Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

A little farther on we came across a tiny baby elephant, two feet nine inches in height. It was as black as coal, and had just arrived from Singapore. It was very playful, but when I began pushing it about, as one might roll a big beer barrel, it indulged in a fretful growling, which much amused us. Seven beautiful elephants stood in one big stable together, and as I admired their huge proportions and wondered at their entire gentleness, I said to Mr. Hagenbeck, "Is it true, as the great English circus proprietor George Sanger told me last summer, that the Asiatic elephant is far more intelligent than its African brother?"

"Certainly not," replied Mr. Hagenbeck. "The African elephants are just as clever, just as gentle, just as intelligent as the Asiatic elephants. There's no difference between them; and I ought to know, for I have had to do with them for thirty years, and in only one year I have imported as many as seventy-six of them."

HOW WILD BEASTS ARE CAPTURED.

Karl Hagenbeck and I stood in his beautiful gardens, beside the enclosure in which the lions and tigers spend the long, hot summer days so frequent in Hamburg. Most artistically this enclosure has been made to resemble an African desert. In the foreground there are bushes and a few small palm trees, whilst in the far-off distance there rise, towering to a blue tropical sky, grim mountains and sun-stricken rocks. There is thus conveyed to the mind an impression of the great Nubian deserts--an impression whose force and reality is strengthened by the appearance of the wild beasts themselves, basking in the heat of the sun, or restlessly prowling about the enclosure.

"I should very much like to hear, Mr. Hagenbeck," said I, "everything you can tell me of the way in which your wild beasts are captured."

"Well," he replied, "I will tell you as much as I can. Let us begin with the animals from the deserts of Nubia, for I have hunting parties all over the world. I send out a special messenger, who goes provided with a lot of silver coin. Nubians know my courier, who goes on ahead of this special messenger. When the courier reaches Suakim, it is announced that my messenger is coming, and a great _fete_ is proclaimed. Guns are fired off, tom-toms are beaten, and for at least two days before he arrives there are the greatest rejoicings. Then the people go out to meet him, and conduct him with great state to a place on the borders of the desert where they have built a zereba. My messenger then gives advance money to the hunters, who go into Abyssinia to buy horses for the great hunt. As soon as the whole party is collected, business begins. They are armed with assegais and long hunting-swords like the old German swords. They are as broad as your hand, sharp at both ends, and two handled. Men upon fast horses hunt up the animals. Large animals, such as elephants and rhinoceroses, with sucklings, are the best game. The hunters, forming a circle, follow them. Having caught a rhinoceros with its young one, a man jumps down from his horse and cuts the old beast in a vein, whilst some of the other men chase another animal in front to distract attention. Then the black fellow lets go the big rhinoceros, catches the little one, ties its legs, and after it has calmed down brings it to my collector, who is waiting for him in the zereba. The old one is killed, skinned, and eaten. The natives make their best shields from the hide. Elephants and giraffes are hunted in the same manner. I have been describing to you chiefly the old method of hunting animals in Nubia. Of late years they generally use guns. The young animals are always brought up with goat's milk."

At this moment we were passing a large cage full of the finest lions I had ever seen. As soon as they caught sight of Mr. Hagenbeck, they began to purr loudly, and when he spoke, came up to the bars of the cage to be stroked and petted.

"There," said my host, "these are some very beautiful lions from Nubia. You can see that they are in perfect condition, and this is chiefly owing to the fact that they are being trained for their performances. There is nothing that keeps them in good health so much as constant exercise; that, I think," added Mr. Hagenbeck, with a laugh, "is a very good argument in favor of training wild beasts, and goes a long way to prove that there really is very little cruelty in it. Now, I'll tell you how lions are caught in the Nubian desert. The Kauri negroes, when my messenger arrives, form parties to go in search of young lions. When they discover the spoor of a lioness, they creep about the bush until they find the animal's lair. It is usually one man alone who does this, and he has only a bundle of assegais under his left arm. Before the lioness can spring upon him, she has these spears in her body. Look at this skin," continued Mr. Hagenbeck, pointing to a magnificent tawny skin hanging up in the hall. "There," said he, "that skin has no less than twenty-four holes in it. The poor mother made a brave fight for her young ones. Well," continued Mr. Hagenbeck, "when the old lioness is killed he takes the young ones to the zereba. The little lions are suckled by goats three times a day, and get quite fond of their foster-mothers.

"Leopards and hyenas are caught in Nubia in traps which are made out of wood or cut out of stone in the mountains. These traps are baited with meat, and catch the big cats precisely as a mouse-trap catches a mouse. Once trapped, the hunters can tie the creature's legs, and bear it in triumph to the zereba."

"And how are the Asiatic animals caught?" I asked Mr. Hagenbeck.

