THE DIAMOND CUTTING INDUSTRY.
In New York there are sixteen firms engaged in cutting and recutting diamonds, and in Massachusetts there are three. Cutting has also been carried on at times in Pennsylvania and Illinois, but has been discontinued. The firms that were fully employed were generally the larger ones, whose business consisted chiefly in repairing chipped or imperfectly cut stones or in recutting stones previously cut abroad, which, owing to the superior workmanship in command here, could be recut at a profit, or in recutting very valuable diamonds when it was desired, with the certainty that the work could be done under their own supervision, thus guarding against any possible loss by exchange for inferior stones.
The industry employed 236 persons, of whom 69 were under age, who received $148,114 in wages. Of the 19 establishments, 16 used steam power. The power is usually rented. Foot power is only used in one establishment. Three of the firms are engaged in shaping black diamonds for mechanical purposes, for glass cutters and engravers, or in the manufacture of watch jewels.
The diamonds used in this industry are all imported, for, as already stated, diamonds are only occasionally found in the United States.
The importation of rough and uncut diamonds in 1880 amounted to $129,207, in 1889 to $250,187, and the total for the decade was $3,133,529, while in 1883 there were imported $443,996 worth, showing that there was 94 per cent. more cutting done in 1889 than 1880, but markedly more in 1882 and 1883. This large increase of importation is due to the fact that in the years 1882 to 1885 a number of our jewelers opened diamond cutting establishments, but the cutting has not been profitably carried on in this country on a scale large enough to justify branch houses in London, the great market for rough diamonds, where advantage can be taken of every fluctuation in the market and large parcels purchased, which can be cut immediately and converted into cash; for nothing is bought and sold on a closer margin than rough diamonds.
There has been a remarkable increase in the importation of precious stones in this country in the last ten years. The imports from 1870 to 1879, inclusive, amounted to $26,698,203, whereas from 1880 to 1889, inclusive, the imports amounted to $87,198,114, more than three times as much as were imported the previous decade.
Abstract from Census Bulletin No. 49, April, 1891.
SOME EXPERIMENTS ON THE ELECTRIC DISCHARGE IN VACUUM TUBES.[1]
By Prof. J.J. THOMSON, M.A., F.R.S.
FIG. 1.—Coil of Glass Tube for Vacuum Discharge Experiments. The primary coils are filled with mercury, the secondary coils form continuous closed circuits.
The phenomena of vacuum discharges were, he said, greatly simplified when their path was wholly gaseous, the complication of the dark space surrounding the negative electrode and the stratifications so commonly observed in ordinary vacuum tubes being absent. To produce discharges in tubes devoid of electrodes was, however, not easy to accomplish, for the only available means of producing an electromotive force in the discharge circuit was by electromagnetic induction. Ordinary methods of producing variable induction were valueless, and recourse was had to the oscillatory discharge of a Leyden jar, which combines the two essentials of a current whose maximum value is enormous, and whose rapidity of alternation is immensely great.
FIG. 2.—Exhausted Bulb Surrounded by Primary Spiral Consisting of a Coiled Glass Tube Containing Mercury.
FIG. 3.—Exhausted Bulb Surrounded by Primary Coils, Inclosed in Bell Jar.
