain-forest which reaches its maximum development on
the west side of the range. At first there is some admixture of
beech, but this finally disappears and in the typical Westland rain-
forest is quite absent.

The banks along the roadside show a constantly increasing pro-
fusion of ferns, liverworts, and moisture-loving herbs, like violets,
Hydrocotyle and the interesting Gunnera, a genus particularly de-
veloped in New Zealand. ‘

Tree-ferns, which had not been seen at the higher elevations,
inerease in size and numbers as the lowlands are approached and
in the lowland forest form a conspicuous and beautiful feature.

The Westland rain-forest is one of extraordinary luxuriance.
The extremely heavy precipitation and mild temperature result in
a rich profusion of vegetation that has all the aspects of a genuine
Malayan rain-forest. Composed of exclusively evergreen trees
and shrubs, draped with lianas and epiphytes and interspersed
with thousands of noble tree-ferns, it was hard to believe that this
forest was in latitude 43°, corresponding in the United States to
the latitude of Buffalo.

This forest is of the type called ‘‘Taxad’’ by Cockayne, the
most important trees belonging to the taxaceous genera Podocarpus
and Dacrydium. In ‘the swampy areas the ‘‘white-pine’’ P.
dacrydioides predominates, a very tall tree with fine straight trunk
yielding valuable timber. Of the angiospermous trees the most
abundant is Weinmanma sylvicola, a tree of Malayan affinity,
and its relative, Quintima acutifolia, both belonging to the Saxi-
frage family. A very common large shrub is Aristotelia racemosa,
with rather attractive pinkish flowers, and other common shrubs
are species of Coprosma, Metrosideras lucida, and Pseudopanax
crassifolia.

VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA 507

Ferns and other Pteridophytes abound in these wet forests.
Various species of Lycopodium are abundant, and also the curious
Tmesipteris. Of the tree-ferns, the commonest is Dicksonia
squarrosa, sometimes twenty to thirty feet high. Less abundant
is Hemitelia Smithu. Of the abundant epiphytic growths the most
beautiful are the filmy ferns (Hymenophyllaceae) which in these
Westland forests attain their finest development. Another ex-
tremely beautiful fern is Todea (Leptopteris) swperba.

As might ‘be expected, these supersaturated forests are a veri-
table garden of mosses and liverworts which drape the trees and
form a thick carpet on the ground and big cushions over every
prostrate log and stump. Great tussocks of Sphagnum are com-
mon about the pools, and now and then one encounters colonies
of the giant Dawsonia superba, the last word in moss development.

The abundance and luxuriance of the liverworts is astounding ;
indeed, it is doubtful if anywhere else in the world is a richer
growth of these interesting plants to be found.

Of the lanas the most interesting is Preycinetia Banksit, a
distinctly tropical genus belonging to the secrew-pine family, abun-
dant throughout Polynesia and the Malayan region.

Everywhere in the New Zealand rain-forests there is a rich
development of epiphytes and climbing plants. Of the epiphytes
there are two eategories, those that begin life as epiphytes, but
later become rooted in the ground, and those which retain perma-
nently the epiphytic habit. Among the latter are many ferns,
Lycopods, Mosses and liverworts, as well as a good many flowering
plants like Peperomia, various orchids, Astelia, ete. Of the ferns
the filmy ferns or Hymenophyllaceae are especially numerous and
beautiful.

Several species of New Zealand trees begin life as epiphytes.
The seeds germinate in the branches of some tree and presently
the young plant sends out roots which descend the trunk of the
host-tree until they reach the earth. In course of time these de-
scending roots coalesce in a more or less solid trunk and the host-
tree may be completely strangled in the process. The ‘‘rata’’
(Metrosideros robusta) is the best known of these temporary
epiphytes. Others are Dracophyllum arboreum and Griselinea
littoralis.

Some of the climbing plants are great woody lianas, whose
stout cables are thrown from tree to tree. One of the biggest of
these is a huge bramble, Rubus australis, whose stems, sometimes
six inches in diameter at the base, reach the tops of the tallest
trees. Freycinitia climbs by means of roots, clinging to the trunks
of trees, and some species of Metrosideros have a similar habit.
Other common climbing plants are species of Clematis, Par-

508 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

sonsia and Miihlenbeckia and the climbing fern Lygodium articu-
latum.

Compared with Australia there is a remarkable scarcity of
brilliantly colored flowers, a large proportion of the plants having
white or greenish flowers. The bright red flowers of some species
of Metrosideros, Clianthus puniceus and the native flax, bright
yellow of Sophora tetraptera, the blue of many Veronicas and the
blue or purple of some of the Compositae are the most marked
exceptions to the rule.

WEEDS

As in all countries where the white man has settled there have
come with him many plant immigrants, some of which are not
entirely weleome. These weeds hail from many lands. In the
hotter and dryer parts of Australia they may come from such
tropical countries as India, Brazil or Africa, while in the more
temperate regions of southern Australia and New Zealand they
are largely from northern Europe and America, e. g., thistles,
sorrel, dock, plantain and other familiar weeds.

Parts of Australia have been invaded by species of prickly
pear (Opuntia) from America, which are a very serious pest. It
has been said that in Queensland 30,000,000 acres of land have
been invaded by one species which has caused immense damage.

From America have also come species of cockle-bur (Xanthium)
and Stramonium, as well as several other pestilent weeds. In the
moister cooler regions of Australia and New Zealand, the common
European blackberry, sweet brier and gorse have escaped from
cultivation and become very persistent and troublesome weeds.

A number of plants from the Cape, whose climate is very sim-
ilar to that of Australia, have become completely naturalized. It
is not uncommon to see the familiar calla growing in ditches and
low ground, and several of the beautiful Iridaceae from South
Africa—Ixia, Sparaxis, Watsonia and Homeria—very often are
seen growing along the railway embankments. The latter is said
to be poisonous and may perhaps be called a weed. This name
may also be given to the ‘‘Cape-weed’’ (Cryptostemma calendu-
lacea), a daisy-like Composite which is extremely abundant.

CoNCLUSION

Attention has already been called to the evident close relation-
ships existing between the Australian ‘‘scrub’’ floras and those
of the Indo-Malayan regions. The rain-forests of Queensland and
New South Wales may be looked upon, with little question, as the
remnants of a much more extensive flora which occupied these
regions when they were united with New Guinea and separated

VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA 509

from the ancient Western Australian continent. It is generally
believed that in the latter, which was probably much larger than
at present, the ancestors of the characteristic types which now
dominate the flora of the greater part of modern Australia had
their origin.

In the old Western continent, completely isolated from other
lands, there was an extraordinary development of a comparatively
small number of families. The most conspicuous examples of this
are the Myrtaceae, with over 200 species in Eucalyptus alone;
Leguminosae, especially Acacia with over 400 species, and many
peculiar Papilionaceae; Proteaceae with over 600 species (Gre-
villea, Hakea, Banksia, ete.). A few families, e. g., Candol-
leaceae, Goodeniaceae, are almost exclusively Australian and es-
pecially abundant in Western Australia.

These peculiar Australian plants are largely xerophytic, and
after the union of Eastern and Western Australia it may be as-
sumed that the extreme aridity and poor soils of much of the
central part of the continent would be much more favorable to
these Western xerophytes than to the Malayan types of the Hast
which have evidently been largely evicted by the drought-resistant
West Australian immigrants, and are now restricted to compara-
tively limited areas where there is good soil and abundant mois-
ture.

The autochthonous types have for the most part remained in
Australia. Eucalyptus, Acacia, a few Proteaceae and some others
are represented in the savannahs of Southern New Guinea and the
dryer portions of the Malay Archipelago; and a few genera range
through Polynesia; but the great majority of the true Australian
species are unknown outside the Australian continent.

In the southeast, and especially in Tasmania, there is a marked
infusion of plants whose relationships are with the Andean and
Fuegian vegetation of South America. Most of these occur also
in New Zealand. .

Comparing New Zealand with Australia, there is found a good
deal in common in the floras of the northern districts, 7. e., the
Malayan rain-forest vegetation. This type is, however, of very
much greater importance in New Zealand, where in spite of a much
cooler climate, a large proportion of the trees and shrubs are more
_or less closely related to Malayan ones.

There is strong evidence of former connections with the tropical
regions to the North, and it is quite as likely that the Malayan
genera which New Zealand shares with Australia have been de-
rived from the North and not directly from Australia.

The distinctively Australian genera are relatively few in New
Zealand, and a striking feature of the flora is the absence of such

510 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

predominant Australian genera as Eucalyptus and Acacia. The
family Myrtaceae, with over 800 species in Australia, has barely
twenty in New Zealand, only one genus, Leptospermum, being
typically Australasian. The Proteaceae, which reach their maxi-
mum in Australia, with more than 650 species, have only two
representatives in New Zealand. There are, however, a consider-
able number of Epacridaceae, and several Australian genera of
orchids, as well as Compositae and Leguminosae. It has been
suggested, however, that some of these forms might be of New
Zealand origin and migrants into Australia.

Most of the ferns common to the two countries are widespread
Austrahan-Malayan species, but mention should be made of one,
viz., Todea barbara, common to northern New Zealand and New
South Wales and also found in South Africa.

The Fuegian genera already referred to are mostly shared by
Australia and New Zealand. Of these there are twenty-two genera
common to the two countries, among which may be mentioned
Astelia, Muehlenbeckia, Drimys, Nertera and the evergreen beeches,
Nothofagus.*

There are sufficient resemblances between the floras of Austra-
lia and South Africa to indicate some former land connections
between the two, but it is probable that the connection was severed
at a very remote period.

In South Africa, as in Australia, there is a remarkable devel-
opment of Proteaceae, but there are no genera common to the two,
indicating a very long period of separation. The true heaths
(Ericaceae) which are a marked feature of the South African
flora are replaced in Australia by the Epacridaceae. It has been
suggested® that the two families are offshoots of a common stock,
differentiated since the disappearance of a former land connection.

It is pretty well agreed that at one time all the great southern
land masses were connected more or less completely. The name
‘Gondwana Land’’ has been given to an assumed great southern
continent, existing in late Permian time, and embracing a large
part of the present South American, African and Australian conti-
nents, as well as parts of India and Malaya. Just how long these
connections remained is not entirely clear, but if they persisted
into the Cretaceous, or early Tertiary, this would explain many
of the apparently anomalous facts of the present distribution of
the floras of the southern hemisphere.

We have also to take into account the great antarctic conti-
nent. At present this is practically destitute of any terrestrial

4 Cockayne, loc. cit., p. 206.
5 Maiden, loc. cit., p. 181.

VEGETATION OF AUSTRALIA 511

vegetation, but there have been found fossils indicating the former
presence of a vegetation related to that of South America and New
Zealand. Further investigation may show that there was a north-
ward extension of the present antarctic continent, with climatic
conditions much more favorable for vegetation, than exists at
present.

If further discoveries of fossils should show that, as in the
northern hemisphere during the Tertiary, there was also in the
south a practically uniform flora encircling the globe, this would
make comprehensible both the resemblances and differences now
existing in the floras of the southern land-masses.

Migrants from this common southern flora later completely
shut off in the present widely separated countries, would in course
of time show greater or less divergence from each other, depend-
ing upon the amount of change in their environment. It might
be expected that in the cool humid elimate of New Zealand, the
evolution of the primordial southern types would be very different
from those subjected to the hot and arid conditions of Western
Australia, which is supposed to be the birthplace of most of the
strictly Australian plant-types.

512 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

EASY GROUP THEORY

By Professor G. A. MILLER
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS

HE report that the title of the chair of ‘‘differential and
fi integral caleulus’’ in the University of Paris has re-
cently been changed to ‘‘the theory of groups and the eal-
culus of variations’’ may tend to create a desire on the
part of a larger group of scientific men to understand the
essence of a mathematical group and the role which the
group concept is assuming in modern mathematical develop-
ments. The fundamental importance of the concepts of differential
and integral calculus in various fields of science has long been
recognized, and the change of title noted above does not imply
that the theory of groups and the calculus of variations tend to
supplant the differential and integral caleulus. It does, however,
imply that the former subjects are also sufficiently fundamental
and fruitful to merit prominent recognition in a leading mathe-
matical center.

Paris may justly claim a very large share in the early develop-
ment of group theory. A Parisian, A. L. Cauchy, is commonly
regarded as the founder of this subject, while other Parisians, in-
eluding A. T. Vandermonde and E. Galois, did important pioneer-
ing work in this field. Although J. L. Lagrange is commonly re-
garded as a French mathematician his pioneering work in group
theory was done before he settled in Paris. The first separate
treatise on this subject was written by a Parisian. This work ap-
peared in 1870 under the title Traité des substitutions et des
équations algébriques by C. Jordan.

In group theory as well as in differential and integral caleulus
the first extensive formal or abstract developments are due to Eng-
lish and German mathematicians. In the case of the latter subjects
the authors of these developments, viz., Newton and Leibniz, are
commonly regarded as its founders. Fortunately this has not yet
been done as regards the former subject. Notwithstanding the
fundamental importance of formal developments and _ abstract
formulations the real life of mathematics abides in its contact with
the conerete. In the case of group theory this contact has been em-
phasized especially by S. Lie, F. Klein and H. Poincaré. The
rapidly increasing prominence of this theory during the last half

EASY GROUP THEORY 513

century is largely due to the writings of these three men, who
have been leaders also in various other lines of mathematical ac-
tivity.

A dominating mathematical concept, like a dominating per-
sonality, has a charm of its own, and creates a kind of atmosphere
which is as invigorating as that of a real university or that which
emanates from any group of real scholars. A fundamental notion
of a mathematical group is that ‘‘there is no new thing under the
sun.’’ It is true that we speak here of generators and generational
relations, but the objects which are generated were members of the
group since the beginning of time and will remain members thereof
throughout eternity. We study the group to perceive this same-
ness in its various forms and to understand the relative properties
of the various elements which unite to make a single element of
the group.

The non-technical meaning of the term group suggests little as
regards its technical meaning except the invariance of the number
of its elements. In a non-technical group one usually thinks of
the elements as units which may or may not have the power of
reproduction. In the former case the elements thus produced are
usually new elements of the group. In the technical group the
elements have necessarily the power of uniting, but when they
unite they neither produce any new element nor lose their own
identity. The union merely exhibits the possible decomposition
of an element of the group, or the different ways of securing e
pluribus unum. Union, unity and stability constitute the trium-
virate of the theory of groups. The stability here noted is not
the stability of statics but the stability of dynamics. It is a kind
of invariance under transformations.

What is perhaps of most interest in this connection as regards
the non-mathematician is the question why the concept to which
we referred above is so fundamental in mathematics. It is
well known that mathematical developments have been largely
guided by the desire to secure intellectual penetration into the
workings of nature. Do we find in nature numerous instances of
the union of elements of the same kind to produce an element
of this kind which is really not new but belongs to a totality which
has been clearly defined? For instance, one may think of the
totality of the transformations of space subject to the condition
that the distance between every pair of points in space remains
invariant. It is evident that if one such transformation is fol-
lowed by another the two together are equivalent to a single trans-
formation of the totality in question. Hence we say that this
totality constitutes a group.

Vol. XV.—33.

514 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

It is also clear that the totality of the natural numbers when
they are combined by addition has the property that no new num-
ber arises from the combination of any two of them, or from the
combination of one with itself. In both this totality and in the
totality of transformation noted in the preceding paragraph it is
evident that if x, y, zg represent three elements of the totality and
if any two of them are supposed to be known then the third is
completely determined by the following equation:

cy=2

The term group is commonly used in mathematics in the restricted
sense that the third of any three elements is completely determined
by such an equation where any two of them are supposed to be
given. Moreover, it is usually assumed that when any three ele-
ments are combined the associate law is satisfied, but it is not
assumed that the commutative law is necessarily satisfied when
two of them are combined.

Even when these restrictions are imposed there are instances
of groups almost wherever one turns. It is true that in the vege-
table and the animal kingdoms one sees new elements arising in pro-
fusion, and mathematics is naturaliy called on to deal also with
such conditions, but if one looks deep enough here there seems to
be a union of elements without loss of identity of the elements,
and there seems to be nothing new in the profound formal physical
sense. Hence one may see some significance in the following state-
ment made by Poincaré shortly before his death: ‘‘The theory
of groups is, so to say, entire mathematies, divested of its matter
and reduced to a pure form.’’

In the groups noted above the number of elements is infinite.
As instances of a finite group we may consider the six movements
which transform a fixed equilateral triangle into itself and the
eight movements which transform a fixed square into itself. Such
special instances are, of course, of little interest to the general
scientist except as illustrations. The thing that may be supposed
to command the interest even of the educated layman is the fact
that these very evident considerations appertain to a profound
mathematical theory.

Group theory did not arise from such obvious considerations.
After it was partially developed as an autonomous science some of
its more obvious applications received special attention. A certain
degree of difficulty seems to create the most favorable atmosphere
for scientific developments. In group theory this atmosphere was
created by the n roots of the algebraic equation of the following
form:

Ce = det eg 0

EASY GROUP THEORY 515

It is customary to speak of x as the unknown and to call this an
equation of degree m in one unknown. As a matter of fact the
equation has n roots and all of these are unknown, so that it is really
an equation in n unknowns. The constant coefficients a,, @,...
a, were known to be symmetric functions of these n unknowns be-
fore the subject of group theory was developed.

The mysterious appearance of » unknowns to take the place of
the one which presents itself openly is perhaps sufficient to create
an atmosphere suitable for scientific endeavors. At any rate, it was
in this atmosphere that our subject arose and hence we shall note
here a few of the early steps in its development. It is true that
these steps were taken by men who seemed to have no idea that
they were dealing with notions which had the widest applications
in other fields of mathematical endeavor. In fact, the early ex-
plorers of group theory died long before any one realized that the
notions with which they were dealing were destined to permeate a
large part of the science of mathematics.

The n roots of an equation of degree n with constant coefficients
constitute a group in the non-technical sense of the term, but the
group of this equation is something very different and hes much
deeper. It relates to a certain totality of permutations of these
nm roots, or substitutions on these n roots, leaving invariant every
possible rational function of these roots which is equal to a con-
stant, and having the property that if a rational function of these
roots is invariant under these substitutions it is equal to a con-
stant. These fundamental properties of the n roots of the equation
in question were first noted by E. Galois, a French mathematician
of great renown, although he died before reaching the age of
twenty-one years. They were sufficiently difficult to create an
atmosphere suitable: for the development of our subject as an
autonomous science.

» A study of the permutations of 7 things might at first appear
to promise little of importance. It is true that before the time of
Galois attention had been called to this subject by Lagrange and
Vandermonde in connection with the question under what condi-
tion a rational function on n variables can be expressed rationally
in terms of another such function, but it was not until long after
the days of Galois that mathematicians began to realize the funda-
mental importance of this subject in the study of a large variety
of mathematical questions. When the substitutions arising from
these various permutations were studied by themselves they were
seen to combine according to laws which are found almost every-

where when the data are sufficiently connected to admit mathe-
matical treatment.

516 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The reader who has given little attention to mathematical de-
velopments may be inclined to ask, If the notion group is so
fundamental why did the ancients and even such eminent later
thinkers as Descartes and Newton pay no explicit attention to it?
Why does the theory of groups not have an ancient prototype like
differential and integral calculus, whose prototype is found in the
method of exhaustion of the ancient Greeks? Does it appear rea-
sonable that a subject founded only three quarters of a century
ago should really deserve such a dominating position in modern
mathematics as is claimed for group theory in what precedes the
present paragraph? Does the history of mathematics present any
other instance of the sudden rise of a dominating concept extend-
ing into practically all the large branches of mathematics?

The fact that the last of these questions must be answered in
the negative tends to enhance the interest in the others. This
negative answer calls also for a word of caution for there is danger
that the reader might infer from it that the subject of group theory
has greater merit than really belongs to it. It seems that mathe-
matical developments have always been guided by the group con-
cept. In the words of Poincaré ‘‘the ancient mathematicians em-
ployed groups in many cases without knowing it.’’ The main
question in mathematical developments is that one gets on the
right road. The ability to explain why one has chosen this road
is of secondary importance. In fact, the best teacher is frequently
unable to give a good account of his methods while a much in-
ferior teacher may be able to talk glibly about methods.

Group theory is largely a method and those who are studying
this subject by itself may be compared with those who are devoting
their attention to methods of teaching. Just as the latter are not
necessarily the best teachers so the former are not necessarily the
best mathematical investigators. Possibly the bacteria which have
tended to make the teachers colleges such a prominent feature of
our modern universities have also caused the emphasis on group
theory in modern mathematics. Just as some of our best teachers
have never read a work on methods of teaching so some of the best
mathematical investigators have never secured a speaking acquaint-
ance with the notion of group. In both cases the real essence of
‘the subject has been acquired unconsciously, or, at least, without
the development of a formal language relating thereto.

The fact that modern mathematicians emphasize the group con-
cept while the ancient and medieval mathematicians did not do
this does not imply a change of mental attitude. Naturally
the modern mathematicians secured a somewhat deeper insight
into various subjects and thus discovered evidences of groups

EASY GROUP THEORY 517

which were unknown to the older mathematicians. Inspired by
these groups they developed also the theory relating to the groups
which the ancients used implicitly, but it is questionable whether
the modern mathematicians would have developed a theory re-
lating to the latter if they had not been inspired by the former. At
any rate, they did not take any steps towards such a theory before
they had this additional motive. These observations may serve
as partial answers to questions raised above relating to the late
development of our subject as an autonomous science.

The heading of the present article suggests that some of the de-
velopments of our subject can not be properly called easy. In fact,
by far the larger part of these developments presuppose a rather
extensive technical knowledge and hence they are unsuited for a
popular article. Among all the scientists the mathematician works
usually at the greatest distance from his postulates, and hence he
has the greatest difficulty to exhibit the results of his toil to the
public in the hope of securing appreciation, which he craves with
the others of his fellowmen. In group theory this distance has
become especially long even for a mathematical subject, but this
theory does extend also into the experiences of all thoughtful per-
sons. The present article aims merely to direct attention to the
richness of the mathematical developments which have contact with
these particular experiences and thus to secure an easier approach
to some of this richness.