"Well," he replied, "very much the same method is pursued there that we adopt in Africa. For instance, in Borneo and Java, animals are caught in trapfalls and pitfalls, and some in huge mouse-traps. In these we often catch full-grown tigers, black panthers, and leopards. In the pitfalls we find two horned rhinoceroses and saddlebacked tapirs. The animals, running through the forest, run over these pitfalls and drop in. The greater part of these unfortunately die directly after they are caught; some kill themselves in their excitement, others won't feed, and so pine away. A rhinoceros or a tapir dies because it is often hurt internally, although we frequently do not discover that they have been hurt until they have been with us for one or two months. I can remember that I once imported seven big rhinoceroses, and I sold only one of them, as the other six died. Bengal tigers are caught young, brought up by the natives in much the same way as the young lions in Africa, on milk and fowls. Most of these come by way of Calcutta."

Standing in front of a great glass cage full of snakes, I said to Mr. Hagenbeck: "Now, how do you manage to get hold of these reptiles? They must be very dangerous."

"Ah!" he replied, with a thoughtful look, "I'll tell you later on one or two stories of dreadful adventures that I myself have had with snakes. In the meantime this is the way they are caught in India. In the dry season the jungle is set on fire. As the snakes run out in all directions, they are caught by the natives with long sticks having a hoop at the end, to which is attached a big bag, a sort of exaggerated butterfly net. After that the reptiles are packed in sacks made of matting, which are fastened to long bamboos, and carried to Calcutta on the shoulders of the natives. When Calcutta is reached, they are packed in big boxes, from twelve to sixteen in a box, that is when they are only eight or ten feet long; big snakes, from fourteen to sixteen feet in length, are only packed from two to three in a box. They are then sent direct to Europe without food or water on the journey, for they require neither. The principal thing is to keep them warm. Cold gives them mouth disease, which is certain death. I remember once," continued Mr. Hagenbeck, "that I had one hundred and sixty-two snakes reach London in perfect condition; a violent snow-storm then came on, and when the boxes were opened in Hamburg every snake was dead.

"The majority of my Asiatic elephants come from Ceylon, although a few of them are exported from Burma. I remember one year there was a great demand in the American market for Asiatic elephants; Barnum and Forepaugh each wanted twelve. I couldn't get enough from Burma, so sent direct to Ceylon, and got no less than sixty-seven elephants, all of which I disposed of in the next twelve months. Most of these were caught by noosing. This is done by Afghans who take out a license from the Ceylon Government. They go out with dogs, find a herd, follow it up, and drive the elephants into different flights; they then give their attention to the younger elephants. Each man has a long raw-hide rope with a noose in the end of it. He chases an elephant, throws the noose round its hind legs, and follows it until a tree is reached, round which the line is fastened. When the elephant drops down in despair, the rope is fastened round its other legs, and it is left for several days until calmed down; it is then taken and easily tamed. I can well remember," said Mr. Hagenbeck, "how interested Prince Bismarck was when I told all about the capture of my elephants.

"I was sitting in my room one day, when a servant came in and told me that he believed that Prince Bismarck was in the menagerie. I went out, and as soon as I saw his tall, erect figure and white moustache, I knew it was the great man himself. I never came across so intelligent a man, or one who asked so many questions. I should think he must be something like your Gladstone."

"And how did you first start buying animals on such a big scale, Mr. Hagenbeck?" said I.

"Well," he replied, "it was in this way. In 1863 the first big lot of animals that ever appeared in Europe at one time were brought over by an Italian named Casanova. He couldn't sell them, and we had not the money to buy them, so they were sold to a menagerie at Kreutzburg, then the biggest in Germany. Next year Casanova came over with a few from Egypt, which I bought for the Dresden Zoo. This was the beginning of the African business. I then gave Casanova a big order, and arranged that he should bring over elephants, giraffes, and young lions at a fixed price. It's always cheaper," added Mr. Hagenbeck, with a laugh, "to get your dinner at the _table d'hote_ than by the card, and I thought it would be cheaper and better to get all these animals in one lot. Well, in 1866 he returned with a large cargo, in which there were seven African elephants. At that time an African elephant was a great novelty, both in Europe and in America. I sold these elephants to America, where they excited great interest, as they were the first African elephants that had ever been seen in that country." As we were going back to Mr. Hagenbeck's office he pointed out to me some very beautiful zebu bulls which he was going to send out to South America to be used for agricultural and breeding purposes. "There," said he, "you can see those animals nowhere else in Europe except in my place. I got them from Central India; I have been after them for ten years, and succeeded in getting them only two years ago." Just then we passed a slaughter-yard, where a couple of horses were being cut up for the carnivorous animals.

"It must be a very difficult matter," said I, "to know how to feed all these animals properly."

"I should think it was," he replied. "Animals are most dainty and delicate as regards their food. Now, for instance, those lions and tigers which were exhibiting at the Crystal Palace last year were fed on such bad food that they were quite ill when they came back here. Besides, a number of young animals were seized with what appeared to be cholera. I lost three thousand pounds' worth of them in three weeks. It is a very anxious business, indeed, I can tell you."

NOTE.--In the July number will be published an article on "The
Training of Wild Animals," which includes a description of a
special performance given by Mr. Hagenbeck, at which Mr.
Blathwayt, the writer of the articles, was the only spectator.

