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Title: Appletons' Popular Science Monthly, April 1899 - Volume LIV, No. 6, April 1899
Author: Various
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Appletons' Popular Science Monthly, April 1899 - Volume LIV, No. 6, April 1899" ***

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by Biodiversity Heritage Library.)

  Established by Edward L. Youmans


              EDITED BY

              VOL. LIV

    NOVEMBER, 1898, TO APRIL, 1899

              NEW YORK

          COPYRIGHT, 1899,



APRIL, 1899.




     I. The Stuff that Dreams are made of. By HAVELOCK ELLIS         721

    II. The Best Methods of Taxation. By the Late Hon. DAVID A.
        WELLS. Part I                                                736

   III. Mental Defectives and the Social Welfare. By MARTIN W.
        BARR, M. D. (Illustrated.)                                   746

    IV. The Wheat Problem again. By EDWARD ATKINSON                  759

     V. The Coming of the Catbird. By SPENCER TROTTER                772

    VI. Guessing, as Influenced by Number Preferences. By F. B.
        DRESSLAR                                                     781

   VII. Concerning Weasels. By WILLIAM E. CRAM. (Illustrated.)       786

  VIII. Care of the Throat and Ear. By W. SCHEPPEGRELL, M. D.        791

    IX. The Physical Geography of the West Indies. I. The Mammals
        of the Antilles. By Dr. F. L. OSWALD                         802

     X. Iron in the Living Body. By M. A. DASTRE                     807

    XI. The Malay Language. By Prof. R. CLYDE FORD                   813

   XII. Life on a South Sea Whaler. By FRANK T. BULLEN               818

  XIII. Sketch of Manly Miles. (With Portrait.)                      834

   XIV. Editor's Table: Science and Culture.--Survival of the
        Fittest                                                      842

    XV. Scientific Literature                                        845

   XVI. Fragments of Science                                         854

  XVII. Index to Vol. LIV                                            865

              NEW YORK:
           72 FIFTH AVENUE.



     Entered at the Post Office at New York, and admitted for
     transmission through the mails at second-class rates.

[Illustration: MANLY MILES.]


APRIL, 1899.



In our dreams we are taken back into an earlier world. It is a world
much more like that of the savage, the child, the criminal, the
madman, than is the world of our respectable civilized waking life.
That is, in large part, it must be confessed, the charm of dreams. It
is also the reason of their scientific value. Through our dreams we
may realize our relation to stages of evolution we have long left
behind, and by the self-vivisection of our sleeping life we may learn
to know something regarding the mind of primitive man and the source
of some of his beliefs, thus throwing light on the facts we obtain by
ethnographic research.

This aspect of dreams has not always been kept steadily in sight,
though it can no longer be said that the study of dreams is neglected.
From one point of view or another--not only by the religious sect
which, it appears, constitutes a "Dream Church" in Denmark, but by
such carefully inquisitive investigators as those who have been
trained under the inspiring influence of Prof. Stanley Hall--dreaming
is seriously studied. I need not, therefore, apologize for the fact
that I have during many years taken note from time to time and
recorded the details and circumstances of vivid dreams when I could
study their mechanism immediately on awakening, and that I have
occupied myself, not with the singularities and marvels of
dreaming--of which, indeed, I know little or nothing--but with their
simplest and most general laws and tendencies. A few of these laws and
tendencies I wish to set forth and illustrate. The interest of such a
task is twofold. It not only reveals to us an archaic world of vast
emotions and imperfect thoughts, but by helping us to attain a clear
knowledge of the ordinary dream processes, it enables us in advance to
deal with many of the extraordinary phenomena of dreaming, sometimes
presented to us by wonder-loving people as awesomely mysterious, if
not indeed supernatural. The careful analysis of mere ordinary dreams
frequently gives us the key to these abnormal dreams.

Perhaps the chief and most frequent tendency in the mechanism of
dreaming is that by which isolated impressions from waking life flow
together in dreams to be welded into a whole. There is then produced,
in the strictest sense, a confusion. For instance, a lady, who in the
course of the day has admired a fine baby and bought a big fish for
dinner, dreams with horror and surprise of finding a fully developed
baby in a large codfish. The confusion may be more remote, embodying
abstract ideas and without reference to recent impressions. Thus I
dreamed that my wife was expounding to me a theory by which the
substitution of slates for tiles in roofing had been accompanied by,
and intimately associated with, the growing diminution of crime in
England. Amid my wife's rather contemptuous opposition, I opposed this
theory, pointing out the picturesqueness of tiles, their cheapness,
greater comfort both in winter and summer, but at the same time it
occurred to me as a peculiar coincidence that tiles should have a
sanguinary tinge suggestive of criminal bloodthirstiness. I need
scarcely say that this bizarre theory had never suggested itself to my
waking thoughts. There was, however, a real connecting link in the
confusion--the redness--and it is a noteworthy point, of great
significance in the interpretation of dreams, that that link, although
clearly active from the first, remained subconscious until the end of
the dream, when it presented itself as an entirely novel coincidence.

The best simile for the mechanism of the most usual type of dream
phenomena is the magic lantern. Our dreams are like dissolving views
in which the dissolving process is carried on swiftly or slowly, but
always uninterruptedly, so that, at any moment, two (often indeed
more) incongruous pictures are presented to consciousness which
strives to make one whole of them, and sometimes succeeds and is
sometimes baffled. Or we may say that the problem presented to
dreaming consciousness resembles that experiment in which
psychologists pronounce three wholly unconnected words, and require
the subject to combine them at once in a connected sentence. It is
unnecessary to add that such analogies fail to indicate the subtle
complexity of the apparatus which is at work in the manufacture of

It is the presence of the strife I have just referred to between
apparently irreconcilable groups of images, in the effort of
overcoming the critical skepticism of sleeping consciousness--a feeble
skepticism, it may be, but, as many people do not seem to recognize,
a real skepticism--that the impressive emotional effects of dreams are
often displayed. It sometimes happens that two irreconcilable groups
of impressions reach sleeping consciousness, one flowing from a recent
stratum of memories, the other from an older stratum. A typical form
of this phenomenon often occurs in our dreams of dead friends.
Professor Sully remarks that in dreams of the dead "awareness of the
fact of death wholly disappears, or reduces itself to a vague feeling
of something delightfully wonderful in the restored presence." That,
however, as I have elsewhere shown,[1] is not the typical process in
dreaming of the dead; although in the later dreams of those who often
see their dead friends during sleep, the process is abbreviated, and
the friend's presence is accepted without a struggle--a very
interesting point, for it tends to show that in dreams, as in the
hypnotic state, the recollection of previous similar states of
consciousness persists, and the illusion is strengthened by

In typical dreams of a dead friend there is a struggle between that
stream of recent memories which represents him as dead and that older
stream which represents him as living. These two streams are
inevitably caused by the fact of death, which sets up a barrier
between them and renders one set of memories incongruous with the
other set. In dreams we are not able to arrange our memories
chronologically, but we are perpetually reasoning and striving to be
logical. Consequently the two conflicting streams of memories break
against each other in restless conflict, and sleeping consciousness
endeavors to propound some theory which will reconcile them. The most
frequent theories are, as I have found, either that the news of the
friend's death was altogether false, or that he had been buried alive
by mistake, or else that having really died his soul has returned to
earth for a brief space. The mental and emotional conflict which such
dreams involve renders them very vivid. They make a profound
impression even after awakening, and for some sensitive persons are
too sacred to speak of. Even so cautious and skeptical a thinker as
Renan, when, after the death of his beloved sister Henriette, he
dreamed more than once that she had been buried alive, and that he
heard her voice calling to him from her grave, had to still his
horrible suspicions by the consideration that she had been tended by
experienced doctors. On less well-balanced minds, and more especially
in primitive stages of civilization, we can scarcely doubt that such
dreams, resting as they do on the foundation of consciousness, have
had a powerful influence in persuading man that death is but a
transient fact, and that the soul is independent of the body. I do not
wish to assert that they suffice to originate the belief.[2]

While dreams are thus often formed by the molding together of more or
less congruous images by a feeble but still intelligent sleeping
activity, another factor is to be found in the involuntary wavering
and perpetually mere meaningless change of dream imagery. Such
concentration as is possible during sleep always reveals a shifting,
oscillating, uncertain movement of the vision before us. We are, as it
were, reading a sign-post in the dusk, or making guesses at the names
of the stations as our express train flashes by the painted letters.
Any one who has ever been subject to the hypnagogic imagery sometimes
seen in the half-waking state, or who has ever taken mescal, knows
that it is absolutely impossible to fix an image. It is this factor in
dreams which causes them so often to baffle our analysis. In addition
to the mere, as it were, mechanical flowing together of images and
ideas, and the more or less intelligent molding of them into a whole,
there is thus a failure of sleeping attention to fix definitely the
final result--a failure which itself may evidently serve to carry on
the dream process by suggesting new images and combinations. I dreamed
once that I was with a doctor in his surgery, and saw in his hand a
note from a patient saying that doctors were fools and did him no
good, but he had lately taken some _selvdrolla_, recommended by a
friend, and it had done him more good than anything, so please send
him some more. I saw the note clearly, not, indeed, being conscious of
reading it word by word, but only of its meaning as I looked at it;
the one word I actually seemed to see, letter by letter, was the name
of the drug, and that changed and fluctuated beneath my vision as I
gazed at it, the final impression being _selvdrolla_. The doctor took
from a shelf a bottle containing a bright yellow oleaginous fluid, and
poured a little out, remarking that it had lately come into favor,
especially in uric-acid disorders, but was extremely expensive. I
expressed my surprise, having never before heard of it. Then, again to
my surprise, he poured rather copiously from the bottle on to a plate
of food, saying, in explanation, that it was pleasant to take and not
dangerous. This was a vivid morning dream, and on awakening I had no
difficulty in detecting the source of its various minor details,
especially a note received on the previous evening and containing a
dubious figure, the precise nature of which I had used my pocket lens
to determine. But what was _selvdrolla_, the most vivid element of the
dream? I sought vainly among my recent memories, and had almost
renounced the search when I recalled a large bottle of salad oil seen
on the supper table the previous evening; not, indeed, resembling the
dream bottle, but containing a precisely similar fluid. _Selvdrolla_
was evidently a corruption of "salad oil." I select this dream to
illustrate the uncertainty of dream consciousness, because it also
illustrates at the same time the element of certainty in dream
_subconsciousness_. Throughout my dream I remained, consciously, in
entire ignorance as to the real nature of _selvdrolla_, yet a latent
element in consciousness was all the time presenting it to me in
ever-clearer imagery.

While the confusions of dreaming are usually the union of unconnected
streams of imagery which have, as it were, come from widely remote
parts of the memory system to strike together at the narrow focus of
shaping consciousness, in some rarer cases the fused images are really
suggested by analogy and are not accidental. Maury records successions
of dream imagery strung together by verbal resemblances; I have found
such dreams rare, but other forms of association fairly common. Thus I
once dreamed that I was with a dentist who was about to extract a
tooth from a patient. Before applying the forceps he remarked to me
(at the same time setting fire to a perfumed cloth at the end of
something like a broomstick in order to dissipate the unpleasant odor)
that it was the largest tooth he had ever seen. When extracted I found
that it was indeed enormous, in the shape of a caldron, with walls an
inch thick. Taking from my pocket a tape measure (such as I always
carry in waking life) I founds the diameter to be not less than
twenty-five inches; the interior was like roughly hewn rock, and there
were sea-weeds and lichenlike growths within. The size of the tooth
seemed to me large, but not extraordinarily so. It is well known that
pain in the teeth, or the dentist's manipulations, cause those organs
to seem of extravagant extent; in dreams this tendency rules
unchecked; thus a friend once dreamed that mice were playing about in
a cavity in her tooth. But for the dream first quoted there was no
known dental origin; it arose solely or chiefly from a walk during the
previous afternoon among the rocks of the Cornish coast at low tide,
and the fantastic analogy, which had not occurred to waking
consciousness, suggested itself during sleep.

The following dream illustrates an association of quite a different
order: I imagined I was sitting at a window, at the top of a house,
writing. As I looked up from my table I saw, with all the emotions
naturally accompanying such a sight, a woman in her night dress appear
at a lofty window some distance off and throw herself down. I went on
writing, however, and found that in the course of my literary
employment--I am not clear as to its precise nature--the very next
thing I had to do was to describe exactly such a scene as I had just
witnessed. I was extremely puzzled at such an extraordinary
coincidence: it seemed to me wholly inexplicable. Such dreams,
reduplicating the imagery in a new sensory medium, are fairly common,
with me at all events, though I can not easily explain them. The
association is not so much of analogy as of sensory media, in this
case the visual image becoming a verbal motor image. In other cases a
scene is first seen as in reality, and then in a picture. It is
interesting to observe the profound astonishment with which sleeping
consciousness apperceives such simple reduplication.

It sometimes happens that the confused imagery of dreams includes
elements drawn from forgotten memories--that is to say, that sleeping
consciousness can draw on faint impressions of the past which waking
consciousness is unable to reach. This is a very important type of
dream because of its bearing on the explanation of certain dream
phenomena which we are sometimes asked to bow down before as
supernatural. I may illustrate what I mean by the following very
instructive case. I woke up recalling the chief items of a rather
vivid dream: I had imagined myself in a large old house, where the
furniture, though of good quality, was ancient, and the chairs
threatened to give way as one sat on them. The place belonged to one
Sir Peter Bryan, a hale old gentleman who was accompanied by his son
and grandson. There was a question of my buying the place from him,
and I was very complimentary to the old gentleman's appearance of
youthfulness, absurdly affecting not to know which was the grandfather
and which the grandson. On awaking I said to myself that here was a
purely imaginative dream, quite unsuggested by any definite
experiences. But when I began to recall the trifling incidents of the
previous day I realized that that was far from being the case. So far
from the dream having been a pure effort of imagination I found that
every minute item could be traced to some separate source. The name of
Sir Peter Bryan alone completely baffled me; I could not even recall
that I had at that time ever heard of any one called Bryan. I
abandoned the search and made my notes of the dream and its sources. I
had scarcely done so when I chanced to take up a volume of
biographies which I had glanced through carelessly the day before. I
found that it contained, among others, the lives of Lord
_Peter_borough and George _Bryan_ Brummel. I had certainly seen those
names the day before; yet before I took up the book once again it
would have been impossible for me to recall the exact name of Beau
Brummel, and I should have been inclined to say that I had never even
heard the name of Bryan. I repeat that I regard this as,
psychologically, a most instructive dream. It rarely happens (though I
could give one or two more examples from the experience of friends)
that we can so clearly and definitely demonstrate the presence of a
forgotten memory in a dream; in the case of old memories it is usually
impossible. It so happened that the forgotten memory which in this
case re-emerged to sleeping consciousness was a fact of no consequence
to myself or any one else. But if it had been the whereabouts of a
lost deed or a large sum of money, and I had been able to declare, as
in this case, that the impression received in my dream had never to my
knowledge existed in waking consciousness, and yet were to declare my
faith that the dream probably had a simple and natural explanation, on
every hand I should be sarcastically told that there is no credulity
to match the credulity of the skeptic.

The profound emotions of waking life, the questions and problems on
which we spread our chief voluntary mental energy, are not those which
usually present themselves at once to dream consciousness. It is, so
far as the immediate past is concerned, mostly the trifling, the
incidental, the "forgotten" impressions of daily life which reappear
in our dreams. The psychic activities that are awake most intensely
are those that sleep most profoundly. If we preserve the common image
of the "stream of consciousness," we might say that the grave facts of
life sink too deeply into the flood to reappear at once in the calm of
repose, while the mere light and buoyant trifles of life, flung
carelessly in during the day, at once rise to the surface, to dance
and mingle and evolve in ways that this familiar image of "the stream
of consciousness" will not further help us to picture.

So far I have been discussing only one of the great groups into which
dreams may be divided. Most investigators of dreams agree that there
are two such groups, the one having its basis in memories, the other
founded on actual physical sensations experienced at the moment of
dreaming and interpreted by sleeping consciousness. Various names have
been given to these two groups; Sully, for instance, terms them
central and peripheral. Perhaps the best names, however, are those
adopted by Miss Calkins, who calls the first group representative, the
second group presentative.

All writers on dreaming have brought forward presentative dreams, and
there can be no doubt that impressions received during sleep from any
of the external senses may serve as a basis for dreams. I need only
record one example to illustrate this main and most obvious group of
presentative dreams. I dreamed that I was listening to a performance
of Haydn's Creation, the chief orchestral part of the performance
seeming to consist chiefly of the very realistic representation of the
song of birds, though I could not identify the note of any particular
bird. Then followed solos by male singers, whom I saw, especially one
who attracted my attention by singing at the close in a scarcely
audible voice. On awakening the source of the dream was not
immediately obvious, but I soon realized that it was the song of a
canary in another room. I had never heard Haydn's Creation, except in
fragments, nor thought of it at any recent period; its reputation as
regards the realistic representation of natural sounds had evidently
caused it to be put forward by sleeping consciousness as a plausible
explanation of the sounds heard, and the visual centers had accepted
the theory.

It is a familiar fact that internal sensations also form a frequent
basis of dreams. All the internal organs, when disturbed or distended
or excited, may induce dreams, and especially that aggravated kind of
dreaming which we call nightmare. This fact is so well known that such
dreams are usually dismissed without further analysis. It is a
mistake, however, so to dismiss them, for it seems probable that it is
precisely here that we may find the most instructive field of dream
psychology. On account of the profoundly emotional effect of such
dreams they are very interesting to study, but this very element of
emotion renders them somewhat obscure objects of study. I do not
venture to offer with absolute certainty one or two novel suggestions
which dream experiences have led me to regard as probable.

Dreams of flying have so often been recorded--from the time of St.
Jerome, who mentions that he was subject to them--that they may fairly
be considered to constitute one of the commonest forms of dreaming.
All my life, it seems to me, I have at intervals had such dreams in
which I imagined myself rhythmically bounding into the air and
supported on the air. These dreams, in my case at all events, are not
generally remembered immediately on awakening (seeming to indicate
that they depend on a cause which does not usually come into action at
the end of sleep), but they leave behind them a vague but profound
sense of belief in their reality and reasonableness.[3] Several
writers have attempted to explain this familiar phenomenon. Gowers
considers that a spontaneous contraction of the stapedius muscle of
the ear during sleep causes a sensation of falling. Stanley Hall, who
has himself from childhood had dreams of flying, boldly argues that we
have here "some faint reminiscent atavistic echo from the primeval
sea"; and that such dreams are really survivals--psychic vestigial
remains--taking us back to the far past, in which man's ancestors
needed no feet to swim or float. Such a theory may accord with the
profound conviction of reality that accompanies such dreams, though
this may be more simply accounted for, even by mere repetition, as
with dreams of the dead; but it is rather a hazardous theory, and it
seems to me infinitely more probable that such dreams are a
misinterpretation of actual internal sensations.

My own explanation was immediately suggested by the following dream. I
dreamed that I was watching a girl acrobat, in appropriate costume,
who was rhythmically rising to a great height in the air and then
falling, without touching the floor, though each time she approached
quite close to it. At last she ceased, exhausted and perspiring, and
had to be led away. Her movements were not controlled by mechanism,
and apparently I did not regard mechanism as necessary. It was a vivid
dream, and I awoke with a distinct sensation of oppression in the
chest. In trying to account for this dream, which was not founded on
any memory, it occurred to me that probably I had here the key to a
great group of dreams. The rhythmic rising and falling of the acrobat
was simply the objectivation of the rhythmic rising and falling of my
own respiratory muscles under the influence of some slight and unknown
physical oppression, and this oppression was further translated into a
condition of perspiring exhaustion in the girl, just as it is recorded
that a man with heart disease dreamed habitually of sweating and
panting horses climbing up hill. We may recall also the curious
sensation as of the body being transformed into a vast bellows which
is often the last sensation felt before the unconsciousness produced
by nitrous oxide gas. When we are lying down there is a real rhythmic
rising and falling of the chest and abdomen, centering in the
diaphragm, a series of oscillations which at both extremes are only
limited by the air. Moreover, in this position we have to recognize
that the whole internal organism--the circulatory, nervous, and other
systems--are differently balanced from what they are in the upright
position, and that a disturbance of internal equilibrium
always accompanies falling. Further, it is possible that the
misinterpretation is confirmed to sleeping consciousness by sensations
from without, by the absence of the tactile pressure produced by
boots on the foot, or the contact of the ground with the soles; we are
at once conscious of movement and conscious that the soles of the feet
are in contact only with the air. Thus in normal sleep the conditions
may be said to be always favorable for producing dreams of flying or
of floating in the air, and any slight thoracic disturbance, even in
healthy persons, arising from lungs, heart, or stomach, and serving to
bring these conditions to sleeping consciousness, may determine such a

There is another common class of dreams which, it seems fairly evident
to me, must also find their psychological explanation chiefly in the
visceral sensations--I mean dreams of murder. Many psychologists have
referred with profound concern to the facility and prevalence of
murder in dreams, sometimes as a proof of the innate wickedness of
human nature made manifest in the unconstraint of sleep, sometimes as
evidence of an atavistic return to the modes of feeling of our
ancestors, the thin veneer of civilization being removed during sleep.
Maudsley and Mme. de Manacéïne, for example, find evidence in such
dreams of a return to primitive modes of feeling. It may well be that
there is some element of truth in this view, but even if so we still
have to account for the production of such dreams. For this we must,
in part at least, fall back upon the logical outcome of dream
confusions, owing to which, for instance, a lady who has carved a duck
at dinner may a few hours later wake up exhausted by the imaginary
effort of cutting off her husband's head. But I think we may find
evidence that the dream of murder is often a falsely logical deduction
from abnormal visceral and especially digestive sensations.

I may illustrate such dreams by the following example: A lady dreamed
that her husband called her aside and said: "Now, do not scream or
make a fuss; I am going to tell you something. I have to kill a man.
It is necessary, to put him out of his agony." He then took her into
his study and showed her a young man lying on the floor with a wound
in his breast, and covered with blood. "But how will you do it?" she
asked. "Never mind," he replied, "leave that to me." He took something
up and leaned over the man. She turned aside and heard a horrible
gurgling sound. Then all was over. "Now," he said, "we must get rid of
the body. I want you to send for So-and-so's cart, and tell him I wish
to drive it." The cart came. "You must help me to make the body into a
parcel," he said to his wife; "give me plenty of brown paper." They
made it into a parcel, and with terrible difficulty and effort the
wife assisted her husband to get the body down stairs and lift it into
the cart. At every stage, however, she presented to him the
difficulties of the situation. But he carelessly answered all
objections, said he would take the body up to the moor, among the
stones, remove the brown paper, and people would think the murdered
man had killed himself. He drove off and soon returned with the empty
cart. "What's this blood in my cart?" asked the man to whom it
belonged, looking inside. "Oh, that's only paint," replied the
husband. But the dreamer had all along been full of apprehension lest
the deed should be discovered, and the last thing she could recall,
before waking in terror, was looking out of the window at a large
crowd which surrounded the house with shouts of "Murder!" and threats.

This tragedy, with its almost Elizabethan air, was built up out of a
few commonplace impressions received during the previous day, none of
which impressions contained any suggestion of murder. The tragic
element appears to have been altogether due to the psychic influences
of indigestion arising from a supper of pheasant. To account for our
oppression during sleep, sleeping consciousness assumes moral causes
which alone appear to it of sufficient gravity to be the adequate
cause of the immense emotions we are experiencing. Even in our waking
and fully conscious states we are inclined to give the preference to
moral over physical causes, quite irrespective of the justice of our
preferences; in our sleeping states this tendency is exaggerated, and
the reign of purely moral causes is not disturbed by even a suggestion
of mere physical causation.

There is certainly no profounder emotional excitement during sleep
than that which arises from a disturbed or distended stomach, and is
reflected by the pneumogastric to the accelerated heart and the
impeded respiration.[4] We are thereby thrown into a state of
uninhibited emotional agitation, a state of agony and terror such as
we rarely or never attain during waking life. Sleeping consciousness,
blindfolded and blundering, a prey to these massive waves from below,
and fumbling about desperately for some explanation, jumps at the idea
that only the attempt to escape some terrible danger or the guilty
consciousness of some awful crime can account for this immense
emotional uproar. Thus the dream is suffused by a conviction which the
continued emotion serves to support. We do not--it seems most simple
and reasonable to conclude--experience terror because we think we have
committed a crime, but we think we have committed a crime because we
experience terror. And the fact that in such dreams we are far more
concerned with escape from the results of crime than with any agony of
remorse is not, as some have thought, due to our innate indifference
to crime, but simply to the fact that our emotional state suggests to
us active escape from danger rather than the more passive grief of
remorse. Thus our dreams bear witness to the fact that our
intelligence is often but a tool in the hands of our emotions.[5]

I have had frequent occasion to refer to the objectivation of
subjective sensations as a phenomenon of dreaming. It is, indeed, so
frequent and so important a phenomenon that it needs some further
reference. In hysteria (which by some of the most recent authorities,
like Sollier, is regarded as a species of somnambulism), in
"demon-possession," and many other abnormal phenomena it is well known
that there is, as it were, a doubling of personality; the _ego_ is
split up into two or more parts, each of which may act as a separate
personality. The literature of morbid psychology is full of
extraordinary and varied cases exhibiting this splitting up of
personality. But it is usually forgotten that in dreams the doubling
of personality is a normal and constant phenomenon in all healthy
people. In dreaming we can divide our body between ourselves and
another person. Thus a medical friend dreamed that in conversation
with a lady patient he found his hand resting on her knee and was
unable to remove it; awakening in horror from this unprofessional
situation he found his own hand firmly clasped between his knees; the
hand had remained his own, the knee had become another person's, the
hand being claimed, rather than the knee, on account of its greater
tactile sensibility. Again, we sometimes objectify our own physical
discomforts felt during sleep in the emotions of some other person, or
even in some external situations. And, possibly, every dream in which
there is any dramatic element is an instance of the same splitting up
of personality; in our dreams we may experience shame or confusion
from the rebuke or the arguments of other persons, but the persons who
administer the rebuke or apply the argument are still ourselves.

When we consider that this dream process, with its perpetual
dramatization of our own personality, has been going on as long as man
has been man--and probably much longer, for it is evident that animals
dream--it is impossible to overestimate its immense influence on human
belief. Men's primitive conceptions of religion, of morals, of many of
the mightiest phenomena of life, especially the more exceptional
phenomena, have certainly been influenced by this constant dream
experience. It is the universal primitive explanation of abnormal
psychic and even physical phenomena that some other person or spirit
is working within the subject of the abnormal experience. Certainly
dreaming is not the sole source of such conceptions, but they could
scarcely have been found convincing, and possibly could not ever have
arisen, among races who were wholly devoid of dream experiences. A
large part of all progress in psychological knowledge, and, indeed, a
large part of civilization itself, lies in realizing that the
apparently objective is really subjective, that the angels and demons
and geniuses of all sorts that seemed at first to take possession of
the feeble and vacant individuality are themselves but modes of action
of marvelously rich and varied personalities. But in our dreams we are
brought back into the magic circle of early culture, and we shrink and
shudder in the presence of imaginative phantoms that are built up of
our own thoughts and emotions, and are really our own flesh.

There is one other general characteristic of dreams that is worth
noting, because its significance is not usually recognized. In dreams
we are always reasoning. It is sometimes imagined that reason is in
abeyance during sleep. So far from this being the case, we may almost
be said to reason much more during sleep than when we are awake. That
our reasoning is bad, even preposterous, that it constantly ignores
the most elementary facts of waking life, scarcely affects the
question. All dreaming is a process of reasoning. That artful
confusion of ideas and images which at the outset I referred to as the
most constant feature of dream mechanism is nothing but a process of
reasoning, a perpetual effort to argue out harmoniously the absurdly
limited and incongruous data present to sleeping consciousness. Binet,
grounding his conclusions on hypnotic experiments, has very justly
determined that reasoning is the fundamental part of all thinking, the
very texture of thought. It is founded on perception itself, which
already contains all the elements of the ancient syllogism. For in all
perception, as he shows, there is a succession of three images, of
which the first fuses with the second, which in its turn suggests the
third. Now this establishment of new associations, this construction
of images, which, as we may easily convince ourselves, is precisely
what takes place in dreaming, is reasoning itself.

Reasoning is a synthesis of images suggested by resemblance and
contiguity, indeed a sort of logical vision, more intense even than
actual vision, since it produces hallucinations. To reasoning all
forms of mental activity may finally be reduced; mind, as Wundt has
said, is a thing that reasons. When we apply these general statements
to dreaming, we may see that the whole phenomenon of dreaming is
really the same process of image-formation, based on resemblance and
contiguity, which is at the basis of reasoning. Every dream is the
outcome of this strenuous, wide-ranging instinct to reason. The
supposed "imaginative faculty," regarded as so highly active during
sleep, is simply the inevitable play of this automatic logic. The
characteristic of the reasoning of dreams is that it is unusually bad,
and this badness is due chiefly to the absence of memory elements that
would be present to waking consciousness, and to the absence of
sensory elements to check the false reasoning which without them
appears to us conclusive. That is to say--to fall back on the
excellent generalization which Parish has elaborately applied to all
forms of hallucination--there is a process of dissociation by which
ordinary channels of association are temporarily blocked and the
conditions prepared for the formation of the hallucination. It is, as
Parish has argued, in sleep and in those sleep-resembling states
called hypnagogic that a condition of dissociation leading to
hallucination is most apt to occur.

The following dream illustrates the part played by dissociation: A
lady dreamed that an acquaintance wished to send a small sum of money
to a person in Ireland. She rashly offered to take it over to Ireland.
On arriving home she began to repent of her promise, as the weather
was extremely wild and cold. She began, however, to make preparations
for dressing warmly, and went to consult an Irish friend, who said she
would have to be floated over to Ireland tightly jammed in a crab
basket. On returning home she fully discussed the matter with her
husband, who thought it would be folly to undertake such a journey,
and she finally relinquished it, with great relief. In this dream--the
elements of which could all be accounted for--the association between
sending money and postal orders which would at once occur to waking
consciousness was closed; consciousness was a prey to such suggestions
as reached it, but on the basis of these suggestions it reasoned and
concluded quite sagaciously. The phenomena of dreaming furnish a
delightful illustration of the fact that reasoning, in its rough form,
is only the crudest and most elementary form of intellectual
operation, and that the finer forms of thinking only become possible
when we hold in check this tendency to reason. "All the thinking in
the world," as Goethe puts it, "will not lead us to thought."

It is in such characteristics as these--at once primitive, childlike,
and insane--that we may find the charm of dreaming. In our sleeping
emotional life we are much more like ourselves than we are in our
sleeping intellectual life. It is a mistake to imagine that our moral
and æsthetic instincts are abolished in dreams; they are often
weakened, but by no means abolished. Such a result is natural when we
remember that our emotions and instincts are both more primitive and
less under the dominion of the external senses than are our ideas. Yet
in both respects we are removed a stage backward in our dreams.
The emotional intensity, the absurd logic, the tendency to
personification--nearly all the points I have referred to as
characterizing our dreams--are the characteristics of the child, the
savage, and the madman. Time and space are annihilated, gravity is
suspended, and we are joyfully borne up in the air, as it were, in the
arms of angels; we are brought into a deeper communion with Nature,
and in his dreams a man will listen to the arguments of his dog with
as little surprise as Balaam heard the reproaches of his ass. The
unexpected limitations of our dream world, the exclusion of so many
elements which are present even unconsciously in waking life, imparts
a splendid freedom and ease to the intellectual operations of the
sleeping mind, and an extravagant romance, a poignant tragedy, to our
emotions. "He has never known happiness," said Lamb, speaking out of
his own experience, "who has never been mad." And there are many who
taste in dreams a happiness they never know when awake. In the waking
moments of our complex civilized life we are ever in a state of
suspense which makes all great conclusions impossible; the
multiplicity of the facts of life, always present to consciousness,
restrains the free play of logic (except for that happy dreamer, the
mathematician) and surrounds most of our pains and nearly all our
pleasures with infinite qualifications; we are tied down to a sober
tameness. In our dreams the fetters of civilization are loosened, and
we know the fearful joy of freedom.

At the same time it is these characteristics which make dreams a fit
subject of serious study. It was not until the present century that
the psychological importance of the study of insanity was recognized.
So recent is the study of savage mind that the workers who have laid
its foundation are yet all living. The systematic investigation of
children only began yesterday. To-day our dreams begin to seem to us
an allied subject of study, inasmuch as they reveal within ourselves a
means of entering sympathetically into ideas and emotional attitudes
belonging to narrow or ill-adjusted states of consciousness which
otherwise we are now unable to experience. And they have this further
value, that they show us how many abnormal phenomena--possession,
double consciousness, unconscious memory, and so forth--which have
often led the ignorant and unwary to many strange conclusions, really
have a simple explanation in the healthy normal experience of all of
us during sleep. Here, also, it is true that we ourselves and our
beliefs are to some extent "such stuff as dreams are made of."


[1] On Dreaming of the Dead. Psychological Review, September, 1895. In
this paper I reported several cases showing the nature and evolution
of dreams concerning dead friends. I have since received evidence from
various friends and correspondents, scientific and unscientific, of
both sexes, confirming my belief in a frequency of this type of dream.
Professor Binet (L'Année Psychologique, 1896) has also furnished a
case in support of my view, and is seeking for further evidence.

[2] In Japan stories of the returning of the dead are very common.
Lafcadio Hearn gives one as told by a Japanese which closely resembles
the type of dream I am discussing. "A lover resolves to commit suicide
on the grave of his sweetheart. He found her tomb and knelt before it
and prayed and wept, and whispered to her that which he was about to
do. And suddenly he heard her voice cry to him 'Anata!' and felt her
hand upon his hand; and he turned and saw her kneeling beside him,
smiling and beautiful as he remembered her, only a little pale. Then
his heart leaped so that he could not speak for the wonder and the
doubt and the joy of that moment. But she said: 'Do not doubt; it is
really I. I am not dead. It was all a mistake. I was buried because my
parents thought me dead--buried too soon. Yet you see I am not dead,
not a ghost. It is I; do not doubt it!'"

[3] Many saints (Saint Ida, of Louvain, for example) claimed the power
of rising into the air, and one asks one's self whether this faith may
not be based on dream experiences mistranslated by a disordered brain.
M. Raffaelli, the eminent French painter, who is subject to these
sleeping experiences of floating on the air, confesses that they are
so convincing that he has jumped out of bed on awaking and attempted
to repeat the experience. "I need not tell you," he adds, "that I have
never been able to succeed."

[4] Other pains and discomforts--toothache, for instance--may,
however, give rise to dreams of murder.

[5] It may be added that they also present evidence--to which
attention has not, I believe, been previously called--in support of
the James-Lange or physiological theory of emotion, according to which
the element of bodily change in emotion is the cause and not the
result of the emotion.

       *       *       *       *       *

     The harmonious and equitable evolution of man, says President
     Dabney, of the University of Tennessee, "does not mean that every
     man must be educated just like his fellow. The harmony is within
     each individual. That community is most highly educated in which
     each individual has attained the maximum of his possibilities in
     the direction of his peculiar talents and opportunities."




This historical survey of tax experience among peoples widely
differing in their economic condition and social relations, and this
examination of the scope and practice of taxation, with especial
reference to the tax systems of the United States as defined and
interpreted by judicial authority, prepare the way for a discussion of
the best methods of taxation for a country situated as is the United
States. General as are the theoretical principles underlying taxation,
the application of these principles to existing conditions must be
modified to meet the long usage and inherited prejudice of the people,
and the form of production or manner of distributing wealth. This
holds true in the face of appearances so opposed to it as to defy
definition and acceptance. No less promising field for an income tax
can be pictured than British India, and few more promising fields than
France. Yet India has borne such a tax for years, while France will
not permit a true tax on income to be adopted as a part of its revenue
system. In the latter country the plea is made that the upper and
middle classes already pay under other forms of taxation more than
their due proportion of the public burdens, and an additional and
necessarily discriminating duty laid upon them will only make this
inequality the greater. Class interest may thus oppose its veto to a
change that promises to reduce the burdens of one class of taxpayers
at the expense of another; or may even oppose a change that offers the
chance of collecting a larger revenue with less real difficulty and
sacrifice on the part of the taxed. No opposition can set aside even
temporarily the great rules that clearly define a tax from tribute, a
legal and beneficial taking by the state of a certain part of the
public wealth from a demand that involves waste or mischievous
expenditure, for which the state or people derive no advantage
commensurate with the cost, or from which individuals obtain a gain
not defensible in justice, and at the expense of only one part of the

After so many centuries of experiment, in which hardly a possible
source of state revenue has escaped attention, some knowledge of the
great principles of taxation might have been evolved. Unfortunately,
the experience of one nation is not accepted as containing lessons
applicable to the needs or conditions of another, and one generation
rarely appeals to history save to defend its own experiments.
Ignorance, half knowledge, which is quite as dangerous, and interest
guide or influence legislation, and those who predict failure or
danger are regarded as theorists, and denounced as unpractical.
Nowhere is the tendency to move independent of enlightened knowledge
more evident than in the United States. At every appearance of the tax
question, State and national legislatures are overwhelmed with
measures that have been tried in the past, and after a thorough test
condemned beyond any hope of defense.

Yet history shows the gradual disappearance of certain forms of
taxation which enjoyed great popularity for a time, and accomplished
the end of their creation in a crude and often cruel manner. Looking
over long periods of time, it is seen that some advances have been
made, rather from a change in the economic condition of the people
than from a true appreciation of the principles in question. The
development of popular liberty has been an essential factor, and the
alterations in tax methods require a close analysis of the causes
leading to the rise and dominance of political and constitutional
principle. While it is true that a popular uprising against fiscal
exactions usually marked the limit of endurance of an oppressive
system, it is also true that the same uprisings marked the completion
of one stage of political development, and the readiness or even the
need of entering upon a new stage. In one sense the progress of a
people toward civilization in its highest meaning may be illustrated
by its fiscal machinery and methods of obtaining its revenue from the
people. It will be of interest to glance at some of these passing
phases which have generally come down to a late day, and are still to
be found in activity in some of the most advanced states of Europe.

The practice of farming out the revenues of a state or any part of it
has become nearly obsolete, and where it does exist is the mark of a
fiscal machinery as yet not fully developed. The opportunities and
temptation which the contract system offered for oppressing the
taxpayers were apparent long before the state was in a position to
assert its ability to make its own collections. In France the
_fermiers généraux_ were a political factor, standing between the king
and his people, regarded as necessary to the former and as oppressors
of the latter. Their unpopularity, in part justified by their conduct,
was a not unimportant item in the arraignment of royalty by the
people. Wherever introduced, the farming of taxes proved in the long
run as unwise politically as it was unprofitable financially; and the
only reasonable defense for adopting it was the want of strength in
the state to command its own revenue--a want as likely to arise from
the dishonesty of its agents as from a political weakness. In early
times the most universal manner of supplying the treasury of the
state, the farming of taxes has become so rare as to be classed as a
curiosity. Italy still employs this machinery to collect her taxes on
tobacco, and Spain from necessity has mortgaged her taxes to the
bank, with the task of collecting them.

Of the same general character are the state lotteries, of which some
few and quite important instances may still be found in action. Of the
immorality of these instruments there can be little doubt, and there
is quite as unanimous an opinion as to their inefficiency as fiscal
instruments. Yet it is only within very recent years that state
lotteries have been discarded even in the most advanced countries. The
machinery of lotteries has often been modified, but, no matter how
altered in details, they all have appealed to the love of games of
chance. Adam Smith asserted that the "absurd presumption" of men in
their own good fortune is even more universal than the overweening
conceit which the greater part of men have in their own abilities.[6]
Yet another assertion of the same writer is as true: "The world
neither ever saw, nor ever will see, a perfectly fair lottery, or one
in which the whole gain compensated the whole loss." Where the state
undertakes it, there is a profit generally assured to the state, but
that profit is by no means certain, and can not make good the
demoralization introduced among the people. State lotteries are still
a part of the revenue system in Italy and Austria (proper), where the
receipts are important, but show a decided tendency to diminish;
Hungary and Denmark, where they are of little moment; and in Spain,
where they are retained because of the general incapacity of the
administration to reach other and more profitable sources of revenue.
The experience of the State of Louisiana in connection with a State
lottery is too recent to require examination. It is not probable that
once abandoned such an instrument for obtaining money from the people
will be revived, save as a last resort.

The state monopoly in the manufacture and sale of an article for
fiscal purposes holds a place in European countries of high
importance, and is met elsewhere under conditions not so favorable to
its maintenance. As an example of the latter may be cited the colonial
policy of the Dutch in their possessions in the East. After the
termination of the trading companies, the Government undertook the
entire control of the colonies, and sought to make them a source of
revenue. The natives were to be taxed, but, having little of their own
to be taxed, and practicing no occupation that could of its own
volition become a profitable source of revenue, the state undertook to
organize industry, and, by creating an opportunity for employing the
labor of the natives, to receive the profits of production for its own
uses. The native chiefs were made "masters of industry" and collectors
of the revenue; and a certain part of the labor of the natives, one
day in every five, was decreed to the state. In order to derive a
profit, this labor must be bestowed in cultivating some product as
find a market in international trade. Hence arose the importance of
the sugar, coffee, tobacco, and spice crops of these Dutch islands,
and for many years a handsome profit to the treasury was obtained from
the management and sales of product. With the great fall in prices of
sugar and coffee throughout the world, and the narrowing of the market
for cane sugar, the Government obtained a less income each year, and
has found it of advantage to relax the conditions surrounding
cultivation, and to throw the management of the plantations more and
more into private hands. To such an extent has this transition been
effected that the state can no longer be considered as controlling a
monopoly in product or sales, and is content with a revenue from other
sources, one that does not even cover the expenses incurred in the
colonial system. This experiment differs widely from those industries
undertaken with the aid or encouragement of the state to be found in
India. It was not with a fiscal object that they were established, and
not infrequently the state sacrifices revenue by releasing them from
tax burdens they would ordinarily endure. As one of the few remaining
instances of the direct participation of a state in the production of
products intended for foreign markets, yet undertaken and maintained
for fiscal reasons, the history of the Dutch colonies in the East is

In Prussia the working of certain mines is in the hands of the state,
and was originally looked upon as an important contribution to the
income of the state. As in the Dutch experience, the changes in
production throughout the world have greatly reduced the returns and
made the income variable; yet there is little disposition to dispose
of these possessions. "The danger of mineral supplies being worked in
a reckless and extravagant manner without regard to the welfare of
future generations, and the dread of combinations by the producers of
such commodities as tin, copper, and salt, with the aim of raising
prices, have both tended to hinder the alienation of state mines."[7]

The more common form of state monopoly is that which occupies a middle
position, established for reasons of public safety or utility as well
as of revenue. The salt monopoly enforced in Prussia was only
abolished in 1867, and is still maintained in every canton of
Switzerland. The strongest plea in its defense has been the guarantee
by the state of the purity of the article sold, and this phase of the
question has superseded the revenue aspect. Few articles of prime
necessity, like salt, are subject to monopolies imposed by the state,
and by a process of elimination it is only articles of luxury or
voluntary consumption that are regarded as fit objects of monopoly for
the benefit of the state.

A tax imposed upon an article at a certain stage of its production or
manufacture may enforce the expediency or necessity of a state
monopoly. Where the supervision of the state agents must be so close
as to interfere with the conduct of the industry, the state intervenes
and itself controls the manufacture and sale. Tobacco has long been
subject to this fiscal _régime_, and, proving so productive of
revenue, there is little to be said against a monopoly by the state of
its manufacture and sale.

In Italy the tobacco monopoly is conceded to a company, but its return
of net revenue to the state is nearly as large as the revenue derived
from the taxes on real property (about thirty-eight million dollars a
year). Prussia imposes a charge on the home-grown tobacco by a tax on
the land devoted to its culture, but the return is very small, and
Bismarck wished to introduce a true tobacco monopoly, modeled on that
of France. But the conditions were opposed to his scheme, for the use
of tobacco is general throughout the empire, and a proposition to
increase its price by taxation or modify its free manufacture and
distribution excited a widespread opposition. France maintains a full
monopoly, and finds it too profitable to be lightly set aside unless
some equally profitable source of revenue is discovered to make good
the loss its abolition would involve.

While historical support is given to the maintenance of a monopoly as
in France, it is not probable that the system will find imitators in
other states, however tempting the returns obtained might seem. Great
Britain has by her insular position solved the problem in another way.
By interdicting the domestic cultivation of tobacco, all that is
consumed must be imported, and a customs duty offers a ready
instrument for making the plant, in whatever form it enters,
contribute its dues to the exchequer. In Russia, as in the United
States, where tobacco is a domestic product, the tax is imposed upon
its manufacture, and this method requires supervision but no monopoly
of the state.