If a group contains a finite number of elements this number is
called the order of the group. For instance, the 24 different move-
ments of space which transform a cube as a whole into itself but
interchange some of its parts constitute a group of order 24. The
most elementary group of a given order g is cyclic; that is, it is
composed of the powers of a single one of its elements. For
instance, the g numbers which satisfy the condition that the gth
power of each of them is equal to unity constitute this group of
order g, where g is any natural number. It is evident that the 24
different movements which transform a eube into itself are not
powers of a single one of them. Hence they constitute a non-
eyche group of order 24. In fact, none of the elements of this
group has to be raised to a higher than the fourth power in order
to obtain unity, or the identity.

One of the fundamental problems of abstract group theory is
the determination of all the possible groups of a given order g.
It was noted above that there is one and only one eyclie group of
every possible order g. When g is a prime number there is no other
group of this order. This is also sometimes the case when g is
composite but there is no upper limit to the number of groups

518 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

which may have the same composite order. That is, it is always
possible to find a number g such that the number of the different.
abstract groups of order g exceeds any given finite number. In
addition to the two groups of order 24 noted above there are 13
others, which were first completely determined in 1896 by the pres-
ent writer. The lowest order for which the number of groups
exceeds the order is 32. There are 51 distinet groups of this order.

The verification of several of these statements would carry us
beyond easy group theory. They may serve, however, to exhibit
a type of inquiry relating to our subject. Fortunately, some of the
most important and far-reaching phases of this subject are also
the easiest. For instance, the group of all the transformations of
space which leave invariant the distances between every pair of
points can easily be comprehended. Those geometric figures which
can be transformed into each other under this group may be called
equivalent and we may confine our attention to the study of
geometric properties which remain invariant under the transforma-
tion of this group. We thus obtain a body of knowledge commonly
ealled Euclidean Geometry, but this term is also often used with
different meanings. Following the custom introduced by Gauss
some still use it to denote all the geometry in which the parallel
postulate is assumed.

It is clear that in geometry it is undesirable to endeavor to
study every figure as an individual since one could not make much
progress in this way. What people have always done in this sub-
ject is to confine their attention to invariants under certain infinite
groups of transformations. It is true that the ancients did not
specify these groups and that we do not usually do this now
in a first course in elementary geometry, but for the advanced
student, at least, the developments become much clearer if this
specification is explicitly made. If we add to the transformations
noted above those which do not preserve the size of the figures but
do preserve their angles, so that all similar figures are regarded as
equivalent, we obtain a larger group, which has been ealled the
principal group of geometry. The body of knowledge relating to
the invariants of this group is commonly known as Elementary
Geometry. In particular, all circles are equivalent in this geometry
and all squares are also equivalent here. Some writers eall this
geometry Euclidean Geometry. This is done, for instance, on page
61, volume 2, Paseal’s Repertorium der hoheren Mathematik, 1910.

These observations relating to the groups of geometry may
serve also to support the implication noted above that group theory
is often a kind of mathematical luxury. One can frequently get
along without a knowledge of this subject where a knowledge

EASY GROUP THEORY 519

thereof would add greatly to the intellectual comfort. The fact
that the mathematical world traveled far without making explicit
use of this subject which now receives so much emphasis in work
closely related to that which they were doing is perhaps best ex-
plained by viewing the matter from this standpoint. It need
searcely be added that group theory has also served to point out the
way to easier methods of attack and to more powerful means of
penetration, but this applies more especially to the more difficult
group theory and hence lies outside the domain to which the head-
ing of the present article relates.

In the opening sentence of this article we alluded to the fact
that in the University of Paris there is now a chair entitled ‘‘the
theory of groups and the calculus of variation.’’ This should not
be construed to mean that the developments of these two subjects
have as yet much in common. In fact, there are few large mathe-
matical subjects whose developments exhibit as little explicit use
of group theory as those of the ealeulus of variations. Possibly
the title noted above indicates that there will soon be a change in
this direction. This title also raises the question whether our
larger American universities should not have more chairs devoted
to special subjects. The creation and occasional renaming of such
chairs would tend to direct attention to leading investigators in
various fields, an attention which often needs cultivation on the
part of administrative officers.

520 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE HISTORY OF THE CALORIE IN
NUTRITION

By MILDRED R. ZIEGLER

(FROM THE SHEFFIELD LABORATORY OF PHYSIOLOGICAL CHEMISTRY IN
YALE UNIVERSITY, NEW HAVEN, CONN.)

See nomenclature of a science is of vital importance; it is
intimately bound up in the subject itself. Special technical
words are used to describe the phenomena which are being studied.
Lavoisier emphasized the importance of nomenclature in his
‘“Traité Elémentaire de Chimie’’ (1789) when he stated: ‘‘ Every
branch of physical science must consist of three things; the series
of facts which are the objects of the science ; the ideas which repre-
sented these facts, and the words by which these ideas are ex-
pressed. Like three impressions of the same seal, the word ought to
produce the idea, and the idea to be a picture of the fact . . .; we
can only communicate false or imperfect impressions of these ideas
to others, as long as precise terms are lacking.’’

The calorie as defined in the science of nutrition is a measure
of food value. The significance of the word calorie as thus used
to-day is not the same as its import when first introduced into the
French language. To the student of nutrition the word connotes
something quite different from the term as employed by the
physicist. It is the amount of a food substance which on combus-
tion in the body will yield energy—heat or work—equivalent to a
calorie as understood by the physicists. Even the term as em-
ployed by the latter to-day has undergone a change from its orig-
inal meaning (1845). As first defined the calorie represented the
amount of heat required to raise one kilogram of water through
one degree centigrade. It is well known that the same term now
means the amount of heat required to raise one gram of water
through one degree centigrade. The calorie, then, has had—and
still does have—two somewhat unlike meanings according as the
gram or kilogram of water is the unit of mass, the temperature
of which is being changed and the energy required for this change
is being considered. Both of these meanings are preserved in the
scientific literature of to-day, the larger unit being designated as
a large calorie and written Calorie.

HISTORY OF THE CALORIE 521

It is quite evident that either the small calorie or the large
Calorie may be the more convenient unit with which to express
heat change depending upon the magnitude of the change being
studied. The physicist in expressing the amount of energy sup-
plied in the form of heat required to raise one gram of water
from its freezing point to its boiling point obviously is dealing
with a relatively small energy change which if expressed in heat
units, as discussed above, is in the neighborhood of one hundred
calories. In such eases the little calorie is the convenient unit to
employ; on the other hand experiments in the field of nutrition
have demonstrated that the energy changes are of such magnitude
that the Calorie is the more convenient unit for expressing them
quantitatively.

The derivation of the word is very interesting ; it has developed
from the old French word ‘‘ealorique’’ which was derived from the
Latin term ‘‘calor.’’ Lavoisier introduced ‘‘calorique,’’ which
was defined at that time as an elastic fluid containing the hidden
cause of the sensation of heat and to which the phenomena of heat
were attributed. This meaning was abandoned with the theory
to which it belonged. As far as a review of the literature reveals
Bouchardat (1845) was probably the first to define it according to
the modern physical conception. In his ‘‘Physique élémentaire”’
we read: ‘‘Unité de chaleur—On designe sous le nom d’unité de
chaleur ou de calorie celle qui est nécessaire pour élever 1 kilogram
d’eau d’un degré du thermométer centigrade.”’

The idea of measuring heat in this way had been in general use
for some time, but the word ealorie had not been introduced earlier.

Pouillet (1832) in his ‘‘Physique’’ defined the heat liberated
by combustion of different substances as ‘‘Elévation de temperature
que 1 gr. de chaque substance en se brilant avec l’oxigéne com-
muniquerait a 1 gr. d’eau.’’ He ascribed the value 6195° to
aleohol which checks closely with its caloric value as now known.
Although the French had coined the word in the year 1845, it
apparently was not in general use for some time; for in 1852 Favre
and Silbermann! in an article on heat wrote: ‘‘We shall repeat
that the unit which we have adopted is that adopted by all
physicists, that is, the quantity of heat necessary to raise 1 gram
of water 1 degree and which they eall unit of heat or calorie.’’
The Germans evidently took the word from the French, but it is
difficult to determine at what time. Gmelin (1817-19) in his

1 Favre and Silbermann: Ann. de chim. et phys., 1852, Ser. 3, xxxiv, 357.

522 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

‘‘Handbuch der Chemie’’ uses the same idea as the calorie unit
but refers to it as did Pouillet. As late as 1871 Senator? deemed
it necessary in an article on heat production and metabolism to
define the word ‘‘calorie’’ in a footnote.

According to a contributor to Murray's ‘‘New English Dic-
tionary on Historical Principle’’ (1888), the word calorie was
first introduced into English in 1870 by T. L. Phipson in his trans-
lation of ‘‘The Sun’’ by the French astronomer, Amédée Guillemin.
Before this time the English had spoken of heat units which re-
ferred to Joule’s mechanical equivalent of heat, viz., 1 kilog. of
water raised 1°C—423 metrekilogs. This was the term used in
Frankland’s® classic treatise ‘‘On the Origin of Muscular Power.’’

The derivation of the word calorie has not revealed its mean-
ing; for that it is necessary to consider the history of animal heat,
combustion and the potential energy of the foodstuffs. To the old
scientists animal heat offered a difficult problem, surrounded with
much mystery. They could not explain it by any known chemical
or physical laws. They did not assign any cause to it, but de-
seribed it as an innate quality, something ‘‘vital’’ situated in the
heart and distributed to the body by the blood vessels (Plato,
Aristotle, Galen). The principal function of the blood was to
distribute the heat, while the great function of respiration was to
cool this distributing medium. Mechanical and chemical notions
were accorded to heat production. As a history of the calorie is
concerned only with the chemical theories, the mechanical ones
deseribed by Haller (1757)*, Boerhaave (1709)*° and contempo-
raries will not be discussed here. Willis (1670)* was probably
the first to consider an idea of combustion in heat production. He
said that there was a ‘‘combustion’’ in the blood dependent upon
fermentation excited by the combination of different chemical sub-
stanees. All the chemists of the time considered animal heat a
product of a ‘‘fermentation’’ occurring in the blood while in the
heart. Willis’ term ‘‘combustion’’ was not in accord with the
modern conception in which oxygen is essential, as this element
had not been discovered. A more correct opinion was enunciated
by Mayow (1674)* who had experimented on the elements of the

2 Senator: Centralbl. f. d. med. Wiss., 1871, IX, 737, 753.

3 Frankland: London, Edinburgh, and Dublin Phil. Mag. and Jour. of Sc.,
1866, xxxii, 182.

4 Haller: ‘*Hlementa Physiologie,’’ 1757.

5 Boerhaave: ‘‘Aphor. cum Notis Swieten,’’ pp. 382-675.

6 Willis: ‘‘De Accensione Sanguinis,’’ 1670.
7 Mayow: ‘‘Tractatus Quinque,’’ Oxonii, 1674.

HISTORY OF THE CALORIE 523

air and described a ‘‘nitro-aerial spirit’’ (oxygen). He held that
the function of respiration was not to cool the blood but to enable
this fluid to absorb nitro-aerial gas for generating heat. Mayow’s
theory did not appear to make any considerable impression upon
his contemporaries. It was not until Joseph Black’s (1755)® ex-
periments on fixed air were performed that more correct ideas
prevailed. He showed that the gas expired from the lungs is
the same as that produced by combustion of fuel, thus establish-
ing a relationship between combustion and respiration. Black
was forced to relinquish his theory by his contemporaries who
claimed that if the lungs were the sole seat of combustion the
amount of heat produced therein would be so great that the vitality
of the organ would be destroyed.

The production of heat by a combustion of foodstuffs was
merely suggested at this time (1677) with no air of conviction
that such could be the ease. It appears that Descartes should re-
ceive the credit for first suggesting the correct theory regarding
heat production in the animal body in his ‘‘De Homine’’ (1662).
He thought that the change produced in the food in the stomach
was analogous to the heat produced when water is poured upon
lime or aqua fortis on metals. Hunter (1761) in his dissertation
‘On Blood”’ incidentally remarks that ‘‘the source of heat is in
the stomach.’’ He had previously expressed dissatisfaction with
all prevailing theories of animal heat. Hunter’s idea is to be re-
garded merely as his suggestion, with as yet no clear-cut data to
justify its assumption of the rank of an established theory.

It remained for Lavoisier, the father of modern chemistry, to
prove by his carefully performed experiments that animal heat is
not caused by any mystical ‘‘vital force’”’ as the ancients believed,
but is a phenomenon analogous to the burning of a candle, namely,
the combustion of carbon. He repeated, verified and added ex-
periments to those of Black and Priestley, and explained more ex-
plicitly than had ever been done before the source of animal heat.
In 1780 in his ‘‘Mémoire sur la Chaleur’’ published in collabora-
tion with Laplace he gave in detail the theory of heat essentially
as we have it to-day. By means of the calorimeter the heat evolved
during the formation of a definite quantity of carbonic acid was
compared with that produced during the formation of the same
amount of this compound during respiration. These investigators
saw that in such transformations identical amounts of heat were
produced. They concluded that animal heat is derived from the
oxidation ‘of the body’s substance.

8 Robison: ‘‘Joseph Black,’’ Edinburgh, 1803.

524 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The publications of Lavoisier’s time and before that had spoken
of heat as ‘‘chaleur.’’ Pouillet (1832), the physicist, remarked:
*“Scientists confused the cause of heat with its effect. They called
it chaleur, fluide igné, matiére du feu. Finally in reforming the
chemical nomenclature Lavoisier, Bertholet, Morveau and Foureroy
have called it calorique. This term was adopted by the physicists
of the time; and they reserved the word ‘chaleur’ to designate the
science which treats of the properties, effects and laws ‘du
calorique.’’’® An interesting use of ‘‘calorique’’ is found in the
‘‘Mémoire sur la Respiration des Animaux’’ published in 1789 by
Lavoisier and Seguin. They state, ‘‘1. Que le calorique (matiére
de chaleur) est un principe constitutif des fluides (Sous ce nom
générique nous comprenons les airs et les gaz.) et que ec’est a ce
principe qu’ils doivent leur état de’expansibilité, leur élasticité,
et plusieurs autres des propriétés que nous leur connaissons.’’!°
There is no reference to a heat unit, calorie, in Lavoisier’s publiea-
tions. He defines the amount of heat in terms of the weight of ice
melted in a given experiment.

Although the early physiologists suggested the correct source of
animal heat, it is significant that they considered heat a simple
chemical reaction, as stated by Deseartes. Apparently they had
no idea of a combustion as understood in the modern sense occur-
ring in the tissues, for they did not consider the source of animal
heat in starvation. Even physiologists of 1803 like Richerand do
not consider starvation in their texts.

Lavoisier taught us the true cause of animal heat, but he could
not explain the theory as to-day because the law of the conserva-
tion of energy had not been formulated. Joule (1844) by his
masterly researches evaluated the mechanical equivalent of heat,
and largely on this basis Mayer (1845) gave expression to the law
of conservation of energy, the application of which was made by
Helmholtz. Energy cannot be destroyed or created. As even the
ancient Greek Democritus (370 B. C.) once said, ‘‘Nothing can
ever become something nor can something become nothing’’—ez
nihilo nihil fit, et in nihilum nihil potest revertt.

Dulong, Depretz, Regnault, Reiset, Pettenkofer and Voit con-
tributed considerable to the study of animal heat and in turn
helped to perfect the calorimeter. It remained for Rubner’* to

9¢¢Chaleur’’? probably would be translated thermodynamics and ‘‘du
ealorique’’ heat.

10 Lavoisier et Seguin: ‘‘ Mémoire sur la Respiration des Animaux,’’ 1789.

11 Rubner: Zeit. f. Biologie, 1883, xix, 313; 1885, xxi, 250; 1886, Sadi
40; 1894, xxx, 73.

HISTORY OF THE CALORIE 525

prove that physiological activity in the animal body is no excep-
tion to the operation of the law of conservation of energy. He
showed that chemical change is the cause of animal heat.
He discovered that the animal is a living calorimeter in which food,
when burned, changes into another form of energy. MRubner,
experimenting with dogs, measured the body’s income and output
of energy, and determined the relation of heat produced by oxida-
tion of the foodstuffs ingested to the products which are given out.
This figure he compared with the energy produced as measured by
the calorimeter and found an agreement within one per cent. This
remarkable result has since been confirmed by other investigators
who have been aided by modern methods, the refinements of which
are difficult to describe adequately. Rubner’s important conclusions
are that energy is not destroyed or created by the living organism;
that the foodstuffs are oxidized within the body in a manner simi-
lar to their oxidations in a chemical laboratory. The law of con-
servation of energy therefore applies to the animate as well as to
the inanimate world.

When calories are mentioned in nutrition, it is from the point of
view of food fuel value. The calorie value of a diet is a factor of
great importance in nutrition. Frankland (1866) was the first
to determine this for various foodstuffs by oxidizing them in a
calorimeter. He did not express the results in ‘‘calories’’ but
rather as ‘‘heat units’’ (loc. cit.) which had the same value. Stoh-
mann (1879)'? and Rubner (1883) were apparently the first to use
the term calorie as it is now applied in the science of nutrition.
Rubner made three outstanding contributions regarding the
calorie in nutrition: (1) He applied its present day meaning to
the term; (2) he determined the caloric value of protein, fat and
carbohydrate, figures which are widely used in determining the
energy content of a diet; (3) he drew the distinction between the
absolute and physiological heat values of foods. By absolute heat
value he meant the amount of heat yielded by a substance when
oxidized in a bomb calorimeter; the amount of heat produced by
the substance in question when burned within the animal body he
regarded as its physiological heat value. These values may or
may not be identical, a fact which is of fundamental importance
in the science of nutrition.

Calorie as a mere word explains nothing. It is a symbol for
an idea, however, which, as we have seen, has undergone changes
brought about by the development of several sciences. Ancient

12 Stohmann: Journ. f. prakt. Chem., 1879, xix, 115.

526 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

and hazy notions regarding the phenomenon of fire and combus-
tion first contributed to this concept, placed on a firmer foundation
by the clarifying influence of Lavoisier. The broad generalization
regarding force in nature, receiving its impression in the law of
the conservation of energy, played its réle in the evolution of the
idea and should probably be regarded as the most important factor
contributing to the development of this notion as it exists to-day.
The history of the calorie in nutrition, therefore, is wrapped up
in the history of nutrition itself and the fundamental natural
sciences upon which this branch of knowledge rests.

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 527

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS’

By Professor WILLIAM MORTON WHEELER
BUSSEY INSTITUTION, HARVARD UNIVERSITY

Lecture IV—Ants, THerr DEVELOPMENT, Castres, NESTING AND
Frepine Hasits

M

There is throughout the animal kingdom, as I believe Espinas
was the first to remark, a clear correlation on the one hand be-
tween a solitary life and carnivorous habits and on the other hand
between social habits and a vegetable diet. The beasts and birds
of prey, the serpents, sharks, spiders and the legions of predacious
insects all lead solitary lives, whereas the herbivores, rodents,
granivorous and frugivorous birds and plant-eating snails and
insects are more or less gregarious. Man himself is quite unable
to develop populous societies without becoming increasingly vege-
tarian. Compare, for example, the sparse communities of the
carnivorous Esquimaux with the teeming populations of the purely
vegetarian Hindoos. The reasons for these correlations are obvious,
for plants furnish the only abundant and easily obtainable foods
and, at least in the form of seeds and wood, the only foods that
are sufficiently stable to permit of long storage. In the previous
lectures I have shown that the social beetles and bees are strictly
vegetarian and that the social wasps, though descended from
highly predatory ancestors, are nevertheless becoming increas-
ingly vegetarian like the bees. The ants exhibit in the most strik-
inv manner the struggle between a very conservative tendency to
retain the precarious insectivorous habits of their vespine ancestors
and a progressive tendency to resort more and more to a purely
vegetable regimen as the only means of developing and maintain-
ing populous and efficient colonies. Anthropologists have dis-
tinguished in the historical development of human societies six
successive stages, designated as the hunting, pastoral, agricultural,
commercial, industrial and intellectual. Evidently the first three,
the hunting, pastoral and agricultural, are determined by the na-
ture of the food and represent an advance from a primitive, mainly
flesh-consuming to a largely vegetarian regimen. Lubbock showed
that the same three stages occur in the same sequence in the phylo-
genetic history of the ants. At the present time we are able to
give even greater precision to his outlines of this evolution.

1 Lowell Lectures.

528 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

All the primitive ants are decidedly carnivorous, that is preda-
tory hunters of other insects. That this must have been the char-
acter of the whole family during a very long period of its history
is indicated by the retention of the insectivorous habit, in a more
or less mitigated form, even in many of the higher ants. Always
striving to rear as many young as possible, always hungry and
exploring, the ants early adapted themselves to every part of their
environment. They came, in fact, to acquire two environments,
each peopled by a sufficient number of insects, arachnids, myrio-
pods, ete., to furnish a precarious food-supply. Most of the ants
learned to forage on the exposed surface of the soil and vegetation
and became what we call epigeic, or surface forms; while a smaller
number took to hunting their prey beneath the surface of the soil
and thus became hypogeic, or subterranean. Many of the latter
are very primitive but their number has been repeatedly recruited
from higher genera, which by carrying on all their activities within
the soil have found a refuge and surecease from a too strenuous
competition with the epigwic species. We have here some very
interesting cases of convergence, or parallel development, since the
underground habit has caused the workers, which rarely or never
leave their burrows, to lose their deep pigmentation and become
yellow or light brown and to become nearly or quite blind. As will
be evident in the course of my discussion, the tendency towards
vegetarianism is apparent among both the epigzic and hypogeic
forms.