UNDER SENTENCE OF THE LAW.

THE STORY OF A DOG.

BY MRS. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

By mandate of law, Rick wore a muzzle, not often on his nose, but generally hanging under his chin. It was not because his present character was a vicious one that Rick was thus distinguished, but owing to an awkward circumstance in early life. For Rick had been tried in a court of law for the crime of murder, convicted, and sentenced to death. I believe Canton Grison is the only province in Switzerland where the law enforcing capital punishment has not been repealed; and in Canton Grison it applies to beasts as well as men.

Rick first appeared, a starveling puppy with a large frame and weak, shambling legs, before the windows of a charitable Scotswoman, who was a lover of dogs and a person of sensibility. Rick, whatever his intellectual shortcomings, was a shrewd judge of human nature, and knew where to find a sure welcome. Naturally he soon discovered the hour for meals, and seldom failed to be on hand in good season. Once he found the glass door shut through which he was accustomed to enter. Spectators on the other side saw his discomfiture, but, before they could reach the door, Master Rick had lifted the latch and was walking triumphantly in. A later friend of his declared that, when he asked, "What has become of that enormous dish of meat?" Rick tipped him an arch wink and touched his corpulent stomach with a hind paw. Another instance of his supposed intelligence was his habit of accompanying intending customers to the confectioner's shop, where he gorged himself at their expense. This indulgence in sweets, and his visits to adjacent villages, where he dined at the hotels _a la carte_, his bills to be sent to the Belvedere, induced early obesity, which was particularly observable in his great tail. I always thought the general belief in Rick's mental capacity rested on insufficient grounds. I have lived too much with dogs not to know a dull fellow, though kindly, when I see him; but, as an individual, I loved Rick, and could not deny him a certain charm. The fact that one day Rick (who at that time belonged to a butcher) did not put in an appearance simultaneously with the ringing of the luncheon-bell caused the charitable Scotswoman misgivings. She should have known him better. Fortunately she happened to glance out of the window in the nick of time, for there was poor Rick, flat on his side, his head turned piteously towards the door of his friend, being dragged along the road at the tail of a terrible cart--the cart of a man who bought dead and living cats and dogs for the sake of their skins. A maid was hastily despatched to the rescue, and Rick was bought for the price of his hide. His trials were over (it was little he cared for the trial and sentence), for he was now adopted by the Hotel Belvedere.

Here he passed several uneventful, greedy years, until the day when the Belvedere was startled by the appearance of the officers of the law with an official document--a summons for Rick. How it was served I cannot imagine, but Rick was cited to appear, on a given date, at the Rathhaus, under the appellation of Tiger Hund. Tiger Hund was a fine, dashing name, but hardly applicable to Rick, who had more of the characteristics of the sheep than of the tiger. The two leading hotels, the Belvedere and the Bual, were shaken to their base by the threatened danger to Rick. Foreign counsel was appointed to plead his cause; I cannot now remember whether the chosen advocate was Herr Coester of the Belvedere, or Mr. J. Addington Symonds of the Bual. One, I know, appeared for Rick at the trial; while the other, after conviction, got up a petition for his pardon.

The eventful day arrived; the learned gentleman, honest Rick at his heels, took his way to the ancient Rathhaus, the gloomy aspect of whose exterior, with its narrow, barred, windowy and high-pitched roof under the eaves of which were many a row of wolves' heads now dried into mummies, should have thrilled with apprehension the heart of the least imaginative dog. But Rick, poor innocent, trotted through the portals as he would have trotted into the confectioner's, and curled himself up for a nap at the feet of his counsel.

His affection for the accused, and the sympathy of the large audience assembled to hear his pleading, inspired the learned gentleman with unwonted eloquence. The only creature unconcerned was Rick, who, having finished his nap, thought it a fitting occasion to make a little excursion into the next canton.

After a brilliant peroration in which he dilated on the fidelity of the accused, who, he asserted, never left the Hotel Belvedere except in company with some of the guests, Rick's advocate wound up with these words: "Behold at my feet the Tiger Hund!" But, alas! Rick was not at his feet, nor could he be found in any of his usual haunts, though eager searchers beat the precincts for him. And so, through Rick's own fault, his case was lost and his friends put to open shame. Sentence of death was passed in the absence of the culprit, and things for a time looked black for Rick. Strenuous efforts, however, were made to secure a pardon; and finally, after the presentation of a petition pleading for mercy, numerously signed by the foreign and native residents, the magistrate was induced to commute the sentence to muzzlement for life. I cannot myself believe that Rick had the courage to attack a sheep, even in company. I know that his first meeting with a donkey threw him into such fits of terror that his reason was despaired of for days.

THE EDGE OF THE FUTURE.

UNSOLVED PROBLEMS THAT EDISON IS STUDYING.

BY E. J. EDWARDS.

I.