The tobacco _régime_ is defended almost entirely on fiscal grounds,
and as a monopoly, an extreme measure, has proved its value as an
instrument of taxation. Other reasons, of a moral character, are urged
to induce the state to monopolize the manufacture and sale of
distilled spirits. Both France and Germany have considered this
question, and, in spite of confident predictions of a large profit,
have decided not to undertake it. Russia, on the other hand, has taken
it up quite as much on social as on revenue grounds, and is gradually
securing a monopoly of the trade in spirits. The initial cost of the
undertaking is large, and, as the system has not yet been perfected,
it is too early to give a judgment on its availability as a financial

The transit dues, once commonly used by different countries, have been
generally abandoned, and in China must they be sought for in their
original forms of vexatious and unprofitable force. They arose from a
desire to derive some benefit from a commerce permitted grudgingly,
and rarely attaining any high results. The same end was sought by
duties on exports, much employed when the country was supposed to be
drained of its wealth by what was sent out of it. The conditions
necessary for a successful duty on exports are not often found, and
only in a few countries are they now existent. In Italy, South
America, and Asia, exports of certain natural products are taxed, and,
as in the case of Brazil, yield a notable revenue. In view of the
rapid advancement of production in new countries and of inventions in
the old, whereby many natural monopolies have been destroyed and
competition made more general, such duties prove to be more
obstructive to trade than productive of revenue, and are rapidly being
abandoned. In spite of a formal prohibition of export duties in the
Constitution of the United States, they are sometimes suggested in all

In thus clearing the path of what may be called dead or dying methods
of recent tax systems, the advantages enjoyed by the United States in
their freedom from such survivals become more evident. The practice of
farming taxes never gained a foothold in any part of the country.
Lotteries have been occasional, and with two exceptions have been
conducted on a limited scale--that of Louisiana is well known; an
earlier instance is less known. During the Revolution one of the means
resorted to by the Continental Congress for income was a lottery, but
the attempt proved disastrous to all concerned, and was finally
abandoned even more thoroughly than was the continental currency.
State monopolies of production and sale of any commodity have never
met with favor, and stand condemned in the desire for individual
initiative. As sources of revenue, the public lands, state control of
the post office, and of such municipal undertakings as the water and,
in a very few cases, the gas supply, has been employed, and in place
of profit the mere cost of management is sought. More than any country
of continental Europe, the United States has depended upon taxes, pure
and simple, unsupported or modified by state domains, state mines,
state manufactures, or state monopolies. Even Great Britain in her
local taxation is bound and hampered by precedent, and pursues a
system that is notoriously confused, costly, and vexatious. Long usage
and the erection of independent and conflicting authorities on
principles other than fiscal have imposed upon the local agents the
duty of assessing and collecting county and borough taxes which are as
indefensible in theory as they are difficult in practice.

From this weight of tradition and precedent the United States has been
almost entirely free, and it was possible to construct out of small
beginnings systems of Federal and State taxation at least reasonable
and consistent, producing an increasing revenue with the rapid
development of wealth and the larger number of taxable objects; and so
elastic as to adapt themselves to such changes as are inevitable in
any progressive movement of commerce or industry. That no such system
has resulted after a century of national life, and an even longer term
of local (colonial and State) activities, these papers have tended to
show. That the time is at hand when the problem of a thorough reform
of both State and Federal taxation must be met, current facts prove
beyond any doubt. If I have aided in a proper comprehension of these
problems, and, by collecting certain experiences in taxation among
other peoples and in different stages of civilization, contributed
toward a proper solution, the end of this work will have been
attained. It is not possible to introduce a complete change of policy
at once; it is not only feasible but necessary to indicate the
direction this change should take, and the ends to be secured in
making them. And first as to Federal taxation:

In a democracy like that of the United States, the continuance of a
mixed system of direct and indirect taxes is a foregone conclusion.
Not that there is an absence of change or modification in the details
of this double system, or in the application or distribution of a
particular impost or duty. To deny such modification is to deny any
movement in the body politic, or any progress in the industrial and
commercial economy of the people. There is a steady and continuous
movement in every direction, and the mere effort to escape taxation
results in a new adjustment of related facts. This development has,
partly through necessity and partly through a rising consciousness of
what a tax implies, been tending from indirect to direct taxes. Ever
restive under a rigid supervision by the state of private concerns,
there has been a wholesome opposition to inquisitorial taxes. But this
opposition has been carried too far, and is due more to the ignorant
and at times brutal disregard by the agents selected for enforcing the
law than to an appreciation of the injustice of the tax. Whether in
customs or excise, the same blunders of management have been
committed, and created a spirit in the people that is injurious to
their best interests. On the one hand, private enterprises have been
unduly favored by the removal of foreign competition, a favor that is
now disappearing through the remarkable development of domestic
competition. Thus taxes have been extensively used for other purposes
than to obtain revenue, and for private ends. On the other hand, there
has been created the feeling that taxation is a proper instrument for
effecting a more equal distribution of wealth among the people, and
readily becomes an instrument of oppression.

The almost absolute dependence of the Federal Government upon the
customs duties for revenue through a great part of its existence was a
striking fact. The simplicity of collection and the comparatively
moderate scale of duties, although considered high at the time of
imposition, gave this branch of the possible sources of revenue a
magnified importance. The development of the country was slow, and at
times greatly hampered by the tariff policy; but until about 1857 no
other source of income was needed to meet the expenditures of the
Government in a time of peace.

In recent years this has all changed, and not for the better. The
immense development in manufactures and financial ability accomplished
since 1860 has made a tariff for protection an anachronism. The
political features of customs legislation have been pushed so far as
almost to overshadow the fiscal qualities. The wave of protectionism
that followed the abrogation of the commercial treaties of Europe
about 1880 has resulted in tariffs framed with the desire to injure
the commerce of other states rather than to meet the needs of a
treasury. In the United States this policy has been carried beyond
that of Europe, and the tariff now in existence is more protective
than any hitherto enforced, short of absolute prohibition of imports.

In more respects than one the tariff law of 1897 was an extreme
application of the protective policy. Each year the United States has
demonstrated its ability not only to meet the industrial competition
of the world on an equal footing, but to engage with it aggressively
and with complete success. It is not necessary to give the figures of
exports of manufactures to establish this fact; it is now beyond
question. To frame a measure of extreme protection was, therefore, to
overlook the most striking phase of the industrial situation existing
in the United States. With an ability to manufacture cheaply and on a
grand scale, and with a capacity to supply the demands of a market
larger than any home market, there was no foreign competition to
encounter, and the higher rates of duties meant nothing, either for
protection or for revenue. In carrying further into action a tariff
framed more for protection than for revenue, a twofold error was
committed. The provisions were so complicated as to make the
application difficult, and in applying these provisions inquisitorial
and vexatious regulations were necessary to assure even a reasonable
fulfillment of the requirements. In former tariff laws a general
description carried a large class of articles, and a uniform duty,
usually _ad valorem_, was collected. But under the demand for a more
scientific tariff, these general classes were broken up into a number
of enumerated articles, each one carrying a specific or mixed duty,
and an omnium or basket clause at the end to catch any article that
could not be included in any enumeration. This desire to fix specific
rates upon each imported commodity has been applied more generally in
the law of 1897 than in any previous tariff act. An examination of the
imports of manufactures of textile fibers will illustrate this
increase of complexity without any increase of revenue. Indeed, these
classifications and rates, being suggested by interested parties, have
for their object a reduction of imports, and as a rule a reduction in
revenue from them follows.

The second objection to the increasing complexity of the tariff laws
is to be found in the petty annoyances imposed upon importers and
others in enforcing the not always consistent provisions of the law.
These vexations are made all the more telling by the fact that the
administration of the law is apt to be in the hands of those who are
openly hostile to foreign importations, and therefore regard the
importer in an unfriendly spirit. The power given to the customs
agents is enormous, and it is not remarkable that it is abused. The
demand for samples, the appraisement of articles, the classification
of new or compound commodities, all offer room for controversy, which
is not always decided by an appeal to the courts of justice. In
special instances, where a section of the law has been framed in
behalf of a special interest, the attempt to enforce it becomes petty
tyranny of the most intolerable kind.

In operation the law soon exhibited its failure as a revenue measure.
Although duties were generally increased, the more important articles
taxed yielded a smaller revenue than under lower rates. The aggregate
collections under the bill did not meet the expectations of its
sponsors, and for two reasons: first, because the higher duties
discouraged imports; and secondly, the demand for imported articles
was steadily decreasing under the expanding ability of home
manufactures to meet the needs of the market. No measure short of a
direct encouragement to importations can change this situation, or
prevent the further shrinkage in the use of foreign manufactures. It
follows that the tariff, unless radically altered, can no longer be
depended on for a return sufficient to defray one half of the rapidly
increasing expenditures of the national Government. By refusing to
impose moderate duties on articles of general consumption, revenue is
sacrificed; by insisting upon imposing protective duties where little
revenue can be had, the tariff is converted into a political weapon.
Its dangerous qualities are strengthened by turning these duties
against the products of certain countries, a policy specially fit to
invite reprisals.

Even the framers of this latest tariff entertained the belief that
some provision should be made for breaking its full effect. The
familiar scheme for reciprocity treaties, under which moderate
concessions in some of the duties could be made, was retained; but
France was the only power that could have an object in seriously
entertaining the proposition to enter into a negotiation. No real
reduction in duties could be given to Germany or any other country,
and it has become a recognized fact that Germany does not hesitate to
seize an opportunity to exclude the products of the United States, and
on the same grounds as support the high duties in the American tariff.
The system of drawbacks has ceased to be of much moment in our customs
policy, and in the export interest in canned goods finds its chief
exercise. Nor does a privilege to manufacture in bond affect more than
one article of importance--ores of lead containing silver. No matter
how it is regarded, the tariff of 1897 was not framed for revenue, and
in experience has not proved sufficiently productive to meet its share
of the expenditures of Government. The animus of its sponsors in
attaining the immediate political object sacrificed the more important
and permanent object of revenue.

Were the true object of customs duties--revenue--to be kept in view in
tariff legislation, it would be a simple matter to devise a measure
that would be satisfactory and highly productive of revenue. In the
fifteen hundred or more articles enumerated in the tariff schedules,
more than fourteen hundred are nonproductive, or yield so small a
return as to have in the aggregate no appreciable effect on the total
receipts. The number left after so large an exclusion can be still
further reduced without reducing the revenue one tenth; and it is from
a small number of articles, hardly twenty-five, that the great part of
the customs revenue is obtained. By reducing the rates of duties on
these to a point of highest revenue efficiency, at which the import is
not interfered with and yet not encouraged, a higher return could be
had than from the existing complicated, overloaded, and political
compilation of duties, usually imposed for any reason other than what
they will bring into the treasury.

When, therefore, the best methods of Federal taxation are broached,
the reform of the tariff stands first in importance. It is necessary
to bring it more into line with the industrial conditions of to-day,
which call for foreign markets rather than a domestic or closed
market; and for a liberal commercial policy in place of one that
regards the products of other countries, whether imported in the crude
or manufactured forms, as constituting a menace to American labor and
American interests. It calls for a systematic and intelligent
revision, which shall throw out such duties as are no longer of
service even for protection, and to reduce those that are hostile to
the products of other countries and bear in themselves the seeds of
reprisals in the future. Now that the United States is going into the
great markets with its manufactures, and obtaining a foothold against
all competitors, the invitation to retaliation holds a danger far
greater to its own interests than any that can be inflicted on other
peoples. The greater the advances made the more readily will recourse
be had to reprisals and hostile legislation; and in support of every
act appeal may be had to examples set by the United States.[8]


[6] Wealth of Nations, vol. i, p. 112 (Rogers's edition).

[7] Bastable. Public Finance, p. 181.

[8] "The old protectionist, with the stock arguments about the
influence of the tariff upon wages and all the rest of it, is
beginning to die out. He told us all he had to say about the 'pauper
labor' of Europe, by which he often meant the best educated and most
skillful artisans of the world. We got tired of hearing about how the
importer paid the tax, how it was Europe and England in particular
that was all the time squeezing our lives out, till nearly all of us,
being of English ancestry ourselves, wondered whether we, even, could
be so good as we hoped we were, if we had sprung from something so
essentially perverted and bad. We were told, too, that American
tourists who went to Europe and spent money there which they ought to
have squandered at home were not friends of their country, and that
they did us a particularly hostile act when they brought clothing,
statuary, or diamond rings back with them from foreign parts. A season
of high prices was a real heaven, and wars and fires were good things
because they destroyed property that would have to be replaced, and
this would create that demand which, reacting on supply, would
increase prices. To say that an article was cheap was to say that the
political party in power was no longer worthy of public confidence. It
was related that each government could make its people so rich, and
the idea was thought to have been traced down from Henry C. Carey,
that the rest of the world could be safely disregarded altogether.

"Seriously, who believes any of this stuff nowadays? The protectionist
is not reckoning with such popular impotency and stupidity. He
believes in his fellow-man, and wants to give him a helping hand. He
does not care what effect it has on England or Ireland. He is not sure
that a protective tariff in and of itself will increase the wages of
the workmen. He is even inclined to think that less wages and profits
would do well enough for every man, if it were cheaper to live and
there were not such extravagant demands upon every person from all
sides--this without being a socialist. He is certain that 'a cheap
coat' does not necessarily make 'a cheap man,' but the cheaper the
coat the better it will be for the wearer. That is what we are all
trying to do, improve our processes, increase our effective working
power, which means, if you please, to make things cheaper."--_The
Manufacturer_ (organ of the Manufacturers' Club of Philadelphia).




Periods of extraordinary efflorescence or fruitage are followed by
exhaustion and sterility not infrequently demanding the free use of
the pruning knife; and, just as we remark how frequent is idiocy the
offspring of genius, so do we find the same seeming paradox, of mental
defect in rank and increasing growth the product of this most
wonderful nineteenth century.

True, science has contributed to numbers by revealing as mental
defectives the many "misunderstood," "the backward," "the feebly
gifted," as well as by showing what was once esteemed moral perversion
to be moral imbecility; but a truth to which science also attests is,
that unstable nerve centers uniting and reacting through successive
generations, producing various forms of neuroses, evidenced in
insanity, moral and mental imbecility, idiocy and epilepsy, do show
the influence of a highly nervous age.

Our last census reports, although necessarily uncertain and
unreliable, yet show ninety thousand mental defectives, not including
the insane. Unrecognized and unacknowledged cases swell the number
easily to one hundred thousand within our present borders--how many we
are going to annex remains to be seen; but this is an enemy that
attacks not our frontiers but our hearthstones. We have reached that
point when we must conquer it, lest it should conquer us, and the
means to this end may be summed up in three words--separation,
asexualization, and permanent sequestration. "Diseases desperate grown
by desperate appliances are relieved, or not at all," and we must
recognize that heroic measures now are as essential to the welfare of
the unfortunate as to society, which will then naturally adjust itself
to new conditions. Viewing the separation and massing of these
irresponsibles--innocent victims of ignorance, debauchery, or selfish
lust--men will come to realize that a greater crime than taking is the
giving of such life; and so a greater reverence for the sacredness of
marriage, a deeper sense of the great responsibilities of parenthood,
will do more to avert this evil than the most stringent marriage laws.
That the present demands some restraint upon the ignorant and the
indifferent there can be no doubt, and laws preventing the marriage of
defectives and of their immediate descendants would go far to stem the
tide of harmful heredity.

But what to do with those now in our midst is the vital question! They
must be provided for in a way that shall insure safety to society,
economy to the State, and protection and happiness to the individual.
The answer found in the experience of half a century is, briefly,
asylums for the helpless--training schools and colonies for those
capable of becoming helpful. These in very name and nature being
widely separate, just as separate as titles and names indicate, should
be their working systems. Work among the feeble-minded, a
philanthropic movement directed first toward the idiot, soon found a
limit in dealing with a subject not trainable and but slightly if at
all improvable. Thence, diverging and broadening as idiocy became
better understood and imbecility in various phases became recognized,
it found its true province in strengthening and encouraging feeble
intellects, arousing and stimulating indolent and weak wills, and in
training and directing into healthful channels the abnormal energy of
those destitute of the moral sense. How wide the divergence can
readily be seen, as also how entirely incompatible with union must be
work further apart in reality than is the training of an imbecile and
a normal child.

[Illustration: EXCITABLE IDIOT. Practically unimprovable.

APATHETIC IDIOT. Practically unimprovable.

IDIO-IMBECILE. But slight hope of improvement.]

For the idiot, who not only can not be trained, but who in many cases
is unimprovable even in the simplest matters of self-help, nothing is
needed but that care and attention found in every well-regulated
nursery of delicate children, the _sine qua non_ being regular hours,
simple nourishing food, frequent baths, and tender mothering. As many
are paralyzed, blind, lame, or epileptic, it is desirable that the
dormitories, well ventilated, be on the same floor with the living
rooms and of easy access to bathrooms and playgrounds. Covered and
carefully guarded porches should afford the much-needed fresh air and
outdoor life in all weathers. These, with cheerful, sunny playrooms,
provided with simple toys and furnished with bright decorations
varying with the season, will contribute the maximum of pleasure for
this life of perpetual infancy. Low vitality, general poverty of the
whole physical make-up, the prevalence of phthisis and epilepsy and
kindred diseases require the daily inspection of a physician, while
the comfort and well-being of the whole, both workers and children,
are insured by a capable and sympathetic house mother.

The character of attendants is of the first importance, as these are
they who live with the children; it should combine that firmness,
tenderness, and balance that constitute an even temperament, capable
of recognizing and meeting an occasion without loss of self-control.
The duties involve not only the care of the idiots, but the training
and direction of idio-imbeciles as aids, and this dealing with natures
often wholly animal, requires a certain refinement and dignity of
character--at least an entire absence of coarseness--while a knowledge
of the simpler manual arts, and if possible of drawing and music, will
do much to soften and brighten these darkened natures. As these
qualities are valuable as well as rare, the remuneration should be in
proportion; certainly sufficient to induce permanency and to
compensate for such isolation. A life of constant wear and tear
demands also regular periods of rest, and the corps therefore should
be sufficiently large to give relief hours daily as well as vacations.

The idio-imbecile, but one remove from his weaker brother, to whose
wants he may be trained to minister, finds here his fitting place, and
the domestic service of these asylums may be largely drawn from this
class and also from that of the low-grade imbecile. Working as an aid,
never alone, always under direction, he finds in a monotonous round of
the simplest daily avocations his life happiness, his only safety from
lapsing into idiocy, and therefore his true home.

The relief to the home, the actual benefit to the State in this
housing and care of the idiot and idio-imbecile can never be fully
estimated. It is reckoned, however, in a general way that for every
idiot sequestrated the energies of two if not four normal persons are
returned to society.

Imbecility, mental or moral, congenital or accidental, is either an
inherent defect or an irrecoverable loss, an incurable disease for
which hospitals can do nothing, nor can reformatories form again that
which never has been formed. Could language be made clear enough to
enable the public mind to grasp this fact, the work of training
schools, the only hope of the imbecile, would then be simplified, and
people might be willing to accept what they can give, in the only way
in which it can be given, to be of any permanent value. As it is, the
few charlatans who profess to train and in a few years send out an
imbecile ready to take a high-school or college course not only
deceive those from whom they may gather a few thousands, but their
representations, coupled with that of a sensational press, effectually
impede the progress of a work which must eventually find its true
place in the system of public education.

Influenced by these misrepresentations, parents come with profound
idiots and high hopes of a course of training (here is one of the
misfortunes of an idiot asylum within a training school), and simply
refuse to accept a negative to their expectations. Again--to waifs and
strays, high-grade imbeciles, developing after years of labored
training proficiency in music, drawing, or some one of the industrial
arts, friends will suddenly crop up and, dazzled by what seems
phenomenal genius, seek to withdraw them just as they become useful to
the community. Little do they know of the weak will, indolent nature,
and utter lack of "go," that forbid competition with normal labor and
must forever be subject to the will of another; still less of the weak
physical build that is kept intact only by watchful care, and which
would succumb to any undue hardship. So much for the difficulties that
beset the work. Now as to the work itself.

As this must vary according to the status of the individual, a careful
study and a correct diagnosis are of primary importance in order that
the work may be fitted to the child, not the child to the work. The
plan pursued is as follows: A thorough examination--physical, mental,
and moral--is first made by the chief physician in connection with
papers properly filled out giving personal and family history. He is
then sent to the hospital for a fortnight to insure immunity from
disease. There, while perfectly free and unrestrained among his
fellows, he is under constant observation of the nurses; these
observations, carefully noted, are returned to the chief physician,
who turns both over to the principal of schools, designating the grade
in which he is to enter for probation. Here under different
environment he is again tested for some weeks and finally placed.


HIGH-GRADE IMBECILE. Very improvable--can read, write, draw, etc.

LOW-GRADE IMBECILE. Only slightly improvable.]

It is hard for the uninitiated to understand that the grade, be it
high, middle, or low, is not associated with promotion and advancement
as in schools for normal children. On the contrary, it signifies the
quality and status of the individual, his limitations, his
possibilities, and consequently determines almost unfailingly the
training for his life work; not by any hard-and-fast lines, but by a
general mapping out of means which experience has proved will best
insure his development, because best suited to his needs. Every
latitude is allowed and, as the comfort of both the teacher and the
entire class depends upon each going to his own place, there is easy
and natural transference according to the necessity indicated by
either progress or retrogression; but the varied occupations in each
grade give ample scope for indulgence of individual proclivity in the
means of development, and it is found that the original diagnosis,
based upon experience, rarely errs.

The motto of the schools--"We learn by doing; the working hand makes
strong the working brain"--shows manual training to be the basis of
the scheme of development, varied for each grade to suit the
intelligence. Thus classified, various occupations are arranged and
presented with the double intent of securing all-round development,
and of giving at the same time opportunity for choice according to
individual bent, the child being gradually permitted to devote himself
more exclusively to that in which he shows a tendency to excel, and to
gain a certain automatic ease in what shall prove the initial of a
life employment. A knowledge of writing and of numbers is acquired
incidentally as a necessary part of these occupations in daily
practice, and arithmetic, taught with objects, is chiefly counting,
separating into fractional parts, and practical measurements. Books
are used rather as a convenient means of attracting and holding
attention while inducing habits of consecutive thinking than for a
knowledge of facts to be memorized. Those who can learn to read gain
naturally a means of self-entertainment, of self-instruction, hence a
certain amount of culture, so long as protected in an institution from
indiscriminate and pernicious literature.

The low-grade imbecile, but a slight degree removed from the
idio-imbecile, is, like him, totally incapable of grasping artificial
signs or symbols. He can therefore never learn to read or write;
figures have no meaning for him, nor numbers, beyond the very simplest
counting acquired in the daily repetition of some simple task such as
knitting, netting, braiding rope, straw, or knotting twine. The
excitation of interest in these, which will also give hand and arm
power, the arousing of the sluggish, indolent will, through the
stimulus of pleasurable emotions, the physical development by means of
the various drills and the moral influence of refined, orderly
surroundings--these, together with some practical work of house,
garden, or farm, which forms part of the daily routine, are all that
school life can do for him.




From this preparation he passes to the industrial department, where he
receives training in that occupation which the school has indicated
for him, becoming in his limited way a useful and contented member of
a community which should be his life home. As both of these types
develop either extreme docility or perversity--the one quiet, gentle,
obedient, following any suggestion even of a comrade's stronger will;
the other obstinate, indolent, often brutal and cruel--the necessity
for constant guardianship is therefore self-evident.

When we consider that the training of a high-grade imbecile takes four
times the period commonly allotted to a normal child, some idea of the
vital energy expended on the training of the lower grades may be found
in the following example:

I find in our museum of educational work a little ball which I am
inclined to regard the most valuable thing in the whole collection.
The boy who made it was a low-grade imbecile. His hand against every
man, he fancied every man's against him. Always under strict custodial
care, that he might harm neither himself nor others, he would vent his
spleen in tearing his clothing. His teacher, a woman of rare patience
and devotedness, sat beside him one day, tearing strips of old linen
and laying them in order. "See, Willie, let us make some pretty strips
and lay them so." His wonder grew apace at seeing her doing what he
had been reproved for doing; at once he responded, and a new bond of
sympathy was established between them. She was playing his game--the
only one, poor little lad, that he was capable of--and he joined in.

"Now, we will draw out the pretty threads and lay them in rows." For
weeks the boy found quiet pastime in this occupation, and the violent
nature grew quieter in proportion. One day the teacher said, "Let us
tie these threads together and make a long string." It took him months
and months to learn to tie those knots, but meanwhile his attendants
were having breathing space. "Now we will wind this into a pretty
ball, and I will cover all you make for the boys to play with"; and a
new occupation was added to his meager list.

The next link in this chain of development was a lesson in knitting.
Again, through months of patient teaching, it was at last
accomplished, and the boy to the day of his death found his life
happiness in knitting caps for the children, in place of tearing both
them and their clothing. You see the teacher was wise enough to
utilize the natural activities of the child and divert evil
propensities into healthful channels. Had she brought knitting and
bright yarn or anything foreign to him first, it would in truth have
been fitting new cloth to old garments and the rent would have been
widened: his obstinacy would have been aroused, and he would have
continued to tear to the end of the chapter.


The imbecile of middle grade receives that fuller presentation of work
suited to fuller capacity. Some time is devoted to the three "Rs," as
it is found that attention may be aroused and concentrated in the
phonetic drills, more especially if associated with pictures, and the
drawing of the objects named free-hand; thus eye, ear, and hand are
encouraged to work simultaneously. Those who accomplish finally the
reading of short simple stories not only enjoy evenings in the
library, but may be enabled to glean suggestions for the various
handicrafts for which they are being trained. This effort at quick
observation and original thinking is further carried forward in the
ambidextrous movements of free-hand drawing, designing, and sketching
from life--finding ready and practical application in the daily use of
tools. The value of the rule and the try-square is tested in the
manufacture of the various useful articles in both paper and wood
included under the head of sloyd, and "a boy can not learn to take a
straight shaving off a plank," says Ruskin, "or to drive a fine curve
without faltering, or to lay a brick level in the mortar, without
learning a multitude of other matters which life of man could never
teach him."

Equally useful to the girl in the workroom as to the boy in the shop
is this training of a ready eye, this quick intuition of balance and
proportion, this practice of obedience of hand and arm to brain, until
it becomes automatic. To both, therefore, the value of such
preparation will be incalculable. It is noticeable that boys of this
grade turn out as good workers in the ordinary crafts of shoemaking,
carpentering, and house painting as those of higher grade who,
although capable of grasping more intelligently the details of work,
yet do not bring to it that energy and perseverance of one who finds
in it "this one thing I do." With the imbecile of high grade, able to
accomplish studies equal to about the first intermediate of the public
schools, there is a diffusion of interest; the intelligence broadens
rather than deepens during the school period in natural response to
environment. With greater grasp of numerical values and of letters he
attains proficiency impossible to the lower grades in drawing, in
music, in printing, and in cabinet work. Other industries will
probably be provided for him as the demand increases, for it must be
remembered that this is a class whose needs have been the last to be
recognized in a work begun, as I have before said, for the idiot.
Regarded as queer, unlike other children--unable to keep up--he has,
after an unsuccessful trial at school, been kept at home, in some
cases an aid, in others a tyrant, to those relatives charged with his

Changed conditions of both family and school, fortunately for him,
combine to render this no longer possible, as absence of proper
training is always certain to result in deterioration. The pressure
upon the primary schools in the struggle for higher education leaves
no time to contend with dull, backward children. In the family the
care-takers grow fewer in proportion as the home-makers become
home-winners, and so these feeble ones are a burden instead of an aid
in the ordinary household offices.

The next hope is a training school where, with false hopes fostered by
ignorance and sensationalism, they are entered, and after a few years,
a time all too short for any lasting benefit, a sentimentality equally
stupid withdraws them from that guardianship absolutely essential,
with just that little knowledge which will render them more dangerous
to society, because less recognizable--an evil element perpetuating an
evil growth. Under both conditions these unfortunates have suffered
from that lack of constant care and supervision which should be theirs
from the cradle to the grave.

The separation of backward children in the schools and the placing of
them in special classes for special training is the first step in the
right direction. Here, after sufficient time for observation and
diagnosing by teacher and physician, the defectives so adjudged will
naturally drift to the training schools for the feeble-minded; these,
if relieved of the odium as well as the care of their helpless
population, will then be encouraged to arrange for this brighter class
of defectives industries which will provide not only for development
and happiness, but will largely aid in maintenance. The recognition of
the necessity for this weeding out of the schools, having place first
on the Continent, next in England, and later in our own country, marks
an era in the national as well as in the special schools. Both will be
benefited largely, and formal expression of this, found in the
addition to our National Educational Association of a department
representing the training of all classes of defectives, is one of the
most encouraging signs of the times.


The same experience which dictates the separation of the idiot from
the imbecile, the backward from the normal child, urges also that a
permanent sequestration would tend alike to the safety and happiness
of the normal and abnormal classes. The experiment made of preparing
and sending out into the world these irresponsibles has proved, to say
the least, not encouraging, and the advisability of their permanent
detention has become self-evident.

The heads of training schools here are a unit in urging that provision
be made for those who have reached the limit of school progress. That
experience has reached a similar conclusion in England is testified
in the munificent gift lately made to the Royal Albert Asylum, and by
the opinion of its superintendent, Dr. T. Telford-Smith, thus clearly

"It is yearly more noticeable that the public mind is coming gradually
but surely to recognize the threefold value of the work of such
institutions as the Royal Albert Asylum. The educational and the
custodial aspects early aroused the sympathies of the charitable; but
the preventive aspect is another which must force itself upon all who
thoughtfully consider the subject. The far-reaching and inexorable law
of heredity is written large for those who study the imbecile."

The following paragraph, from a daily paper, shows that, in America at
least, public opinion and the acts of the legislature have become ripe
for action:

"The State of Connecticut is about to try a curious experiment in
social legislation, having passed a law forbidding any man or woman,
imbecile or feeble-minded, to marry under forty-five years of age, the
penalty being imprisonment for not less than three years; and persons
aiding and abetting are also liable. The hope of the legislature is to
keep down dégenerate families."

That this experiment is wise and justifiable who can doubt?

[Illustration: LOW-GRADE IMBECILES. No. 1, obstinate, perverse,
indolent; No. 2, gentle and obedient.]

To glance at another and sadder, but not less real, side of the same
question, can any one doubt but that the adolescent and adult female
imbecile needs lifelong care and protection? Surely the noble gift to
the asylum by Sir Thomas Storey of a home for forty such cases is a
wise, far-seeing, and statesmanlike act.

It is greatly to be hoped that this noble example may be speedily
emulated on both sides of the sea, and that each State may shortly
possess, in addition to its training school, its own colony farm with
all the industries of a village, drawing its workers from the
well-directed energies of a carefully guarded community. Cottages,
each with its house mother, would insure that sense of home, and that
affectionate and sympathetic oversight so essential to this society
composed of those who are always children, while measures, which
science has already pointed out and experience proved as advisable,
might, if protected by wise legislation, permit less vigilance on the
part of care-takers and consequent happiness because of greater
freedom to its members.

It is a happy coincidence that Massachusetts, the pioneer State in the
work among the feeble-minded, should in its fifty-first year celebrate
the beginning of its second half century by the inauguration of this
most eventful step in the onward progress of the work. The training
school at Waltham has lately purchased sixteen hundred and sixty acres
of land for the establishment of a colony which is to have natural and
healthful growth from the fostering care of the parent institution.

As these colonies increase, drawing from society a pernicious element
and transforming it under watchful care into healthful growth, may not
in time the national Government, finding these homes of prevention a
more excellent way than prison houses of cure for ill, be induced to
provide a national colony for this race more to be commiserated
because of a childhood more hopeless than that of the two others in
our midst on whom so much has been expended?



In a recent article in the North American Review, Mr. John Hyde, the
statistician of the United States Department of Agriculture, a
gentleman of very high authority and repute, presents this problem in
such terms as to throw a doubt upon the validity of any forecast of
the potential increase in the product of wheat, or, in fact, of any
crop in this country. Without referring to myself by name, he yet
makes it very plain that he does not attach any value to my recent
forecast of wheat production printed in the Popular Science Monthly
for December, 1898.

On the other hand, he rightly says that since Tyndall's address to the
British Association for the Advancement of Science in 1874 no treatise
presented to that association has excited so general an interest or
provoked so much unfavorable criticism as Sir William Crookes's recent
utterances on the subject of the approaching scarcity in the supply of

Mr. Hyde disclaims any intention to give his own views, but yet no one
can read his treatise without noting a substantial agreement with Sir
William Crookes, perhaps almost unconsciously to himself. In his
closing paragraph he says: "To discuss the extent to which under
conceivable conditions the United States may, _notwithstanding the
somewhat dubious outlook_, still continue to contribute to the food
supply of other nations, would be little more than speculation."

The Italics are my own.

I venture to point out that the use of the word "speculation" is an
example of many instances. Like a dog, one may give a word a bad name,
yet it may be a good dog and a very good word when rightly used. In
the true and very innocent meaning of the word "speculation" we find
exactly what the public has a right to expect and even to demand from
the Department of Agriculture. In Webster's Dictionary I find that,
when used in such a connection as this problem of the potential of
this country in farm productions, the word "speculation" stands for "a
mental view of anything in its various aspects and relations;
contemplation; intellectual examination."

If any "mental view" has yet been taken in the Department of
Agriculture of the proportion of the land of this country which may be
termed "arable," I have yet to find the record. If any "contemplation"
has been devoted to the proportions of this arable land which may be
devoted to different crops in each section, I have been remiss in not
securing the reports. If any "mental view" has been taken of the
relative area now devoted to each principal crop, and that which may
be so devoted hereafter in order to meet the prospective demand upon
the land, either for the supply of our own population or of other
nations, where is the record? If there is no such "speculation" now of
record, is it not time that a true agricultural survey corresponding
to our geologic and geodetic surveys should be entered upon? I have
reason to believe that such surveys have been made by many European
states in which all the arable land in some kingdoms is classified,
listed, and so recorded that any one wishing to know the best place
for any special product can get the information by reference to the
proper department of the Government.

I have had occasion to make several studies of this kind. In order to
inform myself on the potential of the South in the production of
cotton, I undertook a study of the physical geography and climatology
of the cotton States and of other cotton-producing countries nearly
forty years ago. The results of this research were first given in
Cheap Cotton by Free Labor, published in 1861. In that pamphlet and in
many treatises following, finally in an address in Atlanta, in 1880, a
true forecast or "speculation" or "intellectual examination" will be
found of the production of the cotton fiber, the potential of the
future and of the cotton-seed-oil industry, then almost unheard of in
this country. In 1880 I also entered upon my first "speculation" (not
in the market) on the lines of a "contemplation" or forecast of the
effect of agricultural machinery applied to our wheat land, coupled
with the prospective reduction in the cost of carrying wheat to
England, upon the condition of the American farmer and the British
landlord. That forecast of prosperity to our farmers in the supply of
bread at low cost to our kin beyond the sea has been justified at
every point and in every detail. I therefore ventured to review Sir
William Crookes's address, and I am well assured that what Mr. Hyde
now calls a "somewhat dubious outlook" is subject to no doubt whatever
as to our ability to continue our full supply for domestic consumption
and export for the next century.

Let me now repeat again what I have often said: statistics are good
servants, but very bad masters. I long since ceased to put any great
reliance upon averages of crops, wages, or products covering wide
areas and varying conditions, unless I could find out, _first_, the
personal equation of the man who compiled them; _second_, ascertain
what he knew himself about the subject of which his statistics or
figures were the symbols; and, _third_, unless I could verify these
great averages from one or more typical areas of farm land, or from
one or more representative factories or workshops, of the conditions
of which I could myself obtain personal information.

General statistics and averages of farm products and earnings I regard
with more suspicion than almost any others because of the immense
variation in conditions.

I have sometimes almost come to the conclusion that so many of the
figures of the United States census are mere statistical rubbish as to
throw a doubt on nearly all the schedules. Yet without accurate
statistics on many points, many of them yet to be secured, the conduct
of our national affairs must become as uncertain as would be the
conduct of any great business corporation without a true ledger
account and a trial balance. Hence the necessity for a permanent
census bureau and for a careful "speculation" or "intellectual" and
intelligent examination and "contemplation" or study of the facts
about our land by which our future welfare must be governed.

A good beginning has been made by the authorities of many States, yet
more by the body of well-trained men in charge of the Agricultural
Experiment Station, in whose support too much can not be said. To them
I appealed when trying to get an adequate conception of our potential
in wheat.

When we think of the blunders which have been made in very recent
years, we may well have some suspicion that we may still be very
ignorant on many points about our own country. Who really knows very
much about the great middle section of the South, what is called the
"Land of the Sky," comprising the upland plateaus and mountain
sections of Virginia, North and South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama,
eastern Tennessee, and Kentucky? Within this area, as large as France
and twice as large as Great Britain, will be found timber and minerals
equal to both the countries named, and a potential in agriculture
equal to either, as yet very sparsely populated.

Yet under a craze for centrifugal expansion we are now in danger of
trying to develop tropical islands far away, already somewhat densely
peopled, where white men can not work and live, to our detriment,
danger, and loss, while we fail to see that if we expand centripetally
by the occupation and use of the most healthy and productive section
of our own country, we may add immensely to our prosperity, our
wealth, to our profit without cost and without militarism. This
sparsely settled Land of the Sky is greater in area and far greater in
its potential than the Philippine Islands, Cuba, and Porto Rico
combined. Verily, it seems as if common sense were a latent and
sluggish force, often endangered by the noisy and blatant influence of
the venal politician and the greed of the unscrupulous advocates of
vassal colonies who now attempt to pervert the power of government to
their own purposes of private gain.

Witness the blunders of the past:

We nearly gave away Oregon because it was held not to be worth

When the northern boundary of Wisconsin was being determined, it was
put as far north as it was then supposed profitable farming could ever
extend, excluding Minnesota, now one of our greatest sources of wheat.

The Great American Desert in my own school atlas covered a large part
of the most fertile land now under cultivation.

What blunders are we now making for lack of "speculation" or
"intellectual examination" as to the future of American farming and
farm lands?

On one point to which Mr. Hyde refers I must cry _peccavi_. He rebukes
the editor of the Popular Science Monthly for admitting an article in
which a potential of 400,000,000 bushels of wheat is attributed to the
State of Idaho. The total depravity of the type-writing machine caused
the mechanism to spell Montana in the letters I-d-a-h-o. What I
imputed to Idaho is true of Montana, if the Chief of the Agricultural
Experiment Stations of Montana is a competent witness, if all its
arable land were devoted to wheat. It will be observed that I
mentioned Idaho incidentally (meaning Montana), taking no cognizance
of the estimate given, because it was at present of no practical

I have expressed my distrust of great averages in respect to
agriculture and farm products.

In illustration of this fallacy, the figures presented by Mr. Hyde
will now be dealt with. It is held that in 1930, which is the year
when Sir William Crookes predicts starvation among the bread-eating
people of the world for lack of wheat (as if good bread could only be
made from wheat), the population of this country may be computed at
130,000,000. The requirements of that year for our own consumption Mr.
Hyde estimates at 700,000,000 bushels of wheat, 1,250,000,000 bushels
of oats, 3,450,000,000 bushels of corn (maize), and 100,000,000 tons
of hay; and, although other products are not named by him, we may
assume a corresponding increase.

Subsequently Mr. Hyde gives the present delusive average yields per
acre of the whole country, and then throws a doubt on the future
progress of agricultural science, saying, "Whatever agricultural
science may be able to do in the next thirty years, up to the present
time it has only succeeded in arresting that decline in the rate of
production with which we have been continually threatened." Without
dealing at present with this want of and true consideration of or
"speculation" upon the progress made in the last decade under the lead
of the experiment stations and other beginnings in remedying the
wasteful and squalid methods that have been so conspicuous in pioneer
farming, let us take Mr. Hyde's averages and see what demand upon land
the requirements of 1930 will make, even at the present meager average
product per acre.

Mr. Hyde apparently computes this prospective product as one that will
be required for the domestic consumption of 130,000,000 people by
ratio to our present product. He ignores the fact that our present
product suffices for 75,000,000, with an excess of live stock,
provisions, and dairy products exported nearly equal in value to all
the grain exported, and in excess of the exports of wheat. If we can
increase proportionally in one class of products, why not in another?
Whichever pays best will be produced and exported.

                _1897 and 1930 compared.--Data of 1897._
        |        Products.       |Average per acre.|    Area required.
  Maize | 1,902,967,933 bushels. | 23.8  bushels.  | 125,150 square miles.
  Wheat |   530,149,168   "      | 13.4    "       |  61,660   "      "
  Oats  |   698,767,809   "      | 27.2    "       |  40,200   "      "
  Hay   |    60,664,770 tons.    |  1.43   "       |  66,290   "      "
        |                        |                 |----------------------
      Total in square miles                        | 293,300 square miles.

All other farm crops carry the total to less than 400,000 square miles
now under the plow, probably not exceeding 360,000.

Prospective demand of 1930, at the same meager average product per
acre, without progress in agricultural science:

        |   Crop called for.     |  Per acre.    |    Area required.
  Maize | 3,450,000,000 bushels. | 23.8 bushels. | 226,600 square miles.
  Wheat |   700,000,000   "      | 13.4   "      |  81,600   "     "
  Oats  | 1,250,000,000   "      | 27.2   "      |  70,800   "     "
  Hay   |   100,000,000 tons.    |  1.43  "      | 109,400   "     "
        |                        |               |----------------------
      Total in square miles                      | 488,400 square miles.

Assuming all land under the plow in 1930 in the ratio as above, the
area of all now in all crops 400,000 square miles--an excessive
estimate--that year (1930) will call for 667,000 square miles of
arable land in actual cultivation.

I have been accustomed to consider one half our national domain,
exclusive of Alaska, good arable land in the absence of any
"speculation" on that point in the records of the Department of
Agriculture; but from the returns given by the chiefs of the
experiment stations and secretaries of agriculture of the States
hereafter cited, that estimate may be increased probably to two
thirds, or 2,000,000 square miles of arable land out of a total of
3,000,000 square miles, omitting Alaska.

Assuming that we possess 2,000,000 square miles of arable land,
capable at least of producing the present meager average product cited
above, the conditions of 1930 will be graphically presented on the
following diagram:

  _Prospective Use of Land in the Year 1930 on Present Crop Average._

  [Sidenote: Arable land assumed to be 2,000,000 square miles in the
  outer lines of the diagram.]

  |  Oats,   |  Wheat,  |   Hay,   |Miscellaneous.|   Maize,   |  Wheat   |
  | 70,800   |  81,600  | 109,400  |Roots, cotton,|Indian corn,|   for    |
  |sq. miles.|sq. miles.|sq. miles.|tobacco, etc.,|  226,600   | export,  |
  +----------|          |          |168,600 sq. m.| sq. miles. | 143,000  |
  |          +----------+----------|  Excessive.  |            |sq. miles.|
  |                                +--------------+------------+----------+
  |Arable land unassigned                          1,200,000 square miles.|
  |Deduct for cities, towns, parks,                                       |
  |  and reserves of all kinds                       200,000   "      "   |
  |                                                ---------              |
  |    Reserve for future use                      1,000,000   "      "   |
  |                                                                       |
  |  Forest, mountain, arid, etc., not counted, about 1,000,000 square    |
  |    miles, not included in these lines or squares.                     |

     No reduction on area cultivated on prospective improvement in the
     present methods of farming, although it may be assumed that the
     prospective increase of crop per acre will exert great influence.

If the facts should be in 1930 consistent with Mr. Hyde's
"speculation" it would therefore appear that our ability to meet the
domestic demand of 1930 with proportionate export of cattle,
provisions, and dairy products, and to set apart a little patch of
land for the export of 1,226,000,000 bushels of wheat raised at the
rate of only 13.4 bushels per acre from 143,000 square miles of land
will be met by the cultivation of not exceeding 700,000 square miles
out of 2,000,000 available.

I should not venture to question the conclusions emanating from the
Department of Agriculture, or the deductions of so eminent a scientist
as Sir William Crookes, had I not taken the usual precaution of a
business man in studying a business question. I went to the men who
know the subject as well as the figures on which statistics are to be

Being supplied by the Popular Science Monthly with one hundred proofs
of the first nine and a half pages of the December article in which
the terms of the problem are stated, I sent those proofs to the chiefs
of the experiment stations and to the secretaries of agriculture in
all the States from which any considerable product of wheat is now or
may be hereafter derived; also to many makers of wheat harvesters; to
the secretaries of Chambers of Commerce, and to several economic
students in the wheat-growing States. This preliminary study was
accompanied by the following circular of inquiry:

  BOSTON, MASS., _October 5, 1898_.

 _To the Chiefs of the Agricultural Experiment Stations and others in

Calling your attention to the inclosed advance sheets of an article
which will by and by appear in the Popular Science Monthly, I beg to
put to you certain questions.

If the matter interests you, will you kindly fill up the blanks below
and let me have your replies within the present month of October, to
the end that I may compile them and give a digest of the results? I
shall state in the article that I am indebted to you and others for
the information submitted.

Area of the State of....................... square miles.

1. What proportion of this area do you believe to be arable land of
fair quality, including pasture that might be put under the plow?

  Answer ................... square miles.

2. What proportion is now in forest or mountain sections which may not
be available for agriculture for a long period?

  Answer ................... square miles.

3. What has been done or may be done by irrigation?

4. What proportion of the arable land above measured should you
consider suitable to the production of wheat under general conditions
such as are given in the text, say, a stable price of one dollar per
bushel in London?

  Answer ................... square miles.

5. To what extent, in your judgment, is wheat becoming the cash or
surplus crop of a varied system of agriculture as distinct from the
methods which prevail in the opening of new lands of cropping with
wheat for a term of years?


What further remarks can you add which will enable me to elucidate
this case, to complete the article and to convey a true impression of
the facts to English readers?


Your assistance in this matter will be gratefully received.

  Respectfully submitted,

To this circular I received twenty-four detailed replies, containing
statistics mostly very complete; also many suggestive letters, in
every case giving full support to the general views which I had
submitted in the proof sheets. It has been impossible for me to give
individual credit within the limits of a magazine article to the
gentlemen who have so fully supplied the data. Space will only permit
me to submit a digest of the more important facts in a table derived
from these replies:

               |    FROM RETURNS MADE TO MY INQUIRY.     |From United
               |----------------+----------+-------------|States report
     NAME.     | Area of State. | Arable.  | Suitable to | in wheat,
               |                |          |    wheat.   |   1897.
  Minnesota    |     84,287     |  66,000  |   50,000    |   7,189
  South Dakota |     76,000     |  42,500  |   40,000    |   4,187
  North Dakota |     74,312     |  50,000  |   50,000    |   4,300
  Illinois     |     56,000     |  54,000  |   20,000    |   2,292
  Missouri     |     68,000     |  64,000  |   64,000    |   2,448
  Wisconsin    |     56,000     |  35,000  |   35,000    |     961
               |    414,599     | 311,500  |  259,000    |  21,372
  Texas        |    269,694     |  200,000 |  100,000    |     700
  California   |    158,360     |   54,000 |   30,000    |   5,062
  Montana      |    145,310     |   30,000 |   25,000    |     109
  Idaho        |     87,000     |   30,000 |   15,000    |     192
               |    660,364     |  314,000 |  170,000    |   6,063
      Total    |  1,074,963     |  625,500 |  429,000    |  27,435

I do not give the data of the Eastern and Southern States, and I have
selected only the most complete data of the other States, choosing the
more conservative where two returns have been made from one State.

