Chapter XII: TECHNOLOGY.--Composition of Wheat Grain and its Products (4)

Surgical cleanliness differs from the housewife's idea of cleanliness in that its details seem frivolous, because it aims at the removal of microscopic particles. Stains, such as housewives abhor, if germ-free, are not objected to in surgery.

The hands and arms, and especially the finger nails, of the surgeon, assistants, and nurses should be well scrubbed with hot water and soap, by means of a nail brush, immediately before the operation. The patient's body about the site of the proposed operation should be similarly scrubbed with a brush and cleanly shaved. Subsequently the hands of the operator, assistants, and nurses, and the field of operation should be immersed in, or thoroughly washed with, corrosive sublimate solution (1:1,000 or 1:2,000). Finger rings, bracelets, bangles, and cuffs worn by the surgeon, assistants, or nurses must be removed before the cleansing is begun; and the clothing covered by a clean white apron, large enough to extend from neck to ankles and provided with sleeves.

The instruments should be similarly scrubbed with hot water and soap, and all particles of blood and pus from any previous operation removed from the joints. After this they should be immersed for at least fifteen minutes in a solution of beta-naphthol (1:2,500), which must be sufficiently deep to cover every portion of the instruments. After cleansing the instruments with soap and water, baking in a temperature a little above the boiling point of water is the best sterilizer. During the operation the sterilized instruments should be kept in a beta-naphthol solution and returned to it when the operator is not using them.

[The antiseptic solutions mentioned here are too irritating for use in operations within the abdomen and pelvis. Water made sterile by boiling is usually the best agent for irrigating these cavities, and for use on instruments and sponges. The instruments and sponges must be previously well sterilized.]

Sponges should be kept in a beta-naphthol or a corrosive sublimate solution during the operation. After the blood from the wound has been sponged away, they should be put in another basin containing the antiseptic solution, and cleansed anew before being used again. The antiseptic sutures and ligatures should be similarly soaked in beta-naphthol solution during the progress of the operation.

No one should touch the wound but the operator and his first assistant. No one should touch the sponges but the operator, his first assistant, and the nurse having charge of them. No one should touch the already prepared ligatures or instruments except the surgeon and his first or second assistants.

None but those assigned to the work are expected to handle instruments, sponges, dressings, etc., during the operation.

When any one taking part in the operation touches an object not sterilized, such as a table, a tray, or the ether towel, he should not be allowed to touch the instruments, the dressings, or the ligatures until his hands have been again sterilized. It is important that the hands of the surgeon, his assistants, and nurses should not touch any part of his own body, nor of the patient's body, except at the sterilized seat of operation, because infection may be carried to the wound. Rubbing the head or beard or wiping the nose requires immediate disinfection of the hands to be practiced.

The trailing ends of ligatures and sutures should never be allowed to touch the surgeon's clothing or to drag upon the operating table, because such contact may occasionally, though not always, pick up bacteria which may cause suppuration in the wound.

Instruments which fall upon the floor should not be again used until thoroughly disinfected.

The clothing of the patient, in the vicinity of the part to be operated upon, and the blanket and sheets used there to keep him warm, should be covered with dry sublimate towels. All dressings should be kept safe from infection by being stored in glass jars, or wrapped in dry sublimate towels.

* * * * *

INFLUENCE OF REPOSE ON THE RETINA.

Some interesting researches have lately been published in an Italian journal concerning the influence of repose on the sensitiveness of the retina (a nervous network of the eye) to light and color. The researches in question--those of Bassevi--appear to corroborate investigations which were made some years ago by other observers. In the course of the investigations the subject experimented upon was made to remain in a dark room for a period varying in extent from fifteen to twenty minutes. The room was darkened, it is noted, by means of heavy curtains, through which the light could not penetrate. After the eyes of the subject had thus been rested in the darkness, it was noted that the sensitiveness of his sight had been increased threefold. The mere sense of light itself had increased eighteen times. It was further noted that the sensitiveness to light rays, after the eye had been rested, was developed in a special order; the first color which was recognized being red, then followed yellow, while green and blue respectively succeeded. If color fatigue was produced in the eye by a glass of any special hue, it was found that the color in question came last in the series in point of recognition. The first of these experiments, regarded from a practical point of view, would appear to consist in an appreciation of the revivifying power of darkness as regards the sight. The color purple of the retina is known to become redeveloped in darkness; and it is probable, therefore, that the alternation of day and night is a physical and external condition with which the sight of animals is perfectly in accord.