Thomas A. Edison, when he was congratulated upon his forty-sixth birthday, declared that he did not measure his life by years, but by achievements or by campaigns; and he then confessed that he had planned ahead many campaigns, and that he looks forward to no period of rest, believing that for him, at least, the happiest life is a life of work. In speaking of his campaigns Mr. Edison said: "I do not regard myself as a pure scientist, as so many persons have insisted that I am. I do not search for the laws of nature, and have made no great discoveries of such laws. I do not study science as Newton and Kepler and Faraday and Henry studied it, simply for the purpose of learning truth. I am only a professional inventor. My studies and experiments have been conducted entirely with the object of inventing that which will have commercial utility. I suppose I might be called a scientific inventor, as distinguished from a mechanical inventor, although really there is no distinction."

When Mr. Edison was asked about his campaigns and those achievements by which he measured his life, he said that in the past there had been first the stock-ticker and the telephone, upon the latter of which he worked very hard. But he regarded the greatest of his achievements, in the early part of his career, as the invention of the phonograph. "That," said he, "was an invention pure and simple. No suggestion of it, so far as I know, had ever been made; and it was a discovery made by accident, while experimenting upon another invention, that led to the development of the phonograph.

"My second campaign was that which resulted in the invention of the incandescent lamp. Of course, an incandescent lamp had been suggested before. There had been abortive attempts to make them, even before I knew anything about telegraphing. The work which I did was to make an incandescent lamp which was commercially valuable, and the courts have recently sustained my claim to priority of invention of this lamp. I worked about three years upon that. Some of the experiments were very delicate and very difficult; some of them needed help which was very costly. That so far has been, I suppose, my chief achievement. It certainly was the first one which made me independent, and left me free to begin other campaigns without the necessity of calling for outside capital, or of finding my invention subjected to the mysteries of Wall Street manipulation."

The hint contained in Mr. Edison's reference to Wall Street, and the mysteries of financiering which prevail there, led naturally enough to a question as to Mr. Edison's future purpose with regard to capitalists, and he said:

"In my future campaigns I expect myself to control absolutely such inventions as I make. I am now fortunate enough to have capital of my own, and that I shall use in these campaigns. The most important of the campaigns I have in mind is one in which I have now been engaged for several years. I have long been satisfied that it was possible to invent an ore-concentrator which would vastly simplify the prevailing methods of extracting iron from earth and rock, and which would do it so much cheaper than those processes as to command the market. Of course I refer to magnetic iron ore. Some of the New Jersey mountains contain practically inexhaustible stores of this magnetic ore, but it has been expensive to mine. I was able to secure mining options upon nearly all these properties, and then I began the campaign of developing an ore-concentrator which would make these deposits profitably available. This iron is unlike any other iron ore. It takes four tons of the ore to produce one ton of pure iron, and yet I saw, some years ago, that if some method of extracting this ore could be devised, and the mines controlled, an enormously profitable business would be developed, and yet a cheaper iron ore--cheaper in its first cost--would be put upon the market. I worked very hard upon this problem, and in one sense successfully, for I have been able by my methods to extract this magnetic ore at comparatively small cost, and deliver from my mills pure iron bricklets. Yet I have not been satisfied with the methods; and some months ago I decided to abandon the old methods and to undertake to do this work by an entirely new system. I had some ten important details to master before I could get a perfect machine, and I have already mastered eight of them. Only two remain to be solved; and when this work is complete, I shall have, I think, a plant and mining privileges which will outrank the incandescent lamp as a commercial venture, certainly so far as I am myself concerned. Whatever the profits are, I shall myself control them, as I have taken no capitalists in with me in this scheme."

Mr. Edison was asked if he was willing to be more explicit respecting this invention, but he declined to be, further than to say: "When the machinery is done as I expect to develop it, it will be capable of handling twenty thousand tons of ore a day with two shifts of men, five in a shift. That is to say, ten workmen, working twenty hours a day in the aggregate, will be able to take this ore, crush it, reduce the iron to cement-like proportions, extract it from the rock and earth, and make it into bricklets of pure iron, and do it so cheaply that it will command the market for magnetic iron."

Mr. Edison, in speaking of this campaign, referred to it as though it was practically finished; and it was evident in the conversation that already his mind turns to a new campaign, which he will take up as soon as his iron-ore concentrator is complete and its work can be left to competent subordinates.

He was asked if he would be willing to say what he had in mind for the next campaign, and he replied: "Well, I think as soon as the ore concentrating business is developed and can take care of itself, I shall turn my attention to one of the greatest problems that I have ever thought of solving, and that is, the direct control of the energy which is stored up in coal, so that it may be employed without waste and at a very small margin of cost. Ninety per cent. of the energy that exists in coal is now lost in converting it into power. It goes off in heat through the chimneys of boiler-rooms. You perceive it when you step into a room where there is a furnace and boiler; it is also greatly wasted in the development of the latent heat which is created by the change from water to steam. Now that is an awful waste, and even a child can see that if this wastage can be saved, it will result in vastly cheapening the cost of everything which is manufactured by electric or steam power. In fact, it will vastly cheapen the cost of all the necessaries and luxuries of life, and I suppose the results would be of mightier influence upon civilization than the development of the steam-engine and electricity have been. It will, in fact, do away with steam-engines and boilers, and make the use of steam power as much of a tradition as the stage-coach now is.