The foregoing States produced a little over one third of the wheat
crop of 1897. They comprise a little over one third the area of the
land of the United States, excluding Alaska.

The list covers States like Illinois, Minnesota, and Wisconsin, now
very fully occupied relatively to Texas, Montana, and Idaho, as yet
but sparsely settled.

Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Nebraska, Oregon, and
Washington combined far exceed the above list in wheat production;
but, as I have no complete data from these States, I can only say that
the national or census statistics, as far as they go, develop
corresponding conditions to those above given. The very small product
of Texas and Montana, even of Idaho, as compared with the claimed
potential, will attract notice, and perhaps excite incredulity. But
let it be remembered that in 1880 the Territory of Dakota yielded less
than 3,000,000 bushels of wheat, while in 1898 the two States of North
and South Dakota, formerly in one Territory, claim to have produced
100,000,000 bushels. Perhaps it will then be admitted that the
potential of Montana, and even of Idaho, may be attained in some
measure corresponding to the reports from those States; but as yet
their product is a negligible quantity, as that of Dakota was only
twenty years since.[9]

Again, let it be remembered that Texas will produce a cotton crop,
marketed in 1898-'99, above the average of the five ante-war crops of
the whole country, and nearly equal to the largest crop ever grown in
the United States before the war. Texas could not only produce the
present entire cotton crop of the United States but of the world, on
but a small part of her land which is well suited to cotton. When
these facts are considered, perhaps the potential of that great State
in wheat and other grain, in cattle and in sheep, as well as in
cotton, may begin to be comprehended.

The writer is well aware that this treatment of a great problem is
very incomplete, but it is the best that the leisure hours of a very
busy business life would permit. If it discloses the general ignorance
of our resources, the total inadequacy of many of our official
statistics, the lack of any real agricultural survey, and the
necessity for a reorganization and concentration of the scientific
departments of the Government as well as of a permanent census bureau,
it will have served a useful purpose.

If it also serves to call attention to the meager average crops and
the poor quality of our agriculture as a whole down to a very recent
period, it may suggest even to those to whose minds the statistics of
the past convey but gloomy and "doubtful views" of the future, that
the true progress in scientific agriculture could only begin when
substantially all the fertile land in the possession of the Government
had either been given away or otherwise distributed. So long as "sod
crops" and the single-crop system yielded adequate returns to
unskilled farmers, no true science of agriculture could be expected,
any more than a large product of wool can be hoped for in States where
it has been wittily said that "every poor man keeps one cur dog, and
every d--d poor man keeps two or more."

Finally, if I shall have drawn attention to the very effective work
which is being done in the agricultural experiment stations by men of
first-rate ability, I shall have drawn attention to a great fact. This
work has already led to a complete revolution from the old practice
of maltreating land, and to the renovation of soils that had been
partially exhausted. Governor Henry A. Wise, of Virginia, long since
condemned the old methods of Southern agriculture by telling his
hearers, "The niggers skinned the land and the white men skinned the
niggers." We are changing all that by new and progressive methods. I
hope that in this recognition of the work of the experiment stations I
shall have made some return for the attention which has been given to
my inquiry by so many of my correspondents that the space assigned me
forbids a list of my authorities being given by name.

When the suggestion is made from the Department of Agriculture that
all that science has yet accomplished has been to stop a tendency to a
lessened production from the land now under the plow, and when it is
even suggested that in 1930 the present meager average of crops per
acre may still exist, it seems to me that little credit is given to
the good work already accomplished in the short period in which the
separate Department of Agriculture has been represented in the
Cabinet, especially in the last five or six years, while the
suggestion itself shows very little consideration of the great work of
the experiment stations.

Unless it can be proved that my correspondents and myself have entered
into a conspiracy to mislead the public in dealing with the potential
of this country in wheat production, nearly all the deductions from
the figures of the past must be considered mere statistical rubbish.
These statistics cover sections and States in which wheat should never
be grown or attempted in competition with the true wheat soils and
climate. As well might misplaced iron furnaces, built to boom city
lots where there are no favorable conditions for the production of
iron, be included in an average and held up as a standard of our
potential in iron and steel production.

In my efforts to discover the rule of progress in the arts and
occupations of the people of this country, it has become plain that in
ratio to the application of science and invention to every art the
quantity of product is increased, the number of workmen is relatively
diminished, the price of the product tends to diminish, while the
wages or earnings of those who do the work are augmented. I have
investigated many branches of industry, and find evidence conclusive
to my own mind that such is the law of industrial development. This
rule is subject to temporary variations under the restriction of
statutes. In my own judgment, the so-called protective principle or
policy of interference with commerce by imposing fines on foreign
imports has retarded the progress of the specially protected arts, and
has in some measure obstructed the diversity of manufactures; but the
opposite policy of absolutely free trade in our domestic traffic over
a greater area and among a much larger number of people than have
elsewhere secured their own liberty has been so much more potent in
its progressive influence as to have lessened the evils of the
restrictions on foreign trade.

According to my observation, all the efforts to regulate railroad
charges by State legislation and under the interstate commerce act
have greatly retarded the progress of the railway, and have deprived
great States, notably Texas, of any service at all commensurate to the
demand which might otherwise have been supplied to the mutual benefit
of the owners of the railways and the inhabitants of the State. The
most serious retarding influence, especially evil in its effect upon
farmers, was the useless panic of 1893, caused by the silver
craze--that is to say, by the effort to enact a force bill by which
the producers of our great crops would have been compelled to accept
money of half the purchasing power of that to which their industry had
been long adjusted. This caused a temporary paralysis of industry, in
which I think none suffered so much as the farmers of the country.

But admitting these temporary variations, I find the same rule
governing the products of the farm that governs the mine, the factory,
and the workshop--namely, a lessening of the number occupied in ratio
to the product; a great reduction in the cost of labor; an increased
return in due proportion of the skill and intelligence of the farmer;
a rapid reduction in the farm mortgages, ending at the present date in
making the farmers of the grain-growing States the creditors of the
world, especially those occupied upon wheat.

But in the development of this progress we find the reverse of the
practice in the factory and the workshop. The most important
applications of science and invention led first to what might be
called the manufacture of wheat on an extensive method of making a
single crop on great areas of land. That phase has about spent its
force; the great farms are in process of division; the single-crop
system has about ended; the intensive system of making a larger
product from a lessened area with alternation and variation in crops
is rapidly taking the place of former methods.

Therefore, while many branches of manufacturing tend more and more to
the collective method, the tendency in agriculture is more and more to
individualism in dealing with the land itself, coupled with collective
ownership in the more expensive farm machinery, in creameries, cheese
factories, and the like. We are apparently at a halfway stage in this
revolution of agriculture. The intelligent and intensive methods of
breeding cattle and sheep is also rapidly taking the place of the
semibarbarous conditions of the ranch.

If these points are well taken, the very suggestion that we must
compute the land which should be under the plow in 1890 in order to
supply the needs of 130,000,000 people on the basis of the imperfect
statistics and inadequate data of the past, becomes almost an
impertinence. It is much more probable that the 400,000 square miles
which now meet the needs of 75,000,000 people, with an enormous excess
for export, will in 1930 still suffice for the domestic supply of
130,000,000 people, with a proportionate export corresponding to the

If the product of the farms of the West now yielding the largest
crops, or of the renovated lands of the South now yielding the best
crops, be taken as the average standard of the near future, as they
should be, then it may be true in 1930, as it is now, that one fifth
of the arable land of this country when put under the plow will still
suffice for all existing demands, the remainder of our great domain
extending the promise of future abundance and welfare to the yet
greater numbers who will occupy the land a century hence.

I may add that in the course of a very friendly correspondence with
Sir William Crookes, while we are still at variance in our estimates
of the area which may be converted to the production of wheat in this
country without trenching upon any other product, we are wholly at an
agreement on a most material point. I quote from one of his letters:
"Under the present wasteful method of cultivation there will be in a
limited number of years an insufficient supply of wheat. Apply
artificial fertilizers judiciously, and the supply may be increased
indefinitely." I would only venture to add to the judgment of so
eminent a writer the words "or natural," to the end that the paragraph
should read, "Apply artificial or natural fertilizers judiciously, and
the supply can be increased indefinitely."

Many years ago I was asked among others, "What would be the next great
discovery of science or invention?" To which I replied, "A supply of
nitrogen at low cost." Has not that discovery been made in the recent
development of the functions of the bacteria which, living and dying
upon the leguminous plants, dissociate the nitrogen of the atmosphere
and convert it through the plant to the renovation of the soil? Is not
the invention of methods of nitrifying the soil by distributing the
germs of bacteria one of the most wonderful discoveries of science
ever yet attained? Can any one yet measure the potential of any given
area of land in any part of this country in the production of any one
of its great crops? That there is a limit may be admitted. Can any one
venture to say that any of our average crops yet approach beyond a
small fractional measure the true limit of production, whatever it may
be, either in cotton, maize, wheat, or any other product of the soil?

In this, as in many other developments of the theory of evolution, the
factor of mental energy, which is the prime factor in all material
production, may have been or is almost wholly ignored. We are ceasing
to treat the soil as a mine subject to exhaustion, but we have as yet
made only a beginning in treating it as an instrument of production
which will for a long period respond in its increasing product in
exact ratio to the mental energy which is applied to the cultivation
of the land.


[9] I have been permitted to review the detailed statements of the
accounts of one of the great enterprises which I have called the
manufacture of wheat on a large scale on various large farms,
separated one from another but under one control, aggregating more
than twenty thousand acres, in North Dakota. They are managed mainly
from a long distance through agents and foremen, therefore at a
relative disadvantage compared to a farmer owning his own land, acting
as his own foreman, and saving heavily in expense. Such farmers,
making no charge for their own time, are computed to have a cash
advantage of one dollar an acre.

A large part of this land has been cropped in wheat for twenty-four
years, one farm of six thousand acres showing an average in excess of
eighteen bushels per acre for the term of seventeen years. The details
of the product of other farms are not given, but this may be
considered a rule. Of course, this cropping can not be carried on
indefinitely. The land is now being allowed to rest, and other crops,
such as maize, oats, barley, millet, and timothy, are to some extent
being raised in rotation, but not to the extent in which individual
wheat farms are now passing into rotation, especially in Minnesota.

In this enterprise the manufacture of wheat is the main purpose, but
under the changed conditions on the small farms in Minnesota wheat is
becoming rather the cash or excess crop in a rotation of four; at
present, in North Dakota, wheat constitutes about three fourths the
total product.

In these accounts of this great farm are included all charges of every
name and nature except what might be called the rent of land: the
labor, the harvesting and thrashing, the general expense including the
foreman and all other charges; the office expenses, the taxes, the
insurance, and, when summer fallow is introduced, the cost of the
summer fallow. Suffice it that these figures for 1898--a year of high
charge for seed and one which yielded a fraction over the average in
product--prove conclusively an average of all charges of less than
five dollars an acre for the cost of the product. In different years
under these conditions the cost of the wheat varies from a little over
twenty cents to approximately thirty-five cents per bushel. The cost
of oats, which are cultivated with the wheat mainly for use on the
farms, ranges from ten to fifteen cents per bushel.

These are facts. The pending question in this discussion is, How much
land, occupied by owners but not now in use, is there in this section
of the country on which similar results can be attained, with better
results by individual farmers who possess mental energy and practical
skill? The figures given by the chiefs of the agricultural experiment
stations may rightly be taken in the solution of this question.



In southeastern Pennsylvania there comes a day in February that brings
with it an indefinable sense of joyousness. A southerly wind wanders
up the Delaware with a touch of the spring in its air that quickens,
for the first time, the slumbering life. It is then that those
mysterious forces in the cells of living things begin their subtle
work--hidden in the dark, underground storehouses of plants and the
sluggish tissues of animals buried in their winter sleep. On such a
day the ground hog ventures from his burrow, some restless bee is
lured from the hive to wander disconsolate over bare fields, a snake
crawls from its hole to bask awhile in the sunshine, and one looks
instinctively for the first breaking of the earth that tells of the
early crocus and the peeping forth of daffodils. The southerly wind is
more apt than not to be a telltale, for with all its springtime
softness it is drawing toward some storm center, near or remote, that
will inevitably follow with rough weather in its sweep. The country
folk rightly call such a day a "weather breeder," and even the ground
hog knows its portent in the very sign of his shadow. Come as it will,
the day is really a day borrowed in advance from the spring, as though
to hearten one through all the dreary days that will follow and, in
starting the growing forces of vegetation, to make ready for the
season's coming.

With this forerunner of the year come the harbingers of the bird
migration. With the rise of the temperature to sixty or over, a
well-marked bird wave from the south spreads over the Delaware Valley.
On this balmy, springlike day we hear for the first time since
November the croaking of grackles as a loose flock wings overhead or
scatters among the tree tops. A few robins may show themselves, and
the mellow piping of bluebirds lends its sweet influence to the charm
of such a day. There is a sense of uncertain whereabouts in the
bluebird's note, a sort of hazy, in-the-air feeling that suggests sky
space. It does not seem to have the tangible element by which we can
locate the bird as in the voices of the robin and the song sparrow. It
is on such a day as this that song sparrows are first heard--cheery
ditties from the weather-beaten fences and the bare, brown tangle of
brier patches. The day may close lurid with the frayed streamers of
lofty cirrus clouds streaking across the sky--the vaporous overflow of
a coming storm--or a week of the same bright weather may continue with
the wind all the while blowing softly out of the south, but sooner or
later the inevitable winter storm must close this foretaste of the

A decided wave of rising temperature usually reaches the Delaware
Valley from the middle to the last of March, maintaining itself longer
than the February rise, and ushering in a well-marked bird wave. It is
about this time that the vanguard of the robin migration scatters over
the country. The grackles or crow blackbirds, which have been more or
less in evidence since their first appearance in February, begin
renovating the old nests or laying the foundations of new ones in the
tops of tall pines. The shrill call of the flicker sounds through the
woods, and before the end of the month one is sure to hear the
plaintive song of the field sparrow. This is about the time that the
spicebush shows its yellow blossoms through the grays and browns of
the spring underwoods, and the skunk cabbage unfolds its fresh, green
leafage in rank abundance along the boggy course of woodland rills. A
week earlier the streaked yellow and purple of its fleshy spathes
shows here and there in the oozy ground by the side of the folded leaf
spikes. It is just at this time, too, that one must go to the woods
for the first spring wild flowers--bloodroot, hepatica, anemones, and
the yellow dog-tooth violet--if one would get the real freshness of
spring into his soul. The crows, that all through the winter filed
away each evening in straggling lines of flight toward the distant
roost, have broken ranks, and go rambling in small groups through the
woods and over the fields of green winter wheat. Like the grackles,
they have thoughts of courtship and the more earnest business of
family cares. The liquid notes of meadow larks sound clear and sweet
in the greening fields and pastures, and small flocks of vociferous
killdeers scatter in wheeling flight over the newly plowed lands. In
tangle covers the rustle of dead leaves here and there tells of the
whereabouts of a flock of fox sparrows halting in their northward
pilgrimage. The pewee is back, inspecting her last year's house under
the span of some old bridge, and the melancholy voice of the dove is
borne on the air from the fence rows and cedars along the farther side
of fields.

After the 1st of April the tide of migration sets in with force, and
the earlier waves bring several species of summer birds--those that
come to build and breed in our woods--that rarely if ever make their
appearance before this time. It is an interesting fact that none of
the migrants that make their first appearance in April are ever found
in the Delaware Valley during the winter, though several, if not all,
of the species that come on the March waves are occasionally met with
in the winter months. It appears, further, that the winter quarters of
certain birds which are summer residents with us and some that are
transient, passing on to more northern breeding grounds, lie not so
very far to the south. If the last of March has been marked by warm
weather lapping over into the first days of April, then one may expect
soon to hear the familiar notes of the chipping sparrow from the
swelling branches of garden shrubbery and the trees about the lawn,
and a brown thrasher is sure to be heard volubly proclaiming his
arrival from some near-by tree top. Among the budding sprigs of
thickets the elusive chewink breaks into occasional fragments of song,
and from the red-blossomed maples and the jungle of pussy willows and
alders that fringe the meadow brook the metallic creaking notes of the
red-winged blackbirds sound not unpleasingly. This jargon of the
red-wing has a true vernal ring about it, suggesting the fresh green
of oozy bogs and the loosening up of sap.

From the middle to the last of April there are several big waves of
migration that bring many of the summer residents as well as some
transient species, forerunning the greater waves that are to follow in
May. On certain warm April days the barn and the bank swallows appear,
and the chimney swifts are seen scurrying to and fro above the trees
and house tops. These are genuine signs of the coming summer, for
swallows and swifts feed only on the minute gnats and other ephemera
that develop under conditions of warm temperature. Whoever knows of a
martin box that year after year is visited by its colony has an
unfailing source of delight at this time in watching the lovely birds.
The martins are very prompt in their arrival, rarely coming before the
1st of April nor later than the 10th. We are aware for the first time
that the house wren has come back by the voluble song that greets us
some morning from the branches just beyond our window--a song that
only the lover of his own rooftree can fully appreciate, for the
wren's chant, more than any other bird song, seems to voice the home
instinct in a man. By the last week of April the woods are fast
closing up their vistas in a rich profusion of unfolding leafage. The
umbrellalike leaves of the May apple are scattered everywhere through
the woods and fields, forming conspicuous patches of green. During
this last week of the month a few straggling thrushes make their
appearance--the hermit thrush with its russet tail, the veery, and the
wood thrush. The first two are transients, flitting through the
underwoods or rustling among fallen leaves in search of their insect
food. To hear the incomparable matins and vespers of the hermit one
must follow to the bird's breeding range on the wooded slopes of the
Appalachians or farther into the deep recesses of the Canadian
forests. The wood thrush breeds with us, and the melody of its notes
adds a peculiar charm to our groves and woodlands that would leave an
unfilled blank in the choir if the bird were a transient like the
hermit or the veery.

From the 1st to the 10th of May a succession of bird waves comes from
the south of such vast proportions as to the number of individuals and
variety of species that all the previous migratory waves seem
insignificant in comparison. It is the flood tide of the migration,
bringing with it the host of warblers, vireos, orioles, tanagers, and
thrushes that suddenly make our woods almost tropical in the variety
of richly colored species and strange bird notes. It would take a
volume to describe the wood warblers, sylvan nymphs of such bizarre
color patterns and dainty forms that one is fain to imagine himself in
the heart of some wondrous forest of a far-away land. Their curious
dry notes, each different in its kind and expression, yet all of the
same insectlike quality; their quick, active motions, now twisting
head downward around the branches, prying into every nook and cranny
in their eager search for food, or fluttering about the clusters of
leaves, add to the strange effect. Their names, too, are richly
stimulative to the color sense--the black-throated green, the
black-throated blue, the chestnut-sided, the bay-breasted, the black
and yellow, the cerulean, the Blackburnian, the blue-winged yellow,
the golden-winged, the blue-yellow-backed or parula warbler, and the
Maryland yellow-throat are each suggestive of a wealth of coloring.
Others have names that carry us to southern realms, like the myrtle
and the palm warblers; and others again tell of curious habits, as the
worm-eating warbler, the hooded fly-catching warbler, and the black
and white creeping warbler that scrambles about the tree trunks like a
true creeper. There is nothing in all the year quite like the May
woods. Then, if never again, you can step from your dooryard into an
enchanted forest. The light yellowish effects of new green in the
feathery masses of the oak catkins and the fresh, unfolding leafage of
the forest trees are a rich feast to the eyes. Against this wealth of
green the dogwood spreads its snow-white masses of bloom. In sunlit
spaces of greenness the scarlet flash of a tanager, the rich blue
coloring of the indigo bird, newly arrived from its winter quarters in
South America, and the glimpse of a rose-breasted grosbeak among the
high tree tops are strangely suggestive of a tropical forest. The ear,
too, is charmed with a multitude of curious notes. The weird cries of
the great-crested flycatcher among the topmost branches, and the loud
chant of the ovenbird with its rising cadence coming from farther
depths of the wood are two of the most characteristic bird voices of
the May woodlands. If one would have the famous song of the mocking
bird in this sylvan carnival he has only to loiter in the nearest
grove to hear the wonderful performance of the catbird. The catbird is
the real harbinger of summer. He is familiar throughout the
countryside, liked or disliked according to the dispositions of folks,
but when he appears amid the May-day throng every one knows that
summer has come. As a countryman once said to me: "You can't place any
dependence on the robin--it may snow the very day he comes; but a
catbird never makes a mistake--it's summer with him for sure."

The passing on of the great warbler waves to the north and the ending
of the migration likewise mean the passing of the spring. It is summer
any time after the 15th of May, or, to be more accurate, after the
last of the migratory warblers, thrushes, and tanagers have passed
beyond our woods. To a New-Englander summer will come a little later,
nearer the true almanac date of June 1st. To a dweller in Virginia the
last of April is the passing of spring and the advent of summer.

Some ten or more years ago several enthusiastic ornithologists living
in the neighborhood of Philadelphia began keeping records of the times
of arrival of the different species of birds, and at the same time
noted the conditions of temperature in relation to the abundance of
individuals. After several years of these observations they were able
to see clearly that these bird waves were directly related to the
waves of rising temperature marking the advent of warm spells of
weather. One of the most significant facts deduced from these
observations was the remarkable regularity in the first appearance of
certain species. For example, the Baltimore oriole in eight years of
observation never arrived before the 1st of May, and only twice later
than the 4th--viz., once on the fifth and once on the 7th. The list on
the opposite page shows the date of first arrivals extending over a
period of eight years, from 1885 to 1892.[10]

                     |   1885.  |   1886.  |   1887.  |   1888.  |
  Flicker            | April 10 | Mar. 24  | Mar. 26  | Mar. 30  |
  Chimney swift      | April 22 | April 23 | April 22 | April 20 |
  Hummingbird        | April 29 | May 12   | May 12   | May 14   |
  Kingbird           | May 6    | May 11   | May 7    | May 6    |
  Crested flycatcher | May 2    | May 12   | May 3    | May 1    |
  Pewee              | April 3  | Mar. 20  | Mar. 21  | Mar. 22  |
  Wood pewee         | May 6    | May 15   | April 30 | May 13   |
  Red-winged         |          |          |          |          |
    blackbird        | Mar. 4   | Feb. 19  | Feb. 19  | Feb. 21  |
  Meadow lark        | .......  | Feb. 10  | Mar. 19  | Mar. 21  |
  Baltimore oriole   | May 5    | May 4    | May 2    | May 2    |
  Purple grackle     | Mar. 16  | Mar. 7   | Feb. 19  | Feb. 21  |
  Chipping sparrow   | April 8  | April 9  | April 8  | Mar. 31  |
  Field sparrow      | April 11 | April 7  | April 9  | April 2  |
  Chewink            | April 22 | April 23 | April 27 | April 18 |
  Indigo bird        | May 16   | May 11   | May 7    | May 12   |
  Scarlet tanager    | May 9    | May 12   | May 5    | May 8    |
  Barn swallow       | April 22 | April 19 | April 21 | April 12 |
  Red-eyed vireo     | May 7    | May 11   | May 4    | April 29 |
  Black-and-white    |          |          |          |          |
    warbler          | April 30 | May 4    | April 27 | April 21 |
  Yellow warbler     | May 6    | May 4    | May 2    | May 5    |
  Myrtle warbler     | May 2    | April 10 | May 2    | April 25 |
  Black-throated     |          |          |          |          |
    green warbler    | May 2    | May 11   | May 5    | April 26 |
  Ovenbird           | April 30 | May 3    | April 29 | April 30 |
  Maryland           |          |          |          |          |
    yellow-throat    | April 29 | April 24 | April 28 | April 30 |
  Chat               | May 2    | May 12   | May 5    | May 5    |
  Redstart           | May 2    | May 4    | May 3    | May 1    |
  Catbird            | May 2    | May 4    | May 3    | May 5    |
  Brown thrasher     | April 24 | April 25 | April 28 | April 15 |
  House wren         | May 3    | April 27 | April 24 | April 28 |
  Wood thrush        | May 2    | May 1    | May 1    | May 1    |
  Veery              | .......  | May 11   | April 25 | May 3    |
  Hermit thrush      | April 13 | April 7  | April 9  | April 3  |
  Robin              | Mar. 7   | Mar. 10  | Feb. 28  | Feb. 19  |
  Bluebird           | Mar. 18  | .......  | Feb. 17  | Feb. 21  |

                     |   1889.  |   1890.  |   1891.  |   1892.
  Flicker            | Mar. 28  | Mar. 26  | Mar. 30  | April 2
  Chimney swift      | April 15 | April 22 | April 16 | April 27
  Hummingbird        | .......  | May 7    | May 11   | .......
  Kingbird           | May 6    | May 14   | May 1    | May 4
  Crested flycatcher | May 8    | May 1    | April 30 | May 3
  Pewee              | Mar. 27  | Mar. 27  | Mar. 31  | April 3
  Wood pewee         | May 12   | May 14   | May 6    | May 17
  Red-winged         |          |          |          |
    blackbird        | Mar. 13  | Mar. 12  | Feb. 25  | Mar. 9
  Meadow lark        | Mar. 14  | Mar. 12  | Feb. 23  | Mar. 17
  Baltimore oriole   | May 7    | May 1    | May 1    | May 3
  Purple grackle     | Mar. 2   | Feb. 13  | Feb. 18  | Mar. 6
  Chipping sparrow   | Mar. 29  | April 8  | April 13 | April 4
  Field sparrow      | Mar. 29  | Mar. 13  | Mar. 15  | Mar. 26
  Chewink            | April 11 | May 1    | April 18 | April 24
  Indigo bird        | May 12   | May 10   | May 8    | May 10
  Scarlet tanager    | May 9    | May 4    | April 28 | May 3
  Barn swallow       | April 22 | April 19 | April 19 | April 24
  Red-eyed vireo     | May 5    | April 30 | May 2    | May 3
  Black-and-white    |          |          |          |
    warbler          | April 20 | April 30 | April 24 | May 1
  Yellow warbler     | May 11   | May 1    | May 8    | May 4
  Myrtle warbler     | April 20 | April 27 | April 18 | April 7
  Black-throated     |          |          |          |
    green warbler    | May 5    | May 2    | April 19 | April 30
  Ovenbird           | May 3    | May 3    | April 29 | April 30
  Maryland           |          |          |          |
    yellow-throat    | May 6    | April 30 | May 1    | May 3
  Chat               | May 11   | May 5    | May 1    | May 3
  Redstart           | May 4    | May 3    | April 29 | April 30
  Catbird            | May 5    | May 5    | May 4    | April 30
  Brown thrasher     | April 22 | April 30 | April 19 | April 30
  House wren         | April 14 | April 30 | April 19 | May 5
  Wood thrush        | May 3    | April 30 | April 23 | May 2
  Veery              | May 6    | May 2    | April 28 | May 4
  Hermit thrush      | April 10 | April 13 | April 12 | April 3
  Robin              | Mar. 7   | Feb. 26  | Feb. 24  | Mar. 9
  Bluebird           | Mar. 8   | Feb. 23  | Feb. 17  | Mar. 9

Another fact of great interest which bears on the south-to-north
movement of migrating birds, and which these observations very clearly
brought out, was the earlier appearance of individuals of various
species at points nearer the river, the first arrival of the same
species at points back from the river being, in many instances,
several days later. The first report of the arrival of a given species
usually came from a low, marshy tract of land immediately bordering
the western shore of the Delaware. The second report came from a
locality several miles back of the eastern shore of the river, but
situated in the low plain of the river valley and within tide-water
limits. The third report came from a place some miles back from the
river on the uplands, but near the head of a stream emptying into the
Delaware from the west. The last two places to report arrivals were
situated farther up the river and some distance back from it. All this
confirms the general idea that in migrating most, if not all, of the
various land birds follow river valleys and invade the upland
districts, lying back from either side, by way of the smaller

The fact of greatest importance resulting from these observations was
that relating to temperature. It was found that there was always a
marked increase in the number of individuals of a given species
following a warm wave of temperature as marked by a decided rise of
the thermometer. The following graphic representation, based on the
abundance from day to day of three common and easily observed
species--the brown thrasher, chipping sparrow, and flicker--affords an
interesting illustration of the relative movements of the two waves.
It will be understood that the numbers in the extreme left-hand column
refer to the relative abundance of individuals of the three species
collectively. The inside column refers to temperature. The period of
observation was twenty days, as shown by the line across the top of
the figure.[11]

[Illustration: A, migration; B, temperature.]

The advent of spring is marked by the northward progression of the
isotherm of 42.8° F., which is the initial temperature required to
awaken the dormant reproductive and germinating activities in animals
and plants. With the gradual invasion of the United States, from the
south northward, by temperatures above this, there passes over the
different regions the ever-old but ever-new panorama of the spring
with its opening blossoms, its unfolding green, and its waves of
migrating birds. The restlessness produced by the periodic development
of the reproductive function under the stimulus of increased
temperature causes the highly organized bird life to spread out from
its winter quarters, wherever those may be, and follow the zone of new
green that steadily widens northward with its increase of food supply
in the form of myriads of insects. The comparative regularity in the
recurrence of this phenomenon year after year is attested by the
observations just noted. Each species has a certain, definite
physiological relation to temperature, and its migratory movement
toward the breeding ground is determined by the movement of the
isotherm of this temperature. Just as warm a spell of weather may
occur in early April as in the first week of May, but it does not
represent the permanent summer rise; and the majority of the warblers,
the catbird, the tanager, the rose-breasted grosbeak, the two species
of oriole, the vireos, and the kingbird, are rarely if ever seen in
abundance in the Delaware Valley before the 1st of May. The migratory
movement of such species is as regular as any other periodic
phenomenon in Nature.

It is hard to realize the enormous multitude of birds that form a
so-called "wave." During the whole period of migration there is a
general northward movement of all the migratory species, but under the
influence of warm spells of weather this more or less uniform movement
rises into a vast wavelike sweep of birds. These bird waves, as
already noted, _follow_ the rise of temperature appearing at any given
locality about a day or two after the first day of the warm spell.
Many species of land birds migrate at night--such, for example, as the
orioles, tanagers, warblers, vireos, wrens, the majority of the
finches, the woodpeckers, and the thrushes, excepting the robin.
During the passing of one of the May waves the darkness overhead is
alive with flying birds. One may stand for hours at a time and hear
the incessant chirping and twittering of hundreds of birds calling to
one another through the night as though to keep from getting
separated. The great mass of individuals are probably guided by these
call notes.

The usually accepted notion that birds migrate from south to north in
traveling to their breeding grounds is largely true of shore birds and
waterfowl, but among many of the species of land birds conditions of
topography tend to deflect a direct northward movement. The Atlantic
coast plain, reaching up into southern New Jersey, and the Mississippi
basin, each offers a broad south-to-north highway for birds leaving
the Gulf shores of the United States on their northward journey in the
spring. A great majority of species find in the wilderness of the
Appalachian highland, from the Catskills to Georgia, breeding grounds
quite as well adapted to their needs as the forests of Maine and
Canada. Large numbers of birds, according to their regional relations,
will constantly turn from the Atlantic coast plain up the numerous
rivers, which become great highways of migration, leading to the
highlands. The northward movement has thus a large westerly deflection
on the Atlantic slope of the middle United States. It is also quite
certain that many birds winter in favorable localities on the Atlantic
coast plain much farther north than is generally supposed. This is
especially true of the holly thickets among the coastwise sand dunes
of southern New Jersey and the cedar swamps and pine barrens in the
vicinity of Cape May. Many of the finches, the marsh wrens,
red-winged blackbirds, meadow larks, thrashers, and myrtle warblers
are frequently seen in these localities through the winter. I spent
one first day of February some years ago among the dunes below
Atlantic City, N. J. At Philadelphia that morning it was bleak winter
weather, but two hours later we found ourselves in a warm expanse of
sunlight on the seaward beaches. The balmy air was filled with bird
notes, and the holly thickets and bay bushes fairly swarmed with
myrtle warblers. It seems to be a fact that many birds thus make
comparatively short migratory movements between the seacoast plain and
the mountains, up and down the river valleys.

The phenomenon of the migrating bird has always appealed in a
wonderful manner to the human mind. The guiding geographical sense
that all animals, and wild animals and birds in particular, possess is
peculiarly attractive to men of civilized society, because they have
largely lost this same natural instinct of direction, and now look
upon it in wonderment. Birds have very sure landmarks; their senses
are keen for noting features of topography. They undoubtedly know the
Potomac, the Susquehanna, the Delaware, the Hudson, and the
Connecticut, and never confuse one with another. They know to which
side the sea lies and that the rivers flow down from a wild, wooded
region where there are plenty of food and the best possible places to
raise their young. All these facts get fixed in their brains. The
bird's brain-cell structure is built on these lines and is only
waiting to get the impressions of the first migratory experience. They
keep in with one another, follow their chirpings in the night, learn
to tell the Hudson from the Delaware, or where this or that stretch of
woodland lies, just as they learned when first out of the nest how to
tell good from bad sorts of food, or how to find their way about the
home woods, and that an owl or a fox was an undesirable acquaintance.
In the fall migration the young birds follow the older ones in the
general movement southward, and are often belated, showing that the
impulse to leave their birthplaces is forced upon them, rather from
necessity than choice, and is not the well-developed instinct
impressed by former experience which their elders seem to possess. The
old birds who have bred and reared these young ones set the example of
early departure which the birds of the year through inexperience are
tardy in appreciating. The habit waits upon experience.

Each year, from midwinter, when the first warmth of advancing sunlight
calls to the sleeping life, on to the first fervid heat of the
reproductive summer, we have the joyous pageant of the spring. This
steady waxing of the new light appealed to the pagan mind of western
Europe with a far deeper sense than the modern mind can appreciate. To
our rude ancestors it was the goddess Eástre, bountiful in her gift
of warmth and the magic of reproductive life, that each year came with
the light to drive away the frost giants. And with the goddess, whom
we still love to picture as a maiden tripping lightly through the
budding groves in her wind-blown garments, came the birds. It was the
cuckoo that brought the summer with "daisies pied and violets blue,"
and to-day, when its voice is heard for the first time in the year,
every one knows that summer has come again to the hedgerows of England
and the lands of the Rhine. So with us across the Atlantic, summer
comes when the catbird first pours out its babel of sweet notes in
green woodland ways and the tangled nooks of old gardens.


[10] The Birds of Eastern Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Prepared under
the direction of the Delaware Valley Ornithological Club. By Witmer
Stone. Philadelphia, 1894.

[11] Stone. The Birds of Eastern Pennsylvania and New Jersey.



About two years ago a certain progressive clothing company of Los
Angeles, California, procured a very large squash--so large, indeed,
as to attract much attention. This they placed uncut in a window of
their place of business, and advertised that they would give one
hundred dollars in gold to the one guessing the number of seeds it
contained. In case two or more persons guessed the correct number, the
money was to be divided equally among them. The only prerequisite for
an opportunity to guess was that the one wishing to guess should walk
inside and register his name, address, and his guess in the notebook
kept for that purpose.

The result of this offer was that 7,700 people registered guesses, and
but three of these guessed 811, the number of seeds which the squash

It occurred to me that a study of these guesses would reveal some
interesting number preferences, if any existed, for the conditions
were unusually favorable for calling forth naïve and spontaneous
results, there being no way of approximating the number of seeds by
calculation, and very little or no definite experience upon which to
rely for guidance. It seemed probable, therefore, that the guesses
would cover a wide range, and by reason of this furnish evidence of
whatever number preference might exist. It is undoubtedly safe to
assume, too, that the guesses made were honest attempts to state as
nearly as possible best judgments under conditions given; but even if
some of the guesses were more or less facetiously made, the data would
be equally valuable for the main purpose in hand.

According to the theory of probability, had there been no preference
at all for certain digits or certain combinations of digits within
the limits of the guesses, one figure would occur about as often as
another in units' or tens' place. It was argued, therefore, that any
marked or persistent variation from such regularity in such a great
number of cases would reveal what might be termed an unconscious
preference for such numbers or digits for these places.

The purpose of this study, then, was to determine whether or not there
existed in the popular mind, under the conditions offered, any such

After the very arduous and tedious task of collating and classifying
all the guesses for men and women separately had been done, the
following facts appeared:

In the first place, marked preference is shown for certain digits both
for units' and tens' places. This statement is based on a study of the
6,863 guesses falling below one thousand. Of these, 4,238 were made by
men and 2,625 were made by women. By tabulations of the digits used in
units' place by both men and women, the following facts have been
determined: 800 used 9, while but 374 used 8; 1,070 used 7, and 443
preferred 6; 881 used 5, and only 295 preferred 4; 862 chose 3, while
331 used 2; 577 ended with 1, while 1,230 preferred 0 as the last

A tabulation of the figures used in tens' place shows, save in the
case of 2 and 3, where 2 is used oftener than 3, the same curious
preferences, but in a much less marked degree. To go into detail, 850
chose 9 for tens' place, while 559 took 8; 907 used 7, while only 637
selected 6; 748 took 5, while only 536 used 4; 601 used 3, and 634
chose 2; 728 used 1, as against 872 who used 0.

Were it not that the selections here in the main correspond with the
preferences shown in units' place, the significance of these figures
would be much less important; but the evidence here can not wholly be
ignored when taken in connection with the facts obtained in the
preferences shown in the case of the figures occupying units' place.

We are enabled, then, as a result of the study of these guesses, to
say that under the conditions offered, aside from a preference of 0
over 1 to end the numbers selected, digits representing odd numbers
are conspicuously preferred to those representing even numbers. How
far this will hold under other conditions can not now be stated, but
the facts here observed are of such a nature as to suggest the
possibility of an habitual tendency in this direction. However,
further investigations can alone determine whether or not this bias
for certain numbers is potent in a general way.

The curve on the next page, exhibiting the results noted above, shows
at a glance the marked and persistent preference for the odd numbers.

It will be noticed that of the digits preferred, 7 surpasses any of
the others. Not only, then, do we tend to select an odd number for
units' place when the guess ranges between one and a thousand, but of
these digits 7 is much preferred. In connection with this fact one
immediately recalls all he has heard about 7 as a sacred number, and
its professed significance in the so-called "occult sciences." I think
one is warranted in saying from an introspective point of view that
there is a shadow of superstition present in all attempts at pure
guessing. There appears to be some unexpressed feeling of lucky
numbers or some mental easement when one unreasoned position is taken
rather than any other.


Vertical distance shows the number of times the figure on the
horizontal line immediately below was used.]

It is impossible on the evidence furnished by this study to give more
than hints at the probable reason for the preference here indicated.
But it is worth while to glance backward to earlier conditions, when
the scientific attitude toward all the facts of life and mind was far
more subordinated to supernatural interpretations than it is to-day.
In this way we may catch a thread which still binds us to habits
formed in the indefinite past.

The Greeks considered the even numbers as representative of the
feminine principle, and as belonging and applying to things
terrestrial. To them the odd numbers were endowed with a masculine
virtue, which in time was strengthened into supernatural and celestial
qualities. The same belief was prevalent among the Chinese. With them
even numbers were connected with earthly things, partaking of the
feminine principle of Yang. Odd numbers were looked upon as proceeding
out of the divine and endued with the masculine principle. Thirty was
called the number of earth, because it was made up by the addition of
the even numbers 2, 4, 6, 8, and 10. On the other hand, 25, the sum of
the five odd numbers 1, 3, 5, 7, and 9, was called the number of

It is generally true that, as lower peoples developed the need of
numbers and the power to use them, certain of these numbers came to be
surrounded with a superstitious importance and endued with certain
qualities which led at once to numerical preferences more or less
dominant in all their thinking connected with numbers.

It would certainly be unjustifiable to conclude from the evidence at
hand that the preferences shown in the guesses under consideration are
directly traceable to some such superstition; and yet one can scarcely
prevent himself from linking them vaguely together. Especially is this
true when some consideration is given to a probable connecting link as
shown in our modern superstitious notions. I have found through a
recent study of these superstitions that where numbers are introduced,
the odd are used to the almost complete exclusion of the even. For
example, I have collected and tabulated a series of more than sixty
different superstitions using odd numbers, and have found but four
making use of the even. Besides these specific examples there are many
more which in some form or another express the belief that odd numbers
have some vital relation with luck both good and bad.

It would be impossible to define precisely or even approximately just
what sort of a mental state the word "luck" stands for, but one
element in its composition is a more or less naïve belief in
supernatural and occult influences which at one time work for and at
another time against the believer. In its more pronounced forms, the
belief in luck lifts itself into a sort of a blind dependence upon
some ministering spirit which interposes between rational causes and
their effects. In a way one may say that the more or less vague and
shadowy notions of luck which float in the minds of people to-day are
but the emaciated and famishing forms of a once all-embracing
superstition, and that these shadows possess a potency over life and
action oftentimes beyond our willingness to believe.

There is another interesting and somewhat curious thing to be noticed
in connection with these guesses. There is a persistent tendency to
the duplication of digits, or, if one thinks of the numbers as at
first conceived in terms of language, a tendency to alliteration. For
example, the numbers 111, 222, 333, 444, 555, 666, 777, 888, and 999
occur oftener by sixty-seven per cent than any other combination
possible in the tens thus represented. That is to say, other things
equal, one would have a right to expect 334 or 332 to occur as often
as 333. But the fact is, in this particular case, 333 occurred
forty-eight times, while the other two put together occurred only
three times. Here, however, we have the combined influence of the
preference for the odd over the even and the digital sequence. Still,
if we select 444, we find that this number, made up though it is of
three digits in general least selected of all, the preference for
alliterative effect is strong enough to make the number occur 28 times
to 14 times for both 443 and 445. If we take 777, we find that it was
used more times than all the other combinations from 770 to 779
inclusive, put together.

Therefore, under conditions similar to those presented for these
guesses, one would be safe to expect these duplicative or alliterative
numbers to occur much oftener than any other single number in the

It would evidently be unsafe to generalize upon the basis of this
study, notwithstanding the large number of guesses considered.
However, it seems to me that the results here obtained at least
suggest a field of inquiry which promises interesting returns. If it
be true, as here suggested, that odd numbers are preferred by
guessers, advantage could be taken of this preference in many ways.
Furthermore, as I suspect, it may be that this probable preference
points to a habit of mind which more or less influences results not
depending strictly on guessing. It has been shown, for example, that
the length of criminal sentences has been largely affected by
preferences for 5 or multiples of 5--that is to say, where judges have
power to fix the length of sentence within certain limits, there is a
strong probability that they will be influenced in their judgments by
the habitual use of 5 or its multiples. Here it would seem that
unconscious preference overrides what one has a right to consider the
most careful and impartial judgments possible, based upon actual and
well-digested data.[12]

Another thing is noticeable in these guesses. The consciousness of
number beyond 1,000 falls off very rapidly. The difference in the
values of 1,000 and 1,500 seems to have had less weight with the
guessers than a difference of 50 had at any place below 1,000. And so,
in a way, 1,000 seems to mark the limit of any sort of definite mental
measurement. This fact is more and more emphasized as the numbers
representing the guesses increase until one can see there exists
absolutely no conception of the value of numbers. For example, many
guessed 1,000,000, while several guessed more than 10,000,000.
Guessing means, with many people, no attempt at any sort of reasonable
measurement, but rather an attempt to express their guess in such a
way as to afford them the greatest amount of mental relief. And this
relief can not be wholly accomplished without satisfying number
preferences. Therefore, guessing is likely to exhibit, in a greater or
less degree, some habitual lines of preference subject to
predetermination. It may be that much practical advantage has been
taken of these facts in games of chance where number selections play
an important part.


[12] See H. Le Poer. Influence of Number in Criminal Sentences.
Harper's Weekly, May 14, 1896.



[Illustration: A Weasel standing on the ground]

Why is it that while popular fancy has attributed all sorts of uncanny
and supernatural qualities to owls and cats, and that no ghost story
or tale of horrid murder has been considered quite complete without
its rat peering from some dark corner, or spider with expanded legs
suddenly spinning down from among the rafters, no such grewsome
association has ever attached itself to the weasels, creatures whose
every habit and characteristic would seem to suggest something of the
sort? Now, fond as I am of cats, I should never think of denying that
they are uncanny creatures, to say the least. But, suppose it was the
custom of our domestic tabbies to vanish abruptly or even gradually on
occasion, like the Cheshire cat after its interview with Alice, that
would at least furnish some excuse for the general prejudice against
them, but would really be no more than some of our commonest weasels
do whenever it serves their purpose. I remember one summer afternoon I
was trout-fishing along a little brook that ran between pine-covered
hills. As I lay stretched on the bank at the foot of a great maple I
saw a weasel run along in the brush fence some distance away. A few
seconds later he was standing on the exposed root of the tree hardly a
yard from my eyes. I lay motionless and examined the beautiful
creature minutely, till suddenly I found myself staring at the smooth
greenish-gray root of the maple with no weasel in sight. Judging from
my own experience, I should say that this is the usual termination of
any chance observations of either weasels or minks.

Occasionally they may be seen to dart into the bushes or behind some
log or projecting bank, but much more frequently they vanish with a
suddenness that defies the keenest eyesight.

[Illustration: A weasel lying on a branch]

In all probability this vanishing is accomplished by extreme rapidity
of motion, but if this is the case then the creature succeeds in doing
something utterly impossible to any other warm-blooded animal of its
size. Mice, squirrels, and some of the smaller birds are all of them
swift enough at times, but except in the case of the humming bird none
of them, I believe, succeed in accomplishing the result achieved by
the weasels. The humming bird, in spite of its small size, leaves us a
pretty definite impression of the direction it has taken when it darts
away; but when a mink, half a yard in length and weighing several
pounds, stands motionless before one with his dark coat conspicuous
against almost any background, and the next instant is gone without a
rustle or the tremor of a blade of grass, it leaves one with an
impression of witchcraft difficult to dispel; and best appreciated
when one sees it for one's self. Nor is the everyday life of the
weasel quiet or commonplace; his one object in life apparently is to
kill, first to appease his hunger, then to satisfy his thirst for warm
blood, and after that for the mere joy of killing.