The discharge circuits, which may take the shape of bulbs, or of tubes bent in the form of coils, were placed in close proximity to glass tubes filled with mercury, which formed the path of the oscillatory discharge. The parts thus corresponded to the windings of an induction coil, the vacuum tubes being the secondary and the tubes filled with the mercury the primary. In such an apparatus the Leyden jar need not be large, and neither primary nor secondary need have many turns, for this would increase the self-induction of the former and lengthen the discharge path in the latter. Increasing self-induction of the primary reduces the E.M.F. induced in the secondary, while lengthening the secondary does not increase the E.M.F. per unit length. Two or three turns (Fig. 1) in each were found to be quite sufficient, and on discharging the Leyden jar between two highly polished knobs in the primary circuit, a plain uniform band of light was seen to pass round the secondary. An exhausted bulb (Fig. 2) containing traces of oxygen was placed within a primary spiral of three turns, and, on passing the jar discharge, a circle of light was seen within the bulb in close proximity to the primary circuit, accompanied by a purplish glow, which lasted for a second or more. On heating the bulb the duration of the glow was greatly diminished, and it could be instantly extinguished by the presence of an electromagnet. Another exhausted bulb (Fig. 3), surrounded by a primary spiral, was contained in a bell jar, and when the pressure of air in the jar was about that of the atmosphere the secondary discharge occurred in the bulb, as is ordinarily the case. On exhausting the jar, however, the luminous discharge grew fainter, and a point was reached at which no secondary discharge was visible. Further exhaustion of the jar caused the secondary discharge to appear outside the bulb. The fact of obtaining no luminous discharge either in the bulb or jar the author could only explain on two suppositions, viz., that under the conditions then existing the specific inductive capacity of the gas was very great, or that a discharge could pass without being luminous. The author had also observed that the conductivity of a vacuum tube without electrodes increased as the pressure diminished until a certain point was reached, and afterward diminished again, thus showing that the high resistance of a nearly perfect vacuum is in no way due to the presence of the electrodes. One peculiarity of the discharges was their local nature, the rings of light being much more sharply defined than was to be expected. They were also found to be most easily produced when the chain of molecules in the discharge were all of the same kind. For example, a discharge could be easily sent through a tube many feet long, but the introduction of a small pellet of mercury in the tube stopped the discharge, although the conductivity of the mercury was much greater than that of the vacuum. In some cases he had noticed that a very fine wire placed within a tube on the side remote from the primary circuit would prevent a luminous discharge in that tube.
FIG. 4.—Exhausted Secondary Coil of One Loop Containing Bulbs. The discharge passed along the inner side of the bulbs, the primary coils being placed within the secondary.
From a recent communication made to the Physical Society, London.
THE ELECTRICAL MANUFACTURE OF PHOSPHORUS.
Dr. Readman, at the May meeting of the Glasgow Section of the Society of Chemical Industry, gave a description of the new works and plant which have been erected at Wolverhampton for the manufacture of phosphorus by the Readman-Parker patents. The process consists in decomposing the mixture of phosphoric acid, or acid phosphates and carbon, by the heat of the electric arc embedded in the mass.
LAYING A MILITARY FIELD TELEGRAPH LINE.
The 1st Division of the Royal Engineers, Telegraph Battalion, now encamped at Chevening, close to Lord Stanhope's park, as a summer exercise is engaged in running a military telegraph field line from Aldershot to Chatham. Along the whole of the line the wire is supported on light fir and bamboo poles. The work has been carried out with unusual celerity. From Aldershot to Chevening, a distance of fifty miles, the line was erected in a day and a quarter, or under thirty hours, the detachments employed having worked or marched all night. This is, it is said, the greatest length of telegraph line ever laid within so short a time. The result cannot fail to be useful, for by the new line communication is now established both by telegraph and telephone between Aldershot and Chatham. For laying such telegraph lines to accompany calvary, a light cable is made use of. This is carried on reels on a wheeled cart, and can be laid at the rate of six to seven miles an hour. The Telegraph Battalion of the Royal Engineers comprises two divisions. One is employed in time of peace under the Post Office in the construction and maintenance of postal lines; the other, stationed at Aldershot, is equipped with field telegraph material.—Daily Graphic.
AN ELECTROSTATIC SAFETY DEVICE.
This device, as shown in the accompanying illustration, is a glass cylinder fixed on an ebonite base, and closed at the top by an ebonite cap. A solid brass rod runs from top to bottom, and near the bottom, and at right angles to it, is fixed a smaller adjustable rod, terminating in a flat head. Opposite to this flat disk there is a brass strip secured to the ebonite cap. From the top of this brass strip hangs a gold or aluminum foil. The foil and strip are placed to earth, and the solid brass rod is connected to the circuit to be protected. Should the difference of potential between the foil and the terminal opposite to it attain more than a certain amount, electrostatic attraction will cause the foil to touch the disk and place the circuit to earth. The apparatus, which is a modification of the Cardew earthing device, is constructed by Messrs. Drake & Gorham, of Victoria Street.—The Electrician.
EXPERIMENTS WITH HIGH TENSION ALTERNATING CURRENTS.
Messrs. Siemens and Halske, of Berlin, recently invited the members of the Elektrotechnische Verein of that city to their works to witness the demonstration of a series of experiments on alternating currents under a pressure of 20,000 volts. In order to show that the desired pressure was really en evidence, the high tension was conducted through a pair of wires of only 0.2 mm. diameter to a battery of 200 100-volt incandescent lamps, all connected up in series. An ordinary Siemens electric light cable was inserted, and broke down at a pressure of some 15,000 volts.