"It would enable an ocean steamship of twenty thousand horse-power to cross the ocean faster than any of the crack vessels now do, and require the burning of only two hundred and fifty tons of coal instead of three thousand, which are now required; so that, of course, the charges for freight and passenger fares would be greatly reduced. It would enormously lessen the cost of manufacturing and of traffic. It would develop the electric current directly from coal, so that the cost of steam-engines and boilers would be eliminated. I have thought of this problem very much, and I have already my theory of the experiments, or some of them, which may be necessary to develop this direct use of all the power that is stored in coal. I can only say now, that the coal would be put into a receptacle, the agencies then applied which would develop its energy and save it all, and through this energy electric power of any degree desired could be furnished. Yes, it can be done; I am sure of that. Some of the details I have already mastered, I think; at least, I am sure that I know the way to go to work to master them. I believe that I shall make this my next campaign. It may be years before it is finished, and it may not be a very long time."

Mr. Edison looks farther ahead than this campaign, for he said: "I think it quite likely that I may try to develop a plan for marine signalling. I have the idea already pretty well formulated in my mind. I should use the well-known principle that water is a more perfect medium for carrying vibrations than air, and should develop instruments which may be carried upon sea-going vessels, by which they can transmit or receive, through an international code of signals, reports within a radius of say ten miles."

Mr. Edison believes that Chicago is to become the London of America early in the next century, while New York will be its Liverpool, and he is of opinion that very likely a ship canal may connect Chicago with tide water, so that it will itself become a great seaport.

There is a common impression that Mr. Edison is an agnostic, but he denies it; and he said, in closing the conversation, "I tell you that no person can be brought into close contact with the mysteries of nature, or make a study of chemistry, without being convinced that behind it all there is supreme intelligence. I am convinced of that, and I think that I could, perhaps I may some time, demonstrate the existence of such intelligence through the operation of these mysterious laws with the certainty of a demonstration in mathematics."

AN INTERVIEW WITH PROFESSOR ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL.

BY CLEVELAND MOFFETT.

II.

Professor Graham Bell is not like some pedantic wise men who talk as if they believed that the end of knowledge in their particular line had been already reached. On the contrary, this distinguished inventor is convinced that the discovery and inventions of the past will seem but trivial things when compared with those which are to come. Nor does he think that the day of man's greater knowledge is so very far distant.

THE AIR-SHIP OF THE NEAR FUTURE.

"I have not the shadow of a doubt"--these are his own words, spoken to me quite recently at Washington--"that the problem of aerial navigation will be solved within ten years. That means an entire revolution in the world's methods of transportation and of making war. I am able to speak with more authority on this subject from the fact of being actively associated with Professor Langley of the Smithsonian Institution in his researches and experiments. I am not at liberty to speak in detail of these experiments, but will say that the calculations of scientific men in regard to the amount of power necessary to maintain an air-ship above the earth have been strangely erroneous; I may say ridiculously so. According to these, Nature would have given the birds and insects a muscular force vastly greater and superior in its qualities to that bestowed upon man. That seems unreasonable in the first place, when one reflects that man is at the head of creation, and we have found practically that such is not the case. The power required to lift and propel an air-ship is very much less than has been supposed; indeed, Professor Langley concludes that when the air-ship has once been lifted above the earth to the proper height, it will be possible to maintain it there with proportionately no greater effort than that expended by hawks and eagles in sailing about with extended wings. The air strata will do the bulk of the lifting, if a small propelling power is provided. Of course, a greater power will be necessary to lift the air-ship originally, and it may be some time before the art of managing an air-ship is discovered; but the final result, I am convinced, will allow men to sail about in the air as easily and as safely as the birds do. I predict that we will see the beginning of this modern miracle by the end of the nineteenth century.

"Of course the air-ship of the future will be constructed without any balloon attachment. The discovery of the balloon undoubtedly retarded the solution of the flying problem for over a hundred years. Ever since the Montgolfiers taught the world how to rise in the air by means of inflated gas-bags, the inventors working at the problem of aerial navigation have been thrown on the wrong track. Scientific men have been wasting their time trying to steer balloons, a thing which in the nature of the case is impossible to any great extent, inasmuch as balloons, being lighter than the resisting air, can never make headway against it. The fundamental principle of aerial navigation is that the air-ship must be heavier than the air. It is only of recent years that men capable of studying the problem seriously have accepted this as an axiom. Electricity in one form or another will undoubtedly be the motive power for air-ships, and every advance in electrical knowledge brings us one step nearer to the day when we shall fly. It would be perfectly possible, to-day, to direct a flying machine by means of pendant electric wires which would transmit the necessary current without increasing the load to be borne. Perhaps a feasible means of propelling such an air-ship would be by a kind of trolley system where the rod would hang down from the car to the stretched wire, instead of extending upward. This is an idea which I would recommend to inventors."