[Illustration: A white weasel]

The few opportunities I have had for observing these animals have
never shown them occupied in any other way, nor can any hint of
anything different be gained from the various writers on the subject,
while accounts of their attacking and even killing human beings in a
kind of blind fury are too numerous and apparently well authenticated
to be entirely ignored. These attacks are said usually to be made by a
number of weasels acting in concert, and the motive would appear to be
revenge for some injury done to one of their number. There seems to be
something peculiar about the entire family of weasels. The American
sable or pine marten is said to have strange ways that have puzzled
naturalists and hunters for years. In the wilderness no amount of
trapping has any effect on their numbers, nor do they show any
especial fear of man or his works, occasionally even coming into
lumber camps at night and being especially fond of old logging roads
and woods that have been swept by fire; but at the slightest hint of
approaching civilization they disappear, not gradually, but at once
and forever, and the woods know them no more. If there is anything in
the theory of the survival of the fittest, why is it that not one
marten has discovered that, like other animals of its size, it could
manage to live comfortably enough in the vicinity of man? The mink and
otter still follow the course of every brook and river and manage to
avoid the keen eyes of the duck hunter, while for six months in the
year their paths are sprinkled with steel traps set either especially
for them or for the more plebeian muskrat. If a pair of sables could
be persuaded to take up their quarters in some parts of New England
they could travel for dozens of miles through dark evergreen woods
with hollow and decaying trees in abundance, while at present there
are almost no traps set in a manner that need disturb creatures of
their habits. Partridges, rabbits, and squirrels, which form their
principal food, are nearly if not quite as abundant as before the
country was settled, so that it would certainly not require any very
decided change of habits to enable them to exist, but evidently the
root of the matter goes deeper than that, and, like some tribes of
Indians, it is impossible for them to multiply or flourish except in
the primeval forest.

[Illustration: A weasel on the ground]

The common weasel or ermine, which is the only kind I have seen
hereabouts, would seem to have everything on its side in the struggle
for existence, and when one happens to be killed by some larger
inhabitant of the woods it must be due entirely to its own
carelessness. Nevertheless, they do occasionally fall victims to owls
and foxes, and I once shot a red-tailed hawk that was in the act of
devouring one. Still, these casualties among weasels are probably few
and far between. Fortunately, however, they never increase to any
great extent. Occasionally in the winter the snow for miles will be
covered with their tracks all made in a single night, and then for
weeks not a track is to be seen; but usually they prefer to hunt
alone, each having its beat a mile or more in length, over which it
travels back and forth throughout the season, passing any given point
at intervals of two or three days. This habit of keeping to the same
route instead of wandering at random about the woods is
characteristic of the family, the length of the route depending to a
certain extent on the size of the animal. The mink is usually about a
week in going his rounds, and may cover a dozen miles in that time,
while the otter is generally gone a fortnight or three weeks. When it
is possible the ermine prefers to follow the course of old tumble-down
stone walls, and lays its course accordingly. In favorable districts
he is able to keep to these for miles together, squeezing into the
smallest crevices in pursuit of mice or chipmunks. All the weasels
travel in a similar manner--that is, by a series of leaps or bounds in
such a way that the hind feet strike exactly in the prints made by the
fore paws, so that the tracks left in the snow are peculiar and bear a
strong family resemblance. On soft snow the slender body of the ermine
leaves its imprint extending from one pair of footprints to the next,
and as these are from four to six feet apart, or even more, the
impression left in the snow is like the track of some extremely long
and slender serpent with pairs of short legs at intervals along its
body. I have said that the ermine is the only true weasel I have found
in this vicinity, but this is not strictly true, at least I hope not.
One winter I repeatedly noticed the tracks of an exceedingly large
weasel--so very large, in fact, that I was almost forced to believe
them to be those of a mink. The impression of its body in the snow was
quite as large as that made by a small mink, but the footprints
themselves were smaller, and the creature appeared to avoid the water
in a manner quite at variance with the well-known habits of its more
amphibious cousin, while, unlike the common weasel, it never followed
stone walls or fences. I put my entire mind to the capture of the
little beast, and set dozens of traps, but it was well along in the
month of March before I succeeded. It proved to be a typical specimen
of the Western long-tailed weasel, though I can find no account of any
other having been taken east of the Mississippi. Its entire length was
about eighteen inches; the tail, which was a little over six, gave the
effect at first glance of being tipped with gray instead of black, but
a closer inspection showed that the black hairs were confined to the
very extremity and were partly concealed by the overlying white ones;
the rest of the fur was white, with a slight reddish tinge, and much
longer and coarser than that of an ermine. Since then I have
occasionally seen similar tracks, but have not succeeded in capturing
a second specimen. In all probability the least weasel is also to be
found here if one has the patience to search carefully enough; none,
however, have come under my observation as yet. All the small weasels
that I have seen have proved on close inspection to be young ermines
with thickly furred black-tipped tails; in the least weasel the tail
is thinly covered with short hair and without any black whatever. Late
in the autumn or early in the winter the ermine changes from
reddish-brown to white, sometimes slightly washed with greenish-yellow
or cream color, and again as brilliantly white as anything in Nature
or art; the end of the tail, however, remains intensely black, and at
first thought might be supposed to make the animal conspicuous on the
white background of snow, but in reality has just the opposite effect.
Place an ermine on new-fallen snow in such a way that it casts no
shadow, and you will find that the black point holds your eye in spite
of yourself, and that at a little distance it is quite impossible to
follow the outline of the weasel itself. Cover the tail with snow, and
you can begin to make out the position of the rest of the animal, but
as long as the tip of the tail is in sight you see that and that only.
The ptarmigan and northern hare also retain some spot or point of dark
color when they take on their winter dress, and these dark points
undoubtedly serve the same purpose as in the case of the ermine.

[Illustration: A weasel catching a bird]

An old hunter, one of the closest observers of Nature I have ever
known, once told me that female minks hibernated in winter in the same
manner as bears, though it was his belief that, unlike the bears, they
never brought forth their young at that season. At first I refused to
take the slightest stock in what he said; the whole thing appeared so
absurd and so utterly at variance with the teachings of those
naturalists who have made the closest possible study of the habits of
minks. Since then, however, I have kept my eyes open for any hint that
might have the slightest bearing on the subject, and to my surprise
have found many things that would seem to point to the correctness of
the old hunter's theory. To begin with, he said that late in the
winter he had repeatedly known female minks to make their appearance
from beneath snow that had lain undisturbed for days or even weeks,
the tracks apparently beginning where he first observed them, the
difference in size between the two sexes being sufficient to make it
easy to distinguish between their tracks at a glance; and, moreover,
since he first began trapping he had noticed that while the sexes were
about equally abundant in the autumn, the females always became very
scarce at the approach of winter and remained so until spring, when
they suddenly increased in numbers and became much the more abundant
of the two.

[Illustration: A weasel on a log]

This is also the experience of trappers in general, and may be
verified by any one who cares to take the trouble to look into the
matter. Evidently no one has ever discovered a mink in a state of
hibernation; at any rate, no such case appears ever to have been
reported; but this does not necessarily prove that it is not a regular
habit among them.

The cry of the mink is seldom heard, even in places where they are
fairly abundant, as they have evidently learned that the greatest
safety lies in silence. It is a peculiarly shrill, rattling,
whistlelike scream, that can be heard at a considerable distance.




Hygiene is that branch of medical science which relates to the
preservation and improvement of the health. As the prevention of
disease is more important than its cure--in fact, superior to all
methods for its cure--this is a subject which demands our most earnest
attention. Hygiene is not limited to the preservation and improvement
of the health of the individual, but includes that of whole
communities. As, however, the health of a community depends upon the
state of the health of the various families composing it, and this
again of its members, the proper understanding of the hygienic laws by
each individual is of the utmost importance.

For some reason, however, the subject of hygiene or the prevention of
disease does not create the enthusiasm caused by methods advocated for
its cure. A Koch, who publishes to the world a supposed means of
curing tuberculosis, or a Behring, who introduces the serum therapy of
diphtheria, arouses an interest which is limited only by the four
corners of the world. The modest worker in sanitation, however, who
explains the means of the development of these diseases, and the
conditions and laws by means of which they may be prevented, is looked
upon without interest and frequently with disfavor. But in spite of
these conditions, the laws of hygiene are gradually becoming more
farspread, and their influence is felt more with each advancing year.

The nose, throat, and ear are so intimately connected with the other
parts of the body that their health depends to a large extent upon the
condition of the system in general. The laws of hygiene and their
application which refer to the body in general are also applicable to
these parts, and whatever condition benefits the former will have a
useful influence on the upper respiratory passages, and, inversely,
any injurious effect will injure the health of these organs.

The physiology of this region is of much importance. Formerly the nose
was considered principally in its relation to the organ of smell. This
is a most important function, as it is a constant sentinel over the
air we breathe and the food we eat. It is a curious circumstance that
many of the functions that are referred to the organ of taste really
belong to that of smell. In eating ice cream, for instance, the sense
of taste simply informs us that it is sweet or otherwise, but the
flavor is perceived only by the sense of smell. A proof of this is
that where this function is destroyed, all ability in this direction
disappears, and the patient thus affected will frequently complain
that his sense of taste is defective, not realizing that it is the
sense of smell which performs this act.

The nose, however, has a much more important function to
perform--viz., in respiration. Strange to say, however, this has only
recently been realized, and it is even yet not well understood. You
have all observed that, when you had a severe "cold" which prevented
nasal breathing, the next morning the mouth and throat were dry and
parched and frequently inflamed, the voice sometimes hoarse, and there
was a general feeling of depression. While the progress of the
inflammatory process may be a factor in this, still the mechanical
obstruction of the nose from any cause whatsoever will have a similar
effect. In patients in whom, for various reasons, an artificial
opening has been made in the trachea, the air of the room has to be
heated to an almost intolerable point and saturated with moisture, or
severe bronchial inflammation will soon develop in the patient, simply
because the nose has not taken an active part in the act of
respiration. These effects, therefore, clearly demonstrate that the
nasal passages have an important function to perform in the breathing
process. Summarized in a few words, it is simply to warm, moisten, and
clean the air which we inhale.

The healthy nostrils are anatomically and physiologically so formed
that when the current of air passes through them it will have been
freed of its mechanical impurities, warmed to within a few degrees of
the temperature of the body, and moistened to saturation. This has
been experimentally demonstrated.

The opening of the passage of the ear into the throat has several
objects, the most important being ventilation and the adjustment of
the atmospheric equilibrium. This passage leads outward until it
enters the cavity of the middle ear, which is closed by the drum on
the outside, thus separating it from the external canal of the ear. We
know that atmospheric pressure varies at different times and in
different altitudes. It is much less, for instance, at the top of a
mountain than at the seaside. The opening into the throat allows the
air to enter, and adjusts the atmospheric pressure within the ear to
these various external conditions. Those of you who have ascended
Lookout Mountain by means of the incline cable car may have noticed
the adjustment taking place by a peculiar click when different
altitudes were reached.

So intimately are the nose, throat, and ear connected that it is
unusual to find one affected to any considerable extent without the
others being involved. While the rules of hygiene in general are
applicable to the nose, throat, and ear, there are certain special
conditions which deserve consideration. One of the most common causes
of injurious effects to the nose, throat, and ear is the so-called
"cold." The cold in this connection is, of course, understood to be
simply the cause, the condition itself being a peculiar inflammation
of the parts concerned. As cold is so frequently a cause of diseases
of these parts, it would be well to consider under what circumstances
it develops and the best mode of prevention.

I have often noticed that persons who suffer most frequently and
severely from colds usually insist that they exercise the greatest
care to avoid exposure. They have dressed in the warmest clothing,
wrapped the neck in the heaviest mufflers, remained in the closest
rooms, and avoided every draught, and yet they continually "take
cold." The street urchin, on the other hand, with only two or three
garments and without shoes, and who lives out of doors, suffers less
frequently from this affection.

"Colds" have truly been called a product of modern civilization. The
trouble was rare among the aborigines and is more common among the
cultured than among the laboring classes. If we make a plant an
exotic, we must keep it in the conservatory, and even here it is not
free from danger. On the other hand, if we wish to harden it and make
it proof against atmospheric and climatic changes, we must prepare it
by judicious exposure for these conditions. The warm clothing which is
thought to be a protection against cold is frequently the most fertile
cause. It relaxes the body, moistens the skin, and the perspiration
which is induced especially prepares the unresisting body for its
attacks. This applies especially to warm covering around the neck, to
which the air has periodic access. Except in unusually severe weather,
the throat requires no more covering or protection than the face.

The method of having only two systems of underclothing, the heavy to
be worn until it is quite warm, and _vice versa_, is also a source of
danger. There should be three changes: one of the lightest texture for
the warm weather of summer, a medium for spring and fall, and the pure
wool for winter, which in this climate need not be very heavy.
Waterproof shoes, rubbers, furs, etc., are not recommended for
customary use, and should be worn only when absolutely indicated.

The best preventive of recurrent colds is the judicious use of the
sponge or cold shower bath. The ordinary bath should usually be of a
temperature not disagreeable to the body, but after the question of
cleanliness has been attended to, an application, either by means of a
sponge or shower, of ordinary cold water should be made. This should
be of short duration, and friction with a coarse towel follow at once.
When properly conducted, a reaction sets in so that there is no danger
from this, and the toning effect of the method is of the utmost value
in the prevention of colds. This applies, of course, only to persons
in ordinarily good health. Even in these cases there are rare
occasions in which this method is not advisable, and it may on general
principles be stated that it should not be used by persons who do not
react promptly. As stated, however, the application of cold water
should be only momentary. The daily application of cold water to the
throat and chest is also a useful practice for strengthening these

In addition to these means there are certain injurious conditions that
it would be well to avoid. One almost universally present in large
cities is that of dust. The constant inhalation of the small particles
of sand and of organic impurities of which dust is composed has an
irritating effect on the delicate lining of the nose and throat, which
may develop a chronic inflammation, resulting in injury to both the
throat and ear. This evil, however, can be prevented by the artificial
watering of our streets.

Excessive tobacco smoking produces injurious effects in the nose and
throat. Of all forms of smoking, the cigarette is the most injurious,
and allowing the smoke to pass through the nostrils the most
dangerous. Occasionally ladies inhale the smoke of a closed room
where the male members of the household are smoking, and this is
injurious to a delicate throat.

Loud and excessive talking is sometimes a factor in throat diseases.
The former is more apt to be exercised in transit in our steam or
electric cars, and members of the theatrical profession realize this
so well that they rarely use their voice while traveling. In excessive
talking, in addition to the mechanical wear and tear of the throat,
the respiration is usually spasmodic, a combination that is likely to
lead to evil results. At puberty, when the voices of boys and girls
are changing, the former sometimes almost an octave and the latter
usually a note or two, special care should be taken of the voice, and
singing or vocal exercises should be discontinued until the change has
been finally established.

The effect of singing on the throat is of much interest, but it is one
of such an extensive character that it can be only casually referred
to here. The exercise required in singing improves the healthy throat
in the same manner that exercise benefits the body in general. The
diseased throat, however, may be injured by this practice, as no form
of vocal culture can remedy a mechanical interference in its action.
The method of singing is also of the utmost importance; an erroneous
one may not only injure a promising voice, but may also have a bad
effect on a normal throat. The subject of register requires careful
consideration. The placing of the voice in the wrong register is
fruitful of evil; the ambition of the singer to reach a few notes
higher or lower than her range may also work severe injury to the

The throat may be improved or strengthened by any of the forms of
exercise, especially the out-of-door, which have been advised for the
health in general. In addition to this, breathing exercises are of
special value. These consist of taking deep inhalations through the
nose, holding the breath for a few seconds and then gently expiring
it, the body in the meanwhile being free from all restraint from tight
clothing. The practice of this exercise for five minutes mornings and
evenings will have a remarkable effect in developing the chest and

In order to anticipate serious complications, children should be
taught to allow their mothers to examine their throats freely and
without resistance. I feel especially the importance of this subject,
as I have frequently seen children almost sacrificed on account of the
nervous dread of having their throats examined, or by their inability
to control themselves. The method is exceedingly simple: the child is
placed facing a bright window, and the handle of a spoon placed on the
tongue and so depressed that the posterior part of the throat can be
distinctly seen. At first this may be difficult, but the child soon
becomes accustomed to the manipulation and the throat may then be
examined without difficulty. Another advantage of this procedure is
that the mother becomes familiar with the normal appearance of the
throat, and can easily note any change due to disease.

In view of the important function of the nose in warming, cleaning,
and moistening the inspired air, the greatest care should be taken to
teach children to breathe through the nostrils. When only a portion of
the air enters through the mouth, the irritation is not as marked as
when all the air is inhaled in this manner, but it nevertheless
develops a condition of chronic irritation which is easily recognized
by one familiar with its appearance, and which may lead to important
complications. In many cases, mouth breathing is not due to habit, but
to some obstruction in the nostrils or throat. These cases form a
proper subject for the consideration of the physician. After the
removal of any existing obstruction, children will sometimes, from
force of habit, continue to breathe through the mouth, but this can
usually be overcome by attention and firmness on the part of the

The prevention of grave throat diseases, such as diphtheria,
necessarily forms a subject of much interest to the public in general
and to mothers in particular. The causation of this disease has been
much cleared up in later years, and we now know that the important
factor is a bacillus--a small organism of the vegetable kingdom--which
is the cause of this disease and a necessary material for its
propagation. Bacteriologic investigations have shown that the
so-called "membranous croup" is in by far the largest number of cases
identical with diphtheria, and the same precautions which apply to the
latter should therefore also be carried out in this disease.

As diphtheria is strictly an infectious disease, and one which must be
directly or indirectly contracted from a similar case, there is no
sanitary reason why this dreaded malady in the course of time should
not be entirely eliminated from the earth. In view of the fact that
diphtheria is so frequently present in our larger cities, this may
appear at present a Utopian idea. It is not so many years ago,
however, when smallpox was almost universal, and yet we now but rarely
have it in our midst. Not only is this the case, but the health
authorities are severely criticised when a number of these cases
exist, as indicating that there has been a lack of watchfulness in
carrying out certain well-known means of prevention.

While we have at the present time no means of inoculation that will
permanently protect against infection from diphtheria, still it is not
of such an infectious character as smallpox, as the cases are usually
limited to children, and its spread may therefore be more easily
prevented. Not only should children who have had diphtheria be
prevented from returning to school until infection is no longer
possible, but other children of the same household should also be kept
at home. A few years ago a certain school in this city was rarely
without a case of diphtheria among its pupils for many months. I am
convinced that had the principal of the school or the parents insisted
upon the other children of the infected household remaining at home,
the spread in this direction would have been arrested and much
suffering avoided.

When a patient has recovered from diphtheria, thorough disinfection is
a most important measure. Unfortunately, however, many persons
consider it a hardship if articles which can not be disinfected are
destroyed, and many will even use every endeavor to prevent the
representatives of the Board of Health from carrying out their
regulations. In this way the germ of the disease remains on the
premises, and under suitable conditions again finds another victim in
the household. To illustrate this, I recall an instance some years ago
in which I was called in consultation to see a most malignant case of
diphtheria. The little patient fortunately recovered, and the premises
were thoroughly disinfected, the parents being anxious to avoid any
repetition of the dreaded malady. Five months later, however, a
younger child became ill, and was found to have diphtheria. In view of
the vigorous efforts which had been made to disinfect the house
thoroughly, and of the fact that the child could not have contracted
it elsewhere, not having left its home for several weeks, the cause at
first appeared a mystery. Careful inquiry, however, soon elicited a
fact which clearly explained the case. The first patient had used a
mouth-organ just before its illness, and when this was abandoned, the
toy was carelessly thrown on the top of a bookcase, the nature of the
child's illness at the time not being known. The second child, just
before its illness, had accidentally found this toy and used it
frequently. This experience explains the necessity of disinfection in
all its details, and also illustrates the tenacious character of the
germ which produces this disease.

Our knowledge of the specific cause of scarlet fever is not as
complete as that of diphtheria, but we have much useful information
which is of importance from a hygienic standpoint. As in diphtheria,
the specific poison is probably produced in the throat of the patient,
and may therefore be spread by the dried secretion from the mouth and
throat. The most common means of contagion, however, is the skin,
which peels off in the later stage of the disease, infection being
produced by the inhalation into the nostrils of some of the diseased

A predisposing factor which applies alike to diphtheria and all other
throat affections is the abnormal condition of the nose and throat.
When these important parts are in an unhealthy condition, where mouth
breathing exists and other conditions inimical to normal health, the
patient is more predisposed to all forms of maladies of this region,
and the attack when developed is more apt to be of a serious
character. The more ordinary forms of sore throat, such as tonsilitis,
are frequently due to defects in the sanitary conditions and
surroundings of the home. While modern sanitary plumbing, when
properly constructed, adds much to the convenience of the household,
it is a certain menace to all its members if, through improper
construction or defective ventilation, decomposing matter collects in
the waste pipes and vitiates the atmosphere of the rooms. Many
recurrent cases of tonsilitis are due to this cause. Even the ordinary
stationary washstands may be a source of danger, especially in the
bedroom, unless thoroughly ventilated and care exercised that the
traps are not filled with decomposing matter. A physician of large
experience in this city is so imbued with the danger of this form of
plumbing that he condemns it _in toto_. When well constructed and well
ventilated, however, they can not be the source of danger in the

Tuberculosis, which is responsible for so enormous a mortality,
frequently also affects the throat as well as the lungs. Although it
usually originates within the chest, it sometimes finds its primary
origin in the throat, and in a large percentage of cases the throat
affection forms a complication of tuberculosis of the lungs. In spite
of the numerous remedies which have been advocated for the cure of
this disease, it must be admitted that our chief reliance is in proper
nourishment and climatic effects, and that hygiene is the sheet-anchor
which will eventually rescue us from this terrible foe of the human

Recent investigations tend to prove more and more that tuberculosis is
inherited in but rare cases; that inheritance is simply a predisposing
factor, and that the real cause is infection. As an illustration of
this, all have seen instances in which there had been apparently no
cases in a family for ten or fifteen years, when from some cause one
case develops, and this is soon followed by other cases in the same
family. Whatever rôle heredity may play in these cases, this simply
shows that the first case produced the infectious material which found
a suitable soil in the other members of the family and developed a
similar disease. The inheritance theory has been the source of much
injury by causing members of the afflicted family to submit to the
apparently inevitable instead of instituting measures for its
prevention. The infectious product in tuberculosis is not the breath,
as is so frequently believed by the laity, but simply the
expectoration which comes from the diseased lungs or throat. When this
is allowed to come in contact with clothing or other material in the
room, it becomes dry and loads the atmosphere with a dust which
contains the infectious bacillus, which may cause a similar disease in
a person predisposed by heredity or sickness to this affection.

The germ of tuberculosis is the seed, and the predisposed person the
soil, and it requires a combination of both to develop the disease. To
illustrate the necessity of suitable conditions for the development of
plants--for it is now almost universally admitted that the germ of
tuberculosis is a micro-organism which belongs to the vegetable
kingdom--I remember some years ago, while in North Europe, seeing in a
hothouse a plant which is here commonly known as the "four o'clock."
The gardener in charge of the conservatory considered it a remarkable
plant, but difficult to propagate, and stated that it was absolutely
impossible to raise it out of doors. In this part of the world,
however, we know that this plant grows so easily that once established
in a garden it is difficult to keep it within limits. In both of the
cases we have the same seed, the difference being only in the soil and
the conditions favorable for its development. The absence of either
the seed or the soil will absolutely prevent tuberculosis, and if the
laws of hygiene are properly carried out, both in destroying the seed
and in preventing the formation of a suitable soil, favorable effects
will soon be shown.

Hygiene in regard to patients demands simply that the infectious
character of the expectoration be destroyed. The vessels for this
purpose should contain some disinfecting solution, should be cleaned
regularly, and handkerchiefs, towels, or other material with which the
expectoration has come in contact should be sterilized by being placed
for at least half an hour in boiling water. This is necessary not only
for those in the same room with the patient, but also for the patient,
as it is quite possible that a former expectoration may produce
reinfection of the patient himself.

Another method of contracting tuberculosis is by means of animals,
such as cows, used for food and milking, which are known to be subject
to this disease. It has been shown in some localities that one cow out
of every twenty-five was affected with tubercular disease. This
suggests the importance of having competent veterinarians to examine
not only the meat which is sold, but also the cows used for milking
purposes. Where there is the slightest doubt as to the nature of the
meat or milk, the former should be thoroughly cooked and the latter
sterilized before using.

In this connection it would be well to refer to the subject of
spitting in street cars and in public places. While this nuisance is
the subject of danger to every one in the street cars, especially in
winter, when the windows are closed and a large amount of impurities
is inhaled, it is more particularly so to ladies, whose skirts, in
spite of every care, are soiled by the filthy expectoration, thus
making them subject not only to the inhalation in the car, but also
to carrying the infectious material to their homes.

The danger of this condition is not merely speculative. It has been
bacteriologically demonstrated that the organisms of various
contagious diseases thus find a lodging place in our cars and public
places, and experiments on animals, in which the inoculation has
developed diseases, have shown that these organisms retain their
vitality in these places and may propagate disease under favorable

A factor in the spread of diseases of the throat and mouth that should
not be overlooked is kissing. Unfortunately, this matter has usually
been treated with much levity, and where a sanitarian is bold enough
to condemn the habit he is frequently made the subject of all forms of
ridicule in the public press.

The tender lining of the lips, mouth, and throat, and its large blood
supply, make it peculiarly susceptible to contagion, and I have no
doubt that the habit of kissing is responsible for many cases of
infection. Last year I noticed a lady coming from a house from which a
diphtheria flag was flying, who walked to the corner to take the
street car, when a nurse with a small child approached. The lady
without hesitation stooped down and kissed the little child. As it is
well known that a healthy person may transmit a disease without
incurring the disease himself, this lady voluntarily risked the danger
of inflicting this disease upon the innocent child. It is not an
uncommon thing for nurses to kiss the children under their charge, and
here in New Orleans even the colored nurses sometimes practice this
habit, occasionally with the permission of the parents. In fact, a
fashionable lady on one occasion told me, when I remonstrated with her
about this, that she feared to hurt the feelings of the old nurse, who
had been a valuable servant in the family for many years.

How often this habit is productive of evil results is of course only
speculation. I recall, however, an instance in which two small
children of one family developed a specific disease which originated
in the mouth and affected the whole system. Examination proved this to
have been caused by a nurse, a white woman, who had been in the habit
of kissing the children. If women will voluntarily incur risks
by using kissing as a form of salutation in all stages of
acquaintanceship, I would at least request that the innocent children
be spared the possible consequences.

The subject of the hygiene of the ear is so intimately connected with
conditions influencing the nose and throat, which have already been
explained, that but few words are needed to cover this part of my
subject. In general, the best care of the ear is to leave it alone.
Ear scoops are injurious; the ear should be cleaned simply on the
outside, and nothing, as a rule, should be inserted into the external
canal. I have seen many cases of abscess and the most severe
inflammation due to endeavors to clean the ear with the omnipresent
hairpin and other objects used for this purpose. The use of cotton in
the ear in general is to be condemned. It produces an artificial
condition in the outer canal of the ear which reduces its physical
resistance and makes it more liable to injury from exposure. The ear
is sometimes injured by the entrance of cold water. This happens
occasionally during ordinary bathing, but more frequently in outdoor
bathing and in swimming. In surf bathing, where the water is thrown up
with considerable force, it is much more liable to enter the external
orifice of the ear, and severe inflammation may originate from this

Salt water has been claimed to be more injurious than fresh, but my
personal experience leads me to believe that it is more a question of
temperature than of the quality of the water. Some years ago a large
reservoir was built by an educational institute near this city, the
water, which was quite cold even in summer, being supplied by an
artesian well. The tank was used for bathing purposes, but earache
soon became so frequent among the boys that the use of the reservoir
for this purpose had to be entirely abandoned. In ordinary bathing,
the entrance of water into the ear can easily be avoided. In swimming
or surf bathing it is advisable to use a pledget of lamb's wool to
close the opening of the ears. Ordinary cotton soon becomes saturated
and is of no use in this connection, but the wool, which is slightly
oily, forms an excellent protection in these cases.

The "running ear" is a diseased condition which should not be tampered
with by the inexperienced, but which should not be neglected. The old
idea that the child will outgrow it, or that it is a secretion of the
head which if interfered with would prove dangerous, has been fruitful
of many cases of deafness and even more serious complications.

Another condition to which I would call your attention is the
incipient development of deafness in children. Where the capacity of
hearing is quickly lowered from the normal to fifty per cent, it is so
striking that the patient is much distressed and even confused. But
when this change takes place insidiously from day to day, it is
frequently not observed by either the patient or those around him
until it has greatly advanced. Children thus affected hear only with
difficulty and by straining certain small muscles of the ear, which
soon become fatigued, and the child becomes listless and inattentive.
I have seen numerous cases in which children have been severely
punished for inattention, when this was due to defective hearing.
Watchfulness and early attention in these cases will frequently
prevent the more serious forms of deafness.




The study of the geographical distribution of plants and animals has
revealed facts almost as enigmatical as the origin of life itself.
Water barriers, as broad as that of the Atlantic, have not prevented
the spontaneous spread of some species, while others limit their
habitat to narrowly circumscribed though not geographically isolated

Tapirs are found both in the Amazon Valley and on the Malay Peninsula;
the brook trout of southern New Zealand are identical with those of
the Austrian Alps. Oaks and _Ericacea_ (heather plants) cover northern
Europe from the mouth of the Seine to the sources of the Ural; then
suddenly cease, and are not found anywhere in the vast Siberian
territories, with a north-to-south range rivaling that of all British
North America.

But still more remarkable is the zoölogical contrast of such
close-neighborhood countries as Africa and Madagascar, or Central
America and the West Indian archipelago. The Madagascar virgin woods
harbor no lions, leopards, hyenas, or baboons, but boast not less than
thirty-five species of mammals unknown to the African continent, and
twenty-six found nowhere else in the world.

Of a dozen different kinds of deer, abundant in North America as well
as in Asia and Europe, not a single species has found its way to the
West Indies. The fine mountain meadows of Hayti have originated no
antelopes, no wild sheep or wild goats.

In the Cuban sierras, towering to a height of 8,300 feet, there are no
hill foxes. There are caverns--subterranean labyrinths with countless
ramifications, some of them--but no cave bears or badgers, no marmots
or weasels even, nor one of the numerous weasel-like creatures
clambering about the rock clefts of Mexico. The magnificent coast
forests of the Antilles produce wild-growing nuts enough to freight a
thousand schooners every year, but--almost incredible to say--the
explorers of sixteen generations have failed to discover a single
species of squirrels.

The Old-World tribes of our tree-climbing relatives are so totally
different from those of the American tropics that Humboldt's traveling
companion, Bonplant, renounced the theory of a unitary center of
creation (or evolution), and maintained that South America must have
made a separate though unsuccessful attempt to rise from lemurs to
manlike apes and men. Of such as they are, Brazil alone has
forty-eight species of monkeys, and Venezuela at least thirty. How
shall we account for the fact that not one of the large West Indian
islands betrays a vestige of an effort in the same direction?

More monkey-inviting forests than those of southern Hayti can not be
found in the tropics, but not even a marmoset or squirrel-monkey
accepted the invitation. In an infinite series of centuries not one
pair of quadrumana availed itself of the chance to cross a sea gap,
though at several points the mainland approaches western Cuba within
less than two hundred miles--about half the distance that separates
southern Asia from Borneo, where fourhanders of all sizes and colors
compete for the products of the wilderness, and, according to Sir
Philip Maitland, the "native women avoid the coast jungles for fear of
meeting Mr. Darwin's grandfather."

The first Spanish explorers of the Antilles were, in fact, so amazed
at the apparently complete absence of quadrupeds that their only
explanation was a conjecture that the beasts of the forest must have
been exterminated by order of some native potentate, perhaps the great
Kubla Khan, whose possessions they supposed to extend _eastward_ from
Lake Aral to the Atlantic. The chronicle of Diego Columbus says
positively that San Domingo and San Juan Bautista (Porto Rico) were
void of mammals, but afterward modifies that statement by mentioning a
species of rodent, the _hutia_, or bush rat, that annoyed the
colonists of Fort Isabel, and caused them to make an appropriation for
importing a cargo of cats.

Bush rats and moles were, up to the end of the sixteenth century, the
only known indigenous quadrupeds of the entire West Indian
archipelago, for the "Carib dogs," which Valverde saw in Jamaica, were
believed to have been brought from the mainland by a horde of
man-hunting savages.

But natural history has kept step with the advance of other sciences,
and the list of undoubtedly aboriginal mammals on the four main
islands of the Antilles is now known to comprise more than twenty
species. That at least fifteen of them escaped the attention of the
Spanish creoles is as strange as the fact that the Castilian cattle
barons of Upper California did not suspect the existence of precious
metals, though nearly the whole bonanza region of the San Joaquin
Valley had been settled before the beginning of the seventeenth
century. But the conquerors of the Philippines even overlooked a
variety of elephants that roams the coast jungles of Mindanao.

Eight species of those West Indian _incognito_ mammals, it is true,
are creatures of a kind which the Spanish zoölogists of Valverde's
time would probably have classed with birds--bats, namely, including
the curious _Vespertilio molossus_, or mastiff bat, and several
varieties of the owl-faced _Chilonycteris_, that takes wing in the
gloom preceding a thunderstorm, as well as in the morning and evening
twilight, and flits up and down the coast rivers with screams that
can be heard as plainly as the screech of a paroquet. The _Vespertilio
scandens_ of eastern San Domingo has a peculiar habit of flitting from
tree to tree, and clambering about in quest of insects, almost with
the agility of a flying squirrel. There are times when the moonlit
woods near Cape Rafael seem to be all alive with the restless little
creatures; that keep up a clicking chirp, and every now and then
gather in swarms to contest a tempting find, or to settle some probate
court litigation. San Domingo also harbors one species of those
prototypes of the harpies, the fruit-eating bats. It passes the
daylight hours in hollow trees, but becomes nervous toward sunset and
apt to betray its hiding place by an impatient twitter--probably a
collocution of angry comments on the length of time between meals. The
moment the twilight deepens into gloom the chatterers flop out to fall
on the next mango orchard and eat away like mortgage brokers. They do
not get fat--champion gluttons rarely do--but attain a weight of six
ounces, and the Haytian darkey would get even with them after a manner
of their own if their prerogatives were not protected by the intensity
of their musky odor. The above-mentioned _hutia_ rat appears to have
immigrated from some part of the world where the shortness of the
summer justified the accumulation of large reserve stores of food, and
under the influence of a hereditary hoarding instinct it now passes
its existence constructing and filling a series of subterranean
granaries. Besides, the females build nurseries, and all these burrows
are connected by tunnels that enable their constructors to pass the
rainy season under shelter. They gather nuts, _belotas_ (a sort of
sweet acorns), and all kinds of cereals, and with their _penchant_ for
appropriating roundish wooden objects on general principles would
probably give a Connecticut nutmeg peddler the benefit of the doubt.

They also pilfer raisins, and a colony of such tithe collectors is a
formidable nuisance, for the _hutia_ is a giant of its tribe, and
attains a length of sixteen inches, exclusive of the tail. It is found
in Cuba, Hayti, Jamaica, Porto Rico, Antigua, Trinidad, the Isle of
Pines, Martinique, and two or three of the southern Bahama Islands,
and there may have been a time when it had the archipelago all to
itself. The Lucayans had a tradition that their ancestors found it on
their arrival from the mainland, and in some coast regions of eastern
Cuba it may still be seen basking in the sunlight--

      "Sole sitting on the shore of old romance,"

and wondering if there are any larger mammals on this planet.

Its next West Indian congener is the Jamaica rice rat, and there are
at least ten species of mice, all clearly distinct from any Old-World
rodent, though it is barely possible that some of them may have stolen
a ride on Spanish trading vessels from Central America.

Water-moles burrow in the banks of several Cuban rivers, and two
genera of aquatic mammals have solved the problem of survival: the
bayou porpoise and the manatee, both known to the creoles of the early
colonial era, and vaguely even to the first discoverers, since
Columbus himself alludes to a "sort of mermaids (_sirenas_) that half
rose from the water and scanned the boat's crew with curious eyes."

Naturally the manatee is, indeed, by no means a timid creature, but
bitter experience has changed its habits since the time when the
down-town sportsmen of Santiago used to start in sailboats for the
outer estuary and return before night with a week's supply of manatee
meat. The best remaining hunting grounds are the reed shallows of
Samana Bay (San Domingo) and the deltas of the Hayti swamp rivers. Old
specimens are generally as wary as the Prybilof fur seal that dive out
of sight at the first glimpse of a sail; still, their slit-eyed
youngsters are taken alive often enough, to be kept as public pets in
many town ponds, where they learn to come to a whistle and waddle
ashore for a handful of cabbage leaves.

Fish otters have been caught in the lagoons of Puerto Principe
(central Cuba) and near Cape Tiburon, on the south coast of San
Domingo, the traveler Gerstaecker saw a kind of "bushy-tailed
dormouse, too small to be called a squirrel."

But the last four hundred years have enlarged the list of indigenous
mammals in more than one sense, and the Chevalier de Saint-Méry should
not have been criticised for describing the bush dog of Hayti as a
"_canis Hispaniolanus_." Imported dogs enacted a declaration of
independence several centuries before the revolt of the Haytian
slaves, and their descendants have become as thoroughly West Indian as
the Franks have become French. A continued process of elimination has
made the survivors climate-proof and self-supporting, and above all
they have ceased to vary; Nature has accepted their modified type as
wholly adapted to the exigencies of their present habitat. And if it
is true that all runaway animals revert in some degree to the
characteristics of their primeval relatives, the ancestor of the
domestic dog would appear to have been a bush-tailed, brindle-skinned,
and black-muzzled brute, intermittently gregarious, and combining the
burrowing propensity of the fox with the co-operative hunting
_penchant_ of the wolf.

Fourteen years of bushwhacker warfare have almost wholly exterminated
the half-wild cattle of the Cuban sierras, but the bush dog has come
to stay. The yelping of its whelps can be heard in thousands of jungle
woods and mountain ravines, both of Cuba and Hayti, and no variety of
thoroughbreds will venture to follow these renegades into the
penetralia of their strongholds. Sergeant Esterman, who shared the
potluck of a Cuban insurgent camp in the capacity of a gunsmith,
estimates the wild-dog population of the province of Santiago alone at
half a million, and predicts that in years to come their raids will
almost preclude the possibility of profitable cattle-breeding in
eastern Cuba.

Still, the _perro pelon_, or "tramp dog," as the creoles call the
wolfish cur, is perhaps a lesser evil, where its activity has tended
to check the over-increase of another assisted immigrant. Three
hundred years ago West Indian sportsmen began to import several breeds
of Spanish rabbits, and with results not always foreseen by the
agricultural neighbors of the experimenters. Rabbit meat, at first a
luxury, soon became an incumbrance of the provision markets, and
finally unsalable at any price. Every family with a dog or a
trap-setting boy could have rabbit stew for dinner six times a week,
and load their peddlers with bundles of rabbit skins.

The burrowing coneys threatened to undermine the agricultural basis of
support, when it was learned that the planters of the Fort Isabel
district (Hayti) had checked the evil by forcing their dogs to live on
raw coney meat. The inexpensiveness of the expedient recommended its
general adoption, and the rapidly multiplying quadrupeds soon found
that "there were others." The Spanish hounds, too, could astonish the
census reporter where their progeny was permitted to survive, and
truck farmers ceased to complain.

In stress of circumstances the persecuted rodents then took refuge in
the highlands, where they can still be seen scampering about the
grassy dells in all directions, and the curs of the coast plain turned
their attention to _hutia_ venison and the eggs of the chaparral
pheasant and other gallinaceous birds. On the seacoast they also have
learned to catch turtles and subdivide them, regardless of
antivivisection laws. How they can get a business opening through the
armor of the larger varieties seems a puzzle, but the _canis rutilus_
of the Sunda Islands overcomes even the dog-resisting ability of the
giant tortoise, and in Sumatra the bleaching skeletons of the victims
have often been mistaken for the mementos of a savage battle.

Near Bocanso in southeastern Cuba the woods are alive with capuchin
monkeys, that seem to have escaped from the wreck of some South
American trading vessel and found the climate so congenial that they
proceeded to make themselves at home, like the ring-tailed colonists
of Fort Sable, in the Florida Everglades. The food supply may not be
quite as abundant as in the equatorial birthland of their species, but
that disadvantage is probably more than offset by the absence of
tree-climbing carnivora.

Millions of runaway hogs roam the coast swamps of all the larger
Antilles, and continue to multiply like our American pension
claimants. The hunters of those jungle woods, indeed, must often smile
to remember the complaint of the early settlers that the pleasure of
the chase in the West Indian wilderness was modified by the scarcity
of four-footed game, and in the total number (as distinct from the
number of species) of wild or half-wild mammals Cuba and Hayti have
begun to rival the island of Java.

[_To be continued._]



Iron occurs, in small and almost infinitesimal proportions, in
numerous organic structures, in which its presence may usually be
detected by the high color it imparts; and in the animal tissues is an
important ingredient, though far from being a large one. It is
essential, however, that the animal tissues, and particularly the
liquids that circulate through them, should be of nearly even weight,
else the equilibrium of the body would be too easily disturbed, and
disaster arising therefrom would be always imminent. Hence the iron is
always found combined and associated with a large accompaniment of
other lighter elements which, reducing or neutralizing its superior
specific gravity, hold it up and keep it afloat. Thus the molecule of
the red matter of the blood contains, for each atom of iron, 712 atoms
of carbon, 1,130 of hydrogen, 214 of nitrogen, 245 of oxygen, and 2 of
sulphur, or 2,303 atoms in all. Existing in compounds of so complex
composition, iron can be present only in very small proportions to the
whole. Though an essential element, there is comparatively but little
of it. The whole body of man does not contain more than one part in
twenty thousand of it. The blood contains only five ten-thousandths;
and an organ is rich in it if, like the liver, it contains one and a
half ten-thousandths. When, then, we seek to represent to ourselves
the changes undergone by organic iron, we shall have to modify
materially the ideas we have formed respecting the largeness and the
littleness of units of measure and as to the meaning of the words
abundant and rare. We must get rid of the notion that a thousandth or
even a ten-thousandth is a proportion that may be neglected. The
humble ten-thousandth, which is usually supposed not to be of much
consequence, becomes here a matter of value. Chemists working with
iron in its ordinary compounds may consider that they are doing fairly
well if they do not lose sight of more than a thousandth of it; but
such looseness would be fatal in a biological investigation, where
accuracy is necessary down to the infinitesimal fraction. The balances
of the biologists must weigh the thousandth of a milligramme, as their
microscopes measure the thousandth of a millimetre.

The great part performed by iron in organisms, what we may call its
biological function, appertains to the chemical property it possesses
of favoring combustion, of being an agent for promoting the oxidation
of organic matters.

The chemistry of living bodies differs from that of the laboratory in
a feature that is peculiar to it--that instead of performing its
reactions directly it uses special agents. It employs intermediaries
which, while they are not entirely unknown to mineral chemistry, yet
rarely intervene in it. If it is desired, for example, to add a
molecule of water to starch to form sugar, the chemist would do it by
heating the starch with acidulated water. The organism, which is
performing this process all the time, or after every meal, does it in
a different way, without special heating and without the acid. A
soluble ferment, a diastase or enzyme, serves as the oxidizing agent
to produce the same result. Looking at the beginning and the end, the
two operations are the same. The special agent gives up none of its
substance. It withdraws after having accomplished its work, and not a
trace of it is left. Here, in the mechanism of the action of these
soluble ferments, resides the mystery, still complete, of vital
chemistry. It may be conceived that these agents, which leave none of
their substance behind their operations, which suffer no loss, do not
have to be represented in considerable quantities, however great the
need of them may be. They only require time to do their work. The most
remarkable characteristic of the soluble ferments lies, in fact, here,
in the magnitude of the action as contrasted with infinitesimal
proportion of the agent, and the necessity of having time for the
accomplishment of the operation.

Iron behaves in precisely the same way in the combustion of organic
substances. These substances are incapable at ordinary temperatures of
fixing oxygen directly, and will not burn till they are raised to a
high temperature; but in the presence of iron they are capable of
burning without extreme heat, and undergo slow combustion. And as iron
gives up none of its substance in the operation, and acts, as a simple
intermediary, only to draw oxygen from the inexhaustible atmosphere
and present it to the organic substance, we see that it need not be
abundant to perform its office, provided it have time enough. This
action resembles that of the soluble ferments in that there is no
mystery about it, and its innermost mechanism is perfectly known.

Iron readily combines with oxygen--too readily, we might say, if we
regarded only the uses we make of it. It exists as an oxide in Nature;
and the metallurgy of it has no other object than to revivify burned
iron, remove the oxygen from it, and extract the metal. Of the two
oxides of iron, the ferrous, or lower one, is an energetic base,
readily combining with even the weakest acids, and forming with them
ferrous or protosalts. Ferric oxide, on the other hand, is a feeble
base, which combines only slowly with even strong acids to form ferric
salts or persalts, and not at all with weak acids like carbonic acid
and those of the tissues of living beings. It is these last, more
highly oxidized ferric compounds that provide organic substances with
the oxygen that consumes them, when, as a result of the operation,
they themselves return to the ferrous state.