* * * * *

SUN DIALS.

An article on the subject, recently published by us, has gained for us the communication of two very interesting sun dials, which we shall describe. The first, which we owe to the kindness of General Jancigny, is of the type of the circular instrument, of which we explained the method of using in our preceding article. The hour here is likewise deduced from the height of the sun converted into a horary angle by the instrument itself; but the method by which such conversion operates is a little different. Fig. 1 shows the instrument open for observation. We find here the meridian circle, M, and the equator E, of the diagram shown in Fig. 3 (No. 4); but the circle with alidade is here replaced by a small aperture movable in a slide that is placed in a position parallel with the axis of the world. Upon this slide are marked, on one side, the initials of the names of the months and on the other side the corresponding signs of the zodiac. The sun apparently describing a circle around the axis, PP¹, the rays passing through a point of the axis (small aperture of the slide) will travel over a circular cone around such axis. If, then, the apparatus be so suspended that the circle, M, shall be in the meridian, the slide parallel with the earth's axis, and the circle, E, at right angles with the slide, the pencil of solar light passing through the aperture will describe, in one day, a cone having the slide for an axis; that is to say, concentric with the equator circle. If, moreover, the aperture is properly placed, the luminous pencil will pass through the equator circle itself; to this effect, the aperture should be in a position such that the angle, a (Fig. 3, No. 4), may be equal to the declination of the sun on the day of observation. It is precisely to this end that the names of the months are inscribed upon the slide....

The accessories of the instrument are as follows: A ring with a pivot for suspending the meridian circle, and the position of which, given by a division in degrees marked upon this circle, must correspond with the latitude of the place; two stops serving to fix the position of the equator circle; finally the latitude of various cities. The instrument was constructed at Paris, by Butterfield, probably in the last quarter of the eighteenth century.

The second instrument, which is of the same nature as the cubical sun dial--that is to say, with horary angle--is, unlike the latter, a true trinket, as interesting as a work of art as it is as an astronomical instrument. It is a little mandolin of gilded brass, and is shown of actual size in Fig. 2. The cover, which is held by a hook, may be placed in a vertical position, in which it is held by a second hook. It bears in the interior the date 1612. This is the only explicit historic datum that this little masterpiece reveals to us. Its maker, who was certainly an artist, and, as we shall see, also a man of science, had the modesty not to inscribe his name in it.

No. 2 of Fig. 3 represents the instrument open. It rests upon the tail piece and neck of the mandolin. The cover is exactly vertical. The bottom of the mandolin is closed by a horizontal silver plate, beneath which is soldered the box of a compass designed to put the instrument in the meridian, and carrying upon its face an arrow and the indications S. OR. M. OC., that is to say, "Septentrion" (north), "Orient" (east), "Midi" (south), "Occident" (west). One of the ends of the needle of the compass is straight, while the other is forked. It is placed in a position in which it completes the arrow, thus permitting of making a very accurate observation (Fig. 2, No. 3). Around the compass, the silver plate carries the lines of hours. It is perfectly adjusted, and held in place by a screw that traverses the bottom of the instrument. In front of the compass it contains a small aperture designed to permit of the passage of the indicating thread, which, at the other end, is fastened to the cover. The silver plate is not soldered, in order that the thread may be replaced when it chances to break. On the inner part of the cover are marked in the first place the horary lines, traversed by curves that are symmetrical with respect to the vertical and having the aspect of arcs of hyperbolas. At the extremity of these lines are marked the signs of the zodiac. At the top, a pretty banderole, which appears at first sight to form a part of the _ensemble_ of the curves, completes the design. Such is this wonderful little instrument, in which everything is arranged in harmonious lines that delight the eye and easily detract one's attention from a scientific examination of it. Let us enter upon this drier part of our subject; we shall still have room to wonder, and let us take up first the higher question.