It is most interesting to watch Professor Bell as he talks about the great inventions which he sees with prophetic eye in store for the world. He has the happy faculty of expressing great ideas in simple words, and there is nothing ponderous in his speech. He is as enthusiastic as a school-boy thinking of the kite he will make as big as a barn-door. His black eyes flash, and they seem all the blacker contrasted with his white hair; the words tumble out quickly, and those who have the good fortune to listen are carried away by the magnetism of this great inventor.

SEEING BY ELECTRICITY.

The mention of electricity brought up new possibilities for future discovery, some of them so amazing as to almost pass the bounds of credibility. He said:

"Morse taught the world years ago to write at a distance by electricity; the telephone enables us to talk at a distance by electricity; and now scientists are agreed that there is no theoretical reason why the well-known principles of light should not be applied in the same way that the principles of sound have been applied in the telephone, and thus allow us to see at a distance by electricity. It is some ten years since the scientific papers of the world were greatly exercised over a report that I had filed at the Smithsonian Institution a sealed packet supposed to contain a method of doing this very thing; that is, transmit the vision of persons and things from one point on the earth to another. As a matter of fact, there was no truth in the report, but it resulted in stirring up a dozen scientific men of eminence to come out with statements to the effect that they too had discovered various methods of seeing by electricity. That shows what I know to be the case, that men are working at this great problem in many laboratories, and I firmly believe it will be solved one day.

"Of course, while the principle of seeing by electricity at a distance is precisely that applied in the telephone, yet it will be very much more difficult to construct such an apparatus, owing to the immensely greater rapidity with which the vibrations of light take place when compared with the vibrations of sound. It is merely a question, however, of finding a diaphragm which will be sufficiently sensitive to receive these vibrations and produce the corresponding electrical variations."

THOUGHT TRANSFERENCE BY ELECTRICITY.

After he had spoken of this idea for some time, Professor Bell stopped suddenly, and, with an amused twinkle in his eyes, exclaimed: "But while we are talking of all this, what is to prevent some one from discovering a way of thinking at a distance by electricity?"

Having said this, the genial professor threw himself back and laughed heartily at the amazement his words awakened. Was he joking? Apparently not, for he proceeded seriously to discuss one of the most astounding conceptions that ever entered an inventor's mind. Thinking by electricity! Imagine two persons, one thousand or ten thousand miles apart, placed in communication electrically, in such a way that, without any spoken word, without sounding-board, key, or any bodily movement, the one receives instantly the thoughts of the other, and instantly sends back his own thoughts. The wife in New York knows what is passing in the brain of her husband in Paris. The husband has the same knowledge. What boundless possibilities, to be sure, this arrangement offers for business men, lovers, humorous writers, and the police authorities!

Preposterous as such an idea appears in its first conception, it certainly assumes an increasing plausibility when one listens to Professor Bell's reasoning.

"After all," he says, "what would there be in such a system more mysterious than in the processes of the mind reader? You substitute a wire and batteries for a strange-eyed man in a dress suit, that is all."

The logical basis of Professor Bell's scheme is clear, and its details quite beautiful in their simplicity, when you admit his major premise. That premise is that the human brain is merely a kind of electrical reservoir, and that thinking is nothing more than an electrical disturbance, like the aurora borealis or the sparks from a Holtz machine. The nerves are the wires leading from the central battery in the head. The reasonableness of this assumption is increased when one remembers that electricity may be made to act upon the nerves, even in a lifeless body, so as to produce the same muscular contractions which are produced by the brain force, whatever that may be. We talk of animal magnetism. What if it were the same as any other kind of magnetism? If these two forces are identical in one respect, why may they not be so in all respects? So Professor Bell reasons, and granting that the human brain is merely a store-house of electricity for our bodily needs, of electricity not essentially different from that which we know elsewhere, it must be possible to apply the same electrical laws to the brain as to any other electric apparatus and to get similar results.

"Do you begin to see my idea?" said Professor Bell, growing more and more enthusiastic as he proceeded. Then he gave a rapid outline of what might be a system of thinking by electricity.

Everyone knows, who knows anything about the subject, that an electric current passing inside of a coil of wire induces an electric current in that wire. Now, if the human brain be taken as a battery, then currents are constantly passing from it to various parts of the body, and the head may be considered in a state of constant electrical excitement, the intensity varying with the character of the thought processes. Now, suppose a coil of wire properly prepared in the shape of a helmet, and fitted about the head of one person, with wires attached and connected with a helmet similarly fitted upon the head of another person at any convenient distance. Every electric current in the one human battery must induce a current in the coil around the head, which current must be transmitted to the other coil. This other coil must then, by the reversed process, induce a current in the brain within helmet No. 2, and that person must receive some cerebral sensation. This cerebral sensation might be a thought, and probably would be, if it turns out to be true that brain force is identical with electricity. In that case, the thought of the one person would have produced a thought in the other person, and there is, if we go as far as this, every reason to believe that it would be the same thought. Thus the problem of thinking at a distance by electricity would be solved.