The ants belonging to the oldest and most primitive subfamilies,
the Ponerine, Doryline and Cerepachyine and also to many of
the lower genera of Myrmicine, feed exclusively on insects and
therefore represent the hunting stage of human society. Owing
to the difficulty of securing large quantities of the kind of food
to which they are addicted, many of the species form small, de-
pauperate colonies, consisting of a limited number of monomorphic
workers. Many of these species lead a timid, subterranean life.
In the size of their colonies, which may comprise hundreds of thou-
sands of individuals, the Dorylinz alone constitute a striking ex-
ception, but one which proves the rule. These insects, known as
driver, army or legionary ants and very largely confined to Equa-
torial Afriea and tropical America, are strictly carnivorous, but
being nomadic and therefore foraging over an extensive territory,
are able to obtain the amount of insect food necessary to the growth
and maintenance of a huge and polymorphic population. They
are the famous ants whose intrepid armies often overrun houses
in the tropics, clear out all the vermine and compel the human
inhabitants to leave the premises for a time. In Africa they have
been known to kill even large domestic animals when they were
tethered or penned up and thus prevented from escaping.

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 529

The pastoral stage is represented by a great number of Myrmi-
cine and especially of Formicine and Dolichoderine ants which
live very largely on ‘‘honey-dew.’’ This sweet liquid, concerning
the origin of which there was much speculation among the an-
cients, is now known to be the sap of plants and to become accessible
to the ants in two ways. First, it may be excreted by the plants
from small glands or nectaries (‘‘extrafloral nectaries’’) situated
on their leaves or stems, where it is eagerly sought and imbibed
by the ants. Second, a much more abundant supply is made ac-
cessible by a great group of insects, the Phytophthora, comprising
the plant-lice, seale-insects, mealy-bugs, leaf-hoppers, psyllids, ete.,
which live gregariously on the surfaces of plants. These Phytoph-
thora pierce the integument of the plants with their slender,
pointed mouth-parts and imbibe their juices which consist of water
containing in solution cane sugar, invert sugar, dextrin and a small
_ amount of albuminous substance. In the alimentary canal of the
insects much of the cane sugar is split up to form invert sugar and
a relatively small amount of all the substances is assimilated, so
that the excrement is not only abundant but contains more invert
and less cane sugar. This excrement or honey-dew either falls
upon the leaves and is licked up by the ants or is imbibed by them
directly while it is leaving the bodies of the Phytophthora. Many
species of ants have learned how to induce the Phytophthora to
void the honey-dew by stroking them with the antenne, protect
and care for them and even to keep them in specially constructed
shelters or barns. Some ants have acquired such vested interests
in certain plant-lice that they actually collect their eggs in the
fall, keep them in the nests over winter and in the spring dis-
tribute the hatching young over the surface of the plants. Lin-
neus was therefore justified in calling the plant-lice the dairy-
cattle of the ants (‘‘hw formicarum vacce’’). This dairy business
is, in fact, carried on in all parts of the world on such a scale and
with so many species of Phytophthora that it constitutes one of the
most harmful of the multifarious activities of ants. Their irre-.
pressible habit of protecting and distributing plant-lice, scale-
insects, ete., is a source of considerable damage to many of our
cultivated plants and especially to our fruit-trees, field and garden
crops. Ants mostly attend Phytophthora on the leaves and shoots
of plants, but quite a number of species are hypogwic and devote
themselves to pasturing their cattle on the roots. Thus our com-
mon garden ant (Lasius americanus) distributes plant-lice over
the roots of Indian corn.

The habit of keeping Phytophthora was probably developed in-
dependently in many different genera, and it is easy to see how
the habit of feeding by mutual regurgitation among the ants them-
selves might have led to the behavior I have been describing. Cer-

Wol, XV .—34.

530 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tainly the genera that have developed trophallaxis among the adult
members of their colonies are the very ones which most assiduously
attend the Phytophthora. And it is equally certain that the latter
habit is very ancient, because it was already established among the
ants of the Baltic Amber during Lower Oligocene times and that,
as we have seen, was many million years ago.

The dairying habit has led to an interesting specialization in
certain species: known as ‘‘honey ants,’’? which inhabit desert re-
gions or those with long, dry summers. These ants have found it
very advantageous to store the honey dew collected during periods
of active plant growth, and as they are unable to make cells like
those of wasps and bees, have hit upon the ingenious device of using
the crops of certain workers or soldiers for the purpose. In all
ants, as we have seen, the crop is a capacious sac, but in the typical
honey ants it becomes capable of such extraordinary distention
that the abdomen of the individuals that assume the role of ani-
mated demijohns or carboys, becomes enormously enlarged and per-
fectly spherical. Such ‘‘repletes’’ (Fig. 66) are quite unable to
walk and therefore suspend themselves by their claws from the
ceilings of the nest chambers. When hungry the ordinary workers
stroke their heads and receive by regurgitation droplets of the
honey dew with which they were filled during seasons of plenty.
The condition here described, or one of less gastric distention, has
been observed in desert or xerothermal ants in very widely sepa-
rated regions and belonging to some nine different genera of
Myrmicine, Formicine and Dolichoderine (Myrmecocystus and
Prenolepis in the United States and Northern Mexico, Melophorus,
Camponotus, Leptomyrmex and Oligomyrmex in Australia, Plagio-

FIG. 66
Replete of honey ant (Myrmecocystus melliger) from Mexico. a, lateral
aspect of insect; b, head from above.

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS bol

lepis and Aéromyrma in Africa and Pheidole in Australia and the
southwestern United States).

A more direct vegetarian adaptation is seen in many Formi-
cide that inhabit the same desert or xerothermal regions as the
honey ants. In such regions insect food is at no time abundant
and is often so searce that the ants are compelled to eat the seeds
of the sparse herbaceous vegetation. At least a dozen genera, all
Myrmicine, illustrate this adaptation: Pogonomyrmex, Veromes-
sor, Novomessor and Solenopsis in America, Messor, Oxyopomyr-
mex, Goniomma, Tetramorium and Monomorium in the southern
Palearctic region, Meranoplus in the Indoaustralian, Cratomyrmex
and Ocymyrmex in the Ethiopian region and Pheidole (Fig. 57)
in the warmer parts of both hemispheres. It was at one time be-
lieved that some of these ants actually sow around their nests
the grasses and other herbaceous plants from which they gather
the seeds, but this has been disproved. They are merely collected,
husked and stored in special chambers or granaries in the more
superficial and dryer parts of the formicary. Emery has shown
that as food the proteids are preferred to the starchy portions of
the seeds and are also fed to the larve. Messor barbarus, the ant
to which Solomon refers, is one of these harvesters. Probably
none of them disdains insect food when it can be had. Neverthe-
less the adaptation to crushing hard seeds is so pronouneed in cer-
tain genera that the mandibles have become distinctly modified.
Their blades have become broader and more convex and the head
has been enlarged to accommodate the more powerful mandibular
muscles. In certain forms (Pheidole, Messor, Novomessor,
Holeomyrmex) the soldiers or major workers seem to function as
the official seed-ecrushers of the colony.

The harvesting ants can hardly be regarded as true agricul-
turists because they neither sow nor cultivate the plants from
which they obtain the seeds. Yet there is a group of ants which
may properly be described as horticultural, namely the Attiini, a
Myrmicine tribe comprising about 100 exclusively American species
and ranging from Long Island, N. Y., to Argentina, though well
represented by species only within the tropies. The tribe includes
several genera (Cyphomyrmex, Apterostigma, Sericomyrmex,
Myrmicoerypta, ete.) the species of which are small and timid and
form small colonies with monomorphie workers, while others (Atta
and Acromyrmex) are large and aggressive and form very popu-
lous colonies with extremely polymorphic workers. The Attas or
parasol ants inhabit the savannas and forests of South and Central
America, Mexico, Cuba and Texas. Their extensive excavations
result in the formation of large mounds and often cover a consid-
erable area (Fig. 67). According to Branner, a single mound of

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

532

Csojzuny “ff “S Aq yde1s0j0y )

"SUXOT, ‘BILOPIA Je (DUDrA} DIFP) JUL suTyNd-fea] UeXIT, of} JO ISON
LQ ‘oIt

4

af

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 533

the common Brazilian Atta serdens may contain as much as 265
cubic meters of earth, and the population of a colony of this species,
according to Sampaio, may number from 175,000 to 600,000 in-
dividuals. Of course, the size of the mounds varies with the depth
of the excavations, which are much shallower in the rain-forests
than in the dry savannas. From their mounds the ants make
well-worn paths through the surrounding vegetation and frequently
defoliate bushes or trees, cutting large pieces out of their leaves
and carrying them like banners to their nests. The pieces are
then cut into smaller fragments and built up on the floors of the
large nest chambers (Figs. 68 and 69) in the form of sponge-like

vollenweidert,

c

Argentinian leaf cutter, Atta

68

FIG.
Vertical section through the center of a nest of the

Carlos Bruch).

(Photograph by Dr.

showing the chambers containing the fungus gardens.

534 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

masses, which become covered with a white, mould-like fungus
mycelium (Figs. 70 and 71). The latter is treated in some un-
known manner by the smallest, exclusively hypogeic caste of work-
ers, so that the hyphe produce abundant clusters of small, spheri-
cal dwellings, the bromatia (Fig. 72), which are eaten by the ants
and fed to their larve. Each species of Attiine ant cultivates its
own particular fungus and no other is permitted to grow in the
nest. That the bromatia are really anomalous growths induced

FIG. 69

Portion of nest of Atta vollenweideri shown in Fig. 68,

Bruch. )

ed to show the sponge-like fungus-

(Photograph by Dr. Carlos

more enlarg

About one eighth natural size .

gardens im situ in the chambers.

EE

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 535

by the ants is indicated by the fact that they do not appear when
the fungus is grown in isolation on artificial media. Alfred Moel-

FIG. 70
Portion of fungus garden of the Texan leaf-cutting ant (Atta texana). About
one half natural size.

FIG. 71
Fungus garden built in a Petri dish by a colony of Apterostigma in British
Guiana. Natural size. (Photograph by Mr. Tee-Van.)

536 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

FIG. 72
Modified mycelium (bromatium) of fungus cultivated by the Argentinian
Moellerius heyeri. The globular swellings of the hyphz are produced by the
ants. (After Carlos Bruch.)

ler, who was the first to cultivate these fungi, regarded them as
belonging to the Agarics and named one of them Rozites gongylo-
phora. Wither the ants prevent the mushrooms from appearing,
or, more probably the subterranean conditions under which the
mycelium is cultivated are unfavorable to their development.
Moeller was also unable to obtain the mushrooms in his cultures,
but found those of Rozites growing on the surface of an aban-
doned Acromyrmex nest. That the fungi cultivated by the various
Attiini belong to several different genera is shown by Bruch and
Spegazzini who have recently been able to identify the mushrooms
of the fungi cultivated by several Argentinian Attimi. Acromyr-
mex lundi, e. 2. cultivates Vylaria micrura Speg., Moellerius heyert,
Poroniopsis bruchi Speg. and Atta vollenweideri, a gigantic Agaric,
Locellina Mazzuchu Spee. (Fig. 73).

The lower genera of the Attiini differ in many particulars from
such highly specialized forms as Atta and Acromyrmex. Their
nests are smaller and there are differences in the gardens and the
substratum, or substances on which the fungi are grown. The
species of Trachymyrmex suspend the garden from the ceiling of
the nest chamber instead of building it on the floor, and in some
species of Apterostigma it is enclosed in a spherical envelope of
dense mycelium, so that, except for its larger size, it much resem-
bles the silken egg-case of a spider. These ants and others, such as
Cyphomyrmex and Myrmicoerypta, use the excrement of other
insects, especially of caterpillars, as a substratum for the gardens,
and one species, Cyphomyrmex rimosus, cultivates a very peculiar
funeus (Tyridiomyces formicarum Wheeler), which does not grow

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 537

FIG. 73
a, Locellina Maszzuchii the gigantic fruiting phase (pileus 30 to 42 cm. in
diameter!) of the fungus cultivated by the Argentinian leaf-cutting ant (Atta
vollenweideri) ; b, section of same; c, basidia; d, spores. (After C. Speg-
gazzini. )

in the form of a mycelium but of isolated, compact bodies, resem-
bling little pieces of American cheese, and consisting of yeast-
like cells. The same or a very similar fungus is grown by the
species of Mycocepurus.

How do all these Attiine ants come into possession of the various
fungi which they cultivate with such consummate skill. The ques-
tion is, of course, twofold, since we should like to know how the
individual colony obtains its fungus and how the ancestors of the
existing Attiini first acquired the fungus-growing habit. The
former question has been answered by the very interesting investi-
gations of Sampaio, H. von Ihering, J. Huber and Goeldi on the
Brazilian Atta sexdens and of Bruch on the Argentinian Acromyr-
mex lundi. The virgin queen of these species, before leaving the
parental nest for her marriage flight, takes a good meal of fungus.
The hyphex, together with the strigil sweepings from her own body
and, according to Bruch, also some particles of the substratum,
are packed into her infrabuccal pocket, where they form a large
pellet, which she retains till she has mated, thrown off her wings
and made a small chamber for herself in the soil. She then casts
the pellet on the floor of the chamber where its hyphe begin to
proliferate in the moist air and draw their nutriment from the
extraneous materials with which they are mingled (Fig. 744).
The queen carefully watches the incipient garden and accelerates
its growth by manuring it with her feces (C and D). She begins
to lay eggs (Fig. 76 A) and even breaks up some of them and adds
them to the garden, which soon becomes large enough to form a
kind of nest for the intact and developing eggs (Fig. 74 B to F).

538 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The young larve on hatching proceed to eat the mycelium and
eventually pupate and emerge as small workers, which break
through the soil, bring in pieces of leaves and add them to the
garden. The care of the latter then devolves on the workers and
the queen henceforth devotes herself to laying eggs. The colony
is now established and its further development is merely a matter
of enlarging the nest, multiplying the gardens and increasing the
population. Thus Atta and Acromyrmex transmit their food-
plants from generation to generation in a very simple manner,
that is, merely by the queen’s retaining, till she has established her
nest chamber, the infrabuccal pellet consisting of her last meal
in the colony in which she was reared. And there is every reason

FIG. 74
Stages in the development of the fungus garden by the queen of the Argen-
tinian Moellerius hyeri. A, pellet of substratum 36 hours after its ejection
from the queen’s infrabuccal pocket. The hyphe have begun to grow. B,
same pellet after 3 days, with 4 eggs; C, same pellet after 8 days, showing
droplets of feces with which the queen manures the hyphe. D, same pellet
after 12 days, also showing droplets of feces; E, small fungus garden after 30
days, with 32 eggs; F, same after 40 days. The magnification of all the figures
is very nearly 10 diameters. (Photographs by Dr. Carlos Bruch.)

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 539

BGs. 75
A, an infrabuccal pellet of the queen Moellerius heyeri after cultivation for 36
hours on gelatine. X1o. B, eggs and pellets made of filter paper by a queen
Moellerius heyeri that had failed to develop a fungus garden. X1o. (Photo-
graph by Dr. Carlos Bruch.)

to suppose that the same method of transmitting the fungus from
the maternal to the daughter colonies is practiced by all the other
genera of the tribe.

Of course, the answer to the question as to how the ancestors
of the Attiini acquired their food-fungi in the first place must
be purely conjectural. Yet certain observation by Professor I. W.
Bailey and myself seem to indicate from what simple beginnings
the elaborate fungus-growing habits may have been evolved. An
examination of the infrabueeal pellets of the most diverse ants
shows that in nearly every case they contain fungus spores or
pieces of mycelium collected from the surfaces of their bodies or
from the walls of the nest. Moreover, many ants have a habit of
casting their pellets on the refuse heaps, or kitchen-middens of their
nests, and Professor Bailey finds that in the case of certain African

540 THK SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

FIG. 76
Behavior of the queen of Moellerius heyeri. A, photographed in the act of
laying an egg. The incipient fungus garden in which the egg will be placed is
shown to the left resting on the floor of the nest chamber; B, queen placing
an egg in the fungus garden which is sticking to the glass wall of the artificial
nest. C, queen photographed in the act of placing a droplet of feces in the
fungus garden. Magnification 5 diameters. (Photographs by Dr. Carlos

Bruch. )

SOCIAL LIFE AMONG THE INSECTS 541

DIGS 77.
Two friendly queens of Moellerius heyeri caring for a single incipient fungus
garden, which is adhering to the glass wall of the artificial nest X5. (Photo-
graph by Dr. Carlos Bruch.)

Crematogasters that live in the moist cavities of plants (Plectronia,
Cuviera) the refuse heaps consist very largely of such ejected pellets
and produce a luxuriant growth of aérial hyphe which are cropped
by the ants. From such a condition it is, perhaps, only a short
step to the establishment of small gardens consisting at first of
the pellets and later of these and accumulations of extraneous ma-
terials, such as the feces of the ants, those of caterpillars and beetles,
vegetable detritus, ete., which might serve to enlarge the substratum
and increase the growth of the fungus. The selection of particular
species of fungi and their careful culture and transmission are
evidently specializations that must have been established before
the stages represented by even the most primitive existing Attiimi
could have been attained.

Whatever may have been the processes whereby the ancestral
Attiini developed the fungus-growing habit, it must have originated
in the more humid portions of the tropics, since nearly all the more
primitive species of the tribe are still confined to the rain-forests.
But certain species soon found that by sinking their galleries and
chambers to a greater depth in the soil they could easily carry on
their fungus farming even in arid regions. Thus some species of
Moellerius, Trachymyrmex and Cyphomyrmex have come to live
in the dry deserts of Arizona, New Mexico and northern Mexico,
and as they can always find in such localities enough vegetable ma-
terial for the substrata of their gardens, they have attained to a
eontrol of their environment and food-supply, which even the hu-
man inhabitants of those regions might envy.

542 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE MARINE FISHERIES, THE STATE AND
THE BIOLOGIST

By WILL F. THOMPSON

ANY of the great marine fisheries of the world lie within the
M jurisdiction of more than a single sovereign country. The
great North Sea fisheries, those of the Grand Banks, the salmon
fisheries of the Fraser River (now nearly extinet), and the halibut
fisheries of the North Pacific might be cited as examples. It would
seem that this divided ownership has reacted most disastrously upon
their care. Responsibility seems in such cases to be simply lost,
not divided, and the net effect is that no one cares to saerifice his
own interests to maintain the fishery for the benefit of all. The
splendid scientific work done in the North Sea contrasts vividly
with the relative futility of the movement to conserve the vanishing
bottom fisheries there by regulatory laws. There is simply no ma-
chinery capable of overriding the selfish interests of the few in each
country, supplemented as it always is by the general suspicion one
nation seems to think it necessary to have of every other nation.

The case seems far more hopeful, where there is no division
of authority. And in many of our great states fisheries exist which
are entirely under the legal control of a single state government.

That is true in California, where there is not a single fishery
common to both its own water and the waters of another state or
country save of the sparsely inhabited desert of Lower California,
to whose less exploited fisheries vessels often go from Southern
California ports. There is thus no possibility of shirking respon-
sibility—the eare of its fisheries devolves upon California alone by
virtue of the Constitution of the United States and of its geograph-
ical position. No question of nationalism can be involved, only
that of sectionalism. As a result, the failure to conserve the
fisheries for the people of the entire state can result only from
faulty organization of public opinion and the lack of real proof
of the necessity of conservation.

The securing of this proof of the condition of the fisheries has
in California, as everywhere else, been recognized as a legitimate
funetion of the responsible government, and the proper execution
of that function is vital to the success of any popular movement
toward conservation. Unlike the forests and the mines, private
ownership has never been granted in the fisheries, save in the case

MARINE FISHERIES 543

of oysters and those of certain fresh waters, and for that reason
aroused popular opinion is entirely likely to control in the end. But
powerful interests have grown up who will vigorously object to
curtailment of their activities. Something tantamount to legal
proof is necessary before what seems to them confiscation may be
indulged in. And they have in the past shown a vitality which
augurs ill for any but well-based movements toward conservation.

The general policy of conservation is, moreover, largely sup-
ported by men among the public who are not trained scientists
and do not know the value of evidence. Their conclusions as to
the existence of depletion may carry weight where, as in the case
of birds and mammals, any honest man may observe conditions
with his own eyes, and where powerful interests are not placed in
jeopardy. But in the marine fisheries this is not true, for the fish
are not easily observed and the evidence must come from statistical
proof of comprehensive character. Under such circumstances the
ery of conservation, raised hysterically and hastily, as is done even
by scientists at times, must in the long run lead to failure and the
injury of the cause at stake. And measures of regulation or re-
striction passed in response to pleas made on an insecure basis
must in the end fail to justify themselves. So the acquirement of
real knowledge, while a protection to the men legitimately engaged
in exploitation, is equally such to the cause of conservation itself,
for it should not only prevent this lack of balance and undue regu-
lation, but it should prevent the growth of interests which must
later be curtailed.

This necessity of knowledge was acknowledged by the fishery
authorities of the State of California when they instituted the
present system of observing the fisheries. Their action in this re-
gard was based on the following facts: First, that enough ac-
curate knowledge already exists to prove the susceptibility of marine
fisheries in general to overfishing; second, that proof is required
in the case of each individual fishery, and that there is no way
of knowing the strain a species will stand save by submitting it
to one; third, that such a course of action implies the duty of the
state to maintain a constant and intelligent ward over its fisheries ;
and finally, that such a ward is possible and that it implies con-
tinuous and prolonged statistical and biological investigations.