Let us consider a horizontal plane (Fig. 3, No. 2)--a plane perpendicular to the meridian, and a right line parallel with the axis of the world. Let P be a point upon this line. As we have seen, such point is the summit of a very wide cone described in one day by the solar rays. At the equinox this cone is converted into a plane, which, in a vertical plane, intersects the straight line A B. Between the vernal and autumnal equinoxes the sun is situated above this plane, and, consequently, the shadow of P describes the lower curves at A B. During winter, on the contrary, it is the upper curves that are described. It is easily seen that the curves traced by the shadow of the point P are hyperbolas whose convexity is turned toward A B. It therefore appears evident to us that the thread of our sun dial carried a knot or bead whose shadow was followed upon the curves. This shadow showed at every hour of the day the approximate date of the day of observation. The sun dial therefore served as a calendar. But how was the position of the bead found? Here we are obliged to enter into new details. Let us project the figure upon a vertical plane (Fig. 3, No. 1) and designate by H E the summits of the hyperbolas corresponding to the winter and summer solstices. If P be the position of the bead, the angles, P H H¹, P E E¹, will give the height of the sun above the horizon at noon, at the two solstices. Between these angles there should exist an angle of 47 deg., double the obliquity of the ecliptic, that is to say, the excursion of the sun in declination: now P E E¹-P H H¹ = E P H = 47 deg..

Let us carry, at H and E, the angles, O H E = H E O = 43 deg. = 90 deg.-47 deg.; the angle at 0 deg. will be equal to 180-86 = 94 deg.. If we trace the circumference having O for a center, and passing through E and H, each point, Q, of such circumference will possess the same property as the angle, H Q E = 47 deg.. The intersection, P, of the circumference with the straight line, N, therefore gives the position of the bead.

Let us return to our instrument. We have traced upon a diagram the distance of the points of attachment of the thread, at the intersection of the planes of projection. We have thus obtained the position of the line, N S. Then, operating as has just been said, we have marked the point, P. Now, accurately measuring all the angles, we have found: N S R = 50 deg.; P H H¹ = 18 deg.; P E E¹ = 65 deg.. The first shows that the instrument has been constructed for a place on the parallel of 50 deg., and the others show that, at the solstices, the height of the sun was respectively 18 deg. and 65 deg., decompounded as follows:

18 deg. = polar height of the place -231/2 deg..
65 deg. = " " " " +231/2 deg..

The polar height of the place where the object was to be observed would therefore be 411/2 deg., that is to say, its latitude would be 481/2 deg..

Minor views of construction and measurement and the deformations that the instrument has undergone sufficiently explain the divergence of 11/2 deg. between the two results, which comprise between them the latitude of Paris.

After doing all the reasoning that we have just given at length, we have finally found the means by which the hypothetic bead was to be put in place. A little beyond the curves, a very small but perfectly conspicuous dot is engraved--the intersection of two lines of construction that it was doubtless desired to efface, but the scarcely visible trace of which subsists. Upon measuring with the compasses the distance between the insertion of the thread and this dot, we find exactly the distance, N P, of our diagram. Therefore there is no doubt that this dot served as a datum point. The existence of the bead upon the thread and the use of it as a rude calendar therefore appears to be certain.

The compass is to furnish us new indications. After dismounting it--an operation that the quite primitive enchasing of the face plate renders very easy--we took a copy of it, which we measured with care. The arrow forms with the line O C-O R an angle of 90 deg. + 8 deg.. The compass was therefore constructed in view of an eastern declination of 8 deg..

Now, here is what we know with most certainty as to the magnetic declination of Paris at the epoch in question:

Years. Declinations.
1550. 8 deg. east.
1580. 11.30
1622. 6.30
1634. 4.16

On causing the curve (Fig. 3, No. 3) to pass through the four points thus determined, we find, for 1612, the declination 81/2 deg.. This is, with an approximation closer than that of the measurements that can be made upon the small compass, the value that we found. From these data as a whole we draw the two following conclusions: (1) The instrument was constructed at Paris; and (2) the inventor was accurately posted in the science of his time.

Certain easily perceived retouchings, moreover, show that this sun dial is not a copy, but rather an original. We are therefore in an attitude to claim, as we did at the outset, that the constructor of this pleasing object was not only an artist, but a man of science as well.