At the end of the meeting a few experiments on the formation of the arc under this enormous pressure were shown. The sparking distance varied considerably, according to the shape of the electrodes. At 20,000 volts a spark jumped from a ball to a ball about 10 millimeters, while between two points a sparking distance of 30 millimeters, and sometimes even more, was reached. This arc is shown half size in the accompanying engraving.
A 20,000 VOLT ALTERNATING ARC (half size).
The arc which followed the jumping over of a spark made a loud humming and clapping noise, and flapped about, being easily carried away by the slightest draught. The arc could be drawn out horizontally to something like 100 millimeters distance between the electrodes, and even to a distance of 150 millimeters, when carbon pencils were used as electrodes, but it always remained standing up in a point.—Electrical Engineer.
THE RELATION OF BACTERIA TO PRACTICAL SURGERY.[1]
By JOHN B. ROBERTS, A.M., M.D., Professor of Surgery in the Woman's Medical College and in the Philadelphia Polyclinic.
The revolution which has occurred in practical surgery since the discovery of the relation of micro-organisms to the complications occurring in wounds has caused me to select this subject for discussion. Although many of my hearers are familiar with the germ theory of disease, it is possible that it may interest some of them to have put before them in a short address a few points in bacteriology which are of value to the practical surgeon.
It must be remembered that the groups of symptoms which were formerly classed under the heads "inflammatory fever," "symptomatic fever," "traumatic fever," "hectic fever," and similar terms, varying in name with the surgeon speaking of them, or with the location of the disease, are now known to be due to the invasion of the wound by microscopic plants. These bacteria, after entering the blood current at the wound, multiply with such prodigious rapidity that the whole system gives evidence of their existence. Suppuration of wounds is undoubtedly due to these organisms, as is tubercular disease, whether of surgical or medical character. Tetanus, erysipelas, and many other surgical conditions have been almost proved to be the result of infection by similar microscopic plants, which, though acting in the same way, have various forms and life histories.
A distinction must be made between the "yeast plants," one of which produces thrush, and the "mould plants," the existence of which, as parasites in the skin, gives rise to certain cutaneous diseases. These two classes of germs are foreign to the present topic, which is surgery; and I shall, therefore, confine my remarks to that group of vegetable parasites to which the term bacteria has been given. These are the micro-organisms whose actions and methods of growth particularly concern the surgeon. The individual plants are so minute that it takes in the neighborhood of ten or fifteen hundred of them grouped together to cover a spot as large as a full stop or period used in punctuating an ordinary newspaper. This rough estimate applies to the globular and the egg-shaped bacteria, to which is given the name "coccus" (plural, cocci). The cane or rod shaped bacteria are rather larger plants. Fifteen hundred of these placed end to end would reach across the head of a pin. Because of the resemblance of these latter to a walking stick they have been termed bacillus (plural, bacilli).
The bacteria most interesting to the surgeon belong to the cocci and the bacilli. There are other forms which bacteriologists have dubbed with similar descriptive names, but they are more interesting to the physician than to the surgeon. Many micro-organisms, whether cocci, bacilli, or of other shapes, are harmless, hence they are called non-pathogenic, to distinguish them from the disease-producing or pathogenic germs.
As many trees have the same shape and a similar method of growing, but bear different fruits—in the one case edible and in the other poisonous—so, too, bacteria may look alike to the microscopist's eye, and grow much in the same way, but one will cause no disease, while the other will produce perhaps tuberculosis of the lungs or brain.
Many scores of bacteria have been, by patient study, differentiated from their fellows and given distinctive names. Their nomenclature corresponds in classification and arrangement with the nomenclature adopted in different departments of botany. Thus we have the pus-causing chain coccus (streptococcus pyogenes), so-called because it is globular in shape, because it grows with the individual plants attached to each other, or arranged in a row like a chain of beads on a string, and because it produces pus. In a similar way we have the pus-causing grape coccus of a golden color (staphylococcus pyogenes aureus). It grows with the individual plants arranged somewhat after the manner of a bunch of grapes, and when millions of them are collected together, the mass has a golden yellow hue. Again, we have the bacillus tuberculosis, the rod-shaped plant which is known to cause tuberculosis of the lungs, joints, brain, etc.
It is hardly astonishing that these fruitful sources of disease have so long remained undetected, when their microscopic size is borne in mind. That some of them do cause disease is indisputable, since bacteriologists have, by their watchful and careful methods, separated almost a single plant from its surroundings and congeners, planted it free from all contamination, and observed it produce an infinitesimal brood of its own kind. Animals and patients inoculated with the plants thus cultivated have rapidly become subjects of the special disease which the particular plant was supposed to produce.