In regard to the first point, the existence of proof that marine
fisheries are exhaustible, we must turn to the oldest and best known
of fisheries, namely those in North European seas. Contrary to
the opinions of many, these great fisheries cannot justifiably be
called ancient. The use of steam vessels began in 1880; the otter
trawl first came into use in 1895, laying open to exploitation the
depths of the ocean below fifty fathoms; while the means of mar-

544 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

keting and the extent of the demand increased equally with the
recent great industrial expansion. The latter involved the de-
velopment of railroads, the refrigeration of food products, the use
of cans for their preservation, fast steamships to carry them, the
growth of city life as a market, ete. Meanwhile, as cited by Jen-
kins (‘‘The Sea Fisheries,’’ 1920) as an illustration of the trend of
the times, the number of fishing vessels in the port of Aberdeen,
Seotland, increased 258 per cent. in the period 1897-19038, and ac-
cording to the estimate of the same authority, agreeing with that
of others, the efficiency of each steam trawler of to-day exceeds
eight times that of the sailing trawler it displaced (aside from the
independence the steamer has of weather and distance). The
fisheries in other parts of the world are still more recent,
and show the same great increase in apparatus although
not necessarily in ecateh. If these facts are considered, it is im-
possible to doubt that, unless civilization comes to an abrupt pause,
with the destruction of our highly developed transportation and
of our industrialism which builds towns and markets, we are on
the brink of an era of exploitation of our fisheries, and not at the
erest of such an era. And the existence of overfishing now be-
comes a serious problem, for if the fisheries do show depletion, it is
indeed a serious question whether they will, even in their more
stable parts, survive the coming strain. Faith in our destiny and
that of the world implies care of our resources of fish.

That they do show depletion in certain fisheries is now proved.
The most clearly ascertained instances at present are those of the
bottom fisheries. Thus the halibut in both the Atlantic and the
Pacific has decreased with great rapidity. But the bottom fisheries
of the North Sea for plaice and other allied species are, as Gar-
stang (‘‘The Impoverishment of the Sea,’’ 1900) says, “‘not only
exhaustible, but in rapid and continuous process of exhaustion.’’
This conclusion has been seconded and supported by men who have,
in the various countries around the North Sea, actually had the
examination of the statistics in their care, as Heincke, Fulton,
Thompson and others, such as Jenkins and Allen. And if these
bottom fisheries already show exhaustion, since they are more sta-
tionary, are most highly valued, and were first sought for, it is
not to be expected that ‘‘pelagic’’ fish will show otherwise upon
the imposition of greater strain, even though they are more abun-
dant. But in this connection, it must, indeed, be remembered that
there is no accurate means of determining whether pelagic fish
actually are more abundant than other fish in the ocean—although
we do know that the cod and the herring, for instance, are not
numberless, as some estimates have made them.

Aeainst such a view there has been urged the objection that

MARINE FISHERIES 545

the fisheries seem to be prospering and to be continuing on a firm
basis. That fact may be granted, however, without conflicting with
the above conclusions. It may be admitted that the total yield of
the fisheries does not everywhere seem to decline, but it can be
proved that continuously greater toil is required to obtain it. That
this decreasing yield for the effort involved does not attract more
attention should be understandable when it is considered that the
cost of catching fish is but a fraction of the cost of distribution.
Thus the fisherman may receive eight cents per pound where the
retailer asks forty cents, and doubling the fisherman’s price would
add but a fifth to the retailer’s price. The cost of obtaining the
fish could be multiplied many fold without seriously affecting the
final price to the consumer. The latter is, moreover, willing to
pay high prices for a product to which he has become accustomed,
and the rarer it is the more he will pay. The increase in initial
cost does not seem, in fact, to be of the greatest importance.
There is also this fact to be taken into consideration, that there
are influences which actually counteract the effect of increasing
scarcity in raising the initial cost. The accompaniments of that
intensified exploitation which results in depletion are the constant
broadening of the fishing grounds, the inclusion of more than one
species of fish and of inferior quality in the catch of the boats,
the development of means of preservation, the constant improve-
ment of gear and the increase in quantity of apparatus. All these
things tend to eliminate the great and sudden fluctuations in
amount of yield which are characteristic of fisheries confined to one
species or one locality. These variations in yield render the ex-
ploitation of the fisheries expensive and uncertain because the
periods of abundance must be made to pay interest upon the capital
and to maintain the organization during periods of scarcity. Their
elimination as a result of intense fishing undoubtedly does reduce
the cost of fish to the consumer, perhaps to the extent that for a
while the influence of depletion in raising the initial cost will not
be felt.
But in the end that very fact may defeat the natural safeguard
which should protect a species, namely, the lack of profit in carry-
ing on a fishery when it comes dangerously near to exhaustion. It
becomes possible to prolong a fishery because other species are
taken; the by-product becomes the mainstay of the business and
the depleted species is kept under a strain for which it could not
itself pay. If it were not for cod, perhaps the halibut fishery of
Iceland might have long since collapsed; and if it were not for the
cheaper round fishes, the flat fishes in the North Sea might be pur-
sued far less rigorously. On the Pacifie coast, the tuna and sardine

Vol. XV.—35.

546 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

fishery of California may have been of considerable assistance to
the albacore fishery. In fact, the objection often raised to the pos-
sibility of over-fishing that the fisheries are prospering and that
they would immediately cease to prosper should depletion occur is
not a valid one. But that they would ultimately fail as a result of
over-fishing seems sure.

Another basis for scepticism as to the reality of the fact of pos-
sible exhaustion has been the seeming boundlessness of the sea and
its resources. But every fisherman knows that the areas within
which fish of a given species are found are very limited, perhaps
less so in the eases of ‘‘pelagic’’ fishes than in those of ‘‘demersal,’’
vet highly limited nevertheless. And the scientist will testify to
the sharp limitations which temperature, depth, salinity and eur-
rents place upon every species, so that it is in reality only a very
small part of the ocean which yields our commercial fishes. They
are, in facet, limited largely to the area of the coastal regions or
the continental shelf, where there is drainage from the land, and
to comparatively small parts of that shelf. In so far as this pro-
ductive area is concerned, Gran and others have remarked that it
corresponds in general with the distribution of the minute plankton
organisms which are vastly more abundant where coastal water is
found; and upon these plankton organisms fish must necessarily
exist in the final analysis. And even where conditions are thus
favorable, and the fisheries are highly developed, as in the North
Sea, Allen (‘‘Food from the Sea,’’ 1917) estimates that an acre
yields but fifteen pounds of fish per year while pasture land yields
seventy-three pounds of beef. In accordance with these facts the
experiments which have been made in marking fish and observing
the frequency of recapture have shown that the fishermen are able
to take, and do take, a very high percentage of the bottom fish in
the North Sea. What they do with other fish, such as the herring
and the sardine, or in any other regions, is for the most part un-
known. It is therefore a mistake to assume that the resources of
the sea are inexhaustible, or that over-fishing characterizes small
areas easily replenished from without.

There is, indeed, no manner of gauging in advance the product-
ivity of the ocean, in so far as edible fish are concerned. It is in
the first place obvious to students of the matter that the amount
of food present for fishes does not determine abundance, any more
than the amount of grass did determine the abundance of the buf-
falo on our plains, or of deer in our forests. But it is certain that
the rate of reproduction varies widely, and with it the relative
resistance to depletion of the species of fish. Such matters as egg
production, length of life, varying mortality at different stages and
time of sexual maturity must all be taken into account, together

MARINE FISHERIES 547

with the sharp limitations provided by climatic and geographical
conditions. Moreover, the relative amount of competition for the
available food is unknown, although we do know that the com-
mercial fishes are probably but a small part of the population to
be supported by the sea. And even if the abundance of the species
were a gauge to its resistance to a strain—which it does not neces-
sarily have to be—there is thus far no method of accurately ascer-
taining the abundance of any one species of fish or of all together
save within limited areas of the ocean. It seems, indeed, that there
is no method of measuring the amount of fishing a species will
stand save by submitting it to a strain.

The only hint which can be obtained concerning the limits of
the fisheries in California come from a comparison of the pro-
ductive area with that of the North Sea, where the bottom fisheries
show decline. It is, however, very hard to define the productive
area, save by the width of the continental shelf. The area within
the one hundred fathom line in the North Sea is approximately
130,000 squares miles (nautical), while off the coast of California
it is about 7,500 square miles. In the former ease this area is about
300 miles wide and 450 long, but in California the average width
is but 8.4 miles, much of this rocky or unsuitable for bottom fishes.
In this connection it must be recollected that, as cited above, Gran
and other authorities regard the presence of coastal water with
land drainage in it as essential to the production of abundant
planktonic life. Such water is abundant off the coast of Europe,
but the California coast is more arid in nature, especially the south-
ern portion. However, the great fisheries of California are of the
‘‘nelagic’’ type, regarding which such speculation may be limited
in value. Nevertheless, it is probably safe to say, when all is taken
into consideration, that these fisheries are far more limited in pro-
portion to length of coast line than is the case in the North Sea,
and hence much more susceptible to overfishing.

As has been said above, the possibility and actuality of over-
fishing have been definitely proved, yet it seems true that there-is
no arbitrary limit which can be economically assigned to any
fishery. It would be indeed sheer waste to impose a limit below
what might be safely taken and the alternative is plain, to allow
the imposition of all the strain the species will carry. It is, asa
matter of fact, the only politically practical course of action, at
the same time being the correct one from the scientifie stand-
point.

But it must not be forgotten that the acceptance of such a
fact implies the serious duty of close observation and prompt ac-
tion, in ease of overfishing, by the government in control. That is

548 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

clearly recognized by the fishery authorities of California and is
the mainspring of their actions.

These things having been recognized as true, it followed that
a careful survey of measures necessary for such observations was
in order, and this has been made in so far as possible. For such
purposes the great mass of literature published by the various
countries around the North Sea was available, especially that issued
by the ‘‘Conseil Permanent International pour 1’Exploration de
la Mer,’’ or inspired by it. It soon became evident that it was
impossible for the State of California to undertake the many lines
of general inquiry into the varying conditions of the sea and its
life which had been investigated more or less by these European
countries. That would have been tunnelling the mountain by re-
moving it in its entirety. It was necessary for the state to limit
its efforts to those fields which had been shown to bear directly on
the ascertainment of the condition of the fisheries; namely, the
measurement of the variance in abundance of the fishes in the sea,
the effects of fishing upon it and the biological criteria of over-
fishing. A eareful perusal of much of the hydrographic and
planktonic work demonstrated its remoteness from the work in
hand despite its undoubtedly great ultimate value, and showed
that most of the immediate questions could be solved to the re-
quired degree without their aid. There were necessary certain
biological studies upon the fishes themselves, but above all a statis-
tical study of the fisheries and the fish.

This method of approach, as Johan Hjort has most appropri-
ately said of a certain phase of it, is regarding the study of the
fisheries in a similar light to the study of the vital statistics of
mankind. It involves primarily the taking of what amounts to a
comparative census from year to year in order to test the relative
abundanece—not the actual abundance—of fish; then to determine
whether such great fluctuations as appear are due to natural
causes or to overfishing.

For this program, the legislature of the state has passed laws
taxing the fisheries industries fifty cents per ton of raw fish used
for canning, and has definitely specified the duty of the agents of
the state. It is unnecessary to give the details of these laws, but
something as to their operation will be of use.

Every commercial transaction involving the first sale of fish is
accompanied by the giving of a receipt by the buyer upon a form
issued by the fish and game commission and of this receipt one copy
is returned to the commission and another kept by the dealer.
There are, therefore, actual records of all fish taken for profit,
according to the boat and to the day. This unique system has been
most successful in its operation for the last three years, avoiding

“

MARINE FISHERIES 549

what we now know were widely erroneous estimates in statistics;
while the fresh fish dealer has frequently for the first time a record
of his own dealings. The results obtained have continuity, and
are in such detail that market conditions, changes in apparatus or
fishing fleets, ete., may be readily discounted. So every commer-
cial fishing boat becomes in effect a means of testing the abundance
of fish, and it is possible to segregate the effects of scarcity of fish
from the effects of those economic changes which alter the total
yield. This appears the necessary procedure from the experience
of investigators in the North Sea, and is preferable to the limited
experimental fishing which is possible. We do, in fact, feel con-
fident that we will have a relatively accurate and sensitive record
of the variations in abundance of fish in the ocean, when studied
in connection with biological facts.

This scientific collection of statistics is the starting point and
the foundation for further investigations. The interpretation of
the evidence drawn therefrom is the duty of the biologists engaged
by the commission; for the great fluctuations in abundance of fish
which may be shown must be analyzed and their true nature dis-
eovered. Such natural fluctuations are very likely to be mistaken
for depletion from overfishing; or, perhaps, if of opposite trend,
as a contradiction of any theory of overfishing when they are in
truth, as we have said, due to natural causes, and depletion may
exist despite the temporary obliteration of the evidence. There
must, as a consequence, be developed and utilized those biological
criteria which distinguish depletion due to excessive fishing. The
biological knowledge necessary for the use and formulation of such
eriteria includes among other things the determination of age, the
discovery of migrations and in so far as possible the correlation
of abundance with natural physical conditions. One may justi-
fiably call it ecology on a vast scale. Granted a fair knowledge of
these criteria, it is not exceeding the reasonable to hope that the
fishery authorities will be able to give warning when depletion is
occurring—and, indeed, unless a degree of confidence can be placed
in the competency of the work, the exploitation of the fisheries
should not be allowed to proceed freely, nor can freedom be had
from the constant fear of ruthless exploitation.

There is, in addition, a need on the part of legislators for com-
petent data upon which measures of regulation may be based.
The imposition of arbitrary and reckless restrictions should be
prevented by the acquisition of proper knowledge as soon as pos-
sible. At present many of our fishery laws are untenable from a
scientific standpoint, save in so far as they actually operate to re-
duee the take. And even if it be said that legislatures will not
take proper action, it would be a defeatist’s attitude to take to

500 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

fail to provide them proper knowledge upon which they might take
action. There are a great many legislators who will act along the
line of their best knowledge, and more who will respond to intelli-
gent pressure on the part of the public.

In thus accepting conservation as a major policy because of
its dependence upon the legal powers of the state, the program
adopted in California has not been oblivious of the fact that the
work for that purpose has a very definite bearing upon some of the
greatest problems of exploitation. As an example, the abundance
of fish is subject to great natural fluctuations beyond the control
of man. The return from the fisheries vary greatly from day to
day, from season to season, and from year to year. The resultant
waste is an exaggerated case of the same kind which the electrical
engineer meets when he is faced with the ‘‘peak load’’ er maxi-
mum use of electricity during a short period each day. Just as
apparatus must be available to carry this ‘‘peak load,’’ so must
the fish canners or dealers maintain the machinery and organiza-
tion for brief periods of maximum supply and longer ones of
scarcity as well as variations in demand which are disconcerting
both to the dealers and consumers. The meat packers, their rivals,
need not do this. The understanding of these fluctuations so that
regularly recurring ones may be expected, others foretold and
provision made to meet or avoid them, is without doubt one of the
most neglected functions of government scientists. The proper
study of depletion necessitates just such an understanding of these
changes as will serve the industry.

It must be acknowledged that in adopting such a program, in-
stalling such a system of statistics and founding a California state
fisheries laboratory at San Pedro to care for the biological science
of the subject, the state of California is experimenting. It still
remains to be seen whether popular support will be rendered the
project, either on the part of scientific men or the general public.
The field seems to be one in which the scientist, particularly the
biologist, should weleome a chance to show how his work can be
applied to the needs of humanity ; but, aside from this, basic prin-
ciples of animal life and behavior are really involved to such an
extent as to satisfy the most academic of men and are attacked
with the aid of vast masses of material unobtainable through any
other source than the commercial fisheries. On the part of the
public, it would seem that only a failure to understand or lack of
faith in the competency of the work could lead to lack of support.

It is sincerely to be hoped that this effort to approach the prob-
lems of conservation upon a rational and well-balanced basis will
meet with the reception its sincerity deserves.

DE ANOPLURIS 5oL

DE ANOPLURIS

By Professor G. F. FERRIS
STANFORD UNIVERSITY

HE distinguished professor had attained some portion of his

distinction by reason of years of work spent upon a

small and little studied group of insects. His wife and small

daughter chanced into his laboratory one day and discovered

a student examining one of these insects through a microscope.

The small daughter demanded a look and then came the inevitable
question, ‘‘ What is that?’’

‘‘That,’’ said the unsophisticated student, ‘‘is a louse.’’

There was a moment of pained silence and then came the gentle
but unmistakable rebuke from the professor’s wife, ‘‘We always
eall them Anoplura.’’

Now these very insects are the subject of my present discourse
and lest I again offend the delicate sensibilities of any one I have
disguised my intentions by a title to which not even the most
fastidious should be able to take exception. To be sure it means
the same thing as something else that might have been used, but
after all there 7s something in the name by which a thing is called.
Even the scratching soldier, from whom one would least expect
any delicacy in such matters, conceals the identity of these insects
under the euphemistic titles of ‘‘seam squirrels’’ and ‘‘cooties.’’
That the deference thus accorded them reduces in the slightest
degree the frequency or the painfulness of their attentions may be
doubted, but at least the victim is enabled thereby to retain a bit
more of the shreds of his self-respect.

In fact under the name of ‘‘cooties’’ these insects may quite
properly become a subject even of parlor conversation. The word
carries a faintly humorous connotation. One may without risk of
immediate social ostracism speak of the great wads of hair that
girls wear over their ears as ‘‘cootie coops.’’ True, such an ex-
pression might not be looked upon with favor in the most refined
circles, but we need only reflect upon what would happen were
the wording changed a bit to see what a concession has been gained
for it to be used at all.

It is perhaps a fortunate thing that this has happened, for even
entomologists, who should have put all squeamishness behind them,
have been more or less reticent in speaking of these particular

552 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

insects. The remark of an author writing in 1842 that ‘‘in the
progress of this work, however, the author has had to contend with
repeated rebukes from his fellows for entering upon the illustra-
tion of a tribe of insects whose very name was sufficient to create
feelings of disgust’’ might almost be justified to-day. In fact, m
a rather recent entomological book it is said that ‘‘from their
habits lice are not popular insects even for entomologists to take
up,’’ and certainly the amount of attention they have received has
never been large.

Yet I confess to being a student of these insects and I do so
without hesitation and without apologies. Not to me are they
merely ‘‘disgusting parasites.’’ Not to me is the term ‘‘louse
man,’’ with which my botanical and chemical and even entomo-
logical acquaintances, with a misguided sense of humor, see fit to
address me, a term of reproach. For, know you, there are very
few who can merit it, scarcely more than half a dozen men in all
the world in fact. To us it is a title of distinction, an evidence that
we few have been able to avoid the well-beaten paths of the butter-
fiy and beetle hunters and strike out into a but little explored
country. For us it is a country of much interest and—dare I say
it?—even of some beauty. And it is my hope that in these pages
I may lead others to see in these disgusting parasites, these cooties,
some of the things that we, their devotees, are able to see.

For a proper understanding of these parasites, these lice, as I
shall not hesitate henceforth to eall them, it should be explained
that there are really two quite different sorts of them. One sort,
known as the bird lice or the biting lice, is found chiefly on birds,
although there are a few species on mammals, while all the species
of the other sort, the sucking lice, occur on mammals. There is a
very great difference in the manner by which the species of these
two groups obtain their food. The biting lice feed by biting off and
chewing up bits of hair or feathers or skin seales while the sucking
lice feed by inserting their beaks through the skin and sucking
up the blood of their host. Such a difference in habit is a very
important thing, for with it is most intimately bound up the matter
of the potentialities of the insects for harm to the animal upon
whieh they live.

It is now a firmly established and generally recognized fact that
many of the most important diseases of man and of other animals
as well are transmitted by insects. In by far the majority of cases
the insects concerned are forms that live upon blood, that actually
pierce the skin of the animal upon which they feed. Thus in feed-
ing upon successive individuals these insects may transfer disease-
producing organisms from one individual to another. This poten-

DE ANOPLURIS 553

Oo

tiality for evil is inherent in every blood-sucking form, and its pos-
sibilities are realized to a high degree in those blood-sucking lice
that live upon man, the familiar ‘‘cooties’’ of the war period.

Under the conditions that usually prevail in armies it is impos-
sible for soldiers to keep themselves free from these insects. Thus
it was that certain diseases which are transmitted by the lice be-
came especially prevalent during the late war. Typhus and trench
fever are transmitted by lice, and as far as known only by lice,
and the measures for the control of these diseases were directed
chiefly against their insect carriers. The tremendous losses due
to these diseases undoubtedly had a profound effect upon the fight-
ing strength of the various armies. Who can say to what extent
the course of the war may have been influenced by them?

There are a few other diseases of man that are known to be
carried by lice, and they have been suspected of carrying several
others. It is known also that an epidemic disease of certain small
Asiatic rodents is transmitted by the sueking louse that occurs
upon these animals, and it is highly probable that there are many
other cases of the same sort.

On the other hand the biting lice, although far exceeding the
sucking lice in numbers of species, are not known to be the carriers
of any diseases. If they are abundant upon their host they may
cause injury merely by the irritation of their crawling about or
by the matting of the hairs or feathers to which their eggs are glued.
Otherwise they are of no concern to their host.

But however important and interesting this connection of lice
with the transmission of disease may be it is not the only thing
about them that is worthy of consideration. This connection with
disease is simply a fact, and after all facts are not always as inter-
esting as theories, even though they may be more important. Any
one should be able to travel the plain and open road of fact, but
there is more pleasure in the narrow and devious trail of theory
that occasionally takes the traveler up into the high places—and
threatens always to lead him into a bog from which the utmost
of mental agility may not be sufficient to extricate him! The most
interesting thing about lice is not these highly important facts of
hygiene. It is that they may be made to yield a contribution to
biological theory.

The starting point of this contribution is the fact that by far
the majority of all the different species of lice, both of the biting
and sucking groups, are found upon a single species of animal or
at the most upon a few very closely related species. It is a curious
fact that although horses and cattle and sheep have for many hun-
dreds of years been in close contact in their stables each has re-

554 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tained its particular kinds of lice. There are at least four species
of lice upon domestic cattle, but these do not occur upon horses
or sheep. There are at least three kinds upon sheep, but none of
these has been taken from horses or cattle. There are at least two
kinds on horses, but neither of these has been taken from eattle or
sheep.