Facts of this sort are too nearly universal not to have been observed
very long ago, but they were not fully understood till about the
middle of this century. The chemists of the time--Liebig, Dumas, and
especially Schönbein, Wöhler, Stenhouse, and many others--established
the fact that ferric oxide provokes at ordinary temperatures a rapid
action of combustion on a large number of substances: grass, sawdust,
peat, charcoal, humus, arable land, and animal matter. A very common
example is the destruction of linen by rust spots; the substance of
the fiber is slowly burned up by the oxygen yielded by the oxide.
About the same time, Claude Bernard inquired whether the process took
place within the tissues, in contact with living matter in the same
way as we have just seen it did with dead matter--the remains of
organisms that had long since submitted to the action of physical
laws--and received an affirmative answer. Injecting a ferric salt into
the jugular vein of an animal, he found it excreted, deprived of a
part of its oxygen, as a ferrous salt.

This slow combustion of organic matter, living or dead, accomplished
in the cold by iron, represents only one of the aspects of its
biological function. A counterpart to it is necessary in order to
complete the picture. It is easy to perceive that the phenomenon would
have no bearing or consequence if it was limited to this first action.
With the small provision of oxygen in the iron salt used up, and, if
reduced to the minimum of oxidation, the source of oxygen being
exhausted, the combustion of organic matter would stop. The oxidation
obtained would be insignificant, while the oxidation should be
indefinite and unlimited, and it is really so.

There is a counterpart. The iron salt, which has gone back to the
minimum of oxidation and become a ferrous salt, can not remain long in
that state in contact with the air and with other sources of the gas
to which it is exposed. It has always been known that ferrous
compounds absorb oxygen from the air and pass into the ferric state;
we might say that we have seen it done, for the transformation is
accompanied by a characteristic change of color, by a transition from
the pale green tint of ferrous bases to the ochery or red color of
ferric compounds.

We can understand now what should happen when the ferruginous compound
is placed in contact alternately with organic matter and oxygen. In
the former phase the iron will yield oxygen to the organic matter; in
the second phase it will take again from the atmosphere the
combustible which it has lost, and will be again where it started. The
same series of operations may be continued a second time and a third
time, and indefinitely, as long as the alternations of contact with
organic matter and exposure to atmospheric oxygen are kept up, the
iron simply performing the part of a broker. The same result will
occur if atmospheric air and organic matter are constantly together;
the consumption will continue indefinitely, and the iron will perform
the part of an intermediary till one of the elements of the process is

This explanation was necessary to make clear the solution of the
mystery of slow or cool combustion, the existence of which has been
known since Lavoisier, without its mechanism being understood. That
illustrious student gave out the theory that animal heat and the
energy developed by vital action originated in the chemical reactions
of the organism, and that, on the other hand, the reactions that
produce heat consisted of simple combustions, slow combustions, that
differed only in intensity from that of the burning torch. The
development of chemistry has shown that this figure was too much
simplified from the reality, and that most of these phenomena, while
they are in the end equivalent to a combustion, differ greatly from it
in mechanism and mode of execution. By this we do not mean to say that
all the combustions are of this character, and that there do not exist
in the organism a large number of such as Lavoisier understood, and of
such as the combustions effected by the intervention of iron furnish
the type of. Lavoisier's successors, Liebig among them, tried to find
reactions conformed to this type. Their attempts were unsuccessful,
but they had the happy result of revealing, if not the real function
of iron in the blood, at least that of the red matter in which it is

The question of the presence of iron in the coloring matter of the
blood gave rise to long discussions. Vauquelin denied it. He made the
mistake of looking for iron in the form of a known compound, in direct
combination with the blood, while later researches have shown that it
is found almost exclusively in the red matter that tinges the
globules, in a complicated combination that escapes the ordinary
tests; or, according to a usual method of expression, it is
dissimulated. Liebig also failed to find this combination, and it was
not till 1864 that Hoppe-Seyler succeeded in obtaining it pure and
crystallized. But Liebig had already perceived its essential
properties, and was able to point out approximately its functions as
early as 1845; yet the single fact that there was no assimilation
possible between this substance and the salts of iron, cut this
question off into a kind of negative suspense. Different from these
compounds, it could not behave like them, and accomplish slow
combustions of the same type. It is a remarkable fact, and one that
illustrates well how iron preserves through all its vicissitudes some
trace of its fundamental property of favoring the action of oxygen on
substances, that this composition, so special and so different from
the salts of iron, behaves nearly as they do. While it is not of
itself an energetic combustible, it is, according to Liebig's
expression, "a transporter of oxygen"--a luminous view, which the
future was destined to confirm. Although the transportation is not
produced by the mechanism supposed by Liebig, but by another, the
general result is very much the same from the point of view of the
physiology of the blood. The coloring matter of the blood conveyed by
the globules fixes oxygen in contact with the pulmonary air, and
distributes it as it passes through the capillaries upon the tissues.
The globule of blood brings nothing else and distributes nothing else,
contrary to the opinion that had been held before. The theory of slow
combustion effected through iron, while not absolutely contradicted in
principle, was not entirely confirmed in detail, so far as concerned
iron, or the more prominently ferruginous tissue.

No search was made for other tissues or organs presenting more
favorable conditions, for no others were known that had iron in
themselves. The liver and the spleen were supposed to receive it from
the blood under the complicated form in which it exists there, or
under some equivalent form. It was not, therefore, supposed till
within a very few years that the two conditions were realized in any
organ that were required to secure a slow combustion by iron--that is,
combinations resembling ferrous and ferric salts with a weak acid and
a source of oxygen. The doubt has been resolved by recent studies. The
liver fulfils the requirement. It contains iron existing under forms
precisely comparable to the ferrous and ferric compounds, and is
washed by the blood which carries oxygen in a state of simple solution
in its plasma and of loose combination in its globules. Thus all the
conditions necessary for the production of slow combustion are
gathered here, and we can not doubt that it takes place. A new
function is therefore assigned to the liver, and it becomes one of the
great furnaces of the organism.

Compounds of iron are so abundant in the ground and the water that we
need not be surprised when we find them in various parts of plants,
and particularly in the green parts. Their habitual presence does not,
however, authorize the conclusion that this metal is necessary to the
support and development of vegetable life. Some substances, evidently
indifferent, foreign, and even injurious, if they exist abundantly in
a soil, may be drawn into roots through the movement of the sap, and
fix themselves in various organs. This occurs with copper in certain
exceptional circumstances when the soil is saturated with its
compounds, and if such a condition should be found to be repeated over
a large extent of country, we might be led, by analysis alone of its
vegetable productions, to the false conclusion that copper was an
essential or even necessary constituent of them. But the value of the
part performed by an element can not be determined by analysis alone.
Direct proofs are necessary for that, methodical and comparative
experiments in cultivation in mediums artificially deprived or
furnished with the element the importance of which we wish to
estimate. This has been done for combinations of iron, and the utility
of that metal, especially to the higher plants, has been made thereby
to appear.

If iron is absent from the nutritive medium the plant will wither. If
we sprout seeds in a solution from which this metal has been carefully
excluded, the development will follow its regular course as long as
the plant is in the condition properly called that of germination, or
while it does not have to draw anything from the soil. The stem rises
and the first leaves are formed as usual. But all these parts will
continue pale, and the green matter, the granulation of chlorophyll,
will not appear. Now, if we add a small quantity of salt of iron to
the ground in which the roots are planted, or a much-diluted solution
is sprinkled on the leaves and the stem, the chlorotic plant will
recover its health and take on its normal coloration. Experiments of
this sort make well manifest that iron is necessary to green plants,
and they show, besides, the bearing of its action, and that what is
most special and most characteristic in the phenomena of vegetable
life may be traced exactly to the organization of that green matter.
It was long thought that if iron was necessary for the formation of
chlorophyll, it was because it had a part in its constitution. We know
now that this is not so. The metal does nothing but accompany the
chlorophyll in the granulation in which it is found.

The influence which iron exerts in the development of the lower
plants, like the muscidenes, was illustrated with great precision in a
study made about thirty years ago by M. Raulin, who experimented with
the common mold (_Aspergillus niger_), to determine the coefficient of
importance of all the elements that have a part in its vegetation.
When the iron was removed from a medium that had been shown capable of
giving a maximum crop of that mold, the plants languished, and the
return fell off immediately to one third. Estimating the quantity of
metal that produces this effect, it was found that the addition of one
part of iron was sufficient to determine the production of a weight of
plant nearly nine hundred times as great. The suppression of the iron
further caused an irreparable loss, for when it was sought to remedy
the wilting of the plants by restoring the iron which had been taken
from the medium--an experiment which had been successful with higher
plants--the attempt was a failure, and the plants could not be
prevented from perishing.

These facts are full of interest in themselves, and they further show
well the necessity or utility of iron in plant life, but they teach us
no more. They reveal nothing of the mechanism of the action, and if we
wish to penetrate further in the matter we always have to turn to
animal physiology.--_Translated for the Popular Science Monthly from
the Revue des Deux Mondes._




A gentleman who had lived for several years among the Indians of the
Canadian northwest said that he went among them believing they were an
untutored race. But when they told him of a dozen kinds of berries
growing in a locality where he knew but two, brought him flowers he
could not find after careful search, and around their council fires
showed as deep an insight into the mysteries of life as the _savants_
of his university, then he concluded they could no longer be called

And why should they be? Is there no culture or civilization outside of
the enlightenment of Europe or America? And because a civilization
does not exactly fit the grooves in which most of the world has moved,
may it not be a real civilization for all that? If such is possible,
then we vote the Malays a cultured people. Of course, their culture is
not like our own; it knows no railroads, no telegraphs, boasts of no
intricate political machinery, has no complicated social despotisms.
Native princes rule for the most part over peaceful states, and
politics means no more than the regulation of quiet village life. But
what need of railroads, when the rivers are avenues of trade and
communication? Why telegraphs, when the world is bounded by the jungle
horizon? Or why, in short, severe civil and social enactments, when
the common _Wahlspruch_ of life is, "Fear disgrace rather than death"?
Such a civilization, we admit, is a humble one; but it also has the
advantage of being a happy one. And where contentment dwells, where
honesty prevails, where the home is a stronghold, there are culture
and civilization, even though they may not coincide with our own.

The Malays are not barbarians, and their language by its grace and
adaptability has shown its right to be. To-day it is the mother tongue
of more than forty millions of people, and the _lingua franca_ of
Chinamen, Hindus, European, and natives. It is spoken from Madagascar
to the distant islands of the Pacific, and from the Philippines to
Australia. With it one can barter in Celebes and sell in Java;
converse with a sultan in Sumatra or a Spaniard in Manila. Moreover,
it is soft and melodious, rich in expression, poetical in idiom, and
simple in structure--a language almost without grammar and yet of
immense vocabulary, with subtle distinctions and fine gradations of
thought and meaning; a language that sounds in one's ears long after
_Tanah Malayu_ and the coral islands and the jungle strand have sunk
into hazy recollection, just as they once dropped out of sight behind
one's departing ship.

Malay is written in the Arabic character, which was adopted with
Mohammedanism, probably in the thirteenth century. Anciently, the
Malays used a writing of their own, but it is not yet clearly settled
what it was. There are now thirty-four characters employed, each
varying in form, according as it is isolated, final, medial, or
initial. Naturally, the Arabic influence over the language has been a
marked one; the priest who dictates in the religion of a people is a
molder and shaper of language. We have only to recall the Catholic
Church and the influence of the Latin tongue in the mouths of her
priests to know that this is so. Many Arabic words and phrases have
been adopted, but more in the language of literature than in that of
everyday speech. A large number of expressions of court and royalty,
and terms of law and religion, are Arabic; also the names of months,
days, and many articles of commerce and trade; nevertheless, the
language of common speech is still Malay.

Another influence, also, has been felt in the Malay--that of the
Sanskrit language. The presence of many Sanskrit words has caused some
very ingenious theories to be constructed in proof that the Malays
were of Indian origin, and such word fragments the survival of the
primitive tongue. Such theories, however, have not stood the test of
philology, and the fact still remains that the language is essentially
unique, with an origin lost in the darkness of remote antiquity.
However, Sanskrit influence has been much greater, and has penetrated
much deeper into the elemental structure of the language than the
Arabic. In fact, the aboriginal language, before it felt the animating
spirit of the Aryan tongue, must have been a barren one, the language
of a primitive man, a fisherman, a hunter, a careless tiller of the
soil. As Maxwell says in his Manual of the Malay Language, the
Sanskrit word _hala_ (plow) marks a revolution in Malayan agriculture
and, one may say further, Malayan civilization. What changed the
methods of cultivating the soil, changed the people themselves. It is
probable that this change came through contact with people to whom
Sanskrit was a vernacular tongue, but whether through conquest by the
sword or by religion is hard to tell. Perhaps it was by both. At any
rate, it was deep and strong, and left a lasting impression on the
language. Sanskrit names fastened on trees, plants, grain, fruits,
household and agricultural implements, parts of the body, articles of
commerce, animals, metals and minerals, time and its division and
measurement, family relationships, abstract conceptions, warfare, and
fundamental ideas of religion and superstition. Such a conquest must
have been an early and tremendous one.

Strangely enough, Malay is almost a grammarless tongue. It has no
proper article, and its substantives may serve equally well as verbs,
being singular or plural, and entirely genderless. However, adjectives
and a process of reduplication often indicate number, and gender words
are added to nouns to make sex allusions plain. Whatever there is of
declension is prepositional as in English, and possessives are formed
by putting the adjectives after the noun as in Italian. Nouns are
primitive and derivative, the derivations being formed by suffixes or
prefixes, or both, and one's mastery of the language may be gauged by
the idiomatic way in which he handles these _Anhängsel_. Adjectives
are uninflected.

The use of the pronouns involves an extensive knowledge of Oriental
etiquette--some being used by the natives among one another, some
between Europeans and natives, some employed when an inferior
addresses a superior and _vice versa_, some used only when the native
addresses his prince or sovereign; and, last of all, some being
distinctly literary, and never employed colloquially. Into this maze
one must go undaunted, and trust to time and patience to smooth out

Verbs, like nouns, are primitive and derivative, with some few
auxiliaries and a good many particles which are suffixed or prefixed
to indicate various states and conditions. These things are apt to be
confusing, and when the student learns that a verb may be past,
present, or future without any change in form, he does not know
whether to congratulate himself or not. Prepositions, too, are many
and expressive; conjunctions, some colloquial, some pedantic.

We now come to a peculiarity which Malay has in common with other
Indo-Chinese languages--the "numeral co-efficients," as Maxwell calls
them, which are always employed with a certain class of objects, just
as we say "head" of horses, "sail" of ships, etc. They are very many
as compared with English, and very idiomatic in their use. For
instance, the Malay says, "Europeans, three _persons_," "cats, four
_tails_," "ships, five _fruits_," "cocoanuts, three _seeds_," "spears,
two _stems_," "planks, five _pieces_," "houses, two _ladders_," and so
on to fifteen or twenty different classes of articles or objects. By
some this has been regarded as a peculiarity of the languages of
southeastern Asia; but the same thing may be noticed in the Indian
languages of our own continent.

As a language Malay is easily learned and has much to repay for so
doing. It is full of wonders and surprises--among other things is the
natural home of euphemism, where a spade is called anything but a
spade. For instance, to die is beautifully expressed in Malay as a
return to the mercy of Allah. The language is decidedly rich in
poetical expression and imagery. A neighbor is one whom you permit to
ascend the ladder of your cottage, and your friend is a sharer of your
joys and sorrows. Interest is the flower of money, a spring is an eye
of water, the sun the eye of day, and a policeman all eyes. A walk is
a stroll to eat the wind, a man drunk is one who rides a green horse,
and a coward a duck without spurs. A flatterer is one who has sugar
cane on his lips, a sharper is a man of brains, a fool a brain-lacker.

In his proverbs also the Malay shows a matchless use of metaphor and
imagery, his words having the softness of the jungle breeze, and at
the same time the grimness of the jungle shades. Nowhere does the
nature of his race or the peculiar genius of his language show out
better than in these terse, pithy sayings which the Malay uses to
sweeten his speech or lend effectiveness to it. The real Malay is a
creature of the forest or the sea, whence he draws his livelihood, and
it is but natural that he should envelop his daily and perhaps
dangerous life with homely philosophy. He loves the freedom which he
enjoys; take him away from it and he eats his heart out in
homesickness. "Though you feed a jungle fowl from a golden plate, it
will return to the jungle again." In his humble life he has discovered
that blood, be it good or bad, counts for something, and he thinks of
the forest lairs; "a kitten and small, but a tiger's cub." He is beset
with dangers by sea and land; often he is between the devil and the
deep. "One may escape the tiger, and fall into the jaws of the
crocodile." He recognizes the inevitable, and draws what consolation
he can. "When the prow is wrecked the shark gets his fill"--a very
stoical recognition of ill winds. "For fear of the ghost he hugs the
corpse," is often the solution of his dilemma. Sometimes he indulges
in drollery, but is never unphilosophical. "To love one's children,
one must weep for them now and then; to love one's wife, one must
leave her now and then." The language is full of such expressions;
they are the natural products of the speech of a poetical and
Nature-loving folk. Without attempting a classification we give a few
of the most characteristic proverbs, drawing largely on a collection
made in the Malay Peninsula by W. E. Maxwell, at one time British
resident there:

  Will the crocodile respect the carcass?
  Follow your heart, death; follow your feelings, destruction.
  You find grasshoppers where you find a field.
  Earth does not become grain.
  Don't grind pepper for a bird on the wing.
  The flower comes, age comes.
  When the father is spotted, the son is spotted.
  The plant sprouts before it climbs.
  When he can't wring the ear, he pulls the horn.
  The creel says the basket is poorly made.
  Ask from one who has,
  Make vows at a shrine,
  Sulk with him who loves you.
  When the house is done the chisel finds fault.
  As the crow goes back to his nest (no richer, no poorer).
  Whoever eats chilies burns his mouth.
  Because of the mouth the body comes to harm.
  If you are at the river's mouth at nightfall, what's the use of
    talking of return?
  A broken thread may be mended, but charcoal never.
  The pea forgets its pod.
  As water rolls from a _kladi_ leaf.
  A shipwrecked vessel may float again, a heart once broken is broken
  It is a project, and the result with God.
  He carries a torch in daylight.
  A slave who does well is never praised; if he does badly, never
  It rains gold afar, but stone at home.
  What if you sit on a cushion of gold with an uneasy mind!
  When money leaves, your friend goes.
  If you dip your hand into the fish tub, go to the bottom.
  Whoever digs a hole falls into it himself.
  If your legs are long, have your blanket long.
  Like a frog under a cocoanut shell, he thinks he sees the sky.
  If you can't get rattan, bind with roots.
  The plantain does not bear twice.
  He sits like a cat, but leaps like a tiger.
  The tortoise lays a thousand eggs and tells no one; the hen lays a
    single egg and tells all the world.
  Those will die of thirst who empty the jar when it thunders in a dry
  Handsome as a princess, poisonous as a snake.
  Small as an ant, wise as a mouse-deer.



Cachalots, or sperm whales, must have been captured on the coasts of
Europe in a desultory way from a very early date, by the incidental
allusions to the prime products spermaceti and ambergris which are
found in so many ancient writers. Shakespeare's reference--"The
sovereign'st thing on earth was parmaceti for an inward bruise"--will
be familiar to most people, as well as Milton's mention of the
delicacies at Satan's feast--"Grisamber steamed"--not to carry
quotation any further.

But in the year 1690 the brave and hardy fishermen of the northeast
coasts of North America established that systematic pursuit of the
cachalot which has thriven so wonderfully ever since, although it must
be confessed that the last few years have witnessed a serious decline
in this great branch of trade.

For many years the American colonists completely engrossed this branch
of the whale fishery, contentedly leaving to Great Britain and the
continental nations the monopoly of the northern or arctic fisheries,
while they cruised the stormy, if milder, seas around their own

As, however, the number of ships engaged increased, it was inevitable
that the known grounds should become exhausted, and in 1788, Messrs.
Enderby's ship, the Emilia, first ventured round Cape Horn, as the
pioneer of a greater trade than ever. The way once pointed out, other
ships were not slow to follow, until, in 1819, the British whale ship
Syren opened up the till then unexplored tract of ocean in the western
part of the North Pacific, afterward familiarly known as the "Coast of
Japan." From these teeming waters alone, for many years an average
annual catch of forty thousand barrels of oil was taken, which, at the
average price of £8 per barrel, will give some idea of the value of
the trade generally.

From the crushing blow of the civil war the American sperm-whale
fishery has never fully recovered. When the writer was in the trade,
some twenty-two years ago, it was credited with a fleet of between
three and four hundred sail; now it may be doubted whether the numbers
reach an eighth of that amount. A rigid conservatism of method hinders
any revival of the industry, which is practically conducted to-day as
it was fifty or even a hundred years ago; and it is probable that
another decade will witness the final extinction of what was once one
of the most important maritime industries in the world.

In the following pages an attempt has been made--it is believed for
the first time--to give an account of the cruise of a South Sea whaler
from the seaman's standpoint. Its aim is to present to the general
reader a simple account of the methods employed and the dangers met
with in a calling about which the great mass of the public knows
absolutely nothing.

       *       *       *       *       *

At the age of eighteen, after a sea experience of six years from the
time when I dodged about London streets, a ragged Arab, with wits
sharpened by the constant fight for food, I found myself roaming the
streets of New Bedford, Massachusetts.

My money was all gone, I was hungry for a ship; and so, when a long,
keen-looking man with a goatlike beard, and mouth stained with dry
tobacco juice, hailed me one afternoon at the street corner, I
answered very promptly, scenting a berth. "Lookin' fer a ship,
stranger?" said he. "Yes; do you want a hand?" said I anxiously. He
made a funny little sound something like a pony's whinny, then
answered: "Wall, I should surmise that I want between fifty and sixty
hands, ef yew kin lay me onto 'em; but, kem along, every dreep's a
drop, an' yew seem likely enough." With that he turned and led the way
until we reached a building, around which was gathered one of the most
nondescript crowds I had ever seen. There certainly did not appear to
be a sailor among them--not so much by their rig, though that is not a
great deal to go by, but by their actions and speech. However, I
signed and passed on, engaged to go I knew not where, in some ship I
did not know even the name of, in which I was to receive I did not
know how much or how little for my labor, nor how long I was going to
be away.

From the time we signed the articles, we were never left to ourselves.
Truculent-looking men accompanied us to our several boarding houses,
paid our debts for us, finally bringing us by boat to a ship lying out
in the bay. As we passed under her stern, I read the name Cachalot, of
New Bedford; but as soon as we ranged alongside, I realized that I was
booked for the sailor's horror--a cruise in a whaler. Badly as I
wanted to get to sea, I had not bargained for this, and would have run
some risks to get ashore again; but they took no chances, so we were
all soon aboard. Before going forward, I took a comprehensive glance
around, and saw that I was on board of a vessel belonging to a type
which has almost disappeared off the face of the waters. A more
perfect contrast to the trim-built English clipper ships that I had
been accustomed to I could hardly imagine. She was one of a class
characterized by sailors as "built by the mile, and cut off in lengths
as you want 'em," bow and stern almost alike, masts standing straight
as broomsticks, and bowsprit soaring upward at an angle of about
forty-five degrees. She was as old-fashioned in her rig as in her
hull. Right in the center of the deck, occupying a space of about ten
feet by eight, was a square erection of brickwork, upon which my
wondering gaze rested longest, for I had not the slightest idea what
it could be. But I was rudely roused from my meditations by the harsh
voice of one of the officers, who shouted, "Naow then, git below an'
stow yer dunnage, 'n look lively up agin!" Tumbling down the steep
ladder, I entered the gloomy den which was to be for so long my home,
finding it fairly packed with my shipmates. The whole space was
undivided by partition, but I saw at once that black men and white had
separated themselves, the blacks taking the port side and the whites
the starboard. Finding a vacant bunk by the dim glimmer of the ancient
teapot lamp that hung amidships, giving out as much smoke as light, I
hurriedly shifted my coat for a "jumper" or blouse, put on an old cap,
and climbed into the fresh air again. Even _my_ seasoned head was
feeling bad with the villainous reek of the place. I had hardly
reached the deck when I was confronted by a negro, the biggest I ever
saw in my life. He looked me up and down for a moment, then opening
his ebony features in a wide smile, he said: "Great snakes! why,
here's a sailor man for sure! Guess thet's so, ain't it, Johnny?" I
said "yes" very curtly, for I hardly liked his patronizing air; but he
snapped me up short with "yes, _sir_, when yew speak to me, yew blank
limejuicer. I'se de fourf mate of dis yar ship, en my name's Mistah
Jones, 'n yew jest freeze on to dat ar, ef yew want ter lib long 'n
die happy. See, sonny?" I _saw_, and answered promptly, "I beg your
pardon, sir, I didn't know." "Ob cawse yew didn't know, dat's all
right, little Britisher; naow jest skip aloft 'n loose dat
fore-taupsle." "Ay, ay, sir," I answered cheerily, springing at once
into the fore-rigging and up the ratlines like a monkey, but not too
fast to hear him chuckle, "Dat's a smart kiddy, I bet." On deck I
could see a crowd at the windlass heaving up anchor. I said to myself,
"They don't waste any time getting this packet away." Evidently they
were not anxious to test any of the crew's swimming powers. They were
wise, for had she remained at anchor that night I verily believe some
of the poor wretches would have tried to escape.

The anchor came aweigh, the sails were sheeted home, and I returned on
deck to find the ship gathering way for the heads, fairly started on
her long voyage.

Before nightfall we were fairly out to sea, and the ceremony of
dividing the crew into watches was gone through. I found myself in the
chief mate's or "port" watch (they called it "larboard," a term I had
never heard used before, it having long been obsolete in merchant
ships), though the huge negro fourth mate seemed none too well pleased
that I was not under his command, his being the starboard watch under
the second mate.

I was pounced upon next morning by "Mistah" Jones, the fourth mate,
whom I heard addressed familiarly as "Goliath" and "Anak" by his
brother officers, and ordered to assist him in rigging the
"crow's-nest" at the main royal-mast head. It was a simple affair.
There were a pair of cross-trees fitted to the mast, upon which was
secured a tiny platform about a foot wide on each side of the mast,
while above this foothold a couple of padded hoops like a pair of
giant spectacles were secured at a little higher than a man's waist.
When all was fast one could creep up on the platform, through the
hoop, and, resting his arms upon the latter, stand comfortably and
gaze around, no matter how vigorously the old barky plunged and kicked
beneath him. From that lofty eerie I had a comprehensive view of the
vessel. She was about three hundred and fifty tons and full
ship-rigged--that is to say, she carried square sails on all three
masts. Her deck was flush fore and aft, the only obstructions being
the brick-built "try-works" in the waist, the galley, and cabin
skylight right aft by the taffrail. Her bulwarks were set thickly
round with clumsy-looking wooden cranes, from which depended five
boats. Two more boats were secured bottom up upon a gallows aft, so
she seemed to be well supplied in that direction.

The weather being fine, with a steady northeast wind blowing, so that
the sails required no attention, work proceeded steadily all the
morning. The oars were sorted, examined for flaws, and placed in the
boats; the whale line, Manilla rope like yellow silk, an inch and a
half round, was brought on deck, stretched, and coiled down with the
greatest care into tubs holding, some two hundred fathoms, and others
one hundred fathoms each. New harpoons were fitted to poles of rough
but heavy wood, without any attempt at neatness but every attention to
strength. The shape of these weapons was not, as is generally thought,
that of an arrow, but rather like an arrow with one huge barb, the
upper part of which curved out from the shaft. The whole of the barb
turned on a stout pivot of steel, but was kept in line with the shaft
by a tiny wooden peg which passed through barb and shaft, being then
cut off smoothly on both sides. The point of the harpoon had at one
side a wedge-shaped edge, ground to razor keenness; the other side was
flat. The shaft, about thirty inches long, was of the best malleable
iron, so soft that it would tie into a knot and straighten out again
without fracture. Three harpoons, or "irons" as they were always
called, were placed in each boat, fitted one above the other in the
starboard bow, the first for use being always one unused before.
Opposite to them in the boat were fitted three lances for the purpose
of _killing_ whales, the harpoons being only the means by which the
boat was attached to a fish, and quite useless to inflict a fatal
wound. These lances were slender spears of malleable iron about four
feet long, with oval or heart-shaped points of fine steel about two
inches broad, their edges kept keen as a surgeon's lancet. By means of
a socket at the other end they were attached to neat handles, or
"lance poles," about as long again, the whole weapon being thus about
eight feet in length, and furnished with a light line, or "lance
warp," for the purpose of drawing it back again when it had been
darted at a whale. The other furniture of a boat comprised five oars
of varying lengths from sixteen to nine feet, one great steering oar
of nineteen feet, a mast and two sails of great area for so small a
craft, spritsail shape; two tubs of whale line containing together
eighteen hundred feet, a keg of drinking water, and another long,
narrow one with a few biscuits, a lantern, candles and matches
therein; a bucket and "piggin" for baling, a small spade, a flag or
"wheft," a shoulder bomb gun and ammunition, two knives, and two small
axes. A rudder hung outside by the stern.

With all this gear, although snugly stowed, a boat looked so loaded
that I could not help wondering how six men would be able to work in
her; but, like most "deep-water" sailors, I knew very little about
boating. I was going to learn.

The reports I had always heard of the laziness prevailing on board
whale ships were now abundantly falsified. From dawn to dark work went
on without cessation. Everything was rubbed and scrubbed and scoured
until no speck or soil could be found; indeed, no gentleman's yacht or
man-of-war is kept more spotlessly clean than was the Cachalot.

On the fourth day after leaving port we were all busy as usual except
the four men in the "crow's-nests," when a sudden cry of "Porps!
porps!" brought everything to a standstill. A large school of
porpoises had just joined us, in their usual clownish fashion, rolling
and tumbling around the bows as the old barky wallowed along,
surrounded by a wide ellipse of snowy foam. All work was instantly
suspended, and active preparations made for securing a few of these
frolicsome fellows. A "block," or pulley, was bung out at the bowsprit
end, a whale line passed through it and "bent" (fastened) on to a
harpoon. Another line with a running "bowline," or slip noose, was
also passed out to the bowsprit end, being held there by one man in
readiness. Then one of the harpooners ran out along the back ropes,
which keep the jib boom down, taking his stand beneath the bowsprit
with the harpoon ready. Presently he raised his iron and followed the
track of a rising porpoise with its point until the creature broke
water. At the same instant the weapon left his grasp, apparently
without any force behind it; but we on deck, holding the line, soon
found that our excited hauling lifted a big vibrating body clean out
of the smother beneath. "'Vast hauling!" shouted the mate, while, as
the porpoise hung dangling, the harpooner slipped the ready bowline
over his body, gently closing its grip round the "small" by the broad
tail. Then we hauled on the noose line, slacking away the harpoon, and
in a minute had our prize on deck. He was dragged away at once and the
operation repeated. Again and again we hauled them in, until the fore
part of the deck was alive with the kicking, writhing sea pigs, at
least twenty of them. All hands were soon busy skinning the blubber
from the bodies. Porpoises have no skin--that is, hide--the blubber or
coating of lard which incases them being covered by a black substance
as thin as tissue paper. The porpoise hide of the bootmaker is really
leather, made from the skin of the _Beluga_, or "white whale," which
is found only in the far north. The cover was removed from the
"try-works" amidships, revealing two gigantic pots set in a frame of
brickwork side by side, capable of holding two hundred gallons
each--such a cooking apparatus as might have graced a Brobdingnagian
kitchen. Beneath the pots was the very simplest of furnaces, hardly as
elaborate as the familiar copper hole sacred to washing day. Square
funnels of sheet iron were loosely fitted to the flues, more as a
protection against the oil boiling over into the fire than to carry
away the smoke, of which from the peculiar nature of the fuel there
was very little. At one side of the try-works was a large wooden
vessel, or "hopper," to contain the raw blubber; at the other, a
copper cistern or cooler of about three hundred gallons capacity, into
which the prepared oil was baled to cool off, preliminary to its being
poured into the casks. Beneath the furnaces was a space as large as
the whole area of the try-works, about a foot deep, which, when the
fires were lighted, was filled with water to prevent the deck from

It may be imagined that the blubber from our twenty porpoises made but
a poor show in one of the pots; nevertheless, we got a barrel of very
excellent oil from them. The fires were fed with "scrap," or pieces of
blubber from which the oil had been boiled, some of which had been
reserved from the previous voyage. They burned with a fierce and
steady blaze, leaving but a trace of ash. I was then informed by one
of the harpooners that no other fuel was ever used for boiling blubber
at any time, there being always amply sufficient for the purpose.

We were now in the haunts of the sperm whale, or "cachalot," a
brilliant lookout being continually kept for any signs of their
appearing. One officer and a foremast hand were continually on watch
during the day in the main crow's-nest, one harpooner and a seaman in
the fore one. A bounty of ten pounds of tobacco was offered to whoever
should first report a whale, should it be secured; consequently there
were no sleepy eyes up there.

At last, one beautiful day, the boats were lowered and manned, and
away went the greenies on their first practical lesson in the business
of the voyage. There were two greenies in each boat, they being so
arranged that whenever one of them "caught a crab," which of course
was about every other stroke, his failure made little difference to
the boat's progress. They learned very fast under the terrible
imprecations and storm of blows from the iron-fisted and iron-hearted
officers, so that before the day was out the skipper was satisfied of
our ability to deal with a "fish" should he be lucky enough to "raise"
one. I was, in virtue of my experience, placed at the after oar in the
mate's boat, where it was my duty to attend to the "main sheet" when
the sail was set, where also I had the benefit of the lightest oar
except the small one used by the harpooner in the bow.

The very next day after our first exhaustive boat drill, a school of
"blackfish" was reported from aloft, and with great glee the officers
prepared for what they considered a rattling day's fun.

The blackfish (_Phocæna sp._) is a small toothed whale, not at all
unlike a miniature cachalot, except that its head is rounded at the
front, while its jaw is not long and straight, but bowed. It is as
frolicsome as the porpoise, gamboling about in schools of from twenty
to fifty or more, as if really delighted to be alive. Its average size
is from ten to twenty feet long and seven or eight feet in girth;
weight, from one to three tons. Blubber about three inches thick,
while the head is almost all oil, so that a good rich specimen will
make between one and two barrels of oil of medium quality.

We lowered and left the ship, pulling right toward the school, the
noise they were making in their fun effectually preventing them from
hearing our approach. It is etiquette to allow the mate's boat first
place, unless his crew is so weak as to be unable to hold their own;
but as the mate always has first pick of the men this seldom happens.
So, as usual, we were first, and soon I heard the order given, "Stand
up, Louey, and let 'em have it!" Sure enough, here we were right
among them. Louis let drive, "fastening" a whopper about twenty feet
long. The injured animal plunged madly forward, accompanied by his
fellows, while Louis calmly bent another iron to a "short warp," or
piece of whale line, the loose end of which he made a bowline with
round the main line which was fast to the "fish." Then he fastened
another "fish," and the queer sight was seen of these two monsters
each trying to flee in opposite directions, while the second one
ranged about alarmingly as his "bridle" ran along the main line.
Another one was secured in the same way, then the game was indeed
great. The school had by this time taken the alarm and cleared out,
but the other boats were all fast to fish, so that didn't matter. Now,
at the rate our "game" were going, it would evidently be a long while
before they died, although, being so much smaller than a whale proper,
a harpoon will often kill them at a stroke. Yet they were now so
tangled or "snarled erp," as the mate said, that it was no easy matter
to lance them without great danger of cutting the line. However, we
hauled up as close to them as we dared, and the harpooner got a good
blow in, which gave the biggest of the three "Jesse," as he said,
though why "Jesse" was a stumper. Anyhow, it killed him promptly,
while almost directly after another one saved further trouble by
passing in his own checks. But he sank at the same time, drawing the
first one down with him, so that we were in considerable danger of
having to cut them adrift or be swamped. The "wheft" was waved thrice
as an urgent signal to the ship to come to our assistance with all
speed, but in the meantime our interest lay in the surviving blackfish
keeping alive. Should _he_ die and, as was most probable, sink, we
should certainly have to cut and loose the lot, tools included.

We waited in grim silence while the ship came up, so slowly,
apparently, that she hardly seemed to move, but really at a good pace
of about four knots an hour, which for her was not at all bad. She got
alongside of us at last, and we passed up the bight of our line, our
fish all safe, very much pleased with ourselves, especially when we
found that the other boats had only five between the three of them.

Chain slings were passed around the carcasses, the end of the "fall,"
or tackle rope, was taken to the windlass, and we hove away cheerily,
lifting the monsters right on deck. A mountainous pile they made.
After dinner all hands turned to again to "flench" the blubber and
prepare for trying out. This was a heavy job, keeping us busy until it
was quite dark, the latter part of the work being carried on by the
light of a "cresset," the flames of which were fed with "scrap," which
blazed brilliantly, throwing a big glare over all the ship. The last
of the carcasses was launched overboard by about eight o'clock that
evening, but not before some vast junks of beef had been cut off and
hung up in the rigging for our food supply.

"Trying out" went on busily all night, and by nightfall of the next
day the ship had resumed her normal appearance, and we were a tun and
a quarter of oil to the good. Blackfish oil is of medium quality, but
I learned that, according to the rule of "roguery in all trades," it
was the custom to mix quantities such as we had just obtained with
better class whale oil, and thus get a much higher price than it was
really worth.

We had now been eight days out, having had nothing, so far, but steady
breezes and fine weather. As it was late autumn--the first week in
October--I rather wondered at this, for even in my brief experience I
had learned to dread a "fall" voyage across the "Western Ocean."

Gradually the face of the sky changed, and the feel of the air, from
balmy and genial, became raw and cheerless. The little wave tops broke
short off and blew backward, apparently against the wind, while the
old vessel had an uneasy, unnatural motion, caused by a long, new
swell rolling athwart the existing set of the sea.

We were evidently in for a fair specimen of Western Ocean weather, but
the clumsy-looking, old-fashioned Cachalot made no more fuss over it
than one of the long-winged sea birds that floated around, intent only
upon snapping up any stray scraps that might escape from us. Higher
rose the wind, heavier rolled the sea, yet never a drop of water did
we ship, nor did anything about the deck betoken what a heavy gale was
blowing. During the worst of the weather, and just after the wind had
shifted back into the northeast, making an uglier cross sea than ever
get up, along comes an immense four-masted iron ship homeward bound.
She was staggering under a veritable mountain of canvas, fairly
burying her bows in the foam at every forward drive, and actually
wetting the clews of the upper topsails in the smothering masses of
spray, that every few minutes almost hid her hull from sight.

It was a splendid picture; but--for the time--I felt glad I was not on
board of her. In a very few minutes she was out of our ken, followed
by the admiration of all. Then came, from the other direction, a huge
steamship, taking no more notice of the gale than as if it were calm.
Straight through the sea she rushed, dividing the mighty rollers to
the heart, and often bestriding three seas at once, the center one
spreading its many tons of foaming water fore and aft, so that from
every orifice spouted the seething brine. Compared with these
greyhounds of the wave, we resembled nothing so much as some old
lightship bobbing serenely around, as if part and parcel of the

The gale gradually blew itself out, leaving behind only a long and
very heavy swell to denote the deep-reaching disturbance that the
ocean had endured. And now we were within the range of the sargasso
weed, that mysterious _fucus_ that makes the ocean look like some vast
hayfield, and keeps the sea from rising, no matter how high the wind.
It fell a dead calm, and the harpooners amused themselves by dredging
up great masses of the weed, and turning out the many strange
creatures abiding therein.

We were all gathered about the fo'lk'sle scuttle one evening, a few
days after the gale referred to above, and the question of
whale-fishing came up for discussion. Until that time, strange as it
may seem, no word of this, the central idea of all our minds, had been
mooted. Every man seemed to shun the subject, although we were in
daily expectation of being called upon to take an active part in
whale-fighting. Once the ice was broken, nearly all had something to
say about it, and very nearly as many addle-headed opinions were
ventilated as at a Colney Hatch debating society. For we none of us
_knew_ anything about it. It was Saturday evening, and while at home
people were looking forward to a day's respite from work and care, I
felt that the coming day, though never taken much notice of on board,
was big with the probabilities of strife such as I at least had at
present no idea of--so firmly was I possessed by the prevailing

The night was very quiet. A gentle breeze was blowing, and the sky was
of the usual "trade" character--that is, a dome of dark blue fringed
at the horizon with peaceful cumulus clouds, almost motionless. I
turned in at 4 A. M. from the middle watch and, as usual, slept like a
babe. Suddenly I started wide awake, a long, mournful sound sending a
thrill to my very heart. As I listened breathlessly, other sounds of
the same character but in different tones joined in, human voices
monotonously intoning in long-drawn-out expirations the single word
"bl-o-o-o-ow." Then came a hurricane of noise overhead, and
adjurations in no gentle language to the sleepers to "tumble up lively
there, no skulking, sperm whales." At last, then, fulfilling all the
presentiments of yesterday, the long-dreaded moment had arrived.
Happily, there was no time for hesitation; in less than two minutes we
were all on deck, and hurrying to our respective boats. The skipper
was in the main crow's-nest with his binoculars. Presently he shouted:
"Naow then, Mr. Count, lower away soon's y'like. Small pod o' cows,
an' one 'r two bulls layin' off to west'ard of 'em." Down went the
boats into the water quietly enough; we all scrambled in and shoved
off. A stroke or two of the oars were given to get clear of the ship
and one another, then oars were shipped and up went the sails. As I
took my allotted place at the main-sheet, and the beautiful craft
started off like some big bird, Mr. Count leaned forward, saying
impressively to me: "Y'r a smart youngster, an' I've kinder took
t'yer; but don't ye look ahead an' get gallied, 'r I'll knock ye
stiff wi' th' tiller; y'hear me? N' don't ye dare to make thet sheet
fast, 'r ye'll die so sudden y' won't know whar y'r hurted." I said as
cheerfully as I could, "All right, sir," trying to look unconcerned,
telling myself not to be a coward, and all sorts of things; but the
cold truth is that I was scared almost to death, because I didn't know
what was coming. However, I did the best thing under the
circumstances, obeyed orders and looked steadily astern, or up into
the bronzed impassive face of my chief, who towered above me, scanning
with eagle eyes the sea ahead. The other boats were coming flying
along behind us, spreading wider apart as they came, while in the bows
of each stood the harpooner with his right hand on his first iron,
which lay ready, pointing over the bow in a raised fork of wood called
the "crutch."

All of a sudden, at a motion of the chief's hand, the peak of our
mainsail was dropped, and the boat swung up into the wind, laying
"hove to," almost stationary. The centerboard was lowered to stop her
drifting to leeward, although I can not say it made much difference
that ever I saw. _Now_, what's the matter? I thought, when to my
amazement the chief addressing me said, "Wonder why we've hauled up,
don't ye?" "Yes, sir, I do," said I. "Wall," said he, "the fish hev
sounded, an' 'ef we run over 'em, we've seen the last ov 'em. So we
wait awhile till they rise agin, 'n then we'll prob'ly git thar' 'r
thareabouts before they sound agin." With this explanation I had to be
content, although if it be no clearer to my readers than it then was
to me, I shall have to explain myself more fully later on. Silently we
lay, rocking lazily upon the gentle swell, no other word being spoken
by any one. At last Louis, the harpooner, gently breathed "Blo-o-o-w";
and there, sure enough, not half a mile away on the lee beam, was a
little bushy cloud of steam apparently rising from the sea. At almost
the same time as we kept away all the other boats did likewise, and
just then, catching sight of the ship, the reason for this apparently
concerted action was explained. At the mainmast head of the ship was a
square blue flag, and the ensign at the peak was being dipped. These
were signals well understood and promptly acted upon by those in
charge of the boats, who were thus guided from a point of view at
least one hundred feet above the sea.

"Stand up, Louey," the mate murmured softly. I only just stopped
myself in time from turning my head to see why the order was given.
Suddenly there was a bump, at the same moment the mate yelled, "Give't
to him, Louey, give't to him!" and to me, "Haul that main sheet, naow
haul, why don't ye?" I hauled it flat aft, and the boat shot up into
the wind, rubbing sides as she did so with what to my troubled sight
seemed an enormous mass of black India rubber floating. As we
_crawled_ up into the wind, the whale went into convulsions befitting
his size and energy. He raised a gigantic tail on high, thrashing the
water with deafening blows, rolling at the same time from side to side
until the surrounding sea was white with froth. I felt in an agony
lest we should be crushed under one of those fearful strokes, for Mr.
Count appeared to be oblivious of possible danger, although we seemed
to be now drifting back on to the writhing leviathan. In the agitated
condition of the sea it was a task of no ordinary difficulty to unship
the tall mast, which was of course the first thing to be done. After a
desperate struggle, and a narrow escape from falling overboard of one
of the men, we got the long "stick," with the sail bundled around it,
down and "fleeted" aft, where it was secured by the simple means of
sticking the "heel" under the after thwart, two thirds of the mast
extending out over the stern. Meanwhile, we had certainly been in a
position of the greatest danger, our immunity from damage being
unquestionably due to anything but precaution taken to avoid it.

By the time the oars were handled, and the mate had exchanged places
with the harpooner, our friend the enemy had "sounded"--that is, he
had gone below for a change of scene, marveling, no doubt, what
strange thing had befallen him. Agreeably to the accounts which I,
like most boys, had read of the whale-fishery, I looked for the
rushing of the line round the loggerhead (a stout wooden post built
into the boat aft), to raise a cloud of smoke with occasional bursts
of flame; so, as it began to slowly surge round the post, I timidly
asked the harpooner whether I should throw any water on it. "Wot for?"
growled he, as he took a couple more turns with it. Not knowing "what
for," and hardly liking to quote my authorities here, I said no more,
but waited events. "Hold him up, Louey, hold him up, cain't ye?"
shouted the mate, and to my horror, down went the nose of the boat
almost under water, while at the mate's order everybody scrambled aft
into the elevated stern sheets.

The line sang quite a tune as it was grudgingly allowed to surge round
the loggerhead, filling one with admiration at the strength shown by
such a small rope. This sort of thing went on for about twenty
minutes, in which time we quite emptied the large tub and began on the
small one.