The difficulty of such investigation becomes apparent when it is remembered that under the microscope many of these forms of vegetable life are identical in appearance, and it is only by observing their growth when in a proper soil that they can be distinguished from each other. In certain cases it is quite difficult to distinguish them by the physical appearances produced during their growth. Then it is only after an animal has been inoculated with them that the individual parasite can be accurately recognized and called by name. It is known then by the results which it is capable of producing.
The various forms of bacteria are recognized, as I have said, by their method of growth and by their shape. Another means of recognition is their individual peculiarity of taking certain dyes, so that special plants can be recognized, under the microscope, by the color which a dye gives to them, and which they refuse to give up when treated with chemical substances which remove the stain from, or bleach, all the other tissues which at first have been similarly stained.
The similarity between bacteria and the ordinary plants with which florists are familiar is, indeed, remarkable. Bacteria grow in animal and other albuminous fluids; but it is just as essential for them to have a suitable soil as it is for the corn or wheat that the farmer plants in his field. By altering the character of the albuminous fluid in which the micro-organism finds its subsistence, these small plants can be given a vigorous growth, or may be actually starved to death. The farmer knows that it is impossible for him to grow the same crop year after year in the same field, and he is, therefore, compelled to rotate his crops. So it is with the microscopic plants which we are considering.
After a time the culture fluid or soil becomes so exhausted of its needed constituents, by the immense number of plants living in it, that it is unfit for their life and development. Then this particular form will no longer thrive; but some other form of bacterium may find in it the properties required for functional activity, and may grow vigorously. It is probable that exhaustion or absence of proper soil is an important agent in protecting man from sickness due to infection from bacteria. The ever-present bacteria often gain access to man's blood through external wounds, or through the lungs and digestive tracts; but unless a soil suited for their development is found in its fluids, the plants will not grow. If they do not grow and increase in numbers, they can do little harm.
Again, there are certain bacteria which are so antagonistic to each other that it is impossible to make them grow in company, or to co-exist in the blood of the same individual. For example, an animal inoculated with erysipelas germs cannot be successfully inoculated immediately afterward with the germs of malignant pustule. This antagonism is illustrated by the impossibility of having a good crop of grain in a field overrun with daisies.
On the other hand, however, there are some micro-organisms which flourish luxuriantly when planted together in the same fluid, somewhat after the manner of pumpkins and Indian corn growing between the same fence rails. Others seem unwilling to grow alone, and only flourish when planted along with other germs. It is very evident, therefore, that bacteriology is a branch of botany, and that nature shows the same tendencies in these minute plants as it does in the larger vegetable world visible to our unaided eyes.
As the horticulturist is able to alter the character of his plants by changing the circumstances under which they live, so can the bacteriologist change the vital properties and activities of bacteria by chemical and other manipulations of the culture substances in which these organisms grow. The power of bacteria to cause pathological changes may thus be weakened and attenuated; in other words, their functional power for evil is taken from them by alterations in the soil. The pathogenic, or disease producing, power may be increased by similar, though not identical, alterations. The rapidity of their multiplication may be accelerated, or they may be compelled to lie dormant and inactive for a time; and, on the other hand, by exhausting the constituents of the soil upon which they depend for life, they may be killed.
It is a most curious fact, also, that it is possible by selecting and cultivating only the lighter colored specimens of a certain purple bacterium for the bacteriologist to obtain finally a plant which is nearly white, but which has the essential characteristics of the original purple fungus. In this we see the same power which the florist has to alter the color of the petals of his flowers by various methods of selective breeding.
The destruction of bacteria by means of heat and antiseptics is the essence of modern surgery. It is, then, by preventing access of these parasitic plants to the human organism (aseptic surgery), or the destruction of them by chemical agents and heat (antiseptic surgery), that we are enabled to invade by operative attack regions of the body which a few years ago were sacred.