These instaaces may be paralleled by many others. The in-
ference is obvious. It is evident that under normal conditions each
species of louse ‘‘prefers’’ to feed upon a particular kind of ani-
mal. In other words it is adapted to feed upon the blood or epi-
dermal structures of this particular host and does not find the
blood or the epidermal structures of another kind of host a suitable
food. Furthermore these insects are very reluctant to leave their
host and even after its death may be found clinging to the hairs or
feathers. Under experimental conditions lice have been fed upon
animals very different from those upon which they normally live,
and it is true that sometimes under natural conditions they may be
found upon an animal on which they do not belong. Still this does
not change the fact that usually each species of louse sticks pretty
closely to a certain kind of animal, passing from one individual to
another in the nest or at mating time. Thus it is that the parasites
are in a way inherited by the young from their parents—heirlooms,
if I may be pardoned an atrocious pun.

The next fact of interest is that the same species of louse may
be found upon distinct but closely related species of birds or mam-
mals in widely separated parts of the world. Thus we have upon
the kingfisher in North America a louse that is the same as one on
a kingfisher in Egypt. Another species is found upon various
species of hawks throughout the world. Another is found on seals
in both the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans. Another is found on
ground squirrels in Siberia and in North America.

Now all these animals are so widely separated that certainly
it is impossible for the louse of the African kingfisher to transfer
directly to the North American kingfisher or for the louse of the
Atlantic seal to transfer directly to the Pacific seal or for a trans-
fer to take place in any one of the many other cases of this sort
that might be mentioned. Then how has the parasite managed to
get upon both of its widely separated hosts?

There are enough facts of this character to demand some at-
tempt at a logical explanation. There must be a reason for them.
If we remember that these parasites are normally passed down
from one generation to another as a sort of racial inheritance and
if we follow far enough the train of reasoning that is thus initiated
we can not but conclude that at some time this African kingfisher

DE ANOPLURIS 559

and the North American kingfisher, or the North American ground
squirrel and the Siberian ground squirrel, or the members of any
such pairs as we may name, were together as a single species. We
have a set of facts that can not reasonably be explained unless we
accept the theory of evolution. The conclusion is inevitable that
at some time these kingfishers, or whatever they may be, had a
common ancestor and that the shifting of land masses or climates
or some other cause has left part of the descendants in one corner
of the world and some in another and that there by various evo-
lutionary processes they have become sufficiently different to be
recognizable as different species.

One of the most remarkable examples of the working out of such
a change is that of the llama and the camel. The paleontologists
tell us that at one time there were many more species of camels
and camel-like animals than there are now and that these animals
first appeared in the New World. At the present time, however,
the only remaining representatives of this group are the llamas of
South America and the camels of Asia and Africa. Yet, sepa-
rated by half the world—these cousins, or forty-second cousins,
still show their relationship and their common ancestry not only
in their bedily structure but in their parasites as well, for on both
there is found the same species of louse.

We can extend the list of facts much farther and still the answer
of common ancestry is the only reasonable explanation of them.
The louse of the domestic hog has its nearest relative in the bush
pigs of Africa. The lice of one kind of squirrel are more closely
related to those of other squirrels than they are to the lice of other
animals. The lice of the domestic chicken have their nearest rela-
tives in the many different species of lice upon the other chicken-
like birds.

Like nearly all theories, however, this one must allow fer certain
exceptions. We can lay down a general rule but it is almost too
much to expect it to work always, at least if we are dealing with
such things as living organisms. It is one of the difficulties in the
way of the study of living things that they refuse to stay put.
They simply will not go always into the little pigeon holes that we
block out for them. Like men they must at times assert their indi-
viduality by breaking our trifling little laws; they at times demand
the right of living their own lives in their own way. In some in-
stances related species of lice are found upon animals that are
certainly not very closely related and sometimes different species
of lice are found on animals that really ought to have the same
kind. So it must simply be admitted that in some cases other in-
fluences have been at work. Still the broad facts remain as I have
pictured them.

556 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

All this leads finally and directly to the question, ‘‘What about
the lice of man?’’ And here the evolutionist may rub his hands
together in satisfaction. For here—in the most interesting place
of all—the theory works! The lice of man do indeed find their
nearest relatives in the lice of the apes and monkeys. In faet, it
is even possible that lice of some of the apes are really the same
species that occurs on man. Nor can the argument that here we
are probably dealing with one of those exceptions that I have men-
tioned hold, for the facts throughout are entirely too consistent
with each other.

So the evolutionist who, heedless of the fair name of his species,
would derive man from some ape-like ancestor finds here another
bit of support for his theories. He finds another stone for the de-
fending wall that piece by piece has been built about them. Nor
will this wall, like the walls of Jericho, crumble before the blasts
of its enemies’ trumpets. Not even before the most silver tongued
of them.

I would like to close this with a moral, but morals have gone out
of fashion and then it is obvious enough, anyway.

TOPOGRAPHICAL MAPS 55

~]

TOPOGRAPHICAL MAPS OF THE UNITED
STATES

By Professor WILLIAM MORRIS DAVIS
HARVARD UNIVERSITY

HE United States Geological Survey is still engaged in pre-
paring a topographic map of our country. Progress thus
far made is summarized on a large two-sheet map of the United
States, on a scale of 1:240,000 or 40 miles to an inch, which serves
as an index for all the quadrangles surveyed and published up to
1921; but, as a matter of fact, there are large areas in certain
western states which are here marked off as surveyed, but which
are represented only by maps published nearly 40 years ago, on
so small a seale and of such inferior workmanship that their areas
must soon be surveyed again more worthily. The contrast between
the vague, sketchy contours of those early maps and the minutely
intricate and apparently accurate contours of the newer maps
marks the advance in topographic standards during the interval
of nearly half a century.

But Americans as a rule are still topographically uneducated.
They are accustomed to ‘‘flat’’ maps, on which the form of the
land surface, the ‘‘relief’’ as it is technically called, is either not
represented at all, or else so badly represented that it might better
remain unrepresented. Automobilists are coming to know some-
thing of the ascents and descents on the roads that they follow;
but most of them are still so inexperienced in or distracted from
the observation of the landscape that they do not look at it closely
or attentively; and even if they do, they hardly see what they
look at. The driver of a car of course should not be expected to
turn his attention far to the right or left; but his fellow travellers
may do so, and they would be greatly aided in seeing the country
they traverse by carrying along the topographic maps of their route.
The cost of the maps is very low; an inquiry addressed to the di-
rector of the U. S. Geological Survey at Washington will bring
information concerning maps published for any desired part of
the country.

Tf distance lends enchantment to some views, appreciation lends
enjoyment to many others, and appreciations of landscape views
is greatly increased by the possession of a good map. As examples

558 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

of the contrasts between different parts of the country, look at the
map of the Brasua Lake quadrangle, next west of Moosehead
lake in Maine, where the brooks, many of them called ‘‘streams,”’
have a well-defined flow only in their steep descents from the up-
lands, while in the lower lands they are for the most part either
delayed in swamps or stopped in lakes; or of the Williamsport
quadrangle, Pennsylvania, where the drainage is so well developed
that neither lake nor swamp is to be found, and where the single
or double ridges, running in the zigzag pattern of the Alleghenies,
prevail with occasional enclosed limestone valleys, of which Nippe-
nose is a perfect type; or of the Rives Junction quadrangle, Mich-
igan, where the surface is agitated in the minute inequalities of
morainie topography with many kettles and ponds; or of the
Craig quadrangle, Missouri-Nebraska, where the boundary between
the state of Missouri and Nebraska follows a former course of the
Missouri river, which has now changed its channel to the right or
left, thus inconveniently leaving patches of each state on the wrong
side of the river; or of the Natchez quadrangle, where the uplands
east of the Mississippi are cut into a labyrinth of intricately branch-
ing ravines as they fall off to the broad flood plain in which the
great river swings in large meanders; or of La Sal Vieja quad-
rangle on the coastal plain of Texas, where the smooth surface has
no valleys and very few hills, but is pitted by countless depressions,
small and large, holding wet or dry lakes. The variety of topog-
raphy is infinite; the lover of mountain and valley, of forest and
stream will find no end of enjoyment in striving to apprehend its
many expressions.

None of the maps are more remarkable than those which repre-
sent the slopes of the great voleanic island of Hawaii. Several of
these have already been published, and four more soon to be com-
pleted are now issued as ‘‘advance sheets, subject to correction, ’’
on a seale of 1:31,680 with 10-foot contours incompletely drawn.
Two of these sheets include parts of the Kau Forest Reserve and
a streteh of the Voleano Road that leads from Hilo on the east
coast southwestward to the cauldron of Kilauea. All these sheets
reveal admirably the long continuity of the gradual slope by which
the voleano descends from its great height, the minute ravines
incised with sub-parallel courses down the slope, the occasional
ragged lava surfaces where the contours are given a minutely ser-
rate pattern, the occasional oblique or radial scarps which seem to
indicate fractures and displacements in the huge mass, and most
striking of all a vast bulging or convex slope, skirted around its
southeastern base by the Volcano Road, which contradicts the
general idea that voleanic slopes are concave. If these sheets are

TOPOGRAPHICAL MAPS 559

continued so that, when mounted together, they may include a large
share of the island, they will afford an unequaled illustration of
voleanic topography on a large scale.

One of the several ways in which the newer maps are improved
over the earlier ones is in the addition of submarine contours, with
the same vertical intervals as those on the land, for quadrangles
on the ocean and lake coasts. Thus the Cape San Martin quad-
rangle, California, shows the bold slopes of the Santa Lueia range,
which descends to the Pacific with crewded 50-foot contour lines,
to be adjoined by a gently inclined sea-floor plain with wide-spaced
50-foot contour lines across a breadth of from two to four miles
off shore, before a moderate slope to deeper water begins. In
strong contrast therewith, the Portsmouth quadrangle shows the
sea bottom off the coast of New Hampshire and Maine to be almost
as undulating as the land, although, perhaps because soundings are
seattered, the texture of the submarime undulations is drawn in a
coarser pattern than that of the terrestrial surface. The manifest
reason for the contrast between these samples of Pacific and At-
lantiec borders is that the shallow sea bottom along the California
coast has been uninterruptedly subjected to normal marine agencies
—waves and currents—by which land-derived detritus is smoothly
distributed ; while the sea bottom near the New England eoast has
been recently, as the earth counts time, subjected to glaciation.

Another novelty on the recent maps is the addition of the num-
bers and subdivisions of the rectangles, over 900 in all, into which
the whole country has been divided by the War Department. These
rectangles measure one degree of latitude on the sides and one
degree of longitude at the top and bottom; they are numbered from
north to south in successive columns, beginning on the Pacifie coast.
Each rectangle is divided into north and south halves; and eaeh
half into four quarters (I, northwest; II, northeast; III, south-
west; IV, southeast). Thus the Conejos, Colo., quadrangle of
the Geological Survey nomenclature, on a scale of 1:96,000, is the
298-S-II & IV quadrangle of the War Department. When the
seale is large, the numerical nomenclature is somewhat unhandy ;
thus the Firebaugh, Calif., quadrangle of the Survey on a scale of
1 :31,680, is the 60-N-II-W/2-SW/4 quadrangle of the War Depart-
ment.

Outline maps of the states have been called for and prepared
in recent years on a scale of 1:500,000. All are now completed,
except that Nevada, Utah, Colorado and New Mexico are in press,
and Texas is yet to be drawn. These maps will doubtless be issued
eventually with contours, but for the present the map of such a
state as South Dakota shows only its rivers and streams, many of

560 » THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

which are printed in broken lines to show their intermittent flow,
its railroads, its county and village names, and its township and
section rectangles as marked off years ago by the Land-Survey
preliminary to selling the public lands. Many of our state maps
in the central and western parts of the country are based on those
crude surveys, which served their purpose well enough when they
were honestly made in plain country, but ia rough country the case
was different. One of the recently issued Geological Survey maps
of a quadrangle in a mountainous state explains in a legend at the
bottom of the sheet that the township and sectional rectangles of
the Land Survey for a part of the area are omitted ‘‘because land
plats and topography can not be reconciled and no [section] corners
can be found.’’ This recalls a story of early days in California,
told by the late Professor Brewer of Yale, who was in the 60’s a
member of the California Geological Survey. A desperado, at last
captured after many deeds of violence, was about to be hanged by
a vigilance committee. When asked if he had anything on his mind
which he wished to confess, he said he had; but it was not his
manifold murders that troubled him. The only misdeeds to which
he owned up with remorse had been committed while he was an
assistant on the Land Survey; the law required that the corners
of the square-mile sections should be marked with wooden posts,
charred at one end and driven into the ground; the desperado
confessed that, in a district where wood was scarce, he had marked
the section corners with burnt matches. We are only about half-
a-century climb up from that rung in the ladder of our civilization.
One of the most characteristic signs of our ascent to a higher level
is the preparation of a large number of excellent maps of our do-
main, some examples of which are noted above.

IMMIGRATION LEGISLATION 561

WHAT NEXT IN IMMIGRATION
LEGISLATION ?

By Professor ROBERT DE C. WARD
HARVARD UNIVERSITY

THe ImpERATIVE NECESSITY OF FURTHER ‘‘PERMANENT’’
LEGISLATION
HE present 3 per cent. immigration restriction law will ex-
pire on June 30, 1924. What shall take its place? The con-
ditions which led to its adoption will still exist. We are facing a
permanent tendency toward rapidly increasing and _ steadily
deteriorating immigration, and millions of prospective immigrants
Overseas are impatiently waiting for the thirtieth of June, 1924,
when they will rush in, in a seething chaotic mob, unless Congress
takes steps to stop them.

THE OPPOSITION TO RESTRICTION

To any program for restriction there is certain to be active,
well-organized and heavily financed opposition. This opposition
is centered in (1) certain racial groups which are interested, not
in the future of America, but in the increase of their own race in
America; (2) employers who want foreign labor so cheap that it is
dear at any price; who put pocketbook above patriotism; (3) the
steamship companies, who believe themselves to have vested rights
in the United States as a dumping-ground for their human cargoes,
and (4) those who have been well termed ‘‘the incurable senti-
mentalists.’’ Every effort is now being made to misconstrue our
present laws; to distort and misrepresent their effects; to make
them unworkable and unpopular. These laws are being subjected
to organized attack by ‘‘interested’’ individuals, alien racial groups
and hyphenated societies, and certain influential newspapers which
carry heavy steamship advertising. All of these are bent on
making any restriction whatever appear unreasonable, unjust and
inhumane. It is very important that the character, the motives and
the tactics of this opposition should be known.

Our GENERAL IMMIGRATION LAW MUST BE MAINTAINED AND
; ENFORCED

There can be no question that our general immigration law of
1917 must be maintained. This law names some thirty classes of

Vol. XV.—36.

562 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

aliens who are excludable on mental, physical, moral or economic
grounds. ‘These include the insane, the idiot and the feeble-
minded; those who have loathsome or dangerous contagious dis-
eases ; criminals; prostitutes ; persons physically incapacitated from
earning a living, illiterates, etc. In fact the enumeration of the
undesirable classes is so complete that, if the law had been and
were always rigidly enforced, our immigration ‘‘problem’’ would
give us far less trouble than it does. Our law bars criminals, but
our court and institution records show a large excess of foreign-
born. Our law bars the insane, but our insane hospitals, especially
in the northeastern States, are filled with aliens. Our law bars
those suffering from loathsome and dangerous contagious dis-
eases, and those suffering from physical disability that may affect
ability to earn a living, but political ‘‘pull’’ often suffices to admit
over the doctor’s certificate, against the express provision for ex-
clusion. Our law debars paupers; yet an insignificant number of
- aliens is debarred on these grounds, although the majority of those
now arriving come without money, and are not productive
laborers.

In a recent paper on the deportation system of several States,
Dr. H. H. Laughlin, of the Eugenics Record Office, Cold Spring
Harbor, N. Y., brought together some startling facts.

A recent survey shows that in 1916 the several states expended on an
average of 17.3 per cent. of their total governmental expenditures in main-
taining custodial and charitable institutions. This percentage varied from
5.4 in Alabama to 30.5 in Massachusetts. A survey of 460 state institutions
for the several types of the socially inadequate, with a total of 210,835
inmates, recently (1922) completed by the Committee on Immigration and
Naturalization of the House of Representatives, found 21.14 per cent. of these
fifth of a million inmates to be of foreign birth and 44.09 per cent. to be of
foreign stock—that is, of foreign birth or who have at least one parent
foreign born. Thus if, on the average, it costs the same in the institutions
to maintain native-born and foreign-born inmates, then currently the several
states are expending approximately 7.62 per cent. of their total revenues in
caring for degenerate and dependent human forejgn stock. This is the logical

outgrowth of the asylum idea which has pervaded the American immigration
poliey.

The proper enforcement of our general immigration law in-
volves not only a very careful and deliberate scrutiny of all ar-
riving aliens, but also a systematic and thorough round-up of all
aliens already in this country who are deportable because they
have become public charges, or who have been found to belong to
certain other specified classes of undesirables which are by law
subject to deportation. Never yet since the law of 1917 has been
on our statute books has it been strictly enforced. It is to the
credit of the present administration that a distinct improvement in

IMMIGRATION LEGISLATION 563

this respect was made during the past year. And it should be re-
membered that strict enforcement leads to a certain extent to self-
enforcement, for the more aliens are debarred as undesirable, the
fewer such attempt to get in.

Tar PERCENTAGE LIMITATION MUST BE MADE PERMANENT

The present 3 per cent. law is not perfect, but it has on the
whole worked successfully, and has fully justified its enactment.
It is reasonably generous in permitting the reuniting of families;
in allowing unrestricted entry to tourists and other excepted classes,
and it has kept our ports open to a fairly considerable inflow of
newcomers, for it should be remembered that it permits an annual
immigration of over 350,000. It has undoubtedly worked hard-
ships in some cases, but most of the newspaper stories of such
hardships have either been intentionally exaggerated, or have been
untrue. Public sympathy is easily aroused by a single instance of
real or fictitious hardship. The far more vital problem of how the
present character of immigration is to affect the American race
of the future is more remote, and attracts less attention. The ad-
ministration of the law is fortunately in the hands of officials who
are enforcing it with justice and humanity.

There is one point in connection with the 3 per cent. law which
is often lost sight of. For a good many years before the war,
aliens from southern and eastern Europe largely outnumbered
those from northern and western Europe. Under the new law
these numbers are nearly equalized, so that if all nationalities fill
their allotted quotas, the so-called ‘‘newer’’ immigration can not
contribute more than about one half of our annual inflow. This
fact is biologically of great significance. In the fiscal year ending
June 30, 1922, deducting emigrants from immigrants, we gained
in Nordic stock, and lost in the natives of southern and eastern
Europe.

Those who attribute solely to the present percentage restriction
the need of labor in certain industries are either wholly ignorant of
the facts, or are intentionally trying to mislead the public in the
effort to break down all restrictions and to flood the country with
cheap labor. In this connection it should be realized that (1)
there has been a very considerable emigration of alien labor dur-
ing the recent period of business depression and unemployment;
(2) if all countries filled up their quotas, which they have not
been doing during the past year, there would be an annual inflow
of over 350,000; (3) the countries of northern Europe have fallen
much farther below the quotas than those of southern and eastern
Europe, most of the latter having exhausted their quotas, thus
showing that the intelligent and skilled labor of northern Europe

564 THE SCIENTIFIC’ MONTHLY

has not been disposed to emigrate to the United States; (4) the
immigration of aliens who are natives of any countries of the
New World is not subject to the provisions of the law; (5) a
considerable proportion of our immigration under the 3 per cent.
law has been made up of sweat-shop workers, peddlers and small
shop-keepers, not of strong, sturdy, intelligent laborers. This is
clearly not the fault of the law, but results from the present ten-
dencies of immigration. Thus the ‘‘need of labor’’ is by no means
to be attributed solely, or even largely, to the percentage law. Fur-
thermore, there is little doubt that northern and western Europe
will fill up its quotas during the coming year, as immigration from
those countries is increasing. The relation of immigration restric-
tion to the rising scale of wages was so clearly stated by Honorable
Albert Johnson during the closing days of the session of Congress
recently ended that we can not do better than to quote from his
remarks on this point.

Every good American sympathizes with workingmen in their effort to
obtain decent wages and decent conditions. . . . Restriction is an absolutely
necessary supplement to a protective tariff. Immigration must be curtailed
until all workers, native and foreign-born, whether in the basie or other
industries, get wages and have conditions commensurate with American
standards and ideals if we are to maintain those standards, ideals, and, in
fact, our very civilizatjon. Just as soon as wages in those industries rise to
the point where the breadwinner can rear and support his family in keeping
with American standards, the native-born will reinvade those industries from
which they have been driven by the ruinous competition of imported cheap
labor, often inducted into conditions amounting to slavery, and when wages
do rise to that level the native supply will quite meet the demand, just as
native labor does in every other country.

This is the situation in a nut-shell.

As a result of the awakening on the part of our people to the
effects of the practically unrestricted new immigration from south-
ern and eastern Europe and Asia, for the first time, and against
bitter opposition, the principle of numerical limitation has been
established by overwhelming majorities in Congress in a manner
which gives equal treatment to all the nationalities which make up
our population as far as is consistent with the maintenance of
what we know as America. This principle, which has been long
and strongly advocated by leading authorities on immigration,
should be made our permanent immigration policy. Our own
country, foreign countries, the steamship companies—all have be-
come more or less adjusted to a definite numerical limitation of
our alien immigrants. The machinery is in operation, and works
remarkably smoothly, as much so as any restrictive legislation ever
works. In reenacting a percentage law, whether it be the present
3 per cent., or the 2 per cent. which has been suggested in certain

IMMIGRATION LEGISLATION 565

bills lately introduced into Congress; and whether the percentage
quotas be based on the census of 1910 or an earlier census,
it would be wise to make the law somewhat more elastic.
Reasonable provision should be made to prevent the breaking up
of families. This could readily be accomplished by treating the
immediate members of a family as a unit whenever some members
could be admitted without exceeding the quota while the remain-
ing ones would otherwise be excluded because exceeding the quota.
Exceptions in favor of bona-fide tourists, of students and of pro-
fessional classes are necessary. Further, a maximum number of
500 or 600 could wisely be set for the admissible aliens from cer-
tain countries whose quotas are very small under the 3 per cent.
provision, and from which we receive highly desirable immigrants.
The quota from Australia, for example, in the present fiscal year
is only 279 and that from New Zealand and Pacific Islands is only
80. With these changes, a percentage law such as the present one
would involve very few hardships. At the same time if the excep-
tions were carefully drawn, there would be no danger of our being
swamped by any such flood of aliens as swept in upon us before
the war, and as will, in even greater volume come in again unless
we take steps to prevent it.