Let us compare a few dates: In 1612, Galileo and Kepler were still living. Thirty years were yet to lapse before the birth of Newton. Modern astronomy was in its tenderest infancy, and remained the privilege of a few initiated persons.--_C.E. Guillaume, in La Nature._

* * * * *

[MIND.]

THE UNDYING GERM PLASM AND THE IMMORTAL SOUL.

By Dr. R. VON LENDENFELD.

[The following article appeared originally, last year, in the German scientific monthly, _Humboldt_. It, is reproduced here (by permission)--the English from the hand of Mr. A.E. Shipley--as a specimen of the kind of general speculation to which modern biology is giving rise.--EDITOR.]

To Weismann is due the credit of transforming those vague ideas on the immortality of the germ plasma which have been for some time in the minds of many scientific men, myself among the number, into a clear and sharply-defined theory, against the accuracy of which no doubt can be raised either from the theoretical or from the empirical standpoint. This theory, defined as it is by Weismann, has but recently come before us, and some time must elapse before all the consequences which it entails will be evident. But there is one direction which I have for some time followed, and indeed began to think out long before Weismann's remarkable work showed the importance of this matter. I mean the origin of the conception of the immortal soul.

Before I approach the solution of this problem, it may be advisable to recall in a few words to my readers the theory of the immortality of the germ plasm.

All unicellular beings, such as the protozoa and the simpler algae, fungi, etc., reproduce themselves by means of simple fission. The mother organism may split into two similar halves, as the amoeba does, or, as is more common in the lowest unicellular plants, it may divide into a great number of small spores. In these processes it often happens that the whole body of the mother, the entire cell, may resolve itself into two or more children; at times, however, a small portion of the mother cell remains unused. This remnant, in the spore-forming unicellular plants represented by the cell wall, is then naturally dead.

From this it follows that these unicellular beings are immortal. The mother cell divides, the daughter cells resulting from the first division repeat the process, the third generation does the same, and so on. At each division the mother cell renews its youth and multiplies, without ever dying.

External circumstances can, of course, at any moment bring about the death of these unicellular organisms, and in reality almost every series of beings which originate from one another in this way is interrupted by death. Some, however, persist. From the first appearance of living organisms on our planet till to-day, several such series--at the very least certainly one--have persisted.

The immortality of unicellular beings is not at any time absolute, but only potential. Weismann has recently directed attention to this point. External occurrences may at any moment cause the death of an individual, and in this way interrupt the immortal series; but in the intimate organization of the living plasma there exist no seeds of death. The plasma is itself immortal and will in fact live forever, provided only external circumstances are favorable.

Death is always said to be inherent in the nature of protoplasm. This is not so. The plasm, as such, is immortal.

But a further complication of great importance affects the reproduction and the rejuvenescence of these unicellular organisms; this is the process of conjugation. Two separate cells, distinct individuals, fuse together. Their protoplasmic bodies not only unite but intermingle, and their nuclei do likewise; from two individuals one results. A single cell is thus produced, and this divides. As a rule this cell seems stronger than the single individual before the union. The offspring of a double individual, originated in this way, increase for some time parthenogenetically by simple fission without conjugation, until at length a second conjugation takes place among them. I cannot consider further the origin of this universally important process of conjugation. I will only suggest that a kind of conjugation may have existed from the very beginning and may have been determined by the original method of reproduction, if such existed.

At any rate conjugation has been observed in very many plants and animals, and is possibly universally present in the living world.

Conjugation does not affect the theory of immortality. The double individual produced from the fusion of two individuals, which divides and lives on in its descendants, contains the substance of both. The conjugating cells have in no way died during the process of conjugation; they have only united.

If we examine a little more closely the history of such a "family" of unicellular beings from one period of conjugation to the next, we see that a great number of single individuals, that is, single cells, have proceeded from the double individual formed by conjugation. These may all continue to increase by splitting in two, and then the family tree is composed of dichotomously branching lines; or they may resolve themselves into numerous spores, and then the family tree exhibits a number of branches springing from the same point.

The majority of these branches end blindly with the death, caused by external circumstances, of that individual which corresponds with the branch. Only a few persist till the next period of conjugation, and then unite with other individuals and afford the opportunity for giving rise to a new family tree.