When the disease-producing bacteria gain access to the tissues and blood of human and other animals by means of wounds, or through an inflamed pulmonary or alimentary mucous membrane, they produce pathological effects, provided there is not sufficient resistance and health power in the animal's tissues to antagonize successfully the deleterious influence of the invading parasitic fungus. It is the rapid multiplication of the germs which furnishes a continuous irritation that enables them to have such a disastrous effect upon the tissues of the animal. If the tissues had only the original dose of microbes to deal with, the warfare between health and disease would be less uncertain in outcome. Victory would usually be on the side of the tissues and health. The immediate cause of the pathogenic influence is probably the chemical excretions which are given out by these microscopic organisms. All plants and animals require a certain number of substances to be taken into their organisms for preservation of their vital activities. After these substances have been utilized there occurs a sort of excretion of other chemical products. It is probably the excretions of many millions of micro-organisms, circulating in the blood, which give rise to the disease characteristic of the fungus with which the animal has been infected. The condition called sapræmia, or septic intoxication, for example, is undoubtedly due to the entrance of the excretory products of putrefaction bacteria into the circulation. This can be proved by injecting into an animal a small portion of these products obtained from cultures of germs of putrefaction. Characteristic symptoms will at once be exhibited.
Septicæmia is a similar condition due to the presence of the putrefactive organisms themselves, and hence of their products, or ptomaines, also in the blood. The rapidity of their multiplication in this albuminous soil and the great amount of excretion from these numerous fungi make the condition more serious than sapræmia. Clinically, the two conditions occur together.
The rapidity with which symptoms may arise after inoculation of small wounds with a very few germs will be apparent, when it is stated that one parasitic plant of this kind may, by its rapidity of multiplication, give rise to fifteen or sixteen million individuals within twenty-four hours. The enormous increase which takes place within three or four days is almost incalculable. It has been estimated that a certain bacillus, only about one thousandth of an inch in length, could, under favorable conditions, develop a brood of progeny in less than four days which would make a mass of fungi sufficient to fill all the oceans of the world, if they each had a depth of one mile.
Bacteria are present everywhere. They exist in the water, earth, air, and within our respiratory and digestive tracts. Our skin is covered with millions of them, as is every article about us. They can circulate in the lymph and blood and reach every tissue and part of our organisms by passing through the walls of the capillaries. Fortunately, they require certain conditions of temperature, moisture, air, and organic food for existence and for the preservation of their vital activities.
If the surroundings are too hot, too cold, or too dry, or if they are not supplied with a proper quantity and quality of food, the bacterium becomes inactive until the surrounding circumstances change; or it may die absolutely. The spores, which finally become full-fledged bacteria, are able to stand a more unfavorable environment than the adult bacteria. Many spores and adults, however, perish. Each kind of bacterium requires its own special environment to permit it to grow and flourish. The frequency with which an unfavorable combination of circumstances occurs limits greatly the disease-producing power of the pathogenic bacteria.
Many bacteria, moreover, are harmless and do not produce disease, even when present in the blood and tissues. Besides this, the white blood cells are perpetually waging war against the bacteria in our bodies. They take the bacteria into their interiors and render them harmless by eating them up, so to speak. They crowd together and form a wall of white blood cells around the place where the bacteria enter the tissue, thus forming a barrier to cut off the blood supply to the germs and, perhaps, to prevent them from entering the general blood current.
The war between the white blood cells and the bacteria is a bitter one. Many bacteria are killed; but, on the other hand, the life of many blood cells is sacrificed by the bacteria poisoning them with ptomaines. The tissue cells, if healthy, offer great resistance to the attacks of the army of bacteria. Hence, if the white cells are vigorous and abundant at the site of the battle, defeat may come to the bacteria; and the patient suffer nothing from the attempt of these vegetable parasites to harm him. If, on the other hand, the tissues have a low resistive power, because of general debility of the patient, or of a local debility of the tissues themselves, and the white cells be weak and not abundant, the bacteria will gain the victory, get access to the general blood current, and invade every portion of the organism. Thus, a general or a local disease will be caused; varying with the species of bacteria with which the patient has been affected, and the degree of resistance on the part of the tissues.
From what has been stated it must be evident that the bacterial origin of disease depends upon the presence of a disease-producing fungus and a diminution of the normal healthy tissue resistance to bacterial invasion. If there is no fungus present, the disease caused by such fungus cannot develop. If the fungus be present and the normal or healthy tissue resistance be undiminished, it is probable that disease will not occur. As soon, however, as overwork, injury of a mechanical kind, or any other cause diminishes the local or general resistance of the tissues and individual, the bacteria get the upper hand, and are liable to produce their malign effect.
Many conditions favor the bacterial attack. The patient's tissues may have an inherited peculiarity, which renders it easy for the bacteria to find a good soil for development; an old injury or inflammation may render the tissues less resistant than usual; the point, at which inoculation has occurred may have certain anatomical peculiarities which make it a good place in which bacteria may multiply; the blood may have undergone certain chemical changes which render it better soil than usual for the rapid growth of these parasitic plants.