So much for a curious theory of what might be, if so and so were true; but Professor Bell has not stopped with theories, but has actually begun to put them to the test. Not that he is over-sanguine as to the result, but he believes the experiment worth the making, and that seriously. He has actually had two helmets, such as those described, constructed, and has begun a series of experiments in his laboratory. Thus far, the results have been for the most part negative, but not so much so as to prevent him hoping that more perfect appliances may lead to something more conclusive. It is true that the thought in one brain has produced a sensation in the other, through the two helmets, but what the relation was between the thought and the sensation could not be determined.

MAKING THE DEAF HEAR BY THE USE OF ELECTRICITY.

By quick stages the conversation ran into another channel with new wonders possible in the future. Professor Bell has conceived of a method of making the deaf hear, which is certainly startling. He proposes to do away with ears entirely, and produce the sensations of hearing by direct communication with the brain, through the bones of the head. As a matter of fact, the brains of deaf people are usually in a perfectly healthy condition, and the only thing which prevents them from hearing is some defect in communication with the vibrating air. If their brains could be excited artificially in the same way that the brains of ordinary persons are excited by vibrations communicated through the various chambers and passages of the ear, then the deaf would hear in the same way that other persons do.

It is, of course, a fact, that hearing in every instance is merely an illusion of the senses, a sort of tickling of the brain. This tickling of the brain is ordinarily accomplished by the nerve force passing from the third chamber of the ear to the brain itself. If this nerve force is nothing more or less than ordinary electricity, and if science can train electricity to tickle the brain artificially in the same way and at the same points that the nerves from the ear usually do, then the ordinary sensations of hearing must result, whether the person has ears or not. The problem here is to discover the proper way of tickling the brain. The gentlemen who seat themselves in electrocution chairs have their brains tickled in a way which would not be generally satisfactory.

THERE IS DANGER IN SUCH EXPERIMENTS.

In his desire to bring relief to the deaf--and his whole life has been devoted to that object--Professor Bell has begun a series of remarkable experiments in this line. Some time ago, he determined to study the effects produced upon the brain by turning an electric current into it through the side of the head. With this end in view, he arranged a dynamo machine with a feeble current, giving a varying number of interruptions per second, and attached one of the poles to a wet sponge which he placed in one of his ears.

"I risked one of my ears," he said simply, "in making this experiment, but I could not risk them both, so I held the second pole of the machine in my hand and turned on the current."

Fortunately no harm resulted, but immediately Professor Bell experienced the sensation of a pleasant sound whose pitch he was able to vary by increasing or diminishing the number of interruptions in the dynamo machine. His assistant standing beside him could detect no sound at all, so that what Professor Bell heard must have been the effect of the electric current upon his brain. This effect he found could be varied by varying the character of the current. Now he argues that greater variations might be produced in the sounds heard by the brain if the current turned into it were varied in the proper manner. For instance, suppose the current from a long distance telephone to be turned through the head of the deaf mute, a sponge connected with either pole being placed in each ear. Then let some one talk into the telephone in the ordinary way, the infinite variations in the current produced by the voice vibrations being passed into the brain directly. Is it not conceivable that such a variety of brain sensations or tones might then be caused in the head of the deaf mute as to make it possible to establish a system of sound signals, so to speak, which would be the equivalent of ordinary language? Indeed, is it not possible that the deaf mute might actually hear spoken words?

Professor Bell's experiments upon himself have been so encouraging as to make him disposed to try more complete experiments in the same line upon persons who have lost all sense of hearing, and who would doubtless be willing to take the inevitable risk for the sake of the great blessing which a successful issue would bring to them.

We talked a long time about these strange fancies, and finally I said to Professor Bell:

"But on this principle of brain tickling, what is to prevent a blind man from seeing by electricity?"

"I do not know that there is anything to prevent it."

FROM TENNYSON'S "LOCKSLEY HALL".

For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see,
Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be;

Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails,
Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales;

Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rain'd a ghastly dew
From the nations' airy navies grappling in the central blue;

Far along the world-wide whisper of the south-wind rushing warm,
With the standards of the peoples plunging thro' the thunder-storm;

Till the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and the battle-flags were furl'd
In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world.

There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe,
And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law.

So I triumph'd ere my passion sweeping thro' me left me dry,
Left me with the palsied heart, and left me with the jaundiced eye;

Eye, to which all order festers, all things here are out of joint:
Science moves, but slowly slowly, creeping on from point to point:

Slowly comes a hungry people, as a lion creeping nigher,
Glares at one that nods and winks behind a slowly-dying fire.

Yet I doubt not thro' the ages one increasing purpose runs,
And the thoughts of men are widen'd with the process of the suns.

By permission from "The Works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Poet Laureate," Macmillan & Co., New York and London, 1893.

A DAY WITH GLADSTONE

FROM THE MORNING AT HAWARDEN TO THE EVENING AT THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.

BY H. W. MASSINGHAM OF THE "LONDON CHRONICLE."