It can not be too strongly emphasized that, while the original
argument in favor of the 3 per cent. law was economic, the real,
fundamental, lasting reason for its continuanee is biological. This
side of the matter was so clearly and forcibly presented in an
editorial note in the October number of the World’s Work that we
can not do better than to quote that statement here:

If America is to realize its fullest possibilities, it must exércise the prin-
ciple of selection. Up to the present time it has ignored this method. Our
policy of opening our gates to all comers has really meant that we have
recognized no distinctions among peoples, that we have refused to admit that
one presented better material for citizenship than another, and that we have
pinned our faith on the existence of some wonder-working alchemy in the
American atmosphere which could transmute an inferior race into a superior
one. But the teaching of all history, as well as the experiments of the biolog-
ical laboratory, show the absurdity of any such easy-going philosophy, and
the nation has reached the point where it should base its future upon scien-
tific and historical fact.

This is really the argument in favor of the three per cent. immigration
law. It does not directly apply this principle of selection, it is true; that is,
it does not in so many words limit immigration in future to particular races
and particular nations. Yet indirectly it does accomplish a result which is
not dissimilar. It takes the population of 1910 as representing the propor-
tions of different peoples which, under the practical limitations of the prob-
lem, may be regarded as furnishing the desirable racial composition of the
future United States. The great majority of that population came from the
countries of northwestern Hurope—Germany, Scandinavia, Great Britain and
Ireland. There are few who have studied the matter who do not regard these

566 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

peoples as the most desirable elements with which to construct the nation. By
limiting future arrivals to three per cent. of these stocks, therefore, the law
does provide that the American people of the future, as well as of the present,
shall be chiefly from the races of northwestern Europe. That is the reason
why this law, or one based upon the same principles, should represent the
permanent policy of the republic.

OBJECTIONS TO A FuAt NUMERICAL LIMITATION WITHOUT PROPER
SELECTION

The sole purpose of such a numerical limitation as that em-
bodied in the present 3 per cent. law is to cut down numbers. Be-
cause immigration was largely of an undesirable quality we cut
it down. The 8 per cent. law certainly does let in a smaller amount
of bad stock, but does not improve the stock, physically, mentally
or morally. It doubtless shuts out some highly desirable immi-
grants because the quotas are mostly filled with undesirable ones.
Furthermore, being based on nationality, 7. e., country of birth,
and not on race, it has made possible a disproportionate immigra-
tion of Jews to the exclusion of thousands of non-Jewish aliens.
This fact comes about because of the extraordinary activities of
Jewish relief societies, both in this country and in Europe. These
organizations take all the steps necessary to enable their co-religion-
ists in Europe to emigrate to the United States, such as procuring
their passports, purchasing their passage tickets, and earing for
them en route to the ports of embarkation. Thus the annual quotas
from several European countries are largely filled with Jews. In
this way the ‘‘flat’’ percentage restriction has been worked with
injustice to non-Jewish aliens who desire to come to the United
States.

It is because a flat percentage restriction works only quantita-
tively and not qualitatively that it is absolutely necessary to main-
tain and to enforce our general immigration law of 1917, as urged
above.

OVERSEAS INSPECTION OF PROSPECTIVE IMMIGRANTS IS NOT
PRACTICABLE

There seems to be so many and such obvious advantages, both to
the prospective immigrant and to the United States, in having
some sort of examination overseas, that there is at present a wide-
spread demand for such inspection. This is no new agitation. It
has marked the history of immigration literature and debate for
at least thirty-five years. Such foreign inspection would seem to be
our only way of looking into the antecedents, habits and character
of our intending immigrants; of picking out those who by heredity
and education are best fitted to become American citizens; of
eliminating, at the source, all those who, under our general immi-

IMMIGRATION LEGISLATION 567

gration law, are physically, mentally, morally or economically un-
desirable. Overseas inspection suggests itself as a humane method
of stopping most of the inadmissible aliens before they start on
their voyage, and it should be welcomed by the steamship com-
panies, for it would mean that few rejected aliens would have to be
taken back at the companies’ expense.

The plan recently most widely advocated is that the United
States should establish an immigration office in each consulate to
function in connection with the work of viséing passports, the im-
migration inspectors to certify as to an alien’s admissibility to
this country before his passport is viséd.

On its face this plan seems sensible, wise and humane. It seems
to offer a simple and practical solution of the immigration problem.
Yet there are so many objections to it, and so many obstacles in
the way of its accomplishment, that for years all committees of
Congress which have considered it, as well as the Immigration Com-
mission of a decade or so ago, and leading authorities on immigra-
tion, have been forced to abandon it. A first objection to overseas
inspection is that it would necessitate a very large increase in the
number of immigration inspectors and medical officers, with the
resulting heavy expense. If an undesirable alien is to be stopped
before he leaves home and if the antecedents and character of our
prospective immigrants are to be accurately ascertained, we must
have our inspectors and doctors at all the thousands of places all
over Europe and western Asia from which our immigrants come.
For it is obvious that a United States immigration inspector at a
consulate in Hamburg, é. g., making an examination there of, say,
a thousand Jews coming from all parts of Poland, would be no
better able to determine their eligibility there than on their arrival
at Ellis Island. Of course, those who might be declared inadmis-
sible by the inspector at a European port, or at some inland
city where we have a consulate, would be saved the voyage across
the Atlantic, but complete information concerning any alien could
only be obtained in his home town or hamlet. In the second place,
overseas inspection would divide the responsibility between the
officials abroad and those at our own ports, for there is no question
that we must, under any and all conditions, always maintain our
inspection service at our ports. In all doubtful cases, each in-
spector, the one abroad and the one here, would throw the respon-
sibility upon the other. Thirdly, overseas inspection, supple-
mented by home inspection, would work hardship on the aliens
because it would never be certain that all with overseas certificates
would be allowed to land on a second examination here.

Lastly, whenever overseas inspection of prospective immigrants
has been seriously considered by Congress, certain foreign govern-

568 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ments have objected to it on the ground that this country would
thereby be assuming extra-territorial sovereignty not in accord-
ance with treaty rights. Delicate diplomatic problems are here in-
volved. No scheme for foreign inspection could be devised which
did not use the existing machinery of consular offices. As the
Honorable Albert Johnson has recently said, ‘‘Our consular offices
are established under authority of trade and commercial treaties,
each of which sets forth specifically what functions may be earried
on by consular employees. Examination of persons who contem-
plate migration to the United States is not included. It follows
that if we are to set up a plan for examination of immigrants over-
seas we must of necessity revise many of our trade and commercial
treaties.’? This is the situation in which the United States finds
itself in this matter of overseas inspection.

It is obvious that the interests of the United States and those
of foreign countries are absolutely opposed in this matter of immi-
eration selection. We want the sound, able-bodied, intelligent.
We do not want the defective, the delinquent, the physically unfit.
The former are the ones most desired at home. The latter, foreign
governments would not regret to have emigrate. It is, therefore,
readily understood why these governments may not be too ready
to acquiesce in any new arrangement whereby we can select the
best and refuse the worst of their people. The present passport
and visé system gives foreign governments the power to designate
and to allow to emigrate those persons only whose presence in their
own countries is not desired. The selection of our future citizens
is therefore not in our own hands.

In spite of the present obstacles in the way of our establishing
overseas inspection, it might perhaps be possible, through ordinary
diplomatic channels, without the necessity and the delays of nego-
tiating any new treaties, to come to an amicable working agree-
ment—a Gentlemen’s Agreement, in short—with the governments
of foreign countries from which our immigrants come, whereby,
by international cooperation, the United States could make some
sort of a preliminary examination of intending immigrants before
they sail. If the present administration could bring about such an
agreement, it would take a long step in the settlement of this most
difficult and important national problem. The sympathetic atti-
tude of the present Secretary of Labor on this question has been
clearly indicated. Thus, in an address given in Boston on June
14 last, he said (The Boston Herald, June 15) ‘‘We must bar out
those who menace our national life and our national institutions.
Much could be done by providing for inspection of prospective
immigrants in Europe before they undertake the long journey

IMMIGRATION LEGISLATION 569

across the Atlantic. I would insist upon the most rigid tests of
blood, physical, mental and moral stamina before admitting a
single immigrant.’’ With this view all patriotic and thinking
Americans must surely agree.

Overseas inspection, however, desirable as it would be, should
not and could not in any way replace the other restrictive and se-
lective measures advocated in the foregoing discussion. We im-
peratively need a stricter enforcement of our general immigration
law, and a permanent percentage limitation with the amendments
above suggested.

ADDENDUM: If we want the American race to continue to be
predominantly Anglo-Saxon-Germaniec, of the same stock as that
which originally settled the United States, wrote our Constitution,
and established our democratic institutions; if we want our future
immigration to be chiefly made up of kindred peoples from north-
ern and western Europe, easily assimilable, literate, of a high grade
of intelligence, able to understand, appreciate and intelligently
support our form of government, then the simplest way to accom-
plish this purpose is to base the percentage limitation upon an
earlier census than that of 1910, 2. e., before southern and eastern
Europe had become the controlling element in our immigration.
In an important discussion of ‘‘The Immigration Problem,’’ in
Scribner’s Magazine for September, 1922, which came to the pres-
ent writer’s attention after he had completed the foregoing article,
Professor Roy L. Garis, of Vanderbilt University, suggested that
our permanent legislation be based upon the percentage principle,
but that we admit 3 per cent. of the different nationalities of for-
eign-born in the United States as shown by the census of 1890.
This, as Dr. Garis rightly says, ‘‘is a simple yet practical solution,
based on historical facts.’’ If instead of 3 per cent. we should
admit 5 per cent. of the foreign-born resident here in 1890, the an-
nual total for all Europe would be 400,000, in round numbers. Of
these, about 200,000 would be admissible from northwestern Eu-
rope; 50,000 from Scandinavian Europe; 165,000 from Central
Europe; 10,000 from eastern Europe; 10,000 from southwestern
Europe, and 2,000 from southeastern Europe. Such a law would
result in bringing in a large preponderance of immigrants who
present no difficulties of assimilation; who do not give rise to our
immigration “‘problem.’’ It would thus be automatically selective,
as well as numerically restrictive. If we are to maintain the physi-
cal and mental standards of our race; if we are to make America
safe for democracy, to keep America for Americans, there is no

more logical or practical method than this. ;

570 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

A MODERN MECCA
By Professor A. E. KENNELLY

HARVARD UNIVERSITY

HE ancient Arabian city of Mecca is in one sense the most re-
markable in the world. It is the birthplace of Mahomed, the
Resoul ’Illah, or prophet of God, and it contains the Kaaba, or cen-
tral shrine of the Mahomedan faith. No giaour may enter there.
Very few Christians have ever seen the place. The explorer Bur-
ton, for instance, one of the most famous oriental linguists, pene-
trated there, under elaborate disguise, at the risk of his life.

Over two hundred millions of persons—about one eighth of the
population of the globe, or nearly double the population of the
United States—are reputed Mahomedans. The great majority of
these Mahomedans are devout worshippers, according to the ritual
of the Koran. Several times a day, notably at dawn and sunset,
the faithful, scattered over Asiatic and African lands, unfold their
prayer-carpets, lay them in the assumed direction of Mecca, and
prostrate themselves thereon in prayer. This custom of diurnal
obsequience towards the prophet’s holy city has continued for cen-
turies with very little change. Mecca has thus maintained a mar-
vellous hold upon the daily thoughts and acts of a vast number of
human beings. In their psychology, the Kaaba is the common and
universal point of reference. Their lives are lived in perpetual
procession towards that one place. Every year, about one hundred
thousand pilgrims of zeal journey from afar to visit it. He who has
thus attained to the holy city acquires with pride the title of
Hajji, which entitles the owner to social respect.

Although the modern world has created no new Mecea in any
such sense as Mahomedanism conveys, yet in a certain very re-
markable way it has created a scientific Mecca at Sévres, in the
beautiful park of St. Cloud, on the Seine, near Paris, and close to
the famous old Sévres porcelain factory. Here, on a plot of land
which France has given to the world, by extraditing it from French
boundaries, is an unpretentious building, called the ‘‘ Bureau Inter-
national des Poids et Mesures,’’ especially constructed in 1875, for
enabling accurate measurements of standard lengths and weights to
be carried on quietly, and at a nearly uniform temperature, within
its walls. Hight meters beneath the surface of its courtyard is a
vault containing a closed steel safe, wherein are treasured the

A MODERN MECCA 571

world’s most valued reference standards of length and weight—
the international meter and kilogram—together with certain
‘‘témoins’’ or ancillary duplicates. The building is mainly devoted
to comparisons between these fundamental standards and the cor-
responding replica of other nations, through the medium of work-
ing copies. It has no upper stories and is surrounded by the forest
park. Fortunately for the even tenor of its duties, it ordinarily
escapes attention from the ubiquitous tourist, despite its proximity
to the much visited porcelain museum. Neither Baedeker nor
‘‘Guide Bleu’’ refers to it, and it finds no place on the list of ob-
jects to attract the interest of the visitor; yet it may properly be
described as a latter-day temple for the guardianship of the ‘‘ Lares
and Penates’’ in the world of weights and measures. The expense
of its upkeep is shared, in definitely prescribed proportions,
among the twenty-eight foremost countries of the world.

The need for an international clearimg house and depositary
for the world’s standard meter becomes evident from a considera-
tion of industrial needs alone, as well as from a cursory glance at
the history of the subject.

If a steel bar, say one yard in length, is ordered, without any
further specifications, from a smithy, we might reasonably expect
the bar to be delivered true to length within one per cent., more
or less; that is to a precision of one part in 100, or 107. This may
be described as a precision of the second order. It does not mean
that the smithy could not furnish a higher degree of precision in
length, if the need existed; but merely that in the ordinary course
of business, a yard bar at the smithy might well be interpreted
to include bars longer or shorter than a yard by as much as one
per cent. Moreover, the measurement of the bar, by the act of
laying a yard-stick alongside it, would be an operation lasting only
a few moments. Nevertheless, if the tolerance of something more
than one per cent. were clearly admitted, the moral certainty of
the measure within those limits would be very great. Any intel-
ligent man receiving the bar from the smithy, and laying a eredit-
able yard-stick beside it, could see at a glance that the two were
nearly alike in length; so that unless some question as to the
amount of tolerance were raised, he would feel a high degree of
assurance that—in the common use of language—the bar was a
yard long.

The rough bar from the smithy might next be sent to a machine
shop with an order that it be trimmed, smoothed and ecut to a
finished length of say 35 inches; but without any specifications as
to tolerance in precise length. In the operations of smoothing and
finishing, the mechanic entrusted with the order, would probably

572 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

?

spend a little time in adjusting its length to ‘‘35 inches.’’ One per
cent. he would regard as unworkmanlike, and he would probably
aim at a precision say of one per mil; 7%. e., one part in 10%, or of
the third order. If he were put upon his mettle, he might be will-
ing to attempt a precision of the fourth order, or 1 in 10*; but
the extra time involved in such an effort might not be justifiable.
Even to reach the third order, he would have to make the length
correct within 0.035 inch, and much more time would be needed in
the measurement than was spent at the smithy in attaining the
second order. In the first place, an ordinary rough yardstick
would no longer suffice. A graduated steel tape or straight edge
would be necessary. Moreover, the operation of juxtaposition and
reading off the length would take much longer than before.
Finally, in spite of this increased mental and physical care in the
task of measurement, the degree of moral certitude as to the re-
liability of the result will probably not have increased propor-
tionately. In repeating the measurement, the mechanic will begin
to arrive at slightly different results and the effect of the dis-
crepancies disconcerts the judgment. Of course, unless the me-
chanic made a gross error or mistake in reading the tape, he would
feel convinced that the finished bar was much nearer to ‘‘35
inches’’ than one per cent.; but upon the new plane of third- order
precision engaging his attention, he might feel less assurance of
success than his predecessor, who measured only to the second order
of precision at the smithy.

If now the finished 35-inch bar were sent to a superior work-
shop, to be assembled perhaps in some fine piece of mechanism,
after being adjusted to say 34.8 inches, at a room temperature of
20° Centigrade, with a tolerance of 0.004 inch, this would entail
refinishing the ends of the bar and measuring its new length to one
part in 10*, or to fourth order precision. For the purpose of
making this measurement, a special gauge might have to be pre-
pared. If the bar in the assembled mechanism had to be made
interchangeable with similar bars coming from other machine
shops, the gauge might have to be adjusted to a precision of the
fifth order in length, at a special workshop for the construction
of precise gauges. In order to reach fifth order precision in the
gauge at the special workshop, a standard measuring rule of yet
higher precision would be needed there. It would not be unreason-
able to require a precision of the 514th order in that special work-
shop standard. That standard would probably be compared and
calibrated against a still finer standard at the Bureau of Standards
in Washington, where a precision of the 6.5th order, or one per
3,000,000 might be readily obtainable. Finally, to keep the stand-

A MODERN MECCA 573

ards of the different national laboratories of the world in mutual
agreement, an international standard is maintained at Sévres,
where the precision attainable is of the seventh order.

It is clear that every measure of length, either in the world of
business or in the world of science, has its order of precision, over
the entire range from the first to the seventh, depending upon its
construction and purpose. No one expects a higher order of pre-
cision than the particular purpose of the measure in question de-
mands; because the effort and expense involved in securing an
extra order of precision is relatively great. There are certain lines
of industry, notably in gauge making for fine tools, where fifth
order precision is necessary. Not many decades ago, this was the
highest order scientifically attainable in measures of length. The
advance from the fifth to sixth order demanded an immense
amount of scientific and industrial effort. Progress had to be made
in the mathematics of accidental errors, in metallurgical chemistry
to provide improved materials, in physics to learn the laws of length
variation in material standards, in tools, to fashion the improved
parts, in workmanship and experience to handle the new tools.
At the present date, we can look for the seventh order precision
in the comparison of the various national meters with the inter-
national meter at Sevres; but although this suffices for practically
all industrial needs, it is inadequate for certain scientific require-
ments. Certain problems of the Einstein theory, for instanee,
might find solution, if the eighth or ninth order of precision in the
measurement of length were attainable.

If material civilization advances, we may hope to secure one
higher order of length precision at Sévres in the course of another
eentury. This would probably add one order to national scientific
length measurement all over the globe. Apart from questions of
moral or spiritual development, an estimate of the world’s eivi-
lization might be furnished, based upon the order of precision
realizable in the certificates of meter-bar comparisons furnished by
the bureau at Sévres.

The permanence and inviolability of the international meter
are clearly of importance to all nations. The control of the Savres
bureau has been vested, since 1875, in an international body com-
posed of delegates from the twenty-eight leading national govern-
ments that are parties to the bureau’s maintenance. The inter-
national meter and kilogram are deposited at the bureau in such
a manner that seven successive keys have to be used in order to
reach them. Three of these keys are in regular service for the
doors of the building; but the four others belong to the special
vault in which the standards are preserved, and are placed in the

574 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

custody of as many different officers of the international commit-
tee. Some of these officers live abroad; so that the keys are usually
kept far apart. It has thus only been possible to open the vault
at the regular six-year meetings, when the assembling officers pro-
duce their respective keys. The inconvenience of so inflexible a
modus operandi manifested itself during the world war. At the
outbreak of the war, one of the officers, entrusted with a key, resided _
in Germany. That key, being in an enemy country, was inac-
cessible. If Sévres had been subjected to bombardment, it would
have been necessary to remove the standard meter and kilogram
to a place of safety, and this would have involved breaking into
the vault. In order to provide against such a contingency in
future, a new set of regulations has been brought into effect;
whereby a duplicate of each vault key is deposited with the Insti-
tut de France, and so that, under special emergency, the vault
can be opened by its authority.

One of these six-year meetings of the International Conference
took place recently in Paris under the presidence of M. Emile
Picard, the permanent secretary of the French Academy of
Seiences. On October 6th, 1921, the delegates met at Sévres and
at a specified hour formed themselves into a visiting and attesting
committee, under the leadership of M. Ch. Ed. Guillaume, the Di-
rector of the Bureau.

The committee members line up across the courtyard in column
by twos. At the signal, the procession enters the main and east
door of the Bureau, and passes along a corridor, in the half light,
to a descending stone stairway. Incandescent lamps light up, and
we descend to a basement floor. Again, down another stone stair-
way, to a sub-basement. At this level, the temperature changes
but little all the year round. We now face the first of the three
steel vault doors in the east wall. It opens to the corresponding
official key. Behind it are two other steel doors, which are suc-
cessively unlocked, revealing the vault beyond. This is about 4
meters long in an easterly direction, 3 meters wide and three high.
An electric incandescent lamp, that has been idle for eight years,
is turned on and we can see the interior clearly. The walls and
ceiling are lined with white enamelled brick. Opposite to the en-
trance against the eastern wall is a table supporting a steel safe.
There is nothing else in the vault except an auxiliary table against
the north wall. The director produces the last of the seven
keys and unlocks the safe. Its doors swing open and disclose
two shelves. On the upper shelf are three meter-bar cases, a mini-
mum-maximum thermometer and a hygrometer. On the lower
shelf is a row of five glass double bell-jars. Inside of each is a shin-

A MODERN MECCA 575

ing cylindrical standard kilogram. The director calls for a reading
of the instruments, which have been shut up in the safe since 1913.
The min-max, thermometer register 10.6°—13.2° Centigrade, or
a total range of only 2.6 degrees during those eight years. The
hygrometer shows 88 per cent. humidity. The director ealls atten-
tion to the international meter and kilogram, with their control
duplicates. He carefully lifts out of the safe the central case,
containing the primary standard or prototype meter, and lays it
on the auxiliary table. He opens the case and reveals the brightly
gleaming meter bar within. Like all the other standard bars, its
section is of a special X shape, so designed as to offer the maximum
stiffness, or resistance to sagging in the middle, when the bar is
supported at its two ends. Of course, a stout platinum-iridium
bar, a little more than forty inches long, and built with any rea-
sonable shape of cross-section, would sag very little at the center
when the bar is supported at its ends. Nevertheless an extremely
small sag would be apt to alter, in perceptible degree, the apparent
leneth of the bar, as measured on its surface. By giving this X
shape to the section, and cutting a flat strip of surface at the middle
of the groove in the X, the meter length is marked off along this
flat strip, where the change in length due to any possible central
sag becomes quite negligible. The meter bar is not graduated, or
marked off into equal divisions like an ordinary rule. There is
merely a fine scratch cut with a diamond point across the bar near
each end. The international meter is defined as the distance be-
tween these two fine line scratches, when the bar is at the tempera-
ture of melting ice.