Suddenly our boat fell backward from her "slantindicular" position
with a jerk, and the mate immediately shouted, "Haul line, there! look
lively, now! you--so on, etcetera, etcetera" (he seemed to invent new
epithets on every occasion). The line came in hand over hand, and was
coiled in a wide heap in the stern sheets, for, silky as it was, it
could not be expected in its wet state to lie very close. As it came
flying in, the mate kept a close gaze upon the water immediately
beneath us, apparently for the first glimpse of our antagonist. When
the whale broke water, however, he was some distance off, and
apparently as quiet as a lamb. Now, had Mr. Count been a prudent or
less ambitious man, our task would doubtless have been an easy one, or
comparatively so; but, being a little over-grasping, he got us all
into serious trouble. We were hauling up to our whale in order to
lance it, and the mate was standing, lance in hand, only waiting to
get near enough, when up comes a large whale right alongside of our
boat, so close, indeed, that I might have poked my finger in his
little eye, if I had chosen. The sight of that whale at liberty, and
calmly taking stock of us like that, was too much for the mate. He
lifted his lance and hurled it at the visitor, in whose broad flank it
sank, like a knife into butter, right up to the pole-hitches. The
recipient disappeared like a flash, but before one had time to think,
there was an awful crash beneath us, and the mate shot up into the air
like a bomb from a mortar. He came down in a sitting posture on the
mast thwart; but as he fell, the whole framework of the boat collapsed
like a derelict umbrella. Louis quietly chopped the line and severed
our connection with the other whale, while in accordance with our
instructions we drew each man his oar across the boat and lashed it
firmly down with a piece of line spliced to each thwart for the
purpose. This simple operation took but a minute, but before it was
completed we were all up to our necks in the sea--still in the boat,
it is true, and therefore not in such danger of drowning as if we were
quite adrift; but, considering that the boat was reduced to a mere
bundle of loose planks, I, at any rate, was none too comfortable. Now,
had he known it, was the whale's golden opportunity; but he, poor
wretch, had had quite enough of our company, and cleared off without
any delay, wondering, no doubt, what fortunate accident had rid him of
our very unpleasant attentions.

I was assured that we were all as safe as if we were on board the
ship, to which I answered nothing; but, like Jack's parrot, I did some
powerful thinking. Every little wave that came along swept clean over
our heads, sometimes coming so suddenly as to cut a breath in half. If
the wind should increase--but no--I wouldn't face the possibility of
such a disagreeable thing. I was cool enough now in a double sense,
for, although we were in the tropics, we soon got thoroughly chilled.

Help came at last, and we were hauled alongside. Long exposure had
weakened us to such an extent that it was necessary to hoist us on
board, especially the mate, whose "sudden stop," when he returned to
us after his little aërial excursion, had shaken his sturdy frame
considerably, a state of body which the subsequent soaking had by no
means improved. In my innocence I imagined that we should be
commiserated for our misfortunes by Captain Slocum, and certainly be
relieved from further duties until we were a little recovered from the
rough treatment we had just undergone. But I never made a greater
mistake. The skipper cursed us all (except the mate, whose sole fault
the accident undoubtedly was) with a fluency and vigor that was, to
put it mildly, discouraging.

A couple of slings were passed around the boat, by means of which she
was carefully hoisted on board, a mere dilapidated bundle of sticks
and raffle of gear. She was at once removed aft out of the way, the
business of cutting in the whale claiming precedence over everything
else just then. The preliminary proceedings consisted of rigging the
"cutting stage." This was composed of two stout planks a foot wide and
ten feet long, the inner ends of which were suspended by strong ropes
over the ship's side about four feet from the water, while the outer
extremities were upheld by tackles from the main rigging, and a small
crane abreast the try-works.

These planks were about thirty feet apart, their two outer ends being
connected by a massive plank which was securely bolted to them. A
handrail about as high as a man's waist, supported by light iron
stanchions, ran the full length of this plank on the side nearest the
ship, the whole fabric forming an admirable standing place whence the
officers might, standing in comparative comfort, cut and carve at the
great mass below to their hearts' content.

So far the prize had been simply held alongside by the whale line,
which at death had been "rove" through a hole cut in the solid gristle
of the tail; but now it became necessary to secure the carcass to the
ship in some more permanent fashion. Therefore, a massive chain like a
small ship's cable was brought forward, and in a very ingenious way,
by means of a tiny buoy and a hand lead, passed round the body, one
end brought through a ring in the other, and hauled upon until it
fitted tight round the "small" or part of the whale next the broad
spread of the tail. The free end of the fluke chain was then passed in
through a mooring pipe forward, firmly secured to a massive bitt at
the heel of the bowsprit (the fluke-chain bitt), and all was ready.

The first thing to be done was to cut the whale's head off. This
operation, involving the greatest amount of labor in the whole of the
cutting in, was taken in hand by the first and second mates, who,
armed with twelve-foot spades, took their station upon the stage,
leaned over the handrail to steady themselves, and plunged their
weapons vigorously down through the massive neck of the animal--if
neck it could be said to have--following a well-defined crease in the
blubber. At the same time the other officers passed a heavy chain
sling around the long, narrow lower jaw, hooking one of the big
cutting tackles into it, the "fall" of which was then taken to the
windlass and hove tight, turning the whale on her back. A deep cut
was then made on both sides of the rising jaw, the windlass was kept
going, and gradually the whole of the throat was raised high enough
for a hole to be cut through its mass, into which the strap of the
second cutting tackle was inserted and secured by passing a huge
toggle of oak through its eye. The second tackle was then hove taut,
and the jaw, with a large piece of blubber attached, was cut off from
the body with a boarding knife, a tool not unlike a cutlass blade set
into a three-foot-long wooden handle.

Upon being severed the whole piece swung easily inboard and was
lowered on deck. The fast tackle was now hove upon while the third
mate on the stage cut down diagonally into the blubber on the body,
which the purchase ripped off in a broad strip or "blanket" about five
feet wide and a foot thick. Meanwhile the other two officers carved
away vigorously at the head, varying their labors by cutting a hole
right through the snout. This, when completed, received a heavy chain
for the purpose of securing the head. When the blubber had been about
half stripped off the body, a halt was called in order that the work
of cutting off the head might be finished, for it was a task of
incredible difficulty. It was accomplished at last, and the mass
floated astern by a stout rope, after which the windlass pawls
clattered merrily, the "blankets" rose in quick succession, and were
cut off and lowered into the square of the main hatch or "blubber
room." A short time sufficed to strip off the whole of the body
blubber, and when at last the tail was reached, the backbone was cut
through, the huge mass of flesh floating away to feed the innumerable
scavengers of the sea. No sooner was the last of the blubber lowered
into the hold than the hatches were put on and the head hauled up
alongside. Both tackles were secured to it and all hands took to the
windlass levers. This was a small cow whale of about thirty
barrels--that is, yielding that amount of oil--so it was just possible
to lift the entire head on board; but as it weighed as much as three
full-grown elephants, it was indeed a heavy lift for even our united
forces, trying our tackle to the utmost. The weather was very fine,
and the ship rolled but little; even then, the strain upon the mast
was terrific, and right glad was I when at last the immense cube of
fat, flesh, and bone was eased inboard and gently lowered on deck.

As soon as it was secured the work of dividing it began. From the
snout a triangular mass was cut, which was more than half pure
spermaceti. This substance was contained in spongy cells held together
by layers of dense white fiber, exceedingly tough and elastic, and
called by the whalers "white horse." The whole mass, or "junk," as it
is called, was hauled away to the ship's side and firmly lashed to the
bulwarks for the time being, so that it might not "take charge" of the
deck during the rest of the operations.

The upper part of the head was now slit open lengthwise, disclosing an
oblong cistern or "case" full of liquid spermaceti, clear as water.
This was baled out with buckets into a tank, concreting as it cooled
into a waxlike substance, bland and tasteless. There being now nothing
more remaining about the skull of any value, the lashings were loosed,
and the first leeward roll sent the great mass plunging overboard with
a mighty splash. It sank like a stone, eagerly followed by a few small
sharks that were hovering near.

As may be imagined, much oil was running about the deck, for so
saturated was every part of the creature with it that it really gushed
like water during the cutting-up process. None of it was allowed to
run to waste, though, for the scupper holes which drain the deck were
all carefully plugged, and as soon as the "junk" had been dissected
all the oil was carefully "squeegeed" up and poured into the try-pots.

Two men were now told off as "blubber-room men," whose duty it became
to go below and, squeezing themselves in as best they could between
the greasy mass of fat, cut it up into "horse-pieces" about eighteen
inches long and six inches square. Doing this, they became perfectly
saturated with oil, as if they had taken a bath in a tank of it; for
as the vessel rolled it was impossible to maintain a footing, and
every fall was upon blubber running with oil. A machine of wonderful
construction had been erected on deck in a kind of shallow trough
about six feet long by four feet wide and a foot deep. At some remote
period of time it had no doubt been looked upon as a triumph of
ingenuity, a patent mincing machine. Its action was somewhat like that
of a chaff-cutter, except that the knife was not attached to the
wheel, and only rose and fell, since it was not required to cut right
through the "horse-pieces" with which it was fed. It will be readily
understood that, in order to get the oil quickly out of the blubber,
it needs to be sliced as thin as possible, but for convenience in
handling the refuse (which is the only fuel used) it is not chopped up
in small pieces, but every "horse-piece" is very deeply scored as it
were, leaving a thin strip to hold the slices together. This, then,
was the order of work: Two harpooners attended the try-pots,
replenishing them with minced blubber from the hopper at the port
side, and baling out the sufficiently boiled oil into the great
cooling tank on the starboard. One officer superintended the mincing,
another exercised a general supervision over all. So we toiled watch
and watch, six hours on and six off, the work never ceasing for an
instant night or day. Though the work was hard and dirty, and the
discomfort of being so continually wet through with oil great, there
was only one thing dangerous about the whole business. That was the
job of filling and shifting the huge casks of oil. Some of these were
of enormous size, containing three hundred and fifty gallons when
full, and the work of moving them about the greasy deck of a rolling
ship was attended with a terrible amount of risk. For only four men at
most could get fair hold of a cask, and when she took it into her
silly old hull to start rolling, just as we had got one halfway across
the deck, with nothing to grip your feet, and the knowledge that one
stumbling man would mean a sudden slide of the ton and a half weight,
and a little heap of mangled corpses somewhere in the lee
scuppers--well, one always wanted to be very thankful when the
lashings were safely passed.

The whale being a small one, as before noted, the whole business was
over within three days, and the decks scrubbed and rescrubbed until
they had quite regained their normal whiteness. The oil was poured by
means of a funnel and long canvas hose into the casks stowed in the
ground tier at the bottom of the ship, and the gear, all carefully
cleaned and neatly "stopped up," stowed snugly away below again.


[13] From The Cruise of the Cachalot. By Frank T. Bullen.
(Illustrated.) New York: D. Appleton and Company. Pp. 379.


To Dr. Manly Miles belongs the distinction of having been the first
professor of practical agriculture in the United States, as he was
appointed to that then newly instituted position in the Michigan
Agricultural College in 1865.

Professor Miles was born in Homer, Cortland County, New York, July 20,
1826, the son of Manly Miles, a soldier of the Revolution; while his
mother, Mary Cushman, was a lineal descendant of Miles Standish and
Thomas Cushman, whose father, Joshua Cushman, joining the Mayflower
colony at Plymouth, Massachusetts, in 1621, left him there with
Governor Bradford when he returned to England.

When Manly, the son, was eleven years old, the family removed to
Flint, Michigan, where he employed his time in farm work and the
acquisition of knowledge, and later in teaching. He had a
common-school education, and improved all the time he could spare from
his regular occupations in reading and study. It is recorded of him in
those days that he was always successful in whatever he undertook. In
illustration of the skill and thoroughness with which he performed his
tasks, his sister relates an incident of his sowing plaster for the
first time, when his father expressed pleasure at his having
distributed the lime so evenly and so well. It appears that he did not
spare himself in doing the work, for so completely was he covered that
he is said to have looked like a plaster cast, "with only his bright
eyes shining through." A thrashing machine was brought on to the
farm, and Manly and his brother went round thrashing for the
neighbors. Industrious in study as well as in work, the boy never
neglected his more prosaic duties to gratify his thirst for knowledge.
He studied geometry while following the plow, drawing the problems on
a shingle, which he tacked to the plow-beam. Whenever he was missed
and inquiry was made about him, the answer invariably was, "Somewhere
with a book." He was most interested in the natural sciences,
particularly in chemistry in its applications to agriculture, and in
comparative physiology and anatomy, and was a diligent student and
collector of mollusks.

Choosing the profession of medicine, Mr. Miles was graduated M. D.
from Rush Medical College, Chicago, in 1850, and practiced till 1859.
In the meantime he became greatly interested in the subject of a
geographical survey of the State, for which an act was passed and
approved in 1858. In the organization of the survey, in 1859, he was
appointed Assistant State Geologist in the department of zoölogy; and
in the next year was appointed professor of zoölogy and animal
physiology in the State Agricultural College at Lansing.

In his work as zoölogist to the State Geological Survey, in 1859,
1860, and 1861, he displayed rare qualities as a naturalist, so that
Mr. Walter R. Barrows, in recording his death in the bulletin of the
Michigan Ornithological Club, expresses regret that many of the years
he afterward devoted to the development of experimental agriculture
"were not spent in unraveling some of the important biological
problems which the State afforded, which his skill and perseverance
would surely have solved." He was a "born collector," Mr. Barrows
adds, "as the phrase is, and his keen eyes, tireless industry, and
mathematical precision led to the accumulation of thousands of
valuable specimens and more valuable observations."

Mr. Bryant Walker, of Detroit, who knew Professor Miles well in later
years, and had opportunity to review his zoölogical work, regards the
part he took during this service in developing the knowledge of the
fauna of the State as having been very prominent. "The catalogues he
published in the report for 1860 have been the basis for all work
since that time." He kept in correspondence with the most eminent
American naturalists of the period, including Cope, Prime, Lea, W. G.
Binney, Baird, and Agassiz, and supplied them with large quantities of
valuable material. From the many letters written by these naturalists
which are in the possession of his friends, we take, as illustrating
the character of the service he rendered and of the trust they reposed
in him, even previous to his going on the survey, one from Agassiz, of
February 4, 1856:

"DEAR SIR: As you have already furnished me with invaluable materials
for the natural history of the fishes of your State, I am emboldened
to ask another favor of you. I am preparing a map of the Geographical
Distribution of the Turtles of North America, and would be greatly
indebted to you for any information respecting the range of those
found in your State, as far as you have noticed them, even if you
should know them only by their common names, my object being simply to
ascertain how far they extend over different parts of the country. If
you could add specimens of them, to identify them with precision, it
would be, of course, so much the better; but as I am almost ready for
the press, I could not for this paper await the return of spring, but
would thank you for what you could furnish me now. I am particularly
interested in ascertaining how far north the different species
inhabiting this continent extend." On the back of this letter was Dr.
Miles's indorsement that a box had been sent.

A number of letters from Professor Baird, of 1860 and 1861, relate to
the identification of specimens collected by Dr. Miles, and to the
fishes of Michigan, and contain inquiries about gulls and eggs. Dr.
Miles likewise supplied Cope with a considerable amount of material
concerning Michigan reptiles and fishes.

While mollusks were the favorite object of Dr. Miles's investigations,
he also made studies and valuable collections of birds, mammals,
reptiles, and fishes; and he seems, Mr. Barrows says, "to have
possessed, in a high degree, that strong characteristic of a true
naturalist, a full appreciation of the value of good specimens. Many
of his specimens are now preserved at the Agricultural College, and
among his shells are many which are of more than ordinary value from
having served as types of new species, or as specimens from type
localities, or as part or all of the material which has helped to
clear up mistakes and misconceptions about species and their
distribution." Mr. Walker speaks of his having done a great work in
conchology. His catalogue, which contained a list of one hundred and
sixty-one species, was by far the most complete published up to that
time. "He described two new species--_Planorbis truncatus_ and _Unio
leprosus_. The former is one of the few species which are, so far as
known, peculiar to Michigan, and is a very beautiful and distinct
form; while the latter, although now considered as synonymous with
another species, has peculiarities which in the then slight knowledge
of the variability of the species was a justification of his position.
He was also the discoverer of two other forms which were named after
him by one of our most eminent conchologists--viz., _Campeloma
Milesii_ (Lea) and _Guiobasis Milesii_ (Lea)." Mr. Walker believes
that "in general, it can be truthfully stated that Dr. Miles did more
to develop the general natural history of that State (Michigan) than
any other man either before or since he completed his work as State

As professor of zoölogy and animal physiology, Dr. Miles is described
by one of his students, who afterward became a professor in the
college and then its president, as having been thoroughly interested
in the subjects he taught, and shown that interest in his work and in
his treatment of his students. He labored as faithfully and
industriously with the class of five to which President Clute belonged
as if it "had numbered as many score." He supplemented the meager
equipment of his department from his more extensive private apparatus
and collections, which were freely used for class work; and, when
there was need, he had the skill to prepare new pieces of apparatus.
"He was on the alert for every chance for illustration which occasion
offered: an animal slaughtered for the tables gave him an opportunity
to lecture on its viscera; a walk over the drift-covered fields found
many specimens of rock which he taught us to distinguish; the mud and
the sand banks along the river showed how in the periods of the dim
past were formed fossil footprints and ripples; the woods and swamps
and lakes gave many useful living specimens, some of which became the
material for the improvised dissecting room; the crayon in his hand
produced on board or paper the chart of geologic ages, the table of
classification, or the drawing of the part of an animal under

Prof. R. C. Kedzie came to the college a little later, in 1863, when
Dr. Miles had been for two years a professor, and found him then the
authority "for professors and students alike on beasts, birds, and
reptiles, on the stones of the field, and insects of the air,"
thorough, scholarly, and enthusiastic, and therefore very popular with
his classes.

The projection of agricultural colleges under the Agricultural College
Land Grant Act of 1862 stimulated a demand for teachers of scientific
agriculture, and it was found that they were rare. Of old school
students of science there was no lack--able men, as President Clute
well says, who were familiar with their little laboratories and with
the old theories and methods, but who did not possess the new vision
of evolution and the conservation of energy, men of the study rather
than the field, and least of all men of the orchard and stock farm;
and they knew nothing of the practical application of chemistry to
fertilization and the raising of crops and the composition of feed
stuffs, of physiology to stock-breeding, and of geology and physics to
the study of the soils.

With a thorough knowledge of science and familiarity with practical
agriculture Professor Miles had an inclination to enter this field,
and this inclination was encouraged by President Abbott and some of
the members of the Board of Agriculture. He had filled the
professorship of zoölogy and animal physiology with complete success,
and had he consulted his most cherished tastes alone he would have
remained there, but he gradually suffered himself to be called to
another field. The duties of "acting superintendent of the farm" were
attached to his chair in 1864. In 1865 he became professor of animal
physiology and practical agriculture and superintendent of the farm;
in 1869 he ceased to teach physiology, and gave his whole time to the
agricultural branch of his work; and in 1875 the work of the
superintendent of the farm was consigned to other hands, and he
confined himself to the professorship proper of practical agriculture.

The farm and its appurtenances, with fields cumbered with stumps and
undrained, with inadequate and poorly constructed buildings, with
inferior live stock, and everything primitive, were in poor condition
for the teaching or the successful practice of agriculture. Professor
Miles's first business was to set these things in order. Year by year
something was done to remove evils or improve existing features in
some of the departments of the life and management of the premises,
till the concern in a certain measure approached the superintendent's
ideal--as being a laboratory for teaching agriculture, conducting
experiments, and training men, rather than a money-making

In this new field, Professor Kedzie says, Professor Miles was even
more popular than before with students, and created an enthusiasm for
operations and labors of the farm which had been regarded before as a
disagreeable drudgery. The students "were never happier than when
detailed for a day's work with Dr. Miles in laying out some difficult
ditch or surveying some field. One reason why he was so popular was
that he was not afraid of soiling his hands. His favorite uniform for
field work was a pair of brown overalls. The late Judge Tenney came to
a gang of students at work on a troublesome ditch and inquired where
he could find Dr. Miles. 'That man in overalls down in the quicksands
of the ditch is Dr. Miles'; the professor of practical agriculture was
in touch with the soil."

Prof. Byron D. Halsted, of the New Jersey Agricultural College
Experiment Station, who was an agricultural pupil of Dr. Miles in
Lansing, characterizes him as having been a full man who knew his
subjects deeply and fondly. "In those days I am safe in writing that
he represented the forefront of advanced agriculture in America. He
was in close touch with such men as Lawes and Gilbert, Rothamstead,
England, the famous field-crop experimenters of the world, and as for
his knowledge of breeds of live stock and their origin, Miles's
Stock-Breeding is a classic work. Dr. Miles, in short, was a close
student, a born investigator, hating an error, but using it as a
stepping-stone toward truth. He did American farming a lasting
service, and his deeds live after him."

While loved by his students, most of whom have been successful and
many have gained eminence as agricultural professors or workers in
experiment stations, and while receiving sympathy and support from
President Abbott, Dr. Miles was not appreciated by the politicians, or
by all of the Board of Agriculture, or even by the public at large.
Unkind and captious criticisms were made of his work, and it was found
fault with on economical grounds, as if its prime purpose had been to
make money. He therefore resigned his position in 1875, and accepted
the professorship of agriculture in the Illinois State University.
Thence he removed to the Houghton Farm of Lawson Valentine, near
Mountainville, N. Y., where he occupied himself with scientific
experimental investigation. He was afterward professor of agriculture
in the Massachusetts Agricultural College, at Amherst. In announcing
this appointment to the students, Dr. Chadbourne, then president of
the institution, and himself a most successful teacher, stated that he
considered Dr. Miles as the ablest man in the United States for that
position. In 1886, shortly after Dr. Chadbourne's death, Dr. Miles
returned to his old home in Lansing, Michigan, where he spent the rest
of his life in study, research, and the writing of books and articles
for scientific publications.

During these later years of his life he took up again with what had
been his favorite pursuit in earlier days, but with which he had not
occupied himself for thirty years--the study of mollusks--with the
enthusiasm of a young man, Mr. Walker says, who being interested in
the same study, was in constant correspondence with him at this time;
"and as far as his strength permitted labored with all the acumen and
attention to details which were so characteristic of him. I was
particularly struck with his familiarity with the present drift of
scientific investigation and thought, and his thorough appreciation of
modern methods of work. He was greatly interested in the work I was
carrying on with reference to the geographical distribution of the
mollusca, and, as would naturally be supposed from his own work in
heredity in connection with our domestic animals, took great pleasure
in discussing the relations of the species as they are now found and
their possible lines of descent. He was a careful and accurate
observer of Nature, and if he had not drifted into other lines of work
would undoubtedly have made his mark as a great naturalist. As it is,
his name will always have an honored place in the scientific history
of Michigan."

When Professor Miles began to teach in the Michigan Agricultural
College, the "new education" was new indeed, and the textbook method
still held sway. But the improved methods were gradually taking the
place of the old ones, and Professor Miles was one of the first to
co-operate in them, and he did it with effect. He used text-books,
"but his living word," President Clute says, "supplemented the book;
and the animal from the farm under his knife and ours, the shells
which he led us to find under the rotten logs and along the rivers and
lakes, the insects he taught us to collect and classify, the minerals
and fossils he had collected on the geological survey of Michigan, all
were used to instruct and inspire his students, to cultivate in them
the scientific spirit and method."

Among the more important books by Professor Miles are Stock-Breeding,
which had a wide circulation and has been much used as a class-book;
Experiments with Indian Corn, giving the results of some important
work which he did at Houghton Farm; Silos and Ensilage, which helped
much in diffusing knowledge of the silo in the times when it had to
fight for recognition; and Land Drainage. Of his papers, he published
in the Popular Science Monthly articles on Scientific Farming at
Rothamstead; Ensilage and Fermentation; Lines of Progress in
Agriculture; Progress in Agricultural Science; and How Plants and
Animals Grow. To the American Association for the Advancement of
Science he contributed papers on Energy as a Factor in Rural Economy;
Heredity of Acquired Characters (also to the American Naturalist);
Surface Tension of Water and Evaporation; Energy as a Factor in
Nutrition; and Limits of Biological Experiments (also to the American
Naturalist). Other articles in the American Naturalist were on Animal
Mechanics and the Relative Efficiency of Animals as Machines. In the
Proceedings of the American Educational Association is an address by
him on Instruction in Manual Arts in Connection with Scientific
Studies. The records of the U and I Club, of Lansing, of which he was
a valued member for ten years, contain papers on a variety of
scientific subjects which were read before it, and were highly
appreciated. This list does not contain all of Professor Miles's
contributions to the literature of science, for throughout his life he
was a frequent contributor to the agricultural and scientific press,
and a frequent speaker before associations and institutes, "where his
lectures were able and practical."

No special record is made of the work of Professor Miles in the
American Agriculturist, but the correspondence of Professor Thurber
with him furnishes ample proof that he was one of the most trusted
advisers in the editorial conduct of that journal. The familiar tone
of Professor Thurber's letters, and the undoubting assurance with
which he asked for information and aid on various subjects, well
demonstrate how well the editor knew whom he could rely upon in an

In all his work the great desire of Professor Miles was to find and
present the truth. His merits were recognized by many scientific
societies. He was made a corresponding member of the Buffalo Society
of Natural Sciences in 1862; a corresponding member of the
Entomological Society of Philadelphia in January, 1863; a
correspondent of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia in
1864; a member of the American Association for the Advancement of
Science in 1880, and a Fellow of the same body in 1890; and held
memberships or other relations with other societies; and he received
the degree of D. V. S. from Columbia Veterinary College, New York, in
March, 1880.

His students and friends speak in terms of high admiration of the
genial qualities of Professor Miles as a companion. The resolutions of
the U and I Club of Lansing describe him as an easy and graceful
talker, a cheerful dispenser of his learning to others. "To spend an
hour in his 'den,' and watch his delicate experiments with 'films,'"
says President Clute, "and see the light in his eyes as he talked of
them, was a delight." "He was particularly fond of boys," says
another, "and never seemed happier than when in the company of boys or
young men who were trying to study and to inform themselves, and if he
could in any way assist them he was only too glad to do so"; and he
liked pets and children. Incidents are related showing that he had a
wonderful accuracy in noting and recollecting the minutest details
that came under his observation--a power that he was able to bring to
bear instantly when its exercise was called for.

Dr. Miles kept up his habits of reading and study to the last days of
his life; but all public work was made difficult to him in later years
by an increasing deafness. He was tireless in investigation, patient,
and always cheerful and looking for the bright side; and when one
inquired of him concerning his health, his usual answer was that he
was "all right," or, if he could not say that, that he would be "all
right to-morrow."

No sketch of Dr. Miles is complete without a word of tribute to his
high personal character, his life pure and noble in every
relationship, his unswerving devotion to truth, and the unfaltering
loyalty to his friends, which make his memory a benediction and an
inspiration to all who knew him well.

He was married in 1851 to Miss Mary E. Dodge, who remained his devoted
companion until his death, which occurred February 15, 1898.

Editor's Table.


We do not know from whom the philosopher Locke quotes the saying,
"_Non vitæ sed scholæ discimus_," but he translates it well, "We learn
not to live, but to dispute." The adage has reference to the old
systems of education which had for their aim neither the discovery of
truth nor the perfecting of the human faculties in any broad sense,
but the fitting of the individual to take his place in a world of
conventional ideas and discuss conventional topics upon conventional
lines. In other words, the preparation was for school, not for life,
the whole subsequent career of the individual being regarded simply as
a prolongation of the intellectual influences and discipline of the
school. That system, which was ecclesiastical in its origin, has now,
save for strictly ecclesiastical purposes, passed away. We consider
life as the end of school and not school as the end of life.

It may be questioned, however, whether we have as yet thoroughly
adapted our educational methods to this change of standpoint. Do we as
yet take a sufficiently broad view of life? If we conceive life
narrowly as essentially a business struggle, and adapt our procedure
to that conception, the results will show very little relation to the
larger and truer conception according to which life means development
of faculty, activity of function, and a harmonious adjustment of
relations between man and man. If, again, we make too much of
knowledge that has only a conventional value, having little or no
bearing on the understanding of things or the accomplishment of useful
work, we are so far falling into the old error of "learning for
school." The address by Sir Archibald Geikie, which we published last
month, gives a useful caution against undervaluing "the older
learning." The older learning can certainly be made an effective
instrument for the cultivation of taste, of sympathy, and of
intellectual accuracy along certain lines. It tends further, we
believe, to promote a certain intellectual self-respect, which is a
valuable quality. In the study of language and literature the human
mind surveys, as it were, its own peculiar possessions, and thus
acquires a sense of proprietorship which a study of the external world
can hardly give. Still, it is well to cultivate a consciousness of the
essentially limited and arbitrary nature of such knowledge. It is
important, we may admit, to have a good text of such an author as
Chaucer; but the minutiæ into which critics of his text enter can not
be said to possess any broad human interest. Whether he wrote this
word or that word, adopted this spelling or that, can not be a
question on which much depends; and could one know the exact truth on
a thousand such points, he would not really be much the wiser. Among
Chaucer scholars he could speak with a good deal of confidence; but
the knowledge of these details would not really help to round out any
useful _system_ of knowledge, nor could any single fact possess the
illuminating power which sometimes belongs to some single and, at
first sight, unimportant fact in the realm of natural knowledge.

This is not said with any intention of disparaging the culture that
comes of literary study. It is a culture that tends to brighten human
intercourse and to sweeten a man's own thoughts. It is a culture
eminently favorable to flexibility of mind and quick insight into
human character. So far it is a culture "for life"; but too often it
tends to become a culture "for school"--that is to say, when things
are learned simply to meet conventional demands and conform to the
fashion of the time.

A true and sufficient culture can never, as we conceive, be founded on
literature and language alone. No mind can be truly liberalized
without imbibing and assimilating the fundamental principles of
science. There is darkness in the mind that believes that anything can
come out of nothing and which has never obtained a glimpse of the
exactness with which Nature solves her equations. In the region of
mechanics alone there are a thousand beautiful and varied
illustrations of the unfailing constancy of natural laws. It is a
liberal education to trace the operation of one law under numberless
disguises, and thus arrive at an ineradicable conviction that the same
law must be reckoned with always and everywhere. The persistence of
force, the laws of the composition and resolution of forces, the laws
of falling bodies and projectiles, the conservation of energy, the
laws of heat, to mention only a few heads of elementary scientific
study, are capable, if properly unfolded and illustrated, of producing
in any mind open to large thoughts a sense of harmony and a trust in
the underlying reason of things, which are constitutive elements of
the very highest culture. Only, care must be taken to approach these
studies in a right spirit. There is a way of regarding the laws of
Nature which tends to vulgarize rather than refine the mind. If we
approach Nature merely as something to be exploited, we get no culture
from the study of it; but if we approach it as the great men of old
did, and feel that in learning its laws we are grasping the thoughts
which went to the building of the universe, and, by so doing, are
affirming our own high calling as intelligent beings, then every
moment given to the study of Nature means intellectual, moral, and
spiritual gain. When we look into literature there is much to charm,
much to delight and satisfy; and doubtless, in relation to what any
one man can accomplish, the field is infinite; but still we know we
are looking into the limited. On the other hand, when we are face to
face with Nature, we know we are looking into the infinite, and that,
however many veils we may take away, there is still "veil after veil

It is needless to say that there are thousands of minds in the world
possessed of good native power, but laboring under serious disability
for the want of that culture which science alone can bestow. Some of
these are sick with morbid longings for unattainable knowledge, and
openly or secretly rebellious at the limitations of a Nature whose
powers they have never even begun to explore. To such persons anything
like an adequate insight into the harmony amid diversity of Nature's
laws would come with all the force of a revelation, and would, we may
well believe, clear their minds of the feverish fancies which have
made them so restless and dissatisfied; but, alas! it is rarely that
such enlightenment comes to those who have not in youth imbibed a
portion of the scientific spirit. In this class are to be found the
victims of spiritualism, of the Keeley motor, and even of that
grotesque satire, the success of which we remember almost with fear
and trembling, the "sympsychograph." Still, to all such we would say:

      "Come forth into the light of things;
      Let Nature be your teacher."

The "Nature" which we require to teach us for the peace and
tranquillity of our souls is the Nature of everyday phenomena, the
Nature that forms the clouds and rounds the raindrops, that springs in
the grass and pulses in the tides, that glances in the sunbeam and
breathes in the flower, that works witchery in the crystal and breaks
into glory in the sunset. The mind that knows what can be known of
these things has feasted full of wonder and beauty, and makes no
greedy demand for higher grace or mightier miracle.

Then again there are those who for want of a little elementary
scientific knowledge, and particularly for want of an assured
conviction that Nature gives nothing for nothing, are continually
attempting the impossible in the way of projected inventions. They
catch at a phrase and think it must represent a fact; they fall
victims to a verbal mythology of their own manufacture. If there was
much hope of their learning anything of value through disappointment,
they might be left to the teaching of experience, costly as the
lessons of that master are. But they do not learn: their hopes are
blasted, their fortunes, if they had any, are wrecked, but their
infatuations survive. Where is the inventor of a perpetual motion who
ever ceased to have confidence in his peculiar contrivance? The thing
may be as motionless as a tombstone, save when urged by external force
into a momentary lumbering activity; but all the same, it only needs,
its misguided author thinks, a little doctoring, a trifling change
here or there, to make it tear round like mad. And so with other
inventors of the impossible: they take counsel not with Nature, but
with their own wholly incorrect notions of what the operations of
Nature are. The least power of truly analyzing a natural phenomenon,
and separating the factors that produce it, would show them the
falsity of their ideas; but that power they do not possess.

We can not, then, plead too strongly for the teaching of science, not
with a view to results in money, but with a view to the improvement of
the mind and heart of the learner, or, in other words, as a source of
culture. Literature introduces us to the world of human thought and
action, to the kingdom of man; and science shows us how the thought
and powers of man can be indefinitely enlarged by an ever increasing
acquaintance with the laws of the universe. Literature alone leaves
the mind without any firm grasp of the reality of things, and science
alone tends to produce a hard, prosaic, and sometimes antisocial
temper. Each helps to bring out the best possible results of the
other; and it is only by their joint action that human faculties and
human character can ever be brought to their perfection.


It is singular what a propensity some writers have to misunderstand
and misrepresent the views of Mr. Herbert Spencer, even upon points in
regard to which he has made every possible effort to avoid occasion
for misapprehension. The term "survival of the fittest" is one which
Mr. Spencer himself introduced as being, perhaps, a little less open
to misunderstanding than the Darwinian expression "natural selection."
The latter seemed to imply purposive action, and Mr. Spencer thought
that this implication would be less prominent if the phrase were
changed to "survival of the fittest." From the very first, however, he
recognized that the difference between the two terms in this respect
was, if we may so express it, purely quantitative; and he took care to
make it clear that by "the fittest" he did not in the least intend to
signify any form of ideal or subjective fitness, but simply a superior
degree of adaptation, as a matter of actual fact, to environing
conditions. The conditions at any given moment are as they are, and
the "fitness" of any particular organism is such a correspondence with
those conditions as permits and favors its perpetuation. The
conditions do not create fitness; they merely eliminate unfitness; nor
does Mr. Spencer conceive any agency as producing _ab extra_ the
fitness which enables an organism or a number of organisms to survive.
He differs, however, from what is perhaps the dominant school of
biology to-day, in holding that the higher forms of organic life are,
as he expresses it, "directly equilibrated" with their surroundings
through the inheritance of physical features resulting from effort and

To whatever cause it may be attributed, few writers whose intellectual
activity has extended over so long a term of years as Mr. Spencer's
have been so consistent in their utterances at different stages as he.
The "Synthetic Philosophy" is the realization of a scheme of thought
no less wonderful in its coherence and solidity than in its compass,
the author having planted himself from the first at a point of view
which gave him a clear command of his entire field. To say that no
other system of thought equally comprehensive and equally coherent
exists in the world to-day would be to make a statement which few
competent and dispassionate authorities would deny. Notwithstanding
this, there are writers not a few, particularly of the class "who
write with ease," who, as we said at the outset, have a propensity for
misunderstanding Mr. Spencer, and who consequently accuse him of
inconsistencies and self-contradictions for which nothing that he has
ever said affords any warrant. One of these gentlemen is the Duke of
Argyll, who has lately offered the world another superfluous book
under the title of Organic Evolution Cross-examined. The duke
particularly concerns himself with Mr. Spencer's teaching in regard to
the "survival of the fittest," and Mr. Spencer, in the columns of
Nature, replies to him in a brief but sufficient manner. It is safe to
say that Mr. Spencer's philosophy will show Cyclopean remains
generations after the name of his ducal critic shall have passed
forever into the mists of oblivion; and the "survival of the fittest"
will thus be illustrated in a sense in which Mr. Spencer himself never
used the words.

Scientific Literature.


The study of the methods through which the topographical features and
rock forms of particular districts have been worked out, as presented
in numerous popular monographs, is a fascinating one; and we can
hardly doubt that many persons who would never otherwise have thought
of it have been made interested in geology by some of these masterly
picturesque descriptions of regions with which they were superficially
familiar. Other treatises on the origin of surface features, dealing
with the subject more fundamentally, but likewise of limited scope,
are not wanting. Yet, as Prof. _James Geikie_ well says, there is no
English work to which readers not skilled in geology can turn for a
general account of the whole subject. Professor Geikie has therefore
prepared his elaborate book on _Earth Sculpture_[14] to supply this
want, to furnish an introductory treatise for those persons who may be
desirous of acquiring some broad knowledge of the results arrived at
by geologists as to the development of land forms generally. A vast
number of geological questions are involved in the exhaustive
treatment of the subject. All the forces with which geologists become
acquainted in the study of the earth, and their operation, come into
consideration. The effects of these forces assume aspects that vary
according to the nature of the material on which they operate, and
they are again modified according to the peculiar combinations of
forces at work. The subject is therefore not the easy one it may be
supposed at first sight to be, and the reader who peruses Professor
Geikie's work with the intention of mastering it will find he has some
studying to do. Yet Professor Geikie is clear, and it is only because
he has gone deeper than the others that he may be harder. The first
point he insists upon is that in the fashioning of the earth's surface
no hard-and-fast line separates past and present. The work has been
going on for a long time, and is still in progress, under a law of
evolution as true for the crust of the globe as for the plants and
animals. In setting out upon our inquiry we must in the first place
know something about rocks and the mode of their arrangement, of the
structure or architecture of the earth's crust. This leads to the
distinction between the igneous and the subaqueous, the volcanic,
plutonic, and metamorphic, and the derivative rocks on which epigene
agencies have performed their shaping work. These rocks have been
modified in various ways, and the surface appearance of the earth has
been affected by forces operating from the interior, and by external
factors, the work of which is called denudation. The agents of
denudation are described--air, water, heat, frost, chemical action,
plants, and animals--often so closely associated in their operations
that their individual shares in the final result can hardly be
determined. The various influences of these factors as exerted upon
different forms of geological structure and different sorts of rocks
are then taken up and described as applied to land forms in regions of
horizontal, or gently inclined, and of highly folded and disturbed
strata, and in regions affected by normal faults or vertical
displacements. Land forms due directly or indirectly to igneous action
and the influence of rock character on the determination of land forms
are subjects of special chapters. Glacial action is one of the most
important factors in modifying the forms of northern lands, and is
treated with considerable fullness. Æolian action--of the air and
wind--has peculiar and important effects in arid regions, and
underground water in limestone districts, and these receive attention.
Then come basins--those due to crustal deformation, crater lakes,
river lakes, glacial basins, and others, and coast lines. Finally, a
classification is given of these land forms as plains or plateaus of
accumulation and of erosion, original or tectonic and subsequent or
relict hills and mountains, original or tectonic and subsequent or
erosion valleys, basins, and coast lines, and the conclusions are
reached that we do not know, except as a matter of probability,
whether we have still visible any original wrinkles of the earth's
crust; and that some of the estimates of the time it has taken to
produce the changes of which we witness the results have been very
much exaggerated.

The curious conclusions obtained by Dr. _Le Bon_ in his psychological
investigations,[15] delivered to us in startling language, are said to
be the fruit of extensive travel and of the personal measurement of
thousands of skulls. His memoir on cervical researches, published in
1879, upholds the theory that the volume of the skull varies with the
intelligence. This theory has perhaps suffered a permanent
adumbration. Facts seem to prove that the bony structure of the skull,
or even its cranial capacity, gives no positive indication of

In the present volume the theme of discussion is the soul of races.
Anthropological classification is set aside and mankind is divided
into four groups according to mental characteristics: the primitive,
inferior, average, and superior races--the standard of judgment being
the degree of their aptitude for dominating reflex impulses. It is
perhaps worthy of note that while the Frenchman belongs to a superior
race, the Semitic peoples are placed in the class below, or the
average sort. For the primitive varieties it is not necessary to
observe a South Sea islander, the lower strata of Europeans furnishing
numerous examples. When greater differentiation is reached, the word
"race" is used in a historical sense. It requires, however, more
complete fusion than some nations exhibit to earn this title; for,
although there are Germans and Americans, "it is not clear as yet that
there are Italians." The race having been once evolved, acquires
wondrous potentialities with Dr. Le Bon. He compares it to the
totality of cells constituting a living organism, asserts that its
mental constitution is as unvarying as its anatomical structure, that
it is a permanent being independent of time and founded alone by its
dead. It is a short step to endow this entity with a soul consisting
of common sentiments, interests, and beliefs--what in brief, robbed of
hyperbole, we should call national character. He states that the
notion of a country is not possible until a national soul is formed.
This, in time, like germ-plasm, becomes so stable that assimilation
with foreign elements is impossible. Like natural species, it has
secondary characteristics that may be modified, but its fundamental
character is like the fin of the fish or the beak of the bird. The
acquisition of this soul marks the apogee of the greatness of a
people. Psychological species, however, are not eternal, but may decay
if the functioning of their organs is troubled profoundly.

The soul of the race is best expressed in its art, not in its history
or institutions, and, as it can not bequeath its soul, so it can not
impress its civilization or art upon an alien race. It was on account
of this incompatibility of soul that Grecian art failed to be
implanted in India. The unaltering constituent of the soul corresponds
to character, while intellectual qualities are variable. By character
is meant perseverance, energy, power of self-control, also morality.
The latter is hereditary respect for the rules on which a society is
based. This definition would make polygamy a moral notion for Mormons.
The knowledge of character "can be acquired neither in laboratories
nor in books, but only in the course of long travel." Whence it is
learned that different races can not have mutual comprehension.
Luckily for the student who is unable to travel, the same phenomenon
may be observed in the gulf that separates the civilized man and
woman. Although highly educated, "they might converse with each other
for centuries without understanding one another." These differences
between races and individuals demonstrate the falsity of the notion of
equality. Indeed, through _science_ "man has learned that to be slaves
is the natural condition of all human beings." Naturally he becomes
dispirited, anarchy seizes upon the uneducated and sullen indifference
the more cultivated. "Like a ship that has lost its compass, the
modern man wanders haphazard through the spaces formerly peopled by
the gods and rendered a desert by science." In France morality is
gradually dying out, while the United States is threatened by a
gigantic civil war. What to do is problematical, since we are informed
"that people have never derived much advantage from too great a desire
to reason and think," and what is most harmful to a people is to
attain too high a degree of intelligence and culture, the groundwork
of the soul beginning to decline when this level is reached. The
remedy suggested to us is "the organization of a very severe military
service and the permanent menace of disastrous wars." But if we fail
to see the improving tendency of this advice, it is probably because
we are like historians, "simple-minded," while Dr. Le Bon is much too
complex for our understanding. According to his own theory, there is
no hope that we may comprehend him, since the outpourings of a soul of
the Latin race can not be transferred by a simple bridge of
translation to the apprehension of an Anglo-Saxon mind, separated, as
he would term it, by "the dead weight of thousands of generations."


In preparing the new edition of his _Text-Book of Mineralogy_[16]
first published in 1877, Prof. _E. S. Dana_ has found it necessary to
rewrite the whole as well as to add much new matter and many new
illustrations. The work being designed chiefly for use in class or
private instruction, the choice of topics discussed, the order and
fullness of treatment, and the method of presentation have been
determined by that object. The different types of crystal forms are
described under the thirty-two groups now accepted, classed according
to their symmetry. In the chapters on physical and chemical
mineralogy, the plan of the former edition is retained of presenting
somewhat fully the elementary principles of the science on which the
mineral characters depend, and the author has tried to give the
student the means of becoming practically familiar with the modern
means of investigation. Especial attention is given to the optical
qualities of crystals as revealed by the microscope; and frequent
references are introduced to important papers on the different
subjects discussed. The descriptive part of the volume is essentially
an abridgment of the sixth edition of Dana's System of Mineralogy,
published in 1892, to which the student is referred for fuller and
supplementary information. A full topical index is furnished in
addition to the usual index of species.

The title, _The Story of the Railroad_,[17] carries with it the
suggestion of an eventful history. The West, in the author's view,
begins with the Missouri River. The story of its railroad is the story
of the line, now very multiple, that leads to the Pacific Ocean. The
beginning of white men's travels in these routes is traced by the
editor to the Spanish adventurers of the sixteenth century, who made
miserable journeys in search of gold or visionary objects, through
regions now traversed by some of the more southern lines. Then came
trappers; next costly and painfully undertaken Government expeditions
into the then regions of the unknown, the stories of which were the
boyhood delight of men now living. The period of practical traversing
of the continent began with the raging of the California gold fever,
when the journey of many weeks was tiresomely made with ox teams, in
the face of actual perils of the desert, starvation, thirst, and the
Indians. After California became important, stage and express lines
were put on; but still, at the time Mr. Warman takes up the story,
less than sixty years ago, the idea of building a railroad to the
Pacific was regarded as too visionary to be entertained, and Asa
Whitney sacrificed a fortune trying to induce somebody to take it up.
The first dreams were for a short route to the Orient. Eventually the
idea was developed that the American West might be worth going after,
and then the idea of a railroad to it began to assume practical form.
Young Engineer Dodge, afterward Major General, began surveys before
the civil war; after it General Sherman gave the scheme a great
impulse, and the Union Pacific Railroad was built--when and how are
graphically and dramatically told in Mr. Warman's book. Next came the
Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fé, and other transcontinental lines, the
histories of all of which are related in similar style, with stories
of adventures, perils encountered, and lively incidents, including the
war between two of the lines for the possession of the Arkansas Cañon;
financial mishaps, and political scandal. Then came the settlement of
the plains, road-making in Mexico, and the opening of Oklahoma, all of
which were made possible by the railroads, and have in turn
contributed to support them. The beginnings and growth of the express
business are described, and the later lines that have penetrated the
plains are mentioned.