I am often asked what is the secret of Mr. Gladstone's extraordinary length of days and of the perfection of his unvarying health. It may be partly attributed to the remarkable longevity of the Gladstone family, a hardy Scottish stock with fewer weak shoots and branches than perhaps any of the ruling families of England. But it has depended mainly on Mr. Gladstone himself and on the undeviating regularity of his habits. Most English statesmen have been either free livers or with a touch of the _bon vivant_ in them. Pitt and Fox were men of the first character; Melbourne, Palmerston, and Lord Beaconsfield were of the last. But Mr. Gladstone is a man who has been guilty of no excesses, save perhaps in work. He rises at the same hour every day, uses the same fairly generous, but always carefully regulated, diet, goes to bed about the same hour, pursues the same round of work and intellectual and social pleasure. An extraordinarily varied life is accompanied by a certain rigidity of personal habit I have never seen surpassed. The only change old age has witnessed has been that the House of Commons work has been curtailed, and that Mr. Gladstone has not of late years been seen in the House after the dinner hour, which lasts from eight till ten, except on nights when crucial divisions are expected. With the approach of winter and its accompanying chills, to which he is extremely susceptible, he seeks the blue skies and dry air of the Mediterranean coasts and of his beloved Italy. With this exception his life goes on in its pleasant monotony. At Hawarden, of course, it is simpler and more private than in London. In town to-day Mr. Gladstone avoids all large parties and great crushes and gatherings where he may be expected to be either mobbed or bored or detained beyond his usual bed-time.

HIS PERSONALITY.

Personally Mr. Gladstone is an example of the most winning, the most delicate, and the most minute courtesy. He is a gentleman of the elder English school, and his manners are grand and urbane, always stately, never condescending, and genuinely modest. He affects even the dress of the old school, and I have seen him in the morning wearing an old black evening coat, such as Professor Jowett still affects. The humblest passer-by in Piccadilly, raising his hat to Mr. Gladstone, is sure to get a sweeping salute in return. This courtliness is all the more remarkable, because it accompanies and adorns a very strong temper, a will of iron, and a habit of being regarded for the greater part of his lifetime as a personal force of unequalled magnitude. Yet the most foolish, and perhaps one may add the most impertinent, of Mr. Gladstone's dinner-table questioners is sure of an elaborate reply, delivered with the air of a student in deferential talk with his master. To the cloth Mr. Gladstone shows a reverence that occasionally woos the observer to a smile. The callowest curate is sure of a respectful listener in the foremost Englishman of the day. On the other hand, in private conversation the premier does not often brook contradiction. His temper is high, and though, as George Russell has said, it is under vigilant control, there are subjects on which it is easy to arouse the old lion. Then the grand eyes flash, the torrent of brilliant monologue flows with more rapid sweep, and the dinner table is breathless at the spectacle of Mr. Gladstone angry. As to his relations with his family, they are very charming. It is a pleasure to hear Herbert Gladstone--his youngest, and possibly his favorite son--speak of "my father." All of them, sons and daughters, are absolutely devoted to his cause, wrapped up in his personality, and enthusiastic as to every side of his character. Of children Mr. Gladstone has always been fond, and he has more than one favorite among his grandchildren.

MR. GLADSTONE'S MORNING.

Mr. Gladstone's day begins about 7.30, after seven hours and a half of sound, dreamless sleep, which no disturbing crisis in public affairs was ever known to spoil. At Hawarden it usually opens with a morning walk to church, with which no kind of weather--hail, rain, snow, or frost--is ever allowed to interfere. In his rough slouch hat and gray Inverness cape, the old man plods sturdily to his devotions. To the rain, the danger of sitting in wet clothes, and small troubles of this kind, he is absolutely impervious, and Mrs. Gladstone's solicitude has never availed to change his lifelong custom in this respect. Breakfast over, working time commences. I am often astonished at the manner in which Mr. Gladstone manages to crowd his almost endlessly varied occupations into the forenoon, for when he is in the country he has practically no other continuous and regular work-time. Yet into this space he has to condense his enormous correspondence--for which, when no private secretary is available, he seeks the help of his sons and daughters--his political work, and his varied literary pursuits. The explanation of this extreme orderliness of mind is probably to be found in his unequaled habit of concentration on the business before him. As in matters of policy, so in all his private habits, Mr. Gladstone thinks of one thing and of one thing only at a time. When home rule was up, he had no eyes or ears for any political subject but Ireland, of course excepting his favorite excursions into the twin subjects of Homer and Christian theology. Enter the room when Mr. Gladstone is reading a book; you may move noisily about the chamber, ransack the books on the shelves, stir the furniture, but never for one moment will the reader be conscious of your presence. At Downing Street, during his earlier ministries, these hours of study were often, I might say usually, preceded by the famous breakfast at which the celebrated actor or actress, the rising poet, the well-known artist, the diplomatist halting on his way from one station of the kingdom to another, were welcome guests. Madame Bernhardt, Miss Ellen Terry, Henry Irving, Madame Modjeska, have all assisted at these pleasant feasts.

HIS AFTERNOON.