No hand touches the bar, which lies face down in its case. It
is the final reference standard, and does not need to be used except
as a final arbiter, in case differences should arise among the work-
ing standards. Its duty is merely to remain steadfast—to pre-
serve its dimensions unchanged.

Only a few of the witnesses can occupy the vault at one time,
and the air in it becomes oppressive. As soon as those within have
recognized the contents of the safe, they leave the vault and make
room for others.

In about half an hour, the standards are replaced on their
shelves, the safe is shut and locked, the light is turned off and the
vault doors closed. The world’s standards of length and weight
thus resume their wonted repose, until the next awakening by a
visiting committee, probably six years hence. This visiting com-
mittee, however, returns to daylight and reforms in the courtyard,

where it is photographed by a moving-picture machine, to record
the passage of its members.

576 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY *

The measurement laboratories of the Bureau are also visited
by the committee. These laboratories have specially constructed
walls, to keep the temperature within them nearly uniform. In
one of them, standard meter bars are compared and certified. The
bar to be tested is laid horizontally on end supports in a tray of
water, alongside of the working standard of the laboratory, whose
error with respect to the international meter of the vault has been
carefully determined. Being composed of platinum-iridium, the ~
bars do not tarnish under water; although they have to be cleansed
from deposits of dust or organic matter—of which more anon.
The immersion of the bars in water is desirable during the tests,
in order to enable their temperature to be more closely determined,
each bar being only true to length at a certain temperature, and
correction being necessary for observed deviation of temperature
from the standard.

A microscope is supported on a stone pillar over each end of
the bar, in such a manner that the cross-hair of the eyepiece can
be brought over the delicate line marks on the ends of each bar in
turn, the operations being regularly repeated many times accord-
ing to a definite schedule. The observations, as finally collected
and reduced, reveal the difference between the length of the
tested bar and that of the working standard. Readings can be
taken to the eighth order, or to 0.01 micron (10° meter, about
1/2,500,000th inch; but the final result is only depended upon to
the nearest 0.1 micron, or ten-millionth of a meter, a precision of
the seventh order. The micron is the one-millionth of a meter,
and is the unit of length in practically universal use among scien-
tific workers with the microscope, all the world over.

Some excitement was recently aroused at the Bureau, by the
discovery that two working standard meter bars, in use there
during many years, although retaining their lengths almost un-
changed with respect to each other, had both lengthened in that
time by about 0.4 micron, or 1/65,000th of an inch, the change
of length being progressive. After much search, it is believed that
this minute lengthening of each bar has been gradually brought
about through the constantly repeated cleansing of the polished
working surface by the gentle rubbing of a cloth. The rubbing
had always been directed, as a matter of habit, along the bar tu-
wards the end. In this way, it is supposed that the walls of the
fine diamond scratch across the bar, near each end, were slowly
pushed over and away from the middle of the bar, by 0.2 micron,
in the course of long usage. It has since become the prescribed
routine to clean the surface of a meter bar by rubs delivered alter-
nately in opposite directions.

; A MODERN MECCA 577

Another laboratory is devoted to the measurement of standard
weights. In each corner of this room a delicate balance weighing
machine is mounted, while the observer sits in the middle of the
room at a distance of four meters from each and all of them. The
reason for his having to sit so far from his work is that if he were
to take up a position comfortably close to the balance he operated,
the warmth from his body would probably vitiate the measure-
ments seriously for the degree of precision aimed at, in spite of
the usual windows and shields with which such a balance is ordi-
narily provided. His respectful distance from the subject of his
investigation suggests the old rhyme:

“Who suppes with ye Deville
Shoulde have a longe spoone.’’

With the aid of an ingenious arrangement of four parallel and
horizontal brass rods, running from the balance to the observer,
and which he can rotate in different ways, he is able to weigh the
test kilogram mass against the mass of a standard kilogram, on the
seales four meters off, and to read the balance through a telescope.
One of these four-rod combinations enables him to observe the
difference of weight between say the tested mass on the left-hand
seale, and the standard mass on the right-hand scale; then to clamp
the beam, next to lift off the two weights and reverse their relative
positions, bringing the tested mass to the right and the standard
mass to the left; and finally to repeat the weighing in this reversed
relation, all at four meters’ distance.

A standard kilogram is a solid eylinder of polished platinum-
iridium, with its circular edges slightly rounded. The mass of such
a cylinder can be measured, after making all corrections, to the
nearest hundredth of a milligram; or to the 10-* kilogram—a pre-
cision of the eighth order. It is curious that the available pre-
cision of mass determination should thus be one order greater than
that available in length determination in our national standards,
at this period of the world’s history.

It is evident that a blow, or severe mechanical shock, adminis-
tered to any standard meter bar, might readily alter its length and
render its use unreliable. Great care has to be taken in the na-
tional laboratories of the various countries not to let a standard
meter bar fall. Occasionally, a national standard meter bar is
brought back to Sevres from some distant part of the world for
recomparison at the Bureau. In such a ease, it is always entrusted
to a careful messenger, and usually the chief of the national labo-
ratory takes it himself. At last October’s Paris meeting two na-
tional meter bars came back for retesting, one from Washington,
D. C., and the other from Japan. In each ease, the director of the

Vol. XV.—37.

578 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY a

national laboratory brought it in person. In thé American in-
stance, Dr. Stratton brought the meter bar from the Bureau of
Standards at Washington, with the aid of an assistant. The spe-
cial case containing this meter always remained in the care of one
or the other, being carried from place to place with more care than
a mother ordinarily devotes to the handling of her baby. A tumble
that might not hurt a baby might injure a meter bar. In the
Japanese instance, Dr. Tanakadate arrived at Sévres, after a jour-
ney from half way round the world, carrying his meter case im his
arms. The way in which the precious national standard was ear-
ried in each instance brings to mind the story of the Italian knight,
the founder of the well-known Pazzi family, who, in one of the
erusades, returning from Jerusalem on horseback, always sat
baekwards, or facing the tail of his horse, because he tended con-
stantly a little fire in a brazier, whose embers he had first lighted
from the sacred fire in Jerusalem. Journeying painfully and
slowly, he was determined to bring the fire still alive to his native
Italian city. His unusual gait and attitude naturally aroused much
astonishment on the journey, and the name ‘‘pazzo,’’ or crazy,
clung, so the story goes, to him and his family thereafter.

The reason for so much care being warranted, moreover, in the
American instance was that both by act of Congress and by ex-
ecutive order, the U. S. Yard is defined and maintained as a cer-
tain definite fraction of the international meter, as is also the
U. S. pound avoirdupois as another definite fraction of the inter-
national kilogram. Consequently, all American measures are
linked with the fundamental units at Sévres. Although the Wash-
ington Bureau of Standards has more than one official copy of the
meter; yet it is advantageous to have one of the copies checked
and recompared at ‘‘Mececa’’ from time to time.

After the international bureau at Sevres was organized in 1875,
and set to work making and certifying copies of the international
meter and kilogram, 30 standard meter bars in platinum-iridium
were finished and approved by 1889. The bar which agreed most
closely with the pre-existing standard meter of the ‘‘Archives”’
was adopted as the ‘‘international meter’’ for deposit in the
vault, and the others were distributed by lot among the various
contributing governments. Meter-bars Nos. 21 and 27 fell to the
share of America, as well as Kilograms Nos. 4 and 20. The work
of measuring and intercomparing the 30 standard bars, previous
to their acceptance and distribution by the international commit-
tee, took over three years to accomplish.

Meter No. 27 and kilogram No. 20 were brought to Washing-
ton, under seal, by an officer of the U. S. Coast and Geodetic Survey,

- A MODERN MECCA 579

and delivered to President Harrison at the White House on Jan-
uary 2nd, 1890. President Harrison, after breaking the seals and
opening the cases himself, signed for their receipt and certified to
the reception in good order of these national standards. These
exercises were conducted with befitting ceremony, a special recep-
tion, followed by a social function and dance, being arranged at
the White House for the occasion.

As originally planned, the meter was decimally derived from
the dimensions of our universal mother earth, so as to be the ten-
millionth of the distance from the North Pole to the Equator, on a
meridian carried through Paris. In this way, if the meter should
become lost or entangled in dispute, it might be re-established by
gveodesy. It would not, of course, be necessary to start with a tape-
line from the north pole. It would fortunately suffice to measure
the length of a portion or portions of an are of the meridian, be-
tween terrestrial stations whose difference in latitude should be
determined with the requisite degree of precision by astronomical
methods. A series of meridian measurements were actually con-
ducted about the year 1799, for the purpose of arriving at the
length of the standard meter, although the best scientific instru-
ments available at that date were distinctly inferior to those now
in regular use. A marked advantage of this decimalized meridian
basis for the meter is that with decimalized angles, which are
slowly but surely winning their way to favor through ease in their
calculation, the kilometer, or ten-thousandth of the earth quadrant,
becomes the nautical as well as the terrestrial mile, thus bringing
both land and sea under the dominion of the same standards. Re-
cent measurements have shown that the actual standard meter is
a little short of the theoretical meridian meter. With respect
to the meridian through Paris, the standard meter is stated to be
approximately 0.2 millimeter, or 200 microns, too short. This
error is insignificant and negligible from the standpoint of sailor’s
charts, or navigational requirements; but it is an enormous error
from the standpoint of national standard intercomparison at
Sévres. By the time that the shortcomings of the standard meter
with respect to the theoretical meter became known, it was too
late to change the standard. Moreover, supposing that the stand-
ard meter of to-day were corrected to the best known value of the
theoretical meter; there can be no doubt that in the course of
another century of progress in geodesy, the meter-bar thus cor-
rected would have to undergo a new correction at that date. prob-
ably much less than the 200 microns now known; but yet very
large with respect to inter-comparison work. The result would
be that we should never have a final meter, and we should always

580 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

have to examine into the date of a meter-bar in order to be able to
use it with a high degree of precision. For practical purposes,
therefore, the world has been compelled to accept a standard meter
whose precision with respect to the theoretically decimalized
meridian is only of the 3.5th order, in order to secure a precision
of the 7th order in replication and dissemination. In any ease, the
probable precision of redetermination by astronomical measures is
at present much less than that attainable by direct meter-bar com-
parison. Consequently, if the standard meter should be lost in
any one part of the world, it could always be re-established by
reference to the international meter at Sevres.

Will it always be necessary to make periodical comparisons be-
tween national meter-bars and the international standards at
Sevres? Perhaps not. Already a method has been developed,
which, with the aid of the Michelson interferometer, enables the
number of waves of cadmium red light to be counted in the length
of one meter. This number has been stated to be 1,553,164.1,
optically measurable with a precision of the seventh order, or prac-
tically the same as that of direct mechanical comparison. It may,
therefore, be found, after sufficient experience has been acquired,
that instead of sending a standard bar from Washington to Sevres
for calibration and certificate, it may only be necessary to use, in
the Washington laboratory, the right kind of cadmium light, and
to count off the right number of its wave lengths—a number exceed-
ing a million and a half—in order to arrive at the length of one
international meter, to the requisite degree of precision. More-
over, it 1s possible that yet another method may be found for de-
riving the meter locally, without making a pilgrimage to ‘‘Mececa’’
for it. At present, however, it is necessary to make the pil-
erimage.

If then, we examine to-day any scale, divided rule, or measure
of length, we always, either consciously or unconsciously, look
towards Sevres. The rule has always been marked off and gradu-
ated by comparison with a standard, and usually this standard has
been more precise than the copy. If the graduated rule is very
rough and imperfect, with a correspondingly low order of pre-
cision, we do not have to go far to find a possible standard of
reproduction for it; but the finer and more nearly accurate the
rule, the higher up in the scale of development we must search
for a possible progenitor. The very finest in any country are
only obtainable by direct comparison with the national standards.
These, in turn, have been derived from Sévres. Thus there is al-
ways a lineal succession of standards of length and of mass to every
local inch, foot-rule or pound standard that is worthy of the name.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

CURRENT COMMENT
By Dr. Epwin E. SLOSsoN
Science Service

REWARDS FOR WORKING IN-
SIDE THE ATOM

Two Englishmen, one Dane and
one German, are the winners of Nobel
prizes in physics and chemistry for
1921 and 1922. The names just an-
nounced from Stockholm are Albert
Einstein, of Berlin; Neils Bohr, of
Copenhagen; Frederick Soddy, of Ox-
ford, and Francis William Aston, of
Cambridge. This is a striking illus-
tration of the unity of science in
spite of national divisions, for these
four scientists have been in uncon-
sidered cooperation trying to solve
the same question, the most funda-
mental problem of the universe, what
is the atom made of.

The atom was originally supposed
to be the smallest thing possible, the
ultimate’ unit of the universe. The
ancient Greeks, who were the first to
think about the question, concluded
that if you kept on cutting up matter
into smaller and smaller pieces you
must come at length to something too
small to be further sub-divided, so
they called this smallest of all pos-
sible particles the ‘‘atom’’ which
means ‘‘uncutable.’? The modern
chemist took over this old Greek idea
to serve for the combining weights
of the elements and likewise assumed
that the atom was the limit.

But early in the present century,
Professor J. J. Thomson, of Cam-
bridge, found radioactive matter giv-
ing off particles more than a thousand
times smaller than the smallest atom,
and for this discovery he received the
Nobel prize of 1905. This opened up
a new field of research that has been
diligently prosecuted ever since,

especially by British scientists. Pro-
fessor Soddy has not only done a
large part of this work but he has
given a good popular account of what
it means in his book, ‘‘Science and
Tite.” ?

Chemists used to suppose that all
the atoms of the same element were
exactly alike in weight and every
other way, wherever it came from,
but this fixed idea has been upset.
Soddy found, for instance, that lead
from thorium ores is eleven per cent.
heavier in its atomic weight than lead
from uranium ores. Soddy named
these different forms ‘‘isotopes.’’
What are listed in chemical text-
books as atomic weights and were
supposed to be unvarying turn out to
be in many cases averages of several
isotopes. Mereury, for instance,
which is listed as having an atomic
weight of 200.5 consists of six iso-
topes with weights varying from 197
to 204.

Aston devised an ingenious way of
making the atoms record their own
atomic weights. He drives a stream
of positively chargea particles be-
tween the poles of a powerful magnet
which deflects them in the degree of
their relative weights. When the di-
viding streams strike a photographic
plate they leave their tracks and from
these the mass of the various isotopes
can be determined. Chlorine has al-
ways been a puzzle to chemists be-
cause its atomic weight figured 35.46
instead of a whole number. But sub-
jected to the scrutiny of Aston’s ap-
paratus it is found to be a mixture
of two kinds of chlorine atoms, one
weighing exactly 35 and the other
exactly 37.

The Scandinavian scientist, Bohr,
was the first to venture on a picture
of the new fashioned atom. We had

DR. FRIDJOF NANSEN
The distinguished Norwegian Arctic explorer and man of science, who has
recently been occupying himself with the relief of sufferers from the Russian

famine and is now engaged in similar work in Asia Minor.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

been accustomed to think of atoms
as round hard balls, but according to
Bohr they are more like miniature
solar systems with a positive elec-
trical nucleus in the center and one
or more negative electrical particles,
called ‘‘electrons,’’ revolving around
it at tremendous speed.

Here is where Einstein comes in,
for, while the planets moving majes-
tically in their orbits obey Newton’s
law of gravitation, the electrons,
which travel almost as fast as light,
deviate from Newton’s law in pro-
portion to their speed and follow the
formula of Einstein instead. Accord-
ing to Newton the mass of a body re-
mains the same whatever its motion.
According to Hinstein, the mass in-
creases with its velocity. The differ-
ence between them is inconsiderable
for any ordinary speed, but when we
are dealing with electrons moving at
the rate of 100,000 miles a second it
becomes important. The public has
associated Einstein exclusively with
astronomy because his theory has
been tested at a time of eclipse, but
the theory of relativity has applica-
tions quite as revolutionary and much
more practical in earthly chemistry
and physics.

HOW THE CHEMIST MOVES

THE WORLD

THE chemist provides the motive
power of the world, the world of man,
not the inanimate globe. Archimedes
said he could move the world if he
had a long enough lever. The chemist
moves the world with molecules. The
chemical reactions of the consumption
of food and fuel furnish the energy
for our muscles and machines. If
the chemist can only get control of
the electron, he will be in command
of unlimited energy. For in this uni-
verse of ours power seems to be in in-
verse ratio to size and the minutest
things are mightiest.

When we handle particles smaller
than the atom we can get behind th:
elements and may effect more marvel-

583

lous transformations than ever. The
smaller the building blocks the great-
er the variety of buildings that can
be constructed. The chemistry of the
past was a kind of cooking. The
chemistry of the future will be more
like astronomy; but it will be a new
and more useful sort of astronomy,
such as an astronomer might employ
if he had the power to rearrange the
solar system by annexing a new
planet from some other system or ex-
pediting the condensation of a nebula
a thousand times.

The chemist is not merely a mani-
pulator of molecules; he is a manager
of mankind. His discoveries and in-
ventions, his economies and creations,
often transform the conditions of or-
dinary life, alter the relations of na-
tional power, and shift the currents
of thought, but these revolutions are
effected so quietly that the chemist
does not get the credit for what he
accomplishes, and indeed does not
usually realize the extent of his
sociological influence.

For instance, a great change that
has come over the world in recent
years and has made conditions so un-
like those existing in any previous
period that historical precedents have
no application to the present prob-
lems, is the rapid intercommunication
of intelligence. Anything that any-
body wants to say can be communi-
cated to anybody who wants to hear
it anywhere in all the wide world
within a few minutes, or a few days,
or at most a few months. In the
agencies by which this is accom-
plished, rapid transit by ship, train
or automobile, printing, photography,
telegraph, and telephone, wired or
wireless, chemistry plays an essential
part, although it is so unpretentious
a part that it rarely receives recogni-
tion. For instance, the expansion of
literature and the spread of enlight-
enment, which put an end to the Dark
Ages, is ascribed to the invention of
movable type by Gutenberg, or some-
body else, at the end of the four-

584

teenth century. But the credit be-
longs to the unknown chemist who in-
vented the process of making paper.
The ancient Romans stamped their
bricks and lead pipes with type, but
printing had to wait more than a
thousand years for a supply of paper.
Movable type is not the essential fea-
ture of printing, for most of the
printing done nowadays is not from
movable type, but from solid lines or
pages. We could if necessary do
away with type and press altogether,
and use some photographic method of
composition and reproduction, but we
could not do without paper The in-
vention of wood-pulp paper has done
more for the expansion of literature
than did the invention of rag paper
600 years ago.

Print is only an imperfect repre-
sentation of the sound of speech, a
particularly imperfect representation
in the case of English because we can
not tell how half the words sound
from their spelling. But the phono-
graph gives us sounds directly, and
the audion and the radio have extend-
ed the range of a speaker, until now
a speaker may have an audience
covering a continent and including
generations yet unborn. What these
inventions do for sound, photography
has done for the sister sense of light.
By means of them man is able to
transcend the limitations of time and
space. He can make himself seen and
heard all round the earth and to all
future years.

THE OOST OF NIAGARA

Ir a man stood on the banks of the
Mississippi at the time of the spring
freshet, when the stream was carry-
ing down to the Gulf fences, pigs,
chickens, furniture and, occasionally,
a house, he would be seriously con-
cerned over the loss of the property
of those who had so little to lose,
and perhaps exert himself to save
some of it; but the continuous
calamity of Niagara arouses in him
no feelings of a nature to mar his

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

enjoyment. He shows the same
esthetic appreciation of a sublime
and beautiful spectacle and the same
indifference to its cost as Nero at the
burning of Rome.

It is easier to comprehend how
much it is costing us to keep up Nia-
gara as a spectacle if we put the
waste in concrete terms. Various en-
gineers have estimated that it would

| be possible to get from Niagara Falls

over 5,000,000 more horse-power than
is now utilized. In one of the large
steam plants of New York City the
cost of power is $50 a year per horse-
power. Taking these figures as suf-
ficiently close for our purpose the
water that goes over the Falls repre-
sents the annihilation of potential
wealth at the rate of some
$250,000,000 a year or nearly $30,000
an hour.

We are told that there are some
millions of people in poverty and
poorly nourished in this country, yet
here is wasted the equivalent of
250,000 loaves of bread an hour. We
may see with our mind’s eye 600,000
nice fresh eggs dropping over the
precipice every hour and making a
gigantic omelet in the whirlpool. If
calico were continuously pouring from
the looms in a stream 4,000 feet wide
like Niagara River it would represent
the same destruction of property. If
a Oarnegie Library were held under
the spout it would be filled with good
books in an hour or two. Or we can
imagine a big department store float-
ing down from Lake Erie every day
and smashing its varied contents on
the rocks 160 feet below. That would

| be an exceedingly interesting and di-

verting spectacle, quite as attractive
to the crowd as the present, and no
more expensive to maintain. Yet
some people might object to that on
the ground of extravagance who now
object to the utilization of the power
of the falling water.