All the single individuals of such a genealogical table belong to one another, even though they be isolated. Among certain infusoria and other protista, they do, in fact, remain together and build up branching colonies. At the end of each branch is situated an infusorian (vorticella), and the whole colony represents in itself the genealogical family tree.

In the beginning, there existed no other animal organisms than these aggregations of similar unicellular beings, all of which reproduced themselves. Later on, division of labor made its appearance among the individuals of the animal colony, and it increased their dependence upon one another, so that their individuality was to a great extent lost, and they were no longer able to live independently of one another.

By the development of this process, multicellular metazoa arose from the colonies of similar protozoa, and at length culminated in the higher animals and man.

If we examine the human body, its origin and end, in the light of these facts, we shall see that a comparison between the simple immortal protozoa and man leads us to the result that man himself, or at least a part of him and that the most important, is immortal.

When we turn to the starting point of human development, we find an egg cell and a spermatozoon, which unite and whose nuclei intermingle. Thus a new cell is produced. This process is similar to the conjugation of two unicellular beings, such as two acinetiform infusoria, one of which, the female ([Symbol: Female]), is larger than the other, the male ([Symbol: Male]). This difference of size in the conjugating cell is, however, without importance.

From this double cell produced by conjugation many generations of cells arise by continual cell division in divergent series. Among the infusoria these are all immortal, but many of them are destroyed, and only a few persist till conjugation again takes place. The same is the case with man. Numerous series of cell families arise, which are all immortal: of these but few--strictly speaking, only one--live till the next period of conjugation and then give the impulse which results in the formation of a new diverging series of cells. The difference between man and the infusorian is only that in the former the cells which originate from the double cell (the fertilized ovum) remain together and become differentiated one from another, while in the latter the cells are usually scattered but remain alike in appearance, etc.

The seeds of death do not lie, as Weismann appears to assume, in the differentiation of the cells of the higher animals. On the contrary, all the cell series, not only those of the reproductive cells, are immortal. As a matter of fact all must die; not because they themselves contain the germs of death and have contained them from the beginning, but because the structure which is built up by them collectively finally brings about the death of all. The living plasm in every cell is itself immortal. It is the higher life of the collective organism which continually condemns countless cells to death. They die, not because they cannot continue to exist as such but because conditions necessary for their preservation are no longer present.

Thus, while the cells are themselves immortal, the whole organism which they build up is mortal. The complex inter-dependence between the single cells, which, since they have adapted themselves to division of labor, has become necessary, carries with it, from the beginning, the seeds of death. The mutual dependence ceases to work, and the various cells are killed.

The death of the individual is a consequence of the defective precision in the working of the division of labor among the cells. This defect, after a longer or shorter time, causes the death of all the cells composing the body. Only those which quit the body retain their power of living.

Of all those countless cells which, in the course of a lifetime, are thrown off from the body, only one kind is adapted for existence outside the body, namely, the reproductive cells.

Among the lower animals the reproductive cells often leave the body of their parents only after the death of the latter. This is not the case in man.

All the cell series which do not take part in the formation of reproductive cells, as well as all the reproductive cells without exception, or with only a few exceptions, die through unfavorable external conditions; just as all, or almost all, of the infusoria which arose from the double cell die before they can conjugate again.

At times, however, some of the infusoria persist till the next period of conjugation, and in the same way, from time to time, some of the human reproductive cells succeed in conjugating, and from them a new individual arises.

A man is the outgrowth of the double cell produced from the conjugation of two human reproductive cells, and consists of all the cells which arise from this and remain in connection with each other. The human individual originates at the moment of the mingling of the nuclei of the reproductive cells; and the details of this mingling determine his individual peculiarities.

The end of man is manifestly to preserve, to nourish, and to protect the series of reproductive cells which are continually developing within him, to select a suitable mate and to care for the children which he produces. His whole structure is acquired by means of selection with this one object in view, the maintenance of the series of reproductive cells.