Prof. _William Benjamin Smith's_ treatise on the _Infinitesimal
Analysis_[18] has been written, the author says, on what appeared, in
the light of ten years' experience in teaching the calculus, to be
lines of least resistance. The aim has been, within a prescribed
expense of time and energy, to penetrate as far as possible into the
subject, and in as many directions, so that the student shall attain
as wide knowledge of the matter, as full comprehension of the methods,
and as clear consciousness of the spirit and power of this analysis as
the nature of the case would admit. The author has accordingly often
followed what seemed to be natural suggestions and impulses toward
near-lying extensions or generalizations, and has even allowed them to
direct the course of the discussion. In accordance with the plan and
purpose of the book as given, "Weierstressian rigor" has been excluded
from many investigations, and the postponement has been compelled of
some important discussions, which were considered too subtle for an
early age of study. Real difficulties, however, have not been
knowingly disguised, and pains have been taken on occasion to warn the
reader that the treatment given is only provisional, and must await
further precision or delimitation. Where the subject has been found
too large for the compass of the intended work, or too abstruse or
difficult for the contemplated students, the treatment has been
compressed or curtailed. The book is, in fact, written for such as
feel a genuine interest in the subject; and the illustrations and
exercises have been chosen with frequent reference to practical or
theoretic importance or to historic interest.

Mr. _George Jacob Holyoake_ has written with much enthusiasm the
_Jubilee History of the Leeds Industrial Co-operative Society_.[19]
Many schemes have been started on lines similar to those of this one,
but very few besides it have grown from the very beginning, and,
having become to all appearance a permanent institution, can look back
upon a career of fifty years with complete satisfaction. The society
began in times of public distress. The ground was prepared for it by
the "Redemption" Society, which was founded at Leeds in 1845, by
admirers of Robert Owen, after the experiment at Queenswood had
failed. It practiced a kind of co-operation and had some distinguished
friends to wish it well. Among the speakers at its meetings was Dr.
Frederic Hollick, still living, now a resident of New York city. The
co-operative society was started as a means of getting cheaper flour
for its members. On February 25, 1847, an appeal headed "Holbeck
Anti-Corn Mill Association" was issued to the working classes of Leeds
and vicinity by the "working people of Messrs. Benyon & Co.'s mill,"
Holbeck, inviting combination and subscriptions for establishing a
mill to be the property of the subscribers and their successors, "in
order to supply them with flour and flour only." Meetings were held,
an organization was effected, and the mill was started. The history of
the society and how it grew, how "flour only" was stricken from its
scheme and other things were added and it branched out, how
co-operative stores were established, how it gained the confidence of
the public and the respect of rivals in business, its successes and
its mistakes, its triumphs and failures, are told by Mr. Holyoake,
year by year, in a detail in which everything is set down and nothing
covered up. In 1897 the cooperative society had productive departments
of flour, bakery, bespoke clothing, boot and shoe factory, brush
factory, cabinet making, building, millinery, and dressmaking,
employing 541 hands and turning over £26,949; 80 large stores for the
sale of these and various other kinds of goods in Leeds and vicinity;
drapery branches and boot and shoe stores; 43 butchering branches; and
37,000 subscribing purchasers. Its capital stood at £447,000; and its
sales for the year amounted to £1,042,616.

D. Appleton and Company have added to their Home Reading Series _The
Earth and Sky_, a primer of Astronomy for Young Readers, by Prof.
_Edward S. Holden_. It is intended to be the first of a series of
three or more volumes, all treating of astronomy in one form or
another, and suited for reading in the school. The treatment is based
on the principle that "it is not so simple as it appears to fix in the
child's mind the fundamental fact that it is Nature which is true, and
the book or the engraving which is a true copy of it. 'It says' is the
snare of children as well as of their more sophisticated elders. The
vital point to be insisted on is a constant reference from words to
things." The volume is written as a conversation with a young lad. He
is first shown how he may know for himself that the earth is not flat,
though it certainly appears to be so. The next step is to show him
that he may know that the earth is in fact round, and that it is a
globe of immense size. Its situation in space is next considered, and
the child's mind is led to some formal conclusions respecting space
itself. It is then directed to the sun, to the moon and its changes,
to the stars and their motions, to the revolution of the earth, etc.

In 1887 _E. S. Holden_ published through the Regents of the University
of California a list of recorded earthquakes on the Pacific coast, it
being the first systematic publication of the sort. The purpose of it
was to bring to light all the general facts about the various shocks,
and enable studies to be made of particular earthquake phenomena. It
was necessary at the Lick Observatory to keep a register of the times
of occurrence of all shocks on account of their possible effects on
the instruments. With this was associated in 1888, when the
observatory began its active work, the collection of reports of shocks
felt elsewhere on the Pacific coast. Mr. Holden now reprints this
pamphlet through the Smithsonian Institution in _A Catalogue of
Earthquakes felt on the Pacific Coast, 1769 to 1897_, with many
corrections and additions, including a complete account of the
earthquake observations at Mount Hamilton from 1887 to 1897, and an
abstract of the great amount of information that has been collected
regarding other Pacific coast earthquakes during the same interval.

The _Psychologie als Erfahrungs-Wissenschaft_ of _Hans Cornelius_ is
not intended for a complete account and review of the facts of
psychical life, but rather to present the fundamentals of a purely
empirical theory, excluding all metaphysical views. Such an account
should not start from any arbitrary abstractions or hypotheses, but
simply from actually ascertained, directly perceived psychical
experiences. On the other hand, an empirical definition should be
required for all the terms that are used in a comprehensive
description of the experience; and no term should be used without the
psychical manifestation described by it being pointed out. After an
introduction in which the method and place of psychology, subjective
and objective, physiological and genetic, are referred to, the
elementary facts of consciousness are discussed. The coherency of
knowledge is treated of in the next chapter, and in the third,
Psychical Analysis and the conception of unobserved consciousness; and
the succeeding chapters are devoted to Sensation, Memory, and Fancy;
The Objective World, Truth and Error, and Feeling and Will. (Published
at Leipsic, Germany: B. G. Teubner.)

An extremely interesting book is given us in the publications of the
Wisconsin Geological and Natural History Society of studies by _George
W._ and _Elizabeth Peckham_, of the _Instincts and Habits of the
Solitary Wasps_. These insects are familiar enough to us all, as we
meet them or see their nests of one or a few cells every day, and then
think no more of them. But Mr. and Mrs. Peckham, following them to
their haunts and keeping company with them, have found them
manifesting remarkable instincts and exercising curious customs, which
they describe in the style of persons who are in love with their work.
The opportunity for the studies was given in two gardens, one on the
top of a hill and the other lower down, with an island in a lake close
by and acres of woodland all about, offering a rich variety of nesting
places. There are more than a thousand species of these solitary wasps
in the United States, to only about fifty of the social ones, and they
live without knowledge of their progenitors and without relations with
others of their kind.

The eighth volume of the report of the _Iowa Geological Survey_
comprises the accounts of surveys completed during 1897 in six
counties, making up the whole number of twenty-six counties in which
the areal work has been completed. This does not, however, represent
the whole extent of the operations of the survey, for some work has
been done in nearly every county in the State, and in many counties it
will require but little additional work to make a complete report. In
addition to the areal work, too, special studies of coal, clay,
artesian waters, gypsum, lead, zinc, etc., have engaged attention. A
growing public appreciation of the work of the survey as illustrated
in the demand for the volumes of the reports and for special papers,
is recognized by the State Geologist, Mr. _Samuel Calvin_; and an
increasing use of the reports as works for reference and for general
study in high schools and other educational institutions is observed.
The survey is now collecting statistics of production of various
minerals mined in the State.

One of the features most likely to attract attention in the _Annual
Report of the State Geologist_ of New Jersey for 1897 is the paper of
Mr. C. C. Vermeule on the Drainage of the Hackensack and Newark Tide
Marshes. In it a scheme is unfolded for the reclamation and diking of
the flats, under which an ample navigable waterway shall be developed,
and the cities which now stop at their edges may be extended and built
up to the very banks of the new harbor, made a highway for ocean
sailing vessels. An interesting paper is published by Lewis Woolman on
Artesian and Bored and other Wells, in which many important wells are
described with reference to the geological strata they penetrate.
Other papers relate to iron mining and brick and clay industries,
mineral statistics, and statistics of clays, bricks, and terra cotta.
The field reports describe progress in the surveys of the surface
geology, the Newark system, and the upper Cretaceous formations.

On the basis of a reconnoissance made by him for Alexander Agassiz,
Mr. _Robert T. Hill_ has published through the Bulletin of the Museum
of Comparative Zoölogy at Harvard University, a paper on _The
Geological History of the Isthmus of Panama and Portions of Costa
Rica_. He finds that there is considerable evidence that a land
barrier in the tropical region separated the two oceans as far back as
Jurassic time, and continued through the Cretaceous period. The
geological structure of the Isthmus and Central American regions, so
far as investigated, when considered aside from the paleontology,
presents no evidence by which the former existence of a free
communication of oceanic waters across the present tropical barriers
can be established. The paleontological evidence indicates the
ephemeral existence of a passage at the close of the Eocene period.
All lines of inquiry give evidence that no communication has existed
between the two oceans since the close of the Oligocene.

The _Twenty-second Annual Report of the Department of Geology and
Natural Resources_ of Indiana, _W. S. Blatchley_, State Geologist,
embraces, in part, the results of the work of the several departments
of the survey during 1897. These appear in the form of papers of
economic importance on the petroleum, stone, and clay resources of the
State, natural gases and illuminating oils, a description of the
curious geological and topographical region of Lake and Porter
Counties, and an extended paper on the Birds of Indiana, with specific
descriptions. A large proportion of the energies of the department
were employed during the year in gathering data for a detailed report
on the coal area of the State, which is now in course of preparation.

The _Report of the United States Commissioner of Education_ for
1896-'97 records an increase in the enrollment of schools and colleges
of 257,586, the whole number of pupils being 14,712,077 in public
institutions and schools, and 1,513,016 in private. The increase is
confined to the public institutions, the private ones having suffered
from "hard times." Among the numerous papers published in the volume
containing the report are those on Education in Great Britain and
Ireland, France, Denmark, Norway, Central Europe, and Greece;
Commercial Education in Europe; the Teaching of Civics in France,
Switzerland, and England; Sunday Schools, including accounts of the
several denominational systems; the Legal Rights of Children; and
sketches of Horace Mann and Henry Barnard and their work in furthering

Mr. _David T. Day's_ report on the _Mineral Resources of the United
States_ for 1896 appears as Part V of the Eighteenth Annual Report of
the United States Geological Survey, in two volumes of fourteen
hundred pages in all; the first of which is devoted to Metallic
Products and Coal, and the second to Nonmetallic Products except Coal.
The report covers the calendar year 1896, and shows only a slight
increase in total values over 1895. Of some substances, however--gold,
copper, aluminum, and petroleum being the most important ones--the
value was the greatest ever attained. Of other substances, including
lead, bituminous coal, building stones, mineral waters, salt, and
pyrites, the product was increased in amount, but the value was less.
A paper, by Mr. George F. Becker, on the Witwatersrand Banket, records
observations made by him in the Transvaal gold fields.

_A Geological Reconnoissance of the Coal Fields of the Indian
Territory_, published in the Contributions to Biology of the Hopkins
Seaside Laboratory of Leland Stanford Junior University, by _Noah
Fields Drake_, is based upon a six months' examination made by the
author during the spring, summer, and fall of 1896, of the larger part
of the coal measures and adjacent formations of Indian and Oklahoma
Territories. The best maps that could then be had being exceedingly
inaccurate, sketch maps were made of areas that were especially
important. On account of features of particular geological interest,
nearly all the area south and east of the Canadian River and the
bordering areas of the Boone chert and limestones were sketched and
studied rather closely.

The _American Catholic Historical Society_ at Philadelphia publishes
in its _Quarterly Records_ much that, while it must be of deep
interest to historical students holding the Roman Catholic faith,
possesses, perhaps, a strong though more general interest to all
students of American history; for the men of that faith have had no
small part in the colonization and development of this country. The
number for June, 1898, contains a portrait and a bibliographical
sketch of the Rev. Peter Henry Lemke, O. S. B., of Pennsylvania,
Kansas, and Elizabeth, N. J.; a poem on the Launch of the American
Frigate United States, whose commander was a Catholic; articles on the
Sir John James Fund, and Catholic Chronicles of Lancaster, Pa., and
Extracts from the Diary of the Rev. Patrick Kenny.

A memoir on _A Determination of the Ratio ([Greek: chi]) of the
Specific Heats at Constant Pressure and at Constant Volume for Air,
Oxygen, Carbon Dioxide, and Hydrogen_ gives the result of a series of
investigations by Drs. _O. Lummer_ and _E. Pringshein_, of
Charlottenburg, Germany, made with the aid of a grant from the
Hodgkins Fund of the Smithsonian Institution. Besides being of
exceptional importance in thermodynamics, the specific heat ratio is
of interest as affording a clew to the character of the molecule. In
the present investigation coincident results on the gases examined
appear to have been reached for the first time. (Published by the
Smithsonian Institution.)

From the greater lightness of the air and the higher velocity of its
currents, it is evident that the materials it may carry and deposit
will be somewhat different in composition and structure from those
which are laid down in water. They are as a rule finer, they exhibit a
different bedding, and are more capriciously placed. Mr. _Johan August
Udden_ has made a careful study of the subject, the results of which
he publishes under the title of _The Mechanical Composition of Wind
Deposits_, as the first number of the Augustana Library Series, at the
Lutheran Augustana Book Concern, Rock Island, Ill.

The _History Reader for Elementary Schools_ (The Macmillan Company, 60
cents), prepared by _L. L. W. Wilson_ and arranged with special
reference to holidays, contains readings for each month of the school
year, classified according to different periods and phases of American
history generally, so chosen that some important topic of the group
shall bear a relation to the month in which it is to be read. The
groups concern the Indians, the Discovery of America, Thanksgiving,
Other Settlements (than those of Virginia and the Pilgrims), Dr.
Franklin, Lincoln and Washington, the Revolution, Arbor Day, and Brave
Sea Captains, etc., closing with articles in reference to Flag Day.
The insertion of an article on the War with Spain seems premature.
Public sentiment is not yet at rest on the subject.


Agricultural Experiment Stations. Bulletins and Reports. Cornell
University: No. 160. Hints on Rural School Grounds. By L. H. Bailey.
Pp. 20; No. 161. Annual Flowers. By G. N. Lanman and L. H. Bailey. Pp.
32; No. 162. The Period of Gestation in Cows. By H. H. Wing. Pp.
120.--Delaware College: No. 43 (abridged edition). The European and
Japanese Chestnuts in the United States. By G. H. Powell. Pp.
16.--Michigan: Nos. 164 and 165. Methods and Results of Tillage, and
Draft of Farm Implements. By M. W. Fulton. Pp. 24; Elementary Science
Bulletin, No. 5. Branches of Sugar Maple and Beech as seen in Winter.
By W. J. Beal. Pp. 4; do., No. 6. Potatoes, Rutabagas, and Onions. By
W. J. Beal. Pp. 6.--New Jersey: No. 133. Peach Growing in New Jersey.
By A. T. Jordan. Pp. 16; No. 134. Fermentation and Germ Life. By
Julius Nelson. Pp. 24.--North Dakota: No. 15. Some Chemical Problems
Investigated. Pp. 28.--Ohio: Newspaper Bulletin 188. Sugar Beets and
Sorghum in Ohio. Pp. 2.

Aston, W. G. A History of Japanese Literature. New York: D. Appleton
and Company. Pp. 408. $1.50.

Berry, Arthur. A Short History of Astronomy. New York: Charles
Scribner's Sons. Pp. 440. $1.50.

Brush and Pencil. An Illustrated Magazine of the Arts and Crafts.
Monthly. Chicago: Arts and Crafts Company. Pp. 64. 25 cents. $2.50 a

Bulletins, Reports, etc. Colgate University, Department of Geology and
Natural History: Announcement. Pp. 16.--Field Columbian Museum,
Chicago: Annual Report of the Board of Directors for 1897-'98. Pp. 90,
with plates.--Financial Reform Association: 1848 to 1898. Fifty Years'
Retrospect. London. Pp. 54, with plates; Financial Reform Almanac for
1899. London. Pp. 316. 1 shilling.--New York State Library:
Legislative Bulletin for 1898. Pp. 132. 25 cents.--New York
University: Catalogue and Announcements for 1898-'99. Pp.
358.--Perkins Institution and Massachusetts School for the Blind:
Sixty-seventh Annual Report of the Trustees, to August 31, 1898. Pp.
305.--United States Department of Labor: Bulletin No. 20, January,
1899. Edited by Carroll D. Wright and Oren W. Weaver. Pp. 170.

Byrd, Mary E. Laboratory Manual in Astronomy. Boston: Ginn & Co. Pp.

Cajori, Florian. A History of Physics in its Elementary Branches,
including the Evolution of Physical Laboratories. New York: The
Macmillan Company. Pp. 323. $1.60.

Callie, J. W. S. John Smith's Reply to "Merrie England, Defense of the
Liberal Programme." London: John Heywood. Pp. 88. Sixpence.

Chapman, Frank H., Editor. Bird Lore. February, 1898, Vol. I, No. 1.
Bimonthly. New York: The Macmillan Company. Pp. 32. 20 cents. $1 a

Davenport, Charles B. Experimental Morphology. Part II. New York: The
Macmillan Company. Pp. 509. $2.

Evans, A. H. Birds (The Cambridge Natural History, edited by S. F.
Harmer and A. E. Shipley, Vol. IX). New York: The Macmillan Company.
Pp. 635. $3.50.

Egbert, Seneca. A Manual of Hygiene and Sanitation. Philadelphia: Lea
Brothers & Co. Pp. 368.

Foulke, William Dudley. Slav or Saxon: a Study of the Growth and
Tendencies of Russian Civilization. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons. Pp.
141. $1.

Huntington, Elon. The Earth's Rotation and its Interior Heat. Pp. 33.

Janes, Lewis G. Our Nation's Peril. Social Ideas and Social Progress.
Pp. 31. 25 cents.

McLellan, J. A., and Ames, A. F. The Public School Mental Arithmetic.
New York: The Macmillan Company. Pp. 138. 25 cents. Boston: James H.
West & Co.

Maltbie, Milo Ray. Municipal Functions. A Study of the Development,
Scope, and Tendency of Municipal Socialism. (Municipal Affairs,
December, 1898.) New York: Reform Club, Committee of Municipal
Administration. Pp. 230. 75 cents.

Mason, Hon. William E. Speech in the United States Senate on the
Government of Foreign Peoples. Pp. 26.

Patten, Simon N. The Development of English Thought. New York: The
Macmillan Company. Pp. 415. $3.

Pittsburg Press Almanac, The, for 1899. Quarterly. St. Louis: The
Press Publishing Company. Pp. 536.

Récéjac, E. Essay on the Basis of the Mystic Knowledge. Translated by
Sera Carr Upton. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. Pp. 287. $2.50.

Reprints. Caldwell, Otis W. The Life History of Lemna Minor. Pp.
32.--Calkins, G. N. Some Hydroids from Puget Sound. Pp. 24, with six
plates.--Cope, Edward D. Vertebrate Remains from the Port Kennedy Bone
Deposit. Pp. 75, with plates.--Fitz, G. W. Play as a Factor in
Development. Pp. 7; The Hygiene of Instruction in Elementary Schools.
Pp. 7.--Howard, William Lee. Double Personality; Lenten Hysteria. Pp.
8.--Howe, R. H., Jr. North American Wood Frogs.--Hunt, Charles
Wallace. The Engineer: His Work, his Ethics, his Pleasures.
(President's Address, American Society of Mechanical Engineers.)
Pp. 15.--Hunter, S. J. The Coccidæ of Kansas. Pp. 15, with
plates.--Krauss, W. C. The Stigmata of Degeneration. Pp. 360.--Lichty,
D. Thalassic Submersion a Means of Disposal of the Dead. Pp.
12.--McDonald, Arthur. Emile Zola. Pp. 16.--Phillips, W. B. Iron
Making in Alabama. Montgomery. Pp. 380.--Saunders, De Alten.
Phycological Memoirs. Pp. 20, with plates.--Schlicht, Paul J. A New
Process of Combustion. Pp. 32.--Stevens, F. L. The Effect of Aqueous
Solutions upon the Germination of Fungus Spores. Pp. 30.--Stock, H. H.
The International Correspondence Schools, Scranton, Pennsylvania. Pp.
12.--Urn, The. Modern Thought on Modern Cremation. United States
Cremation Company. Pp. 40.--Veeder, M. A. The Relative Importance of
Flies and Water Supply in Spreading Disease. Pp. 8.

Robinson, Albert Gardner. The Porto Rico of To-day. New York: Charles
Scribner's Sons. Pp. 240, with maps. $1.50.

Salazar, A. E. Kalkules de Kañerius de Agua (Calculations of Water
Conduits). Santiago de Chile. Pp. 246.

Schnabel, Dr. Carl. Handbook of Metallurgy. Translated by Henry Louis.
2 vols. New York: The Macmillan Company. Pp. 876 and 732. $10.

Seligman, E. R. A. The Shifting and Incidence of Taxation. Second
edition. New York: The Macmillan Company. Pp. 337. $3.

Semon, Richard. In the Australian Bush and on the Coast of the Coral
Sea. New York: The Macmillan Company. Pp. 552. $6.50.

Spencer, Baldwin, and Gillen, F. J. The Native Tribes of Central
Australia. New York: The Macmillan Company. Pp. 671, with plates.

Technology Review, The. A Quarterly Magazine relating to the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology. January, 1899. Pp. 143. 35

United States National Museum. Annual Report for the Year ending June
30, 1896. (Smithsonian Institution.) Washington. Pp. 1107, with

Weir, James. The Dawn of Reason. Mental Traits in the Lower Animals.
New York: The Macmillan Company. Pp. 234. $1.25.

Westcott, Edward N. David Harum. New York: D. Appleton and Company.
Pp. 392. $1.50.

Whipple, G. C. The Microscopy of Drinking Water. New York: John Wiley
& Sons. Pp. 300, with nineteen plates. $3.50.

Wilkinson, F. The Story of the Cotton Plant. (Library of Useful
Stories.) New York: D. Appleton and Company. Pp. 191. 40 cents.


[14] Earth Sculpture, or the Origin of Land Forms. By James Geikie.
New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons. Pp. 397. Price, $2.

[15] The Psychology of Peoples. By Gustave Le Bon. New York: The
Macmillan Company. Pp. 236. Price, $1.50.

[16] A Text-Book of Mineralogy, with an Extended Treatise on
Crystallography and Physical Mineralogy. By Edmund Salisbury Dana. New
edition, entirely rewritten and enlarged. New York: John Wiley & Sons.
Pp. 593. $4.

[17] The Story of the Railroad. By Cy Warman. New York: D. Appleton
and Company (Story of the West Series). Pp. 280. Price, $1.50.

[18] Infinitesimal Analysis. By William Benjamin Smith. Vol. I.
Elementary; Real Variables. New York: The Macmillan Company. Pp. 352.

[19] The Jubilee History of the Leeds Industrial Co-operative Society
from 1847 to 1897. Traced Year by Year. By George Jacob Holyoake.
Leeds (Eng.) Central Co-operative Office. Pp. 260.

Fragments of Science.

=The Nernst Electric Lamp.=--Prof. Walter Nernst, of the University of
Göttingen, has recently devised an electric lamp which promises to be
an important addition to our present methods of lighting. The part of
the lamp which emits the light consists of a small rod of highly
refractory material, said to be chiefly thoria, which is supported
between two platinum electrodes. The rod is practically a nonconductor
when cold, but by heating it (in the smaller sizes a match is
sufficient) its conductivity is so raised that a current will pass
through it; after the current is once started the heat produced by the
resistance of the rod is sufficient to keep up its conductivity, and
the latter is raised to a state of intense incandescence, and gives
out a brilliant white light. As the preliminary heating by means of a
match or other flame would in some cases be an inconvenience,
Professor Nernst has devised a lamp which, by means of a platinum
resistance attachment, can be started by simply turning a switch. The
life of the rods is about five hundred hours. The lamps are said to
work equally well with either alternating or direct currents, and
there is no vacuum necessary. If this lamp proves a success as a
commercial apparatus, it will be but another example of how slight a
matter may make all the difference between success and failure. There
have been numerous experimenters trying for the last ten years, and in
fact ever since the appearance of the arc lamp, to utilize in an
electric lamp the great light-giving power of the refractory earths in
a state of incandescence; but, owing to their high resistance at
ordinary temperatures, no results were obtained until Professor Nernst
thought of heating his thoria rod, and this simple procedure seems to
have solved the whole difficulty. It is claimed that the Nernst lamp
is a much more economical transformer of electricity into light than
the present incandescent electric lamps. An apparatus called a kaolin
candle, which has been suggested as an anticipation of Professor
Nernst's lamp, was constructed by Paul Jablochkoff in 1877 or 1878. It
consisted of a strip of kaolin, along which ran a "match" of some
conducting material. The current was passed through this "match" until
the kaolin strip became heated sufficiently to become a conductor
itself. The lamp did not, however, prove a commercial success.

=Laws of Climatic Evolution.=--The problem of the laws of climatic
evolution was characterized by Dr. Marsden Manson, in a paper read at
the British Association, as one of the grandest and most far-reaching
problems in geological physics, since it embraces principles and laws
applicable to other planets than ours. After presenting a formulation
of those laws, the author pointed out that in consequence of their
working, a hot spheroid rotating in space and revolving about a
central sun, and holding fluids of similar properties to water and air
within the sphere of its control, must pass through a series of
uniform climates at sea level, gradually decreasing in temperature and
terminating in an ice age, and that this age must be succeeded by a
series of zonal climates gradually increasing in temperature and
extent. The conclusions thus reached were that in the case of the
earth zonal distribution of climates was inaugurated at the
culmination of the ice age, and is gradually increasing in temperature
and extent by the trapping of the solar energy in the lower
atmosphere, and that the rise has a moderate limit; that the ice age
was unique and due to the physical properties of water and air, and to
the difference in specific heat of land and water; and that prior to
the ice age local formation of glaciers could occur at any latitude
and period. Dr. Manson then observed that Jupiter was apparently in a
condition through which the earth has already passed, and Mars was in
one toward which the climatic evolution of the earth was tending.

=Poisonous Plants.=--Statistics in regard to poisonous plants are
lacking on account of a general ignorance of the subject, and it is
therefore impossible to form even an approximate estimate of the
damage done by them. Besides the criminal uses that may be made of
them, there are some other problems connected with them that are of
general public interest. The common law of England holds those who
possess and cultivate such plants responsible for damages accruing
from them; and a New York court has awarded damages in a case of
injury from poison ivy growing in a cemetery. In order to obtain
information on the subject, the botanical division of the Department
of Agriculture arranged to receive notices through the clipping
bureaus of the cases of poisoning recorded in the newspapers. Thus
through the persons named in the articles or through the local
postmaster it was put in correspondence with the physician in the
case, who furnished the authentic facts. A large number of correct and
valuable data were thus secured. It is proved by these facts that all
poisonous plants are not equally injurious to all persons nor to all
forms of life. Thus poison ivy has no apparent external effect upon
animals, and a few of them eat its leaves with impunity; and it acts
upon the skin of the majority of persons with varying intensity--on
some hardly at all, while others are extremely sensitive to it. A
similar variability is found in the effects of poisonous plants taken
internally. In some cases often regarded as of that kind, death is
attributable not to any poison which the plant contains, but to
immoderate or incautious eating, or to mechanical injury such as is
produced in horses by the hairs of crimson clover, or to the effect of
parasitic growths, such as ergot on rye. Excluding all which operate
in these ways, there are, however, a large number of really poisonous
plants, the properties of which are comparatively unknown. It is
concerning these that information has been sought by the botanical
division. Its report contains descriptions of about forty plants, with
figures, belonging to seventeen families.

=The United States Biological Survey.=--The Biological Survey of the
United States Department of Agriculture aims to define and map the
agricultural belts of the country in order to ascertain what products
of the soil can and what can not be grown successfully in each, to
guide the farmer in the intelligent introduction of foreign crops, and
to point out his friends and his enemies among the native birds and
animals. For information on these subjects so important to him the
farmer has had to rely on his own experiments or those of his
neighbors, often carried on at enormous cost to persons little able to
bear it. The Survey and its predecessor, the division of ornithology
and mammology, have had small parties in the field traversing the
public domain for the purpose of studying the geographic distribution
of our native land animals and plants and mapping the boundaries of
the areas they inhabit. It was early learned that North America is
divisible into seven transcontinental belts or life zones and a much
larger number of minor areas or _faunas_, each characterized by
particular associations of animals and plants. The inference was
natural and has been verified that these same zones and areas, up to
the northern limit of profitable agriculture, are adapted to the needs
of particular kinds or varieties of cultivated crops. The Survey is
engaged in tracing as precisely as possible the actual boundaries of
these belts and areas, and in finding out and designating the
varieties of crops best adapted to each. In this undertaking it aims
to point out such exotic products as, from their importance in other
lands, are likely to prove of value if introduced on fit soils and
under proper climatic conditions. The importance of this work will be
realized when it is recollected that all the climatic life zones of
the world, except the hottest tropical, are represented in our
country. The colored maps prepared by the Survey furnish the best
guide the farmer can have for judging what crops will be best adapted
for his particular region; and in connection with the work of the
entomologist, show the belts along which noxious insects are likely to
spread. The report of the Survey, prepared under the direction of its
chief, C. Hart Merriam, though full of valuable information not before
presented consecutively, is preliminary and only touches the edge of a
subject which is susceptible of copious elaboration, and is destined
to be worked up with immense profit.

=A Neolithic Lake Dwelling.=--A crannog, or lake dwelling, discovered
in the summer of 1898 on the banks of the Clyde, has received much
attention from English archæologists because of its unique situation
on a tidal stream, and of its being apparently neolithic or far more
ancient than any other crannog yet examined, in all others the relics
being of the bronze age. Careful excavations have been made in it and
are still in progress, and the refuse mound of the former settlement
has been sifted, with results that have made it plain that there were
design and execution in the building, and that it was occupied and
inhabited for a long period. Positive evidence of fire is afforded in
the shape of numerous firestones and calcined embers, and indications
of the condition of life at the period are given by the implements,
ornaments, and tools recovered. The crannog is about sixteen hundred
yards east of the Castle Rock of Dumbarton, and about fifty yards from
the river at low tide, but is submerged when the tide is in to a depth
of from three to twelve feet, and is one hundred and eighty-four feet
in circuit. The piles in the outer circle are of oak, which below the
mud surface is still quite fresh. The transverse beams and pavement
inside are of wood of the consistence of cheese--willow, alder, and
oak--while the smaller branches are of fir, birch, and hazel, with
bracken, moss, and chips. The stones in the outer circle and along the
causeway leading to the dwelling place seem to have been set in a
methodical order, most of the bowlders being about a lift for a man.
The refuse mound extends for about twelve feet outside for the
greater part of the circuit, and here most of the bone and flint
implements have been discovered. The largest article found in the site
was a very fine canoe, thirty-seven feet long and forty inches beam,
dug out of a single oak tree, which lay in what has proved to have
been a dock. A curious ladder was also found here, the rungs of which
were cut out of the solid wood, and which has somewhat the general
appearance of a post of a post-and-rail fence. The exploration of the
site is much interfered with by the rising of the tide, which covers
the crannog for a considerable time every day. All the relics
found--consisting chiefly of objects of bone, staghorn, jet, chert,
and cannel coal, with some querns, the canoe, ladder, etc.--have been
placed in the museum at Glasgow.

=Portland Cement.=--The following facts are taken from an address
delivered before the Franklin Institute by Mr. Robert W. Lesley: "It
was not until the end of the last century that the true principles of
hydraulic cement were discovered by Smeaton, who, in the construction
of the Eddystone Lighthouse, made a number of experiments with the
English limestones, and laid down, as a result, the principle that a
limestone yielding from fifteen to twenty-five per cent of residue
when dissolved in hydrochloric acid will set under water. These
limestones he denominated hydraulic limestones, and from the principle
so laid down by him come the two great definitions of what we now know
as cement, namely, the natural and artificial cements of commerce. The
natural variety, such as the Rosendale, Lehigh, and Cumberland
cements, was first made by Joseph Parker in 1796, who discovered what
he called 'Roman cement,' based upon the calcination at low
temperatures of the nodules found in the septaria geological formation
in England. This was practically the first cement of commerce, and
gave excellent results. Joseph Aspdin, a bricklayer or plasterer, took
out a patent in England in 1824 on a high-grade artificial cement,
and, at great personal deprivation, succeeded in manufacturing it on a
commercial scale by combining English chalks with clay from the river
beds, drying the mixed paste, and after calcining at high heat the
material thus produced, grinding it to powder. This cement, which was
the first Portland cement in the market, obtained its name from its
resemblance when it became stone to the celebrated Portland stone, one
of the leading building materials in England. The rocks used in the
manufacture of Portland cement are very similar to those from which
natural cement is made. The various layers in the natural rock may
vary in size or stratification, so that the lime, alumina, and silica
may not be in position to combine under heat, or there may be too much
of one ingredient, or not enough of the others in close proximity to
each other. In making Portland cement, these rocks, properly
proportioned, are accordingly ground to an impalpable powder, the
natural rock being broken down and the laminæ distributed in many
small grains. This powder is then mixed with water, and is made into a
new stone in the shape of the brick, or block, in which all the small
grains formerly composing the laminæ of the original rock are
distributed and brought into a close mechanical juxtaposition to each
other. The new rock thus made is put into kilns with layers of coke,
and is then calcined at temperatures from 1,600° to 1,800°. The
clinker, as it comes from the kiln, is then crushed and ground to an
impalpable powder, which is the Portland cement of commerce. Portland
cement may be made from other materials, such as chalk and clay,
limestone and clay, cement rock and limestone, and marls and clays. In
every case the principle is the same, the breaking down and the
redistributing of the materials so that the fine particles may be in
close mechanical union when subjected to the heat of the kiln."

=The French Nontoxic Matches.=--It is believed, by Frenchmen at least,
that the problem long sought, of finding a composition for a match
head in which all the advantages of white phosphorus shall be
preserved while its deleterious qualities are eliminated or greatly
reduced, has been solved in the new matches which the French
Government has placed upon the market. These matches are marked S. C.,
by the initials of the inventors, MM. Sévène and Cahen, are made in
the factories at Trélazé, Begles, and Samtines, and have been well
received by the public. In preparing the composition, the chlorate of
potash of the old flashing and safety matches has been retained, and
the sesquisulphide of phosphorus is used instead of the white or red
phosphorus of the old matches. The latter substance, besides the
indispensable qualities of fixity and resistance to atmospheric
influences, has the two important properties of inflaming at 95° C.,
much nearer the igniting point of white phosphorus (60° C.) than of
red (260° C.), and being therefore easier to light; and of having a
low latent or specific heat. With these properties embodied in the
inflammable composition of the head, the new match is expected to be
comparatively free from accidental explosions during manufacture and
export, to take fire by friction, and to burn steadily and regularly.
The expectation has so far been fulfilled. The phosphorus compound has
a special odor, in which the sulphur characteristic predominates, but,
not boiling under 380° C., does not become offensive in the shops; and
the match heads made with it do not emit the phosphorescence which is
often exhibited by matches made with white phosphorus. It is only
feebly toxic by direct absorption, experiments on guinea pigs
indicating that it is only about one tenth as much so as white

=Trees as Land Formers.=--John Gifford, in a paper presented to the
Franklin Institute on Forestry in Relation to Physical Geography and
Engineering, mentions as illustrating the way forests counteract
certain destructive forces, the mangrove tree as "the great land
former which, supplementing the work of the coral polyp, has added to
the warm seashore regions of the globe immense areas of land." The
trees grow in salt water several feet deep, where their labyrinth of
roots and branches collect and hold sediment and flotage. Thus the
shore line advances. The seeds, germinating on the plant, the
plantlets fall into the water, float away till their roots touch the
bottom, and there form the nucleus of new islands and life. The forest
constantly improves the soil, provided the latter is not removed or
allowed to burn. The roots of trees penetrate to its deeper layers and
absorb great quantities of mineral matters, a large percentage of
which goes to the leaves, and is ultimately deposited on the surface.
"The surface soil is both enriched by these mineral substances and
protected by a mulch of humus in varying stages of decomposition. As
the lower layers rot, new layers of leaves and twigs are being
constantly deposited, so that the forest soil, in the course of time,
fairly reeks with nourishing plant food, which seeps out more or less
to enrich neighboring soils." The forest is also a soil former. "Even
the most tender rootlet, because of its acidity, is able to dissolve
its way through certain kinds of rock. This, together with the acids
formed in the decomposition of humus, is a potent and speedy agent in
the production of soil. The roots of many species of trees have no
difficulty whatever in penetrating limestone and in disintegrating
rocks of the granitic series. As the rock crumbles, solid inorganic
materials are released, which enrich neighboring soils, especially
those of the valleys in regions where the forest is relegated to the
mountain sides and top, as should be the case in all mountainous
regions. In view of the destruction caused by mankind, it is a
consoling fact that Nature, although slowly, is gradually improving
her waste lands. If not interrupted, the barest rock and the fallowest
field, under conditions which may be called unfavorable, will become,
in course of time, forest-clad and fertile. The most important
function of the forest in relation to the soil, however, is in holding
it in place and protecting it from the erosive action of wind and

=The Atlantic Slope.=--The Atlantic slope of the United States is
described in the New Jersey State Geological Survey's report on the
Physical Geography of the State as "a fairly distinct geographical
province. Its eastern boundary is the sea; its western boundary on the
north is the divide between the drainage flowing southeast to the sea
and that flowing northeast to the St. Lawrence. Farther south its
western limit is the divide between the streams flowing east to the
Atlantic and those flowing west to the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers."
The line between it and the geographical province next west follows
the watershed of the Appalachian system of mountains. It is divided,
according to elevations, into several subprovinces, all of which
elongate in a direction roughly parallel to the shore. Next to the
coast there is usually a belt of lowland, few or many miles wide,
called the _Coastal Plain_. Inland from the Coastal Plain is an
intermediate height, between the Coastal Plain to the east and the
mountains to the west, known in the South as the _Piedmont Plateau_.
The mountainous part of the slope constitutes the third province,
known as the _Appalachian Zone_. The Atlantic slope may be divided
into two sections--a northern and a southern--in which the Coastal
Plain is narrow and wide respectively. These two sections meet in New
Jersey, where the division runs from the Raritan River, just below New
Brunswick, to Trenton. South of this line the Coastal Plain expands,
and all considerable elevations recede correspondingly from the shore.
These three subprovinces are especially well shown in the southern
section of the Atlantic slope. They are less well developed in the
northern section, and even where the topography is comparable the
underlying rock structure is different. In New Jersey a fourth belt,
the Triassic formation, is interposed between the Coastal Plain and
the Highlands corresponding to the Piedmont Plateau. North of New
Jersey the Coastal Plain has little development, though Long Island
and some small areas farther east and northeast are to be looked upon
as parts of it.

=American Fresh-water Pearls.=--The facts cited by Mr. George F. Kunz
in his paper, published in the Report of the United States Fish
Commission, on the Fresh-water Pearls and Pearl Fisheries of the
United States, give considerable importance to this feature of our
natural history. The mound explorations attest that fresh-water pearls
were gathered and used by the prehistoric peoples of the country "to
an extent that is astonishing. On the hearths of some of these mounds
in Ohio the pearls have been found, not by hundreds, but by thousands
and even by bushels--now, of course, damaged and half decomposed by
centuries of burial and by the heat of superficial fires." The
narratives of the early Spanish explorers make several mentions of
pearls in the possession of the Indians. For a considerable period
after the first explorations, however, American pearls attracted but
little attention, and "for some two centuries the Unios [or
'fresh-water mussels'] lived and multiplied in the rivers and streams,
unmolested by either the native tribes that had used them for food, or
by the pioneers of the new race that had not yet learned of their
hidden treasures." Within recent years the gathering of Unio pearls
has attained such importance as to start economical problems
warranting and even demanding careful and detailed inquiry. The first
really important discovery of Unio pearls was made near Paterson, N.
J., in 1857, in the form of the "queen pearl" of fine luster, weighing
ninety-three grains, which was sold to Eugénie, wife of Napoleon III,
for twenty-five hundred dollars, and is now worth four times that
amount. As a result the Unios at Notch Brook, where it was found, were
gathered by the million and destroyed. Within a year fully fifteen
thousand dollars' worth of pearls were sent to the New York market.
Then the shipments gradually fell off. Some of the best American
pearls that were next found were at Waynesville, Ohio, where Mr.
Israel H. Harris formed an exceedingly fine collection. It contained
more than two thousand specimens, weighing more than as many grains.
Among them were one button-shaped on the back and weighing
thirty-eight grains, several almost transparent pink ones, and one
showing where the pearl had grown almost entirely through the Unio. In
1889 a number of magnificently colored pearls were found at different
places in the creeks and rivers of Wisconsin, of which more than ten
thousand dollars' worth were sent to New York within three months.
These discoveries led to immense activity in pearl hunting through all
the streams of the region, and in three or four seasons the shells
were nearly exhausted. The pearl fisheries of this State have produced
at least two hundred and fifty thousand dollars' worth of pearls since
1889. Another outbreak of the "pearl mania" occurred in Arkansas in
1897, and extended into the Indian Territory, Missouri, Georgia, and
other States.

=Distribution of Cereals in the United States.=--To inquiries made
preparatory to drawing up a report on the Distribution of Cereals in
North America (Department of Agriculture, Biological Survey), Mr. C.
S. Plumb received one thousand and thirty-three answers, eight
hundred and ninety-seven of which came from the United States and the
rest from the Canadian provinces. These reports showed that in many
localities, particularly in the East and South, but little attention
is paid to keeping varieties pure, and many farmers use mixed,
unknown, or local varieties of ordinary merit for seed. In New England
but little grain is grown from sowing, owing to the cheapness of
Western grain, and wheat is rarely reported. Oats are now mostly sown
from Western seed, and the resulting crop is mown for hay, while most
of the corn is cut for green fodder or silage. On certain fine
lowlands--as, for example, in the Connecticut Valley--oats, and more
especially corn, are often grown for grain. While reports on most of
the cereals were rendered from the lower austral zone, or the region
south of the Appalachians and the old Missouri Compromise line, this
region, except where it merges with the upper austral or the one north
of it, is apparently outside the area of profitable cultivation of
wheat and oats. In Louisiana and most of the other parts of the lower
austral, except in northern Texas and Oklahoma, wheat is almost an
unknown crop. The warm, moist climatic conditions here favor the
development of fungous diseases to such a degree that the plants are
usually ruined or greatly injured at an early stage of growth. In
Florida, as a rule, cereals are rarely cultivated except on the
uplands at the northern end of the State. In a general way, corn and
wheat are most successfully grown in the upper austral zone, or
central States, while oats are best and most productive in the
transition zone (or northern and Lake States and the Dakotas), or
along the border of the upper austral and transition. The gradual
acclimation of varieties of cereals, through years of selection and
cultivation, has gone so far, however, that some varieties are now
much better adapted to one zone than to another.

=Spanish Silkworm Gut.=--The business of manufacturing silkworm gut in
Spain is a considerable industry. The method of preparation is thus
described in the Journal of the Society of Arts: After the silkworm
grub has eaten enough mulberry leaves, and before it begins to spin,
which is during the months of May and June, it is thrown into vinegar
for several hours. The insect is killed and the substance which the
grub, if alive, would have spun into a cocoon is drawn out from the
dead worm into a much thicker and shorter silken thread, in which
operation considerable dexterity and experience are required. Two
thick threads from each grub are placed for about four hours in clear
cold water, after which they are put for ten or fifteen minutes in a
solution of some caustic. This loosens a fine outer skin on the
threads, which is removed by the hands, the workman holding the
threads in his teeth. The silk is then hung up to dry in a shady
place, the sun rendering it brittle. In some parts of the country
these silk guts are bleached with sulphur vapor, which makes them
beautifully glossy and snow-white, while those naturally dried have a
yellowish tint. The quality of the gut is decided according to the
healthy condition of the worm, round indicating a good quality and
flat an inferior one.

=The Nests of Burrowing Bees.=--Prof. John B. Smith, having explained
to his section of the American Association a method which has been
successfully applied, of taking casts in plaster of Paris of the homes
of burrowing insects, with their branchings, to the depth of six feet,
described some of the results of its application. Bees, of the genus
_Calletes_, dig vertically to the depth of eighteen inches or more,
then burrow horizontally from two to five inches farther, and
construct a thin, parchmentlike cell of saliva, in which the egg is
deposited, with pollen and honey for the food of the larva. They then
start a new horizontal burrow a little distance from the first, and
perhaps a third, but no more. The vertical tubes are then filled up,
so that when the bees come to life they must burrow from six to
twenty-four inches before they can reach the surface. Another genus
makes a twisted burrow; another makes a vertical burrow that may be
six feet deep. About a foot below the surface it sends off a lateral
branch, and in this it excavates a chamber from one to two and a half
inches in diameter. Tubes are sent down from this chamber, as many
perhaps as from six to twenty together, and these are lined with clay
to make them water-tight. This bee, when it begins its burrow, makes
an oblique gallery from four to six inches long before it starts in
the vertical direction, and all the dirt is carried through this
oblique gallery. Then the insect continues the tube vertically upward
to just below the surface, and makes a small concealed opening to it
here, taking care to pile no sand near it. This is the regular
entrance to the burrow.