It must not be supposed that I am
insensible to the beauties of nature
or ignore their esthetic and cultural

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

value. On the contrary, I would wish
to enhance the interest and impres-
siveness of Niagara Falls by making
it a rarer spectacle. The reason why
people fail to appreciate the beauty
of the clouds, of the sunset and of
the landscape from their windows is
because these are so common. If a
bouquet of fireworks were shot off at
eight o’clock every night we would
not care to look at them. Of course
the Falls would be turned on for all
legal holidays and as often as there
was sufficient demand for it. On such
occasions those who wished to go
down the current in barrels could en-
joy their favorite sport. Weddings
would naturally be arranged to come
off at a time when the Falls fell. At
the hours when the water was pro-
hibited from making a run on the
banks, rambles over the eroded rocks
and worn channels would be of great
interest to the geologist and the tour-
ist. Couples and groups could be
photographed at the Falls then, as
they are now, by posing them in front
of a painted screen.

Many more people would see Nia-
gara and their enjoyment of it would
be much greater if it could be seen
only on fete days. Thinking they
could see it any time, thousands of
people have neglected it in favor of
some passing show.

Of course, there is something im-
pressive in the thought that the flood
pours thundering into the abyss all
of the time regardless of sight-seers.
But if one has not sufficient imagina-
tion to find an equal emotional value
in the contemplation of the varied life
and industry it supports as it pours
through the penstocks and spins the

turbines he can swell with satisfac-.

tion on the thought of the thousands
of years when it was of no use to any-
body.

In 18938, when Lord Kelvin stood
on the brink of Niagara, he was not
so much impressed by its grandeur
as he was saddened by the sight of
such an enormous waste of power,

tauri.

585

and’ he expressed the hope that he
would live to see it all utilized, an
observation which was much ridiculed
at the time by hard-hearted sentimen-
talists and unimaginative poets. To
them Niagara was a mere spectacle,
but to the great scientist, who had
devoted his life to the study and ex-
position of the law of the conserva-
tion of energy, it was much more.
His prophetic eye could see the poor
who might be enriched, the homes
that could be made happy, the hungry
who might be fed, the naked who
might be clothed, and the toiling mil-
lions who might be relieved of their
burdens by the water dashing upon
the rocks below for the amusement
of idle tourists.

LOOK OUT FOR ALPHA CEN-
TAURI

As if we did not have enough to
worry about, what with winter com-
ing on and coal so short and clothing
so high, here comes along Professor
Ellsworth Huntington, of Yale, with
a book on ‘‘Climate Changes’’ which
warns us that the stars in their
courses may fight against us. He has
a theory that the glacial epochs and
the lesser disturbances of the earth’s
climate are largely due to prior dis-
turbances in the- sun’s atmosphere
and these in “turn may be caused by
the approach or increased activity of
certain stars. All the stars, includ-
ing our sun, are in radio communica-
tion with one another, and when one
flares up over something it arouses
responsible excitement in all the
others within range. Then, too, the
stars are not ‘‘fixed,’’? as we used to
think, but are wandering about in
various directions, and when two stars
come close enough together they be-
come mutually inflamed by the proxi-
mity and may become permanently
attached.

Now the nearest star to us is the
brightest one in the Centaur constel-
lation, therefore named Alpha Cen-
It is only about 25 trillion

586 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Wide World Photos
THE ASTROPHYSICAL OBSERVATORY BUILT FOR PROFESSOR
ALBERT EINSTEIN AT POTSDAM

miles away and its light takes four | sunspots, and would affect the
and a third years to reach us. Alpha | weather on the earth.

Centauri is not only big and bright The dates when the two bright
and relatively near, but it is triple | spheres of Alpha Centauri were near-
and variable. Its two main com- | est together and most radiant are

ponents are like two suns the size of | 81.2 years apart and these fall on
ours, revolving around one another | the years 1388, 1469, 1550, 1631,
every 81.2 years. When they are | 1713, 1794, 1875 and 1956.° Com-
closest they are 1,100,000,000 miles | paring these with the records of sun-
apart and when their orbits separate | spots, which have been kept only for
most widely they are three times as | the last century and a half, we see
far as that from each other. It is | that such evidences of solar disturb-
when the twin stars are nearest that | ances were most evident in periods
we should expect them to be most | ending in 1794 and 1875, and that
active in sending out light waves and | another period of high solar activity
electrons. These reaching the sun | started in 1914 and may be expected
might set up wild whirlings in the | to end about 1956.

solar atmosphere, which would appear | If this theory of stellar influence
to us as an unusual abundance of | is true we may expect something to

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

happen somewhere between 1950 and
1956. What it will be Professor
Huntington does not venture to sur-
mise, but he reminds us that in the
years preceding 1388, when Alpha
Centauri was active, Europe was a
very uncomfortable place to live in.
There were droughts and floods, fa-
mines and freezings. The Baltic was
frozen so that horse sleighs could
cross from Germany to Sweden, and
the Danube and the Rhine sometimes
inundated the cities on their banks
and sometimes nearly dried up.
There are more serious grounds
for suspecting Alpha Centauri of a
malign influence on the earth for that
star was nearest to the earth 28,000
years ago, being then only 3.2 light-
years away. Now this is the date
that geologists have set for the end
of the last Great Ice Age so the ap-
proach and proximity of Alpha Cen-
taurl may have had something to do
with that spell of cold weather which
came near freezing out the human
race. The world is even yet con-
valescing from the chills of the Gla-

587

cial Epoch. Greenland which onee
was really green with ferns and figs
is still covered by an ice cap.

We need not fear another glacial
age from the same cause for Alpha
Centauri is now 4.3 light-years away
and leaving us at the rate of thirteen
miles a second. But Sirius is due in

this vicinity in 65,000 years and that

would be quite as—I should say,
might be equally—bad for us.
But Professor Huntington en-

deavors to console us by reminding
us that the human race not only sur-
vived several such periods of climatic
stress, but has come out of them in
each case stronger and better for the
struggle for existence. He is a firm
believer in the value of stormy
weather. He is a New Englander.

NEW LIGHT ON THE ORIGIN
OF LIFE
Was the first living being a plant
or animal? How could either origi-
nate out of non-existing matter?
These that have
They could

are questions

hitherto baffled scientists.

World Photos

A LABORATORY OF THE ASTROPHYSICAL OBSERVATORY BUILT
FOR PROFESSOR EINSTEIN

Apepousypg ye Aurdwoy orsyoopy pexouay oy} Jo SOlIOPVIOGVT YIIvasoy oy} UT

ZLAWNIGLS ‘d SATHVHO ‘Wd CNV NOSIGH ‘V SVNOHL ‘UN
80104 PLO A apr4f

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

trace back, more or less satisfactorily,
the lines of development of plants
and animals to the simplest and most
primitive forms of life, but there
they ran up against an insurmount-
able wall, on the near side of which
was the world of living organisms
and on the far side the world of
inert mineral and inorganic matter.

We all know that non-living matter
can be converted over into living
matter for we do that ourselves when-
ever we eat or breathe. We all know
that green plants have the power of
building up sugar and starch and
wood (the so-called carbohydrates)
out of the water of the soil and
earbon dioxide of the air, for we can
see them do it any sunny day. But
it is life only that can bring into
the living organism this inorganic
material. Water and carbon dioxide,
plain ‘‘soda water,’’ do not spon-
taneously change over into sugar or
start to grow into a plant. It re-
quires green colored granules of the
leaves, called chlorophyll, to effect
this transformation.

But chlorophyll is a very compli-
cated chemical compound. It is
formed ouly by green plants as they
develop in the sun’s rays from white
sprouts. So the plant must exist be-
fore chlorophyll is formed. But, on
the other hand, a plant could not
exist unless it got its energy from
the sugar and other stuff stored up
previously by some chlorophyll-bear-
ing plant. Even the simplest green
plant can not Hve and grow on its
nutritive salts in the sunshine unless
it has a bit of plant-stuff to feed on
as a starter.

We might surmise as a way out of
the dilemma that animal life came
first on the earth, and, in decaying,
supplied the primitive plants with the
necessary organic food stuff. But
here we are blocked because animals
are parasites of plants. They live
on the sugars and so forth that the
green leaves have stored up by means
of sunshine.

589

So this was the perplexing situa-
tion. Plants can feed on animals or
other plants. Animals can feed on
plants or other animals. But where
could the first animals or plants get
their food when there was nothing
but mineral matter in the world? It
was worse than the old question,
which came first, the hen or the egg?

But of late we are beginning to
get light on the problem. The wall
between the living and non-living is
crumbling. Certain sugars and pro-
teins, such as the plant forms that
we eat, can now be made in the lab-
oratory out of inorganic material.
Artificial cells have been constructed
that grow and crawl and feed them-
selves and stick out feelers and sub-
divide very much like living cells. It
has been found that ultra-violet rays,
that is, light of such short waves that
it can not be seen, can convert water
and carbon dioxide into sugar as
chlorophyll does.

These short waves are not con-
tained in the sunshine that reaches
the earth to-day, but it is found that
ordinary rays may act the same way
in the presence of certain substances
such as iron rust in water. These
same energetic rays are able to incor-
porate the nitrogen of mineral salts
into compounds like the protein of
the living cell. So here we see the
possibility that the action of the sun-
light on the sea in primordial periods
—or even in the present—might pro-
duce sufficient food to give a single
cell a start in life and enable it to
grow and multiply and develop into -
other and higher forms.

But how this primal cell got to
going in this way the biologists are
only beginning to surmise. Dr. E. J.
Allen, at the recent Hull meeting of
the British Association for the Ad-
vanecement of Science, ventures the
theory that the first organism was of
the animal sort and spherical shape,
but that it gradually grew a tail or
whip that enabled it to rise to the
sunny surface of the sea whenever it

590

sank below and that it there acquired
the chlorophyll by which it could
make its own food out of the air and
water. This is far from knowing
what did happen in those early days,
but it is a great advance to be able
even to speculate as to how it might
have happened since not many years
ago it seemed that it
happen at all.

could not

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS

WE record with regret the death of
Robert Wheeler Willson, emeritus
professor of astronomy at Harvard
University; of Guy Henry Cox, for-
merly professor of geology at the
Missouri School of Mines; of Dr.
Chauncey William Waggoner, head of
the department of physics in West
Virginia University; of F. T. Trou-
ton, emeritus professor of physics in
the University of London, and of E.
Bergmann, director of the Chemisch-
Technische Reichsanstalt, Berlin.

THE Henry Jacob Bigelow medal
of the Boston Surgical Society was
presented to Dr. William W. Keen,
of Philadelphia ‘‘for conspicuous
contributions to the advancement of
surgery,’’ on the evening of October
25, when Dr. Keen addressed the so-
ciety on ‘‘Sixty years of surgery,
1862-1922.’

On the occasion of the celebration
of the fiftieth anniversary of the
Dutch Zoological Society there were
admitted as honorary members: Pro-
fessor O. Abel, Vienna; Professor
M. Caullery, Paris; Professor L. Dol-
lo, Brussels; Professor B. Grassi,
Rome; Professor V. Hacker, Halle;
Professor 8. J. Hickson, Manchester ;
Professor N. Holmgren, Stockholm;
Professor T. H. Morgan, New York;
Dr. F. Sarasin, Basle, and Dr. J.
Schmidt, Copenhagen.

Foster Haun, the chemical labora-
tory of the University of Buffalo,

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

designed especially to meet the needs
of the electro-chemical, hydro-elec-
tric, dye and steel industries on the
Niagara frontier, was dedicated on
October 27 in connection with the in-
stallation of Dr. Samuel P. Capen,
of Washington, as chancellor of the
university. Dr. Edgar F. Smith,
president of the American Chemical -
Society, and Dr. Edwin E. Slosson,
of Science Service, were speakers at
the ceremony. The laboratory,
erected at a cost of a million dollars,
is the gift of O. E. Foster, of But-
falo.

In the will of Prince Albert of
Monaco, who died on June 26 last,
there are several gifts for scientific
purposes. His farm at Sainte Su-
zanne is left to the French Academy
of Agriculture, and the wish is ex-
pressed that the estate should re-
main a place for agricultural experi-
ments, to demonstrate what science
can obtain from sterile lands. Dr.
Jules Richard will receive 600,000
francs to enable him to complete
literary and scientific works in prog-
ress, including the results of the
oceanographic cruises and the prepa-
ration of the Bathymetric Chart of
the Oceans. The proceeds of the sale
of the yacht Hirondelle, all books and
publications of a scientific nature, as
well as certain personal effects, will
go to the Oceanographic Institutes at
Paris and Monaco, while the In-
stitute of Human Paleontology in
Paris is to receive any personal ef-
fects relating to the work carried on
there. The Paris Academy of
Sciences will receive a million franes,
the income of which is to provide a
prize to be awarded every two years,
the nature of the prize to be indicated
by the academy, according to the
needs of the moment; a like sum is
bequeathed to the Academy of Medi-
cine for a similar prize.

INDEX TO VOLUME XV 591

INDEX

NAMES OF CONTRIBUTORS ARE PRINTED IN SMALL CAPITALS

Albatrosses, Our Great Rovers of the
High Seas, R. W. SHUFELDT, 469

Alcohol and Gasoline, 188

Alpha Centauri, Look out for, 585

ANDERS, JAMES M., City Parks and
Playgrounds as Health Agents, 42

Anopluris, G. F. Frrris, 551

Ants, Wi~tt1am Morton WHEELER,
385, 527

Astronomy in Canada, Orro Kuorz,
215

Atom, Modern Study of, ALAN W. C.
Menzigs, 364; of Light, 377; Re-
wards for Working Inside the, 581

Austraha, Vegetation of, D. H.
CAMPBELL, 481 :

Bacot, Martyr to Science, ARTHUR H.
SMitH, 359

Bees, Solitary and Social, WILLIAM
Morton WHEELER, 235, 320

Berry, Epwarp W., Geologie Evi-
dence of Evolution, 97

Brown, W. Norman, Tar-Baby Story
at Home, 228

Bureau of Weights and Measures,
International, A. E. KENNELLY,
570

Calendar Reform, 91

Calorie in Nutrition, History of
MILDRED R. ZIEGLER, 520

CAMPBELL, D. H., Vegetation of Aus-
tralia and New Zealand, 481

Canada, Astronomy in, Orro Kuorz,
215

Character Reading from External
Signs, Knigur DuNuLap, 153

Chemist, how he moves the world, 483

City Parks and Playgrounds as
Health Agents, JAMES M. ANDERS,
42

?

Cost of Niagara, 583

DapouriAn, H. M., Some Problems of
Progress, 348

DANForRTH, RALPH E., Path as Factor
in Human Evolution, 338

Darwin, Charles, ADDISON GULICK,
132
Davis, W. M., Reasonableness of

Science, 193; Topographical Maps
of United Staites, 557
De Anopluris, G. F. Frrris, 551
Dovuetass, A. E., Annual Rings of
Trees in Climatic Study, 5
DunuLAPp Knicut, Reading Character
from External Signs, 153

Easy Group Theory, G. A. MILLER,
512

Eclipse, Relativity and the, 473

Kels, Birthplace of, 381

Einstein and Time Line, 475

EVERMANN, BartoN WARREN, Con-
servation and Utilization ot Nat-
ural Resources, 289

Evolution, Geologic Evidence of, Ep-
WARD W. Berry, 97; Working
Backward, 377

FELT, E. P., Kxterminating Insects,
Possibility of, 35

Ferris, G. F., De Anopluris, 551

Finnish Poetry, EUGENE VAN CLEEF,
50

Food Resources of the Sea, GEORGE
W. Martin, 455

Galen, Claudius, Mentality and Cos-
mology of, JONATHAN WRIGHT, 144

Gasoline and Alcohol, 188

GaTEs, CuirrorD E., Polynesians,
Caueasians of Pacific, 257

Glands and Complexes, 191

Go to the Bee, Davin Starr JORDAN,
448

Group Theory, Easy, G. A. MILLER,
512

GULICK, ADDISON, Charles Darwin the
Man, 132

HANNA, G. Dauuas, Reindeer Herds
of Pribiloff Islands, 181

Health Agents, City Parks and Play-
grounds as, JAMES M. ANDERS, 42

HENDERSON, LAWRENCE J., Water,
405

HOVERSTOCK, GERTRUDE, and STEPHEN
S. VisHer, ‘‘Who’s Who’’ among
American Women, 443

Imagination, Scientific, WALTER
Lipsy, 263
Immigration: Restriction, ROBERT

DeC. WarD, 313; Intelligence Tests
of Immigrant Groups, KIMBALL
Youne, 417; Legislation, Rosert
DEC. Warp, 561

Insects, Social Life among, WILLIAM
Morton WHEELER, 68, 119, 235,
320, 385, 527;Exterminating, E. P.
FELT, 35

Intelligence, LIGHTNER WITMER, 57

International Intellectual Coopera-
tion, 89

JORDAN, Davin Srarr, Go to the Bee,
448

Keeping Cool, 187

KENNELLY, A. E., Modern Mecea, 571

Kuiorz, Orro, Astronomy in Canada,
215

592 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY e

La Rue, DanizL WotrorD, The
Shorthand Alphabet and the Re-
forming of Language, 271

Lippy, WALTER, Conceptual Think-
ing, 435

Life, Origin of, 587

Light, Atoms of, 377

Macrosiphum Solanifolii, Epitn M.
Patcu, 166

Maps, Topographical, of United
States, Wi~tiam Morris Davis,
557

Marine Fisheries, State and Biologist,
WILLIAM F.. THoMpPson, 542

MartTIN GEORGE W., Food Resources
of Sea, 455

Menzies, ALAN W. C., Modern Study
of Atom, 364

Mecea, Modern, A. E. KENNELLY, 571

Microbes and Man, 379

MinuEr, G. A., Easy Group Theory,
512

Mind-Cleaning, 287

Naming, New Inventions, 285

Natural Resources, Conservation and
Utilization of, Barton’ WARREN
EVERMANN, 289

New Zealand, Vegetation of, D. H.
CAMPBELL, 481

Niagara, Cost of, 584

Nutrition, History of Calorie in,
MinprRED R. ZIEGLER, 520

Origin of Life, 584

Patou, Epira M., Marooned in a
Potato Field, 166

Path as Factor in Human Evolution,
RautpH E. DANFORTH, 338

Polynesians, Caucasians of Pacific,
CLIFFORD E, GATES, 257

Potato Field, Marooned in, EpirH M.
PatcH, 166

Problems of Progress, Some, H. M.
DADOURIAN, 348

Progress of Science, 89, 187, 282, 377,
473, 581

Reindeer Herds of Pribiloff Islands,
G. DALLAS HANNA, 181
Relativity and Eclipse, 473

Science, Reasonableness of, W. M.
Davis, 193; of Keeping Cool, 187

Scientific Items, 96, 191, 288, 384,
480, 585; Imagination, WALTER
Lippy, 263

Shorthand Alphabet and the Reform-
ing of Language, DANIEL WOL-
FORD LA Rug, 271

SHUFELDT, R. W., Albatrosses, Our
Great Rovers of the High Seas, 469
SmirH, ARTHUR H., Bacot, Martyr
to Science, 359
Solar Eclipse of September 21, 383
Sunspots, Invisible, 91

Tar-Baby Story at Home, W. Nor-
MAN Brown, 22 ;

Thinking, Conceptual, WALTER LisBy,
435

THOMPSON, WILLIAM F., Marine
Fisheries, State and Biologist, 542

Tricks of Mediums, 285

Tropies, Variability vs. Uniformity

in, STEPHEN SARGENT VISHER, 22
Twins, 93
Topographical Maps of United
States, Wui~uiAM Morris Davis,
557

VAN CLEEF, EUGENE, Finnish Poetry,
Nature’s Mirror, 50

Variability vs. Uniformity in Tropics,
STEPHEN SARGENT VISHER, 22

Vegetation of Australia and New
Zealand, D. H. CAMPBELL, 481

VISHER STEPHEN SARGENT, Variabil-
ity vs. Uniformity in Tropics, 22;
and GERTRUDE HOVERSTOCK,
‘“‘Who’s Who’? among American
Women, 443

WALLIS WiLtson D., Why do we
Laugh? 343

Ward, Rosert DEC., Some Thoughts
on Immigration Restriction, 313;
What Next in Immigration Legis-
lation, 561

Wasps, Solitary and Social, WILLIAM
Morton WHEELER, 68, 119

Water, LAWRENCE J. HENDERSON,
405; Value of, 282

What is Intelligence and Who has it?
LIGHTNER WITMER, 957

WHEELER, WILLIAM Morton, Social
Life among Insects, 69, 119, 235,
320, 385, 527

‘‘Who’s Who’’. among American
Women, STEPHEN S. VISHER and
GERTRUDE HOVERSTOCK, 443

Why do we Laugh? Winson D.
WALLIS, 343

Witmer, LigHTtNER, What is Intelli-
gence and Who has it? 57

WRIGHT JONATHAN, Mentality and
Cosmology of Claudius Galen, 144

YounG, KimBauu, Intelligence Tests
of Immigrant Groups, 417

ZIEGLER, MiLpRED R., History of
Calorie in Nutrition, 520

.
en

.) BINDING LIST NOVA 1933

Q The Scientific monthly
1
$817
veld
er: hysical &
Applied Sci,
Serials

PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY

d/h 417) 413)

i x i a pharma -
a Lo fe-emcts Nie ea Be 4 =
PER = oe iets ch sta a — ' a
- + S x ~ en —
> ST
- ‘ >
* <
¥ : 2
ay il aor * ~ . bs a
‘ en 3
) 1 - “4 —
> -
a
‘ 7 =~ -
s « us “ -
1 oe ‘ +4 >
i t To ae ? - ;
ai -;
¥ ‘
a % :
> 3 Pe - { =
» . - - ” -
t sen 2
if - . » ‘
: 1 ;
> a ‘ s .
‘ t =
¢ a z
A .

Fete Savy teeny

es tas