From this standpoint the individual loses his significance and becomes, so to speak, the slave of the reproductive cells. These are the important and essential and also the undying parts of the organism. Like raveled threads whose branches separate and reunite, the series of reproductive cells permeate the successive generations of the human race. They continually give off other cell series which branch out from this network of reproductive cells, and, after a longer or shorter course, come to an end. Twigs from these branches represent the human individuals, and any one who considers the matter must recognize that, as was said above, apart from the preservation of the reproductive cell series the individuals are purposeless.

It is on this basis that the moral ordering of the world must place itself if it is to stand on any basis at all. It is an easy and a pleasant task to interpret the facts of history from this standpoint. Everything fits together and harmonizes, and each turn in the historical development of civilization when observed from this point of view acquires a simple and a clear causality.

I cannot enlarge on this topic, engaging as it is, but here a further question obtrudes itself. May there not be some connection between the actual immortality of the germ cells, the continuity of their series and the importance of the part they play, and the origin of the idea of an immortal soul? May not the former have given rise to the latter?

As a matter of fact, the series of reproductive cells possess the essential attributes of the human soul; they are the immortal living part of a man, which contain, in a latent form, his spiritual peculiarities. The immortality of the reproductive cells is only potential and is essentially different from that absolute eternal life which certain religions ascribe to the soul.

We must not, however, forget that at the time when the conception of a soul arose among men, owing to a defective knowledge of the laws of logic, no clear distinction was made between a potential immortality and an absolute life without end.

Herbert Spencer has pointed out that all religions have their origin in reverence paid to ancestors. Each religion must have a true foundation, and the deification of our forefathers has this true and natural foundation inasmuch as they belong to the same series of reproductive cells as their descendants. Of course our barbaric ancestors who initiated the ancestor worship had no idea of this motive for their religion, but that in no way disproves that this and this alone was the _causa efficiens_ of the origin of such religions. It is indeed typical of a religion that it depends upon facts which are not discerned and which are not fully recognized.

With the origin and development of every religion the origin and development of the conception of the soul progresses step by step.

We find the justification of ancestor worship in the immortality of the reproductive cells, and in the continuity of their series. This should also take a part in the origin of the conception of the soul.

Spencer derives the conception of the existence of the soul from dreams, and from the imagination of the mentally afflicted. The savage dreams he is hunting, and wakes up to find himself at home. In his dream he talks with friends who are not present where he sleeps; he may even in the course of his dream encounter the dead. From this he draws the conclusions--(1) that he himself has two persons, one hunting while the other sleeps; (2) that his acquaintances also have a double existence; and, from those cases in which he met with the dead, (3) that they are not only double persons, but that one of the persons is dead while the other continues to live.

Thus, according to Spencer, the idea arises that man consists of two separable thinking parts, and that one of these can survive the other.

When a person faints and recovers, we say he comes to himself. That is, a part of his person left him and has returned. But in this case, as in the dream, the body has not divided, so that in a swoon the outgoing portion is not corporeal.

The savage will think that this is what remains alive after death, for he is incapable of distinguishing between a swoon and death. Then he will associate the part which leaves the body during a swoon with that which gives life, and some will regard the heart, which fails to beat after death, and others the breath, which ceases when life does, as this life-giving part or soul.

Thus far I am quoting from Spencer.

The conception of the soul, which has thus arisen, has been utilized by astute priests to obtain power over their fellow-men; while the genuine founders of religions have made use of it, and by threats of punishment, and promises of reward, have tried to induce mankind to live uprightly.

With this purpose in view, the teachers of religion have changed the original conception of the soul and have added to it the attribute of absolute immortality and eternal duration, an attribute which is in no way connected by people in a low state of development with their conception of the soul.

At the present time among the religions of all civilized people the undying soul plays an extraordinarily important part.

I start from the position that no doctrine can receive a general acceptation among men which does not depend on a truth of nature. The various religions agree on one point, and this is the doctrine of the immortal soul. Such a point of universal agreement, I am convinced, cannot have been entirely derived from the air. It must have had some foundation in fact, and the question arises, What was this foundation? Dreams and phantasms, as Spencer believes? No; there must have been something real and genuine, and the path we have entered upon to find traces of this true foundation of the conception of the soul cannot be distrusted.

We must compare the conception of the soul as held by various related religions, and strip off from it all those attributes which are not common to all. But those which all the various religions agree in ascribing to the soul we may regard as its true attributes.