In a report of an inspection of three French match factories,
published as a British Parliamentary paper, Dr. T. Oliver records as
his impressions and deductions that while until recently the match
makers suffered severely from phosphorus poisoning, there is now
apparently a reduction in the severe forms of the illness; that this
reduction is attributable to greater care in the selection of the work
people, to raising the age of admission into the factory, to medical
examination on entrance, subsequent close supervision, and repeated
dental examination; to personal cleanliness on the part of the
workers; to early suspension on the appearance of symptoms of ill
health; and to improved methods of manufacture. The French Government
is furthering by all possible means new methods of manufacture in the
hope of finding a safer one; and a match free from white phosphorus
and still capable of striking anywhere is already manufactured.

A mechanical and engineering section is to be organized in the
Franklin Institute, Philadelphia, to be devoted to the consideration
of subjects bearing upon the mechanic arts and the engineering
problems connected therewith. The growth of the various departments of
this institution--which has been fitly termed a "democratic learned
society," from the close affiliation in it of the men of the
professions and the men of the workshops--by natural accretion, and
the steadily growing demands for the extension of its educational work
during the past decade, have increased the costs for maintenance and
administration and have been the cause of a deficit in nearly every
year. A movement is now on foot, approved by the board of managers,
and directed by a special committee, to secure for it an endowment,
toward which a number of subscriptions ranging from two hundred and
fifty to twenty-five hundred dollars have already been received.

The earthquake which took place in Assam, June 12, 1897, was described
by Mr. R. D. Oldham in the British Association as having been the most
violent of which there is any record. The shock was sensible over an
area of 1,750,000 square miles, and if it had occurred in England, not
a house would have been left standing between Manchester and London.
Landslips on an unprecedented scale were produced, a number of lakes
were formed, and mountain peaks were moved vertically and
horizontally. Monuments of solid stone and forest trees were broken
across. Bridges were overthrown, displaced, and in some places thrust
bodily up to a height of about twenty feet, and the rails on the
railroads were twisted and bent. Earth fissures were formed over an
area larger than the United Kingdom, and sand rents, from which sand
and water were forced in solid streams to a height of three or four
feet above the ground, were opened "in incalculable numbers." The loss
of life was comparatively small, as the earthquake occurred about five
o'clock in the afternoon, and the damage done was reduced by the fact
that there were no large cities within the area of greatest violence;
but in extent and capacity of destruction, as distinguished from
destruction actually accomplished, this earthquake surpassed any of
which there was historical mention, not even excepting the great
earthquake of Lisbon in 1755.

The first section of the electric railway up the Jungfrau, which is
intended to reach the top of the mountain, was opened about the first
of October, 1898. The line starts from the Little Scheidegg station of
the existing Wengern Alp Railway, 6,770 feet above the sea, and
ascends the mountain masses from the north side, passing the Eiger
Glacier, Eiger Wand, Eismeer, and Jungfraujoch stations, to Lift,
13,430 feet, whence the ascent is completed by elevator to the summit,
13,670 feet. The road starts on a gradient of ten per cent, which is
increased to twenty per cent about halfway to the Eiger Glacier
station, and to twenty-five per cent, the steepest, after passing that
station. There are about 85 yards in tunnel on the section now opened,
but beyond the Eiger Glacier the road will not touch the surface
except at the stations. About 250 yards of the long tunnel have been
excavated so far. The stations beyond Eiger Wand will be built within
the rock, and will be furnished with restaurants and beds. At the
Eiger Wand and Eismeer stations passengers will contemplate the view
through windows or balconies from the inside; but at the Jungfraujoch
station tourists will be able to go out and take sledges for the great
Aletsch Glacier. The cars will accommodate forty passengers each, and
the company expects to complete the railroad by 1904.

Alexander A. Lawes, civil engineer, of Sydney, Australia, suggests a
plan of mechanical flight on beating wings as presenting advantages
that transcend all other schemes. He believes that the amount of power
required to operate wings and the difficulty in applying it are
exaggerated beyond all measure. The wings or sustainers of the bird in
flight, he urges, are held in the outstretched position without any
exertion on its part; and many birds, like the albatross, sustain
themselves for days at a stretch. "This constitutes its aërial
support, and is analogous to the support derived by other animals from
land and water." The sole work done by the bird is propulsion and
elevation by the beating action of the wings. Mr. Adams's machine,
which he does not say he has tried, is built in conformity to this
principle, and its sails are modeled as nearly as possible in form and
as to action with those of the bird. The aid of an air cylinder is
further called in, through which a pressure is exerted balancing the
wings. The wings are moved by treadles, and the author's picture of
the aëronaut looks like a man riding an aërial bicycle.

Carborundum, a substance highly extolled by its manufacturers
as an abrasive, is composed of carbon and silicon in atomic
proportions--thirty parts by weight of carbon and seventy of silicon.
It is represented as being next to the diamond in hardness and as
cutting emery and corundum with ease, but as not as tough as the
diamond. It is a little more than one and a fifth times the weight of
sand, is infusible at the highest attainable heat, but is decomposed
in the electric arc, and is insoluble in any of the ordinary solvents,
water, oils, and acids, even hydrofluoric acid having no effect upon
it. Pure carborundum is white. In the commercial manufacture the
crystals are produced in many colors and shades, partly as the result
of impurities and partly by surface oxidation. The prevailing colors
are green, black, and blue. The color has no effect upon the hardness.
Crude carborundum, as taken from the furnace, usually consists of
large masses or aggregations of crystals, which are frequently very
beautifully colored and of adamantine luster.

A peculiarity of Old English literary usage is pointed out by Prof.
Dr. L. Kellner, of Vienna, as illustrated in a sentence like "the mob
is ignorant, and they are often cruel." This is considered a bad
solecism in modern English, but in Old and Middle English
constructions of exactly the same kind are so often met with that it
is impossible to account for them as slips and mistakes. They may be
brought under several heads, as, Number (the same collective noun used
as a singular and a plural); Case (the same verb or adjective
governing the genitive and accusative, the genitive and dative, or the
dative and accusative); Pronoun ("thou" and "ye" used in addressing
the same person); Tense (past and perfect, or past and historical
present used in the same breath); Mood (indicative and subjunctive
used in the same clause). Finite verb and infinitive dependent on the
same verb; simple and prepositional infinitives dependent on the same
verb; infinitive and verbal noun used side by side; different
prepositions dependent on the same verb, like Caxton's "He was eaten
by bears and of lions"; direct and indirect speech alternating in the
same clause. These facts, which are met with as late as 1611 (Bible,
authorized version), point to the conclusion that what to us appears
as a grammatical inconsistency was once considered a welcome break in
the monotony of construction.

Mr. Fischer Sigwart is quoted in the _Revue Scientifique_ as having
studied the life of frogs for thirty years, and found that they are
night wanderers, keeping comparatively quiet during the day and
seeking their prey after dark. In the fall they leave their hunting
grounds in the fields and woods and take refuge near swamps and ponds,
passing the winter in the banks of rivers or the mud in the bottoms of
ponds, whence they come out in the spring, when the process of
reproduction begins. The frog is not sexually mature till it is four
or five years old. The coupling process lasts from three to thirty
days. Between its spring wakening and spawning the frog eats nothing
except, perhaps, its own skin, which it moults periodically. After
spawning, frogs leave the water and go to the fields and woods. They
can be fed, when kept captive, upon insects and earthworms.


A relation has been discovered by Professor Dolbear and Carl A. and
Edward A. Bessey between the chirping of crickets and the temperature,
the chirps increasing as frequently as the temperature rises. The
Besseys relate, in The American Naturalist, that when, one cool
evening, a cricket was caught and brought into a warm room, it began
in a few minutes to chirp nearly twice as rapidly as the out-of-door
crickets, and that its rate very nearly conformed to the observed rate
maintained other evenings out of doors under the same temperature

C. Drieberg, of Colombo, Ceylon, records, in Nature, a rainfall at
Nedunkeni, in the northern province of Ceylon, December 15 and 16,
1897, of 31.76 inches in twenty-four hours. The highest previous
records, as cited by him, are at Joyeuse, France, 31.17 inches in
twenty-two hours; Genoa, 30 inches in twenty-six hours; on the hills
above Bombay, 24 inches in one night; and on the Khasia Hills, India,
30 inches in each of five successive days. The average annual rainfall
at Nedunkeni has been 64.70 inches, but in 1897 the total amount was
121.85 inches. The greatest annual rainfall is on the Khasia Hills,
India, with 600 inches. The wettest station in Ceylon is Padupola, in
the central province, with 230.85 inches as the mean of twenty-six
years, but in 1897 the amount was 243.07 inches.

The Korean postage stamps are printed in the United States. As
explained in the United States consular reports, they are of four
denominations, and all alike except in color and denomination. Of the
inscriptions, the characters on the top are ancient Chinese, and those
at the bottom, having the same meaning, are Korean; the characters on
the right are Korean and those on the left are Chinese, both giving
the denominations, with the English translation just below the center
of the stamp. The plum blossom in each corner is the royal flower of
the present Ye dynasty, which has been in existence more than five
hundred years, and the figures at the corners of the center piece
represent the four spirits that stand at the corners of the earth and
support it on their shoulders. The national emblem in the center is an
ancient Chinese phallic device.

A paragraph in _La Nature_ calls to mind that the year 1898 was the
"jubilee" of the sea serpent, the first mention of a sight of the
monster--whether fabulous or not is still undecided--having been made
by the captain and officers of the British ship Dædalus in 1848. They
said they saw it between the Cape of Good Hope and St. Helena, and
that it was about six hundred feet long. Since then views of sea
serpents have been reported nearly every year, but none has ever been
caught or seen so near or for so long a time as to be positively
identified. There are several creatures of the deep which, seen for an
instant, might be mistaken with the aid of an excited imagination for
a marine serpent; and it is not wholly impossible that some
descendants of the gigantic saurians of old may still be living in the
ocean undetected by science.

The results of a study of the winter food of the chickadee by Clarence
M. Weed, of the New Hampshire College Agricultural Experiment Station,
shows that more than half of it consists of insects, a very large
proportion of which are taken in the form of eggs. Vegetation of
various sorts made up a little less than a quarter of the food; but
two thirds of this consisted of buds and bud scales that were
accidentally introduced along with plant-lice eggs. These eggs made up
more than one fifth of the entire food, and formed the most remarkable
element of the bill of fare. The destruction of these eggs of plant
lice is probably the most important service which the chickadee
renders during its winter residence. Insect eggs of many other kinds
were found in the food, among them those of the tent caterpillar and
the fall cankerworm, and the larvæ of several kinds of moths,
including those of the common apple worm.

The Merchants' Association of San Francisco has been trying the
experiment of sprinkling a street with sea water, and finds that such
water binds the dirt together between the paving stones, so that when
it is dry no loose dust is formed to be raised by the wind; that sea
water does not dry so quickly as fresh water, so that it has been
claimed when salt water has been used that one load of it is equal to
three loads of fresh water. The salt water which is deposited on the
street absorbs moisture from the air during the night, whereby the
street is thoroughly moist during the early morning, and has the
appearance of having been freshly sprinkled.

The Tarahumare people, who live in the most inaccessible part of
northern Mexico, were described by Dr. Krauss in the British
Association as ignorant and primitive, and many still living in caves.
What villages they have are at altitudes of about eight thousand feet
above the sea level. They are a small and wiry people, with great
powers of endurance. Their only food is _pinoli_, or maize, parched
and ground. They have a peculiar drink, called _teshuin_, also
produced from maize and manufactured with considerable ceremony, which
tastes like a mixture of sour milk and turpentine. Their language is
limited to about three hundred words. Their imperfect knowledge of
numbers renders them unable to count beyond ten. Their religion seems
to be a distorted and imperfect conception of Christian traditions,
mixed with some of their own ideas and superstitions.

The directory of the School of Anthropology of Paris, which consists
chiefly of the professors in the institution, has chosen Dr. Capitan,
professor of pathological anthropology, to succeed M. Gabriel de
Mortillet, deceased, as professor of prehistoric anthropology. Dr.
Capitan's former chair is suppressed.

The highest cog-wheel railroad in Europe and probably in the world is
the one from Zermatt, Switzerland, to the summit of the Görner Grat,
upward of eleven thousand five hundred feet above the sea. It is
between five and six miles long, and rises nearly fifty-two hundred
feet, with a maximum grade of twenty per cent. There are two
intermediate stations, at the Riffel Alp and the Riffelberg, and the
ascent is made in ninety minutes. The height of this road will be
surpassed by that of the one now being erected up the Jungfrau.

Extraordinary advantages are claimed by Mrs. Theodore R. MacClure, of
the State Board of Health, for Michigan as a summer and health-resort
State. The State has more than sixteen hundred miles of lake line, the
greater part of which is or can be utilized for summer-resort
purposes; there are in its limits 5,173 inland lakes varying in size
and having a total area of 712,864 square acres of water. The many
rivers running through the State furnish on their banks delightful
places for camping and for recreation.

An action of bacteria on photographic plates was described by Prof. P.
P. Frankland at the last meeting of the British Association. Ordinary
bacterial cultures in gelatin and agar-agar are found to be capable of
affecting the photographic film even at a distance of half an inch,
while, when they are placed in contact with the film, definite
pictures of the bacterial growths can be obtained. The action does not
take place through glass, and therefore, as in the case of Dr. W. J.
Russell's observations with some other substances, it is considered
probably due to the evolution of volatile chemical materials which
react with the sensitive film. Many varieties of bacteria exert the
action, but to a different degree. Bacterial growths which are
luminous in the dark are much more active than the non-luminous
bacteria hitherto tried.

Telephonic communication, it is said, has been established between a
number of farms in Australia by means of wire fences. A correspondent
of the Australian Agriculturist from a station near Colmar represents
that it is easy to converse with a station eight miles distant by
means of instruments connected on the wire fences, and that the same
kind of communication has been established over a distance of eight
miles. Several stations are connected in this way.

We have to record the deaths of F. A. Obach, electrical engineer, at
Grätz, Austria, December 27th, aged forty-six years. He was author of
numerous papers on subjects of electrical science in English and
German publications, and of lectures on the chemistry of India rubber
and gutta percha; Dr. Reinhold Ehret, seismologist and author of books
on earthquakes and seismometers, who died from an Alpine accident in
the Susten Pass; Dr. Joseph Coats, professor of pathology at the
University of Glasgow, and author of a manual of pathology, a work on
tuberculosis, etc.; Thomas Hincks, F. R. S., author of books on marine
zoölogy, February 2d; Major J. Hotchkiss, president in 1895 of the
Geological Section of the American Association and author of papers on
economic geology and engineering; Wilbur Wilson Thoburn, professor of
biomechanics at Leland Stanford Junior University; Dr. Giuseppe
Gibelli, professor of botany in the University of Turin; Dr. G.
Wolffhüzel, professor of hygiene in the University of Göttingen; Dr.
Dareste de Chavannes, author of researches in animal teratology, and
formerly president of the French Society of Anthropology; Dr. Rupert
Böck, professor of mechanics in the Technical Institute of Vienna;
William Colenso, F. R. S., of New Zealand, naturalist and author of
investigations of Maori antiquities and myths; Dr. Lench, assistant in
the observatory at Zürich, Switzerland; Dr. Franz Lang, rector and
teacher of natural history in the cantonal schools of Soleure,
Switzerland, and one of the presidents of the Swiss Natural History
Society, aged seventy-eight years; Dr. William Rutherford, professor
of physiology in the University of Edinburgh, and author of several
books in that science, February 21st, in his sixtieth year; and Sir
Douglas Galton, president of the British Association in 1895 and an
authority and author on sanitation, March 10th, in his seventy seventh



  Academy della Crusca, The. (Frag.), 572

  Adulteration of Butter with Glucose. (Frag.), 570

  Allen, Grant. The Season of the Year, 230

  America, Middle. Was it Peopled from Asia? E. S. Morse, 1

  Animals' Bites. (Frag.), 430

  Anthropology. Decorated Skulls and the Power ascribed to them
       (Frag.), 570

        "       Estrays from Civilization. (Frag.), 573

        "       Huichol Indians of Jalisco. (Frag.), 574

        "       Lessons of. (Table), 411

        "       Pre-Columbian Musical Instruments. E. S. Morse*, 712

        "       Superstitions, Aboriginal, about Bones. (Frag.), 572

        "       Superstition and Crime. E. P. Evans, 206

  Archæology. Earliest Writing in France. G. de Mortillet, 546

        "     Lake Dwelling, A Neolithic, 856

        "     Stone Age in Egypt. J. de Morgan, 202

  Architectural Forms in Nature. S. Dellenbaugh*, 63

  Astronomical Photographs, A Library of. (Frag.), 717

  Astronomy. Bombardment, The Great. C. F. Holder*, 506

  Atkinson, E. Wheat-growing Capacity of the United States, 145

     "      "  The Wheat Problem again, 759

  Atlantic Slope, The. (Frag.), 858

  Bactrian Camel for the Klondike. (Frag.), 136

  Barr, M. W. Mental Defectives and the Social Welfare*, 746

  Bede, Chair of the Venerable. (Frag.), 283

  Bees, Burrowing, The Nests of. (Frag.), 860

  Bering Sea Controversy and the Scientific Expert. G. A. Clark, 654

  Biological Survey, The United States. (Frag.), 856

  Blackford, Charles Minor, Jr. Soils and Fertilizers, 392

  Blake, I. W. Our Florida Alligator*, 330

  Bombardment, The Great. C. F. Holder*, 506

  Books Noticed 126, 274, 415, 559, 704, 845
    Agriculture. Michigan Board, Thirty-fifth Annual Report of, 423.
    Alexander, A. Theories of the Will in the History of
       Philosophy, 566.
    Andrews, C. M. The Historical Development of Modern Europe, 126.
    Anthropology. Indians of Northern British Columbia, Facial Paintings
       of. F. Boas, 710.
    Archæology, Introduction to the Study of North American. C.
       Thomas, 420.
    Arthur and Trembly. Living Plants and their Properties, 564.
    Astronomy, A Text-Book of Geodetic. J. F. Hayford, 129.
    -- Corona and Coronet. M. L. Todd, 418.
    -- Earth and Sky, The. E. S. Holden, 850.
    -- Tides, The. G. H. Darwin, 705.
    Bailey, L. H. Evolution of our Native Fruits, 704.
    Baldwin, J. M. The Story of the Mind, 565.
    Barnes, C. R. Form and Function of Plant Life, 277.
    Barra, Eduardo de la. Literature arcaica, 280.
    Beauchamp, W. M. Polished-Stone Articles used by New York Aborigines
       before and during European Occupation, 279.
    Beddard, F. E. Elementary Zoölogy, 706.
    Béker, G. A. Rrimas, 280.
    Binet, Alfred. L'Année Psychologique, 129.
    Björling, P. R. Mechanical Engineer's Pocketbook, 132.
    Boas, Franz. Facial Paintings of the Indians of Northern British
       Columbia, 710.
    Bolton, H. C. Catalogue of Scientific and Technical Periodicals
       (1665-1895), 566.
    Botany. Familiar Life in Field and Forest. F. S. Mathews, 418.
    -- Fossil Plants. A. C. Seward, 127.
    -- Fruits, The Evolution of our Native. L. H. Bailey, 704.
    -- Function and Forms of Plant Life. C. R. Barnes, 277.
    -- Les Végétaux et les Milieux Cosmiques, 132.
    -- Living Plants and their Properties. Arthur and Trembly, 564.
    -- Practical Plant Physiology, 128.
    Brain Weight, Indexes of. McCurdy and Mohyliansky, 709.
    Brush, George J. Manual of Determinative Mineralogy, 707.
    Butler, Amos W. The Birds of Indiana, 422.
    Carus-Wilson, C. A. Electro-Dynamics, 277.
    Catalogue of Scientific and Technical Periodicals (1665-1895). H. C.
       Bolton, 566.
    Chemical Analysis, Manual of. G. S. Newth, 708.
    Chemistry. Inorganic according to the Periodic Law. Venable and
       Howe, 567.
    -- Qualitative Analysis. E. A. Congdon, 567.
    -- Short Manual of Analytical. John Muter, 419.
    Clark, William J. Commercial Cuba, 564.
    Conant, F. S. Biographical Pamphlet, 132.
    Congdon, E. A. Brief Course in Qualitative Analysis, 567.
    Cornelius, Hans. Psychologie als Erfahrungs-wissenschaft, 850.
    Costantin, M. J. Les Végétaux et les Milieux Cosmiques, 132.
    Creighton, J. E. An Introductory Logic, 706.
    Crook, J. W. History of German Wage Theories, 708.
    Cuba, Commercial. William J. Clark, 564.
    Dana, E. S. Text-Book of Mineralogy, 848.
    Dana, James D. Revised Text-Book of Geology, 418.
    Darwin, George Howard. The Tides, 705.
    Davis, H. S. Star Catalogues, 280.
    Day, D. T. Mineral Resources of the United States, 852.
    Detmer, W. Practical Plant Physiology, 128.
    Drey, Sylvan. A Theory of Life, 280.
    Earthquakes of the Pacific Coast. E. S. Holden, 850.
    Economics. Commercial Cuba. William J. Clark, 564.
    -- German Wage Theories, History of. J. W. Crook, 708.
    -- Public Administration in Massachusetts. R. H. Whitten, 422.
    Education. Greek Prose. H. C. Pearson, 708.
    -- Handbook of Nature Study for Elementary Schools, 130.
    -- Harold's Rambles. J. W. Troeger, 567.
    -- On a Farm. N. L. Helm, 423.
    -- United States Commissioner's Report for 1896-'97, 852.
    Electricity. Electro-Dynamics. C. A. Carus-Wilson, 277.
    -- Industrial. A. G. Elliott, 132.
    -- The Discharge of, through Gases. J. J. Thomson, 565.
    -- The Storage Battery. A. Treadwell, 421.
    Elliott, A. G. Industrial Electricity, 132.
    Engineering. Mechanical Engineer's Pocketbook, 132.
    Ethnology. Explorations in Honduras. G. B. Gordon, 133.
    Forestry. American Woods. R. B. Hough, 276.
    -- Conditions in Wisconsin. F. Noth, 709.
    Geikie, James. Earth Sculpture, 845.
    Geography. Natural Advanced. Redway and Hinman, 421.
    -- Philippine Islands and their People. D. C. Worcester, 415.
    -- Physical, of New Jersey. R. D. Salisbury, 422.
    Geological Bulletin, Part II, Vol. III, of the University of
       Upsala, 280.
    Geological Survey of Kansas. Vol. IV. S. W. Williston, 709.
    Geology. Earth Sculpture. James Geikie, 845.
    -- Indiana, Twenty-second Annual Report of Department of, 852.
    -- Indian Territory, Reconnaissance of Coal Fields of. N. F.
       Drake, 852.
    -- Iowa Survey. Eighth volume, 851.
    -- Mineralogy, Manual of Determinative, 707.
    -- Mineralogy, Text-Book of. E. S. Dana, 848.
    -- Mineral Resources of the United States. D. T. Day, 852.
    -- New Jersey State Report for 1897, 851.
    -- Panama, Geological History of the Isthmus of. R. T. Hill, 851.
    -- Text-Book of. J. D. Dana, 418.
    Giddings, Franklin H. Elements of Sociology, 559.
    Goldman, Henry. The Arithmetician, 279.
    Goode, G. B. Report of United States National Museum for 1895, 710.
    Gordon, G. B. Ethnological Explorations in Honduras, 133.
    Groos, Karl. The Play of Animals, 274.
    Harris, Edith D. Story of Rob Roy, 709.
    Hayford, J. P. Text-Book of Geodetic Astronomy, 129.
    Helm, Nellie Lathrop. On a Farm, 423.
    Hill, R. T. Geological History of the Isthmus of Panama, 851.
    History. Commune, The. Lissagaray. Translated by E. M. Aveling, 423.
    -- Europe, The Historical Development of Modern. C. M. Andrews, 126.
    -- Napoleon III and his Court. Imbert de Saint-Amand, 422.
    -- Reader for Elementary Schools. L. L. W. Wilson, 853.
    -- Spanish Literature. J. Fitzmaurice-Kelly, 275.
    Hoffman, F. S. The Sphere of Science, 128.
    Holden, E. S. Earthquakes of the Pacific Coast, 1769-1897, 850.
    -- The Earth and Sky, 850.
    Holyoake, G. J. Jubilee History of the Leeds Co-operative
       Society, 849.
    Hough, R. B. American Woods, 276.
    Iowa State University Bulletin, Vol. IV, No. 3, 279.
    James, William. Human Immortality, 708.
    Jayne, Horace. The Mammalian Anatomy of the Cat, 278.
    Jordan, D. S. Lest we Forget, 568.
    Keyser, L. S. News from the Birds, 567.
    Lambert, R. A. Differential and Integral Calculus, 421.
    Lange, D. Handbook of Nature Study for Elementary Schools, 130.
    Lantern Land, In. (Monthly.) Allen and Carleton, 708.
    Le Bon, Gustave. The Psychology of Peoples, 847.
    Leeds Industrial Co-operative Society, Jubilee History of. G. J.
       Holyoake, 849.
    Library Bulletin, No. 9, New York State, 133.
    Lissagaray. History of the Commune. Translated by E. M.
       Aveling, 423.
    Logic, An Introductory. J. E. Creighton, 706.
    Lyte, E. O. Elementary English, 279.
    McConachie, L. G. Congressional Committees, 131.
    Mathematics. Differential and Integral Calculus. R. A. Lambert, 421.
    -- Infinitesimal Analysis. William B. Smith, 849.
    -- Lectures on the Geometry of Position. T. R. Reye. Translated.
    Mathews, F. Schuyler. Familiar Life in Field and Forest, 418.
    Maurice-Kelly, James Fitz. History of Spanish Literature, 275.
    Meteorology. Wind Deposits, Mechanical Composition of. J. A.
       Udden, 853.
    Mills, Wesley. Nature and Development of Animal Intelligence, 562.
    Mivart, St. George. The Groundwork of Science, 563.
    Music, A Short Course in. Ripley and Tupper, 133.
    Muter, John. Manual of Analytical Chemistry, 419.
    Natural History. Animal Intelligence, Nature and Development of.
       Wesley Mills, 562.
    -- Birds, News from the. L. S. Keyser, 567.
    -- Birds of Indiana, 422.
    -- Four-footed Americans and their Kin. M. O. Wright, 563.
    -- Solitary Wasps, Habits of. G. W. and E. P. Peckham, 851.
    -- Taxidermy, The Art of. John Rowley, 420.
    -- Wild Animals I have Known. E. S. Thompson, 417.
    Newth, G. S. Manual of Chemical Analysis, 708.
    Ornithology. How to Name the Birds. H. E. Parkhurst, 131.
    Overton, Frank. Physiology, Applied, 277.
    -- Physiology for Advanced Grades, 566.
    Paleontology. Fossil Plants. A. C. Seward, 127.
    Parkhurst, H. E. How to Name the Birds, 131.
    Pearson, H. C. Greek Prose, 708.
    Peckham, G. W. and E. P. Habits of the Solitary Wasps, 851.
    Philosophy. Immortality, Human. William James, 708.
    Physiology, Applied. Frank Overton, 277.
    -- Applied, for Advanced Grades. F. Overton, 566.
    Psychology. Child, The Study of the. A. R. Taylor, 564.
    -- L'Année Psychologique, 129.
    -- Mind, The Story of the. J. M. Baldwin, 565.
    -- of Peoples. G. Le Bon, 847.
    -- Play of Animals, The. Karl Groos, 274.
    -- Psychologie als Erfahrungs-wissenschaft. Hans Cornelius, 850.
    -- Will, Theories of the, in the History of Philosophy. A.
       Alexander, 566.
    Quinn, D. A. Stenotypy. Second edition, 279.
    Redway, J. W., and Hinman K. Natural Advanced Geography, 421.
    Reye, Theodor R. Lectures on the Geometry of Position.
       Translated, 419.
    Rice, W., and Eastman Barrett. Under the Stars, and Other
       Verses, 134.
    Richter, J. P. F. Selections from the Works of, 279.
    Ripley, F. H., and Tupper, T. A Short Course in Music, 133.
    Rollin, H. J. Yetta Ségal, 278.
    Rowley, John. The Art of Taxidermy, 420.
    Saint-Amand, Imbert de. Napoleon III and his Court, 422.
    Salisbury, Rollin D. Physical Geography of New Jersey, 422.
    Science, Groundwork of, The. St. George Mivart, 563.
    -- Sphere of. F. S. Hoffman, 128.
    Seward, A. C. Fossil Plants, 127.
    Smith, William B. Infinitesimal Analysis, 849.
    Sociology. Congressional Committees. L. G. McConachie, 131.
    -- Currency Problems of the United States in 1897-'98. A. B.
       Stickney, 133.
    -- Elements of. F. H. Giddings, 559.
    -- The State. W. Wilson, 130.
    -- Workers, The. W. A. Wyckoff, 707.
    Stickney, A. B. Currency Problem of the United States in
       1897-'98, 133.
    Still, A. Alternating Currents and the Theory of Transformers, 133.
    Story of the Railroad, The. Cy Warman, 848.
    Taylor, A. R. The Study of the Child, 564.
    Thomas, C. Introduction to North American Archæology, 129.
    Thompson, Ernest Seton. Wild Animals I have Known, 417.
    Thomson, J. J. The Discharge of Electricity through Gases, 565.
    Todd, Mabel L. Corona and Coronet, 418.
    Treadwell, Augustus. The Storage Battery, 421.
    Troeger, John W. Harold's Rambles, 567.
    Udden, J. A. Mechanical Composition of Wind Deposits, 853.
    United States National Museum, Report of, for 1895, 710.
    Venable and Howe. Inorganic Chemistry according to the Periodic
       Law, 567.
    Waring, George E., Jr. Street-Cleaning Methods in European
       Cities, 131.
    Warman, Cy. Story of the Railroad, 848.
    Whitten, Robert H. Public Administration in Massachusetts, 422.
    Wilson, L. L. W. History Reader, for Elementary Schools, 853.
    Wilson, Woodrow. The State, 130.
    Winter, H. L. Notes on Criminal Anthropology, 280.
    Worcester, Dean C. The Philippine Islands and their People, 415.
    Wright, Mabel Osgood. Four-footed Americans and their Kin, 563.
    Wyckoff, W. A. The Workers, 707.
    Zoölogy, Elementary. E. E. Beddard, 706.

  Botany. English Names for Plants. (Frag.), 428

    "     Forest Planting on the Plains. (Frag.), 718

    "     Light and Vegetation. D. T. MacDougall, 193

    "     Plant Characters, Changes in. (Frag.), 286

    "     Poisonous Plants. (Frag.), 855

    "     Seeds, Dispersal of. (Frag.), 715

  Boyer, M. J. Sketch of Clémence Royer. (With Portrait), 690

  Brain Weights and Intellectual Capacity. J. Simms, 243

  Brooks, William Keith. Mivart's Groundwork of Science, 450

  Bullen, Frank T. Life on a South Sea Whaler, 818

  Canada, The Interior of. (Frag.), 141

  Catbird, The Coming of the. S. Trotter, 772

  Causses of Southern France, The. (Frag.), 138

  Cereals in the United States. Distribution of. (Frag.), 859

  Clarke, F. W. Sketch. (With Portrait), 110

  Clark, George A. The Scientific Expert and the Bering Sea
       Controversy, 654

  Climatic Evolution, Laws of. (Frag.), 855

  Collier, J. The Evolution of Colonies, 52, 289, 577

  Colonies, The Evolution of. J. Collier, 52, 289, 577

  Commensals. (Frag.), 716

  Cooking Schools in Philadelphia. (Frag.), 428

  Cordillera Region of Canada. (Frag.), 283

  Cram, W. E. Concerning Weasels*, 786

  Criminology. California Penal System. C. H. Shinn*, 644

  Cuba, The Climate of. (Frag.), 426

  Curious Habit, Origin of a. (Frag.), 286

  Dastre, M. Iron in the Living Body, 807

  Dawson, E. R. The Torrents of Switzerland, 46

  Death Gulch, a Natural Bear-Trap. T. A. Jaggar*, 475

  Decorated Skulls and the Power ascribed to them. (Frag.), 570

  Dellenbaugh, F. S. Architectural Forms in Nature*, 63

  Dodge, C. R. Possible Fiber Industries of the United States*, 15

  Dorsey, George A. Up the Skeena River*, 181

  D Q, The New Planet. (Frag.), 426

  Dream and Reality. M. C. Melinand, 96

    "    "     "     (Table), 103

  Dreams, The Stuff of. Havelock Ellis, 721

  Dresslar, F. B. Guessing as Influenced by Number Preferences, 781

  Dutch Charity, A Practical. J. H. Gore, 103

  Earliest Writing in France, The. G. de Mortillet, 542

  Earthquakes, Modern Studies of. George Geraland, 362

  Economics. Cereals, Distribution of, in the United States, 859

      "      Conquest, The Spirit of. J. Novicow, 518

      "      Gold, Marvelous Increase in Production of. A. E.
       Outerbridge, Jr., 635

      "      Wheat-growing Capacity of the United States. E.
       Atkinson, 145

      "      Wheat Problem, The. E. Atkinson, 759

  Education and Evolution. (Smith.) (Corr.), 554

      "     and Evolution. (Table), 269

      "     German School Journeys. (Frag.), 573

      "     History of Scientific Instruction. J. N. Lockyer, 372, 529

      "     Nature Study in the Philadelphia Normal School. L. L. W.
       Wilson, 313

      "     Playgrounds of Rural and Suburban Schools. L. G. Oakley, 176

      "     Science and Culture. (Table), 842

      "     Science in. Sir A. Geikie, 672

      "     Series Method, The. A Comparison. Charlotte Taylor, 537

      "     Should Children under Ten learn to Read and Write? G. T. W.
       Patrick, 382

      "     The Goal of. (Table), 118

  Electricity. The Nernst Electric Lamp. (Frag.), 854

  Ellis, Havelock. The Stuff that Dreams are made of, 721

  Emerson and Evolution. (Alexander.) (Corr.), 555

     "     "      "      (Table), 558

  Estrays from Civilization. (Frag.), 573

  Ethnology. Was Middle America Peopled from Asia? E. S. Morse, 1

  Evans, E. P. Superstition and Crime, 206

  Evolution and Education. (Smith.) (Corr.), 554

      "     and Education. (Table), 269

      "     Extra Organic Factors of. (Frag.), 427

      "     of Pleasure Gardens. (Frag.), 717

      "     Social. What is it? Herbert Spencer, 35

      "     Survival of the Fittest. (Table), 844

  Fads and Frauds. (Table), 701

  Fiber Industries of the United States. C. R. Dodge*, 15

  Florida Alligator, Our. I. W. Blake*, 330

  Ford, R. Clyde. The Malay Language, 813

  Forest Planting on the Plains. (Frag.), 718

  Fossils as Criterions of Geological Ages. (Frag.), 427

  Foundation, A Borrowed. (Table), 273

  French Science, Two Gifts to. M. H. de Parville*, 81

  Galax and its Affinities. (Frag.), 571

  Geikie, Sir A. Science in Education, 672

  Geography. Atlantic Slope, The. (Frag.), 858

      "      West Indies, Physical, of. F. L. Oswald, 802

  Geological Romance, A. J. A. Udden*, 222

  Geology. Death Gulch, a Natural Bear-Trap. T. A. Jaggar*, 475

     "     Glacial, in America. D. S. Martin, 356

     "     Siamese Geological Theory, A. (Frag.), 718

  Geraland, George. Modern Studies of Earthquakes, 362

  German School Journeys. (Frag.), 573

  Glacial Geology in America. D. S. Martin, 356

  Glaciation and Carbonic Acid. (Frag.), 135

  Gold, Marvelous Increase in Production of. A. E. Outerbridge, Jr., 635

  Gore, J. H. A Practical Dutch Charity, 103

  Guessing as Influenced by Number Preferences. F. B. Dresslar, 781

  Hanging an Elephant. (Frag.), 286

  Herrings at Dinner. (Frag.), 574

  Hitchcock, Charles H., Sketch of*, 260

  Holder, C. F. The Great Bombardment*, 506

  Huichol Indians of Jalisco. (Frag.), 574

  Huxley Lecture, The. (Frag.), 425

  Hygiene. Rebreathed Air as a Poison. (Frag.), 714

     "     Throat and Ear, Care of the. W. Scheppegrell, 791

  Ide, Mrs. G. E. Shall we Teach our Daughters the Value of Money?, 686

  Indian Idea of the "Midmost Self." (Frag.), 136

  Ireland, W. Alleyn. The Labor Problem in the Tropics, 481

  Iron in the Living Body. M. Dastre, 807

  Iztaccihuatl (the White Lady Mountain). (Frag.), 569

  Jaggar, T. A. Death Gulch, a Natural Bear-Trap*, 475

  Jastrow, Joseph. The Mind's Eye*, 289

  Jordan, D. S. True Tales of Birds and Beasts, 352

  Kekulé, Friedrich August. Sketch. (With Portrait), 401

  Labor Problem in the Tropics. W. A. Ireland, 481

  Lake Dwelling, A Neolithic. (Frag.), 856

  Light and Vegetation. D. T. MacDougall, 193

  Lockyer, J. N. A Short History of Scientific Instruction, 372, 529

  MacDougall. Light and Vegetation, 193

  Malay Language. R. C. Ford, 813

  Martel, M. E. A. Speleology, or Cave Exploration, 255

  Martin, D. S. Glacial Geology in America, 356

  Melinand, M. C. Dream and Reality, 96

  Mental Defectives and the Social Welfare. M. W. Barr*, 746

  Meteorology, Climatic Evolution, Laws of, 855

       "       Sahara, Winds of. (Frag.), 717

  Miles, Manly, Sketch of. (With Portrait), 834

  Mind's Eye, The. Joseph Jastrow*, 289

  Missouri Botanical Garden, Additions to. (Frag.), 135

  Molecular Asymmetry and Life. (Frag.), 139

  Mongoose in Jamaica, The. C. W. Willis*, 86

  Moon and the Weather, The. G. J. Varney. (Corr.), 118

  Morgan, J. de. Stone Age in Egypt, 202

  Morse, E. S. Pre-Columbian Musical Instruments.* (Frag.), 712

    "      "   Was Middle America Peopled from Asia?, 1

  Mortillet, Gabriel de, Sketch of. (With Portrait), 546

      "         "     "  The Earliest Writing in France, 542

  Names, Technical and Popular. (Frag.), 285

  Naples Aquarium, The. (School for the Study of Life under the Sea.) E.
       H. Patterson, 668

  Natural History. Catbird, The Coming of the. S. Trotter, 772

     "       "     Commensals. (Frag.), 716

     "       "     Herrings at Dinner. (Frag.), 574

     "       "     Origin of a Curious Habit. (Frag.), 286

     "       "     School for the Study of Life under the Sea. E. H.
       Patterson, 668

     "       "     Scorpion, My Pet. Norman Robinson*, 605

     "       "     Weasels. W. E. Cram*, 786

  Natural Selection and Fortuitous Variation. (Frag.), 141

  Nature Study in the Philadelphia Normal School. L. L. W. Wilson, 313

  Nernst Electric Lamp, The. (Frag.), 854

  Neufeld, Dr. (Frag.), 140

  Nicaragua and its Ferns. (Frag.), 137

  Nontoxic Matches, The French. (Frag.), 857

  Novicow, J. The Spirit of Conquest, 518

  Oakley, Isabella G. Playgrounds of Rural and Suburban Schools, 176

  Observation, The Science of. C. L. Whittle*, 456

  Ocean Currents, Drift of. (Frag.), 716

  Oswald, F. L. Physical Geography of the West Indies, 802

  Outerbridge, A. E., Jr. Marvelous Increase in Production of Gold, 635

  Parville, M. H. de. Two Gifts to French Science*, 81

  Patrick, G. T. W. Should Children under Ten learn to Read and
       Write?, 382

  Patterson, Eleanor H. A School for the Study of Life under the
       Sea, 668

  Pearls, American Fresh-Water. (Frag.), 859

  Pedigree Photographs. (Frag.), 428

  Physics. Utilization of Wave Power. (Frag.), 715

  Physiology. Iron in the Living Body. M. Dastre, 807

  Plant Characters, Changes in. (Frag.), 286

  Plant Names, English. (Frag.), 428

  Playgrounds of Rural and Suburban Schools. Isabella G. Oakley, 163

  Pleasure Gardens, Evolution of. (Frag.), 717

  Plumandon, J. R. The Cause of Rain, 89

  Poisonous Plants. (Frag.), 855

  Portland Cement. (Frag.), 856

  Potteries, Doulton. (Frag.), 430

  Pre-Columbian Musical Instruments. E. S. Morse*, 712

  Psychology. Dreams. Havelock Ellis, 721

       "      Guessing as Influenced by Number Preferences. F. B.
       Dresslar, 781

  Pulpit, A Voice from the. (Table), 409

  Rabies Bacillus, The. (Frag.), 284

  Racial Geography of Europe. W. Z. Ripley, 163, 338, 614

  Rain, The Cause of. J. R. Plumandon, 89

  Rebreathed Air as a Poison. (Frag.), 714

  Ripley, W. Z. Racial Geography of Europe, 163, 338, 614

  Robinson, Norman. My Pet Scorpion*, 605

  Royer, Clémence, Sketch of. (With Portrait.) M. J. Boyer, 690

  Russell's Photographic Researches. (Frag.), 139

  Saghalin, The Island of. (Frag.), 285

  St. Kildans, The. (Frag.), 284

  Scheppegrell, W. Care of the Throat and Ear, 791

  Science, A Doubtful Appendix to. (Table), 120

      "    and Culture. (Table), 842

      "    Christian. The New Superstition. (Table), 557

      "    Education in. (Words of a Master.) (Table), 699

      "    Mivart's Groundwork of. W. K. Brooks, 450

      "    The Advance of. (Table), 415

  Scientific Instruction, A Short History of. J. N. Lockyer, 372, 529

  Scorpion, My Pet. Norman Robinson*, 605

  Seasons of the Year, The. Grant Allen, 230

  Seeds, Dispersal of. (Frag.), 715

  Series Method, The. A Comparison. Charlotte Taylor, 537

  Shinn, Charles Howard. The California Penal System*, 644

  Siamese Geological Theory, A. (Frag.), 718

  Silkworm Gut, Spanish. (Frag.), 860

  Simms, Joseph. Brain Weights and Intellectual Capacity, 243

  Skeena River, Up the. George A. Dorsey*, 181

  Smell, The Physics of. (Frag.), 283

  Smith, Franklin. Politics as a Form of Civil War, 588

  Smith, Stephen. Vegetation a Remedy for the Summer Heat of
       Cities*, 433

  Social Decadence, An Example of. (Table), 412

  Sociology. California Penal System. C. H. Shinn*, 644

       "     Mental Defectives and the Social Welfare. M. W. Barr*, 746

       "     Politics as a Form of Civil War. F. Smith, 588

       "     The Foundation of. (Giddings.) (Corr.), 553

  Soils and Fertilizers. C. M. Blackford, Jr., 392

  South Sea Whaler, Life on a. F. T. Bullen, 818

  Spain's Decadence, The Cause of. (Table), 122

  Speleology, or Cave Exploration. M. E. A. Martel, 255

  Spencer, Herbert. What is Social Evolution?, 35

  Spirit of Conquest, The. J. Novicow, 518

  Stone Age in Egypt, The. J. de Morgan, 202

  Submarine Telegraphy, Early. (Frag.), 569

  Superstition and Crime. E. P. Evans, 206

        "      Aboriginal, about Bones. (Frag.), 572

        "      The New. (Table), 557

  Survival of the Fittest. (Table), 844

  Switzerland, The Torrents of. E. B. Dawson, 46

  Taxation, Principles of. Hon. D. A. Wells, 319, 490, 736

  Taylor, Charlotte. The Series Method, 537

  Throat and Ear, Care of the. W. Scheppegrell, 791

  Toes in Walking, The. (Frag.), 429

  Trade Hunting, Scientific. (Frag.), 140

  Trait, A, Common to us all. (Frag.), 429

  Travel. Up the Skeena River. George A. Dorsey, 181

  Tree Planting in Arid Regions. (Frag.), 282

  Trees as Land Formers. (Frag.), 858

  Trotter, Spencer. The Coming of the Catbird, 772

  True Tales of Birds and Beasts. D. S. Jordan, 352

  Udden, J. A. A Geological Romance*, 222

  Varney, G. J. The Moon and the Weather. (Corr.), 118

  Vegetation a Remedy against the Summer Heat of Cities. Dr. S.
       Smith, 433

  War, The "Hell" of. (Frag.), 718

  Wave Length and other Measurements. (Frag.), 137

  Wave Power, The Utilization of. (Frag.), 715

  Weasels, Concerning. W. E. Cram*, 786

  Weir, J., Jr. The Herds of the Yellow Ant*, 75

  Wells, David Ames, Death of. (Table), 271

     "     "     "   Principles of Taxation, 319, 490, 736

  West Indies, Physical Geography of. F. L. Oswald, 802

  Wheat-growing Capacity of the United States. E. Atkinson, 145

  Wheat Problem, The, again. E. Atkinson, 759

  White Lady Mountain, The. (Frag.), 569

  Whittle, C. L. The Science of Observation*, 456

  Willis, C. W. The Mongoose in Jamaica*, 86

  Wilson, L. L. W. Nature Study in the Philadelphia Normal School, 313

  Winds of the Sahara. (Frag.), 717

  Words of a Master. (Table), 699

  Yellow Ant, The Herds of the. J. Weir, Jr.*, 75


Transcriber's Notes:

Words surrounded by _ are italicized.

Words surrounded by = are bold.

Obvious printer's errors have been repaired, other inconsistent
spellings have been kept, including inconsistent use of hyphen (e.g.
"co-operative" and "cooperative") and capitalisation (e.g.
"Fresh-Water" and "Fresh-water").

Captions added to captionless illustrations.

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Appletons' Popular Science Monthly, April 1899 - Volume LIV, No. 6, April 1899" ***

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