It would take too long to go into the details of this examination of the conception of the soul. As the general result of a comparison of the various views of the soul we may put down the following characteristics which are invariably ascribed to it:

(1) The soul is living.

(2) It survives the body, and can continue to exist without
it.

(3) During life it is contained in the body, but leaves it
after death.

(4) The soul participates in the conduct of the body: after
the death of the latter, causality (retribution) can still
affect the soul.

The characteristics (1) to (3) hold also for the series of reproductive cells continually developing within the body; and these attributes of the germ cells may well be the true but unrecognized cause of the origin of those conceptions of the soul's character.

This like holds true for (4), although the connection is not so obvious. For this reason it will be advisable to consider the point in more detail.

It has been already indicated that the founders of religions have made use of the survival of the soul after death to endeavor to lead mankind to live righteously, by threats of punishments or promises of reward, which will affect the soul after the death of the body.

It is precisely on this point that in the most highly developed religions there is the greatest falling off from the original conception of the after-effect of human conduct on the soul, and the most astounding things are inculcated by the Koran and other works with respect to this.

But here again we may separate the true kernel from the artificial shell, and reach the conclusion that good conduct is advantageous for the soul after the death of the body, and that bad conduct is detrimental. In no other way can the Mohammedan paradise or the Christian hell be explained than as sheer anthropomorphic realizations of these facts, which can appeal even to the densest intellect.

What then is good conduct, or bad?

The question is easily asked, but without reference to external circumstances impossible to answer. _Per se_ there is no good or bad conduct. Under certain circumstances a vulgar, brutal murder may become a glorious and heroic act, a good deed in the truest sense of the word; as, for example, in the case of Charlotte Corday. Nor must the view of one's fellow creatures be accepted as a criterion of good or bad conduct, for different parties are apt to cherish diametrically opposed opinions on one and the same subject. There remains then only one's own inner feeling or conscience. Good conduct awakes in this a feeling of pleasure, bad conduct a feeling of pain. And by this alone can we discriminate. Now let us further ask. What sort of conduct produces in our conscience pleasure and what sort of conduct induces pain? If we investigate a great number of special cases, we shall recognize that conduct which proves advantageous to the individual, to the family, to the state, and finally to mankind, produces a good conscience, and that conduct which is injurious to the same series give rise to a bad conscience. If a collision of interests arise, it is the degree of relationship which determines the influence of conduct on the conscience. As, for instance, among the clans in Scotland, a deed which is advantageous for the clan produces a good conscience, even if it be injurious to the state and to mankind.

The conscience is one of the mental faculties of man acquired by selection and rendered possible by the construction and development of the commonwealth of the state. Conscience urges us to live rightly, that is, to do those things which will help ourselves and our family, whereby our fellow creatures according to their degree of relationship may be benefited. These are good deeds, and they will merit from the teachers of religion much praise for the soul. We find, therefore, that the only possible definition of a good deed is one which will benefit the series of germ cells arising from one individual, and further which will be of use to others with their own series of germ cells, and that in proportion to the degree of connection (relationship).

It is clear that in this point also the ordinary conception of the future fate of the soul agrees fundamentally with the result of observation on the prosperity of the series of germ cells.

As all the forces of nature, known to the ignorant barbarian only by their visible workings, call forth in him certain vague and, therefore, religious ideas, which are but a reflection of these forces in an anthropomorphically distorted form, so the apparently enigmatical conception of the eternal soul is founded on the actual immortality and continuity of the germ plasma.

* * * * *

COCOS PYNAERTI.

This is an acquisition to the dwarf growing palms, and a graceful table plant. It first appeared in the nurseries of M. Pynaert, Ghent, and is evidently a form of C. Weddelliana, having similar character, though, as shown by the accompanying illustration, it is quite distinct. The leaves are gracefully arched, the pinnules rather broader than in the type, more closely arranged, and of a deep tone of rich green. Such a small growing palm possessing elegant and distinct character should become a favorite.--_The Gardener's Magazine_.

* * * * *

THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER.[1]

[Footnote 1: Read May 17, 1890, before the Engineers' Club of
Philadelphia.]

By JACQUES W. REDWAY.