The number of bacteria originally present makes a difference also. It is readily understood that the tissues and white blood cells would find it more difficult to repel the invasion of an army of a million microbes than the attack of a squad of ten similar fungi. I have said that the experimenter can weaken and augment the virulence of bacteria by manipulating their surroundings in the laboratory. It is probable that such a change occurs in nature. If so, some bacteria are more virulent than others of the same species; some less virulent. A few of the less virulent disposition would be more readily killed by the white cells and tissues than would a larger number of the more virulent ones. At other times the danger from microbic infection is greater because there are two species introduced at the same time; and these two multiply more vigorously when together than when separated. There are, in fact, two allied hosts trying to destroy the blood cells and tissues. This occurs when the bacteria of putrefaction and the bacteria of suppuration are introduced into the tissues at the same time. The former cause sapræmia and septicæmia, the latter cause suppuration. The bacteria of tuberculosis are said to act more viciously if accompanied by the bacteria of putrefaction. Osteomyelitis is of greater severity, it is believed, if due to a mixed infection with both the white and golden grape-coccus of suppuration.
I have previously mentioned that the bacteria of malignant pustule are powerless to do harm when the germs of erysipelas are present in the tissues and blood. This is an example of the way in which one species of bacteria may actually aid the white cells, or leucocytes, and the tissues in repelling an invasion of disease-producing microbes.
Having occupied a portion of the time allotted to me in giving a crude and hurried account of the characteristics of bacteria, let me conclude my address by discussing the relation of bacteria to the diseases most frequently met with by the surgeon.
Mechanical irritations produce a very temporary and slight inflammation, which rapidly subsides, because of the tendency of nature to restore the parts to health. Severe injuries, therefore, will soon become healed and cured if no germs enter the wound.
Suppuration of operative and accidental wounds was, until recently, supposed to be essential. We now know, however, that wounds will not suppurate if kept perfectly free from one of the dozen forms of bacteria that are known to give rise to the formation of pus.
The doctrine of present surgical pathology is that suppuration will not take place if pus-forming bacteria are kept out of the wound, which will heal by first intention without inflammation and without inflammatory fever.
In making this statement I am not unaware that there is a certain amount of fever following various severe wounds within twenty-four hours, even when no suppuration occurs. This wound fever, however, is transitory; not high; and entirely different from the prolonged condition of high temperature formerly observed nearly always after operations and injuries. The occurrence of this "inflammatory," "traumatic," "surgical," or "symptomatic" fever, as it was formerly called, means that the patient has been subjected to the poisonous influence of putrefactive germs, the germs of suppuration, or both.
We now know why it is that certain cases of suppuration are not circumscribed but diffuse, so that the pus dissects up the fascias and muscles and destroys with great rapidity the cellular tissue. This form of suppuration is due to a particular form of bacterium called the pus-causing "chain coccus." Circumscribed abscesses, however, are due to one or more of the other pus-causing micro-organisms.
How much more intelligent is this explanation than the old one that diffuse abscesses depended upon some curious characteristic of the patient. It is a satisfaction to know that the two forms of abscess differ because they are the result of inoculation with different germs. It is practically a fact that wherever there is found a diffuse abscess there will be discovered the streptococcus pyogenes, which is the name of the chain coccus above mentioned.
So, also, is it easy now to understand the formation of what the old surgeons called "cold" abscesses, and to account for the difference in appearance of its puriform secretion from the pus of acute abscesses. Careful search in the fluid coming from such "cold" abscesses reveals the presence of the bacillus of tuberculosis, and proves that a "cold" abscess is not a true abscess, but a lesion of local tuberculosis.
Easy is it now to understand the similarity between the "cold abscess" of the cervical region and the "cold abscess" of the lung in a phthisical patient. Both of them are, in fact, simply the result of invasion of the tissues with the ubiquitous tubercle bacillus; and are not due to pus-forming bacteria.
Formerly it was common to speak of the scrofulous diathesis, and attempts were made to describe the characteristic appearance of the skin and hair pertaining to persons supposed to be of scrofulous tendencies. The attempt was unsuccessful and unsatisfactory. The reason is now clear, because it is known that the brunette or the blond, the old or the young, may become infected with the tubercle bacillus. Since the condition depends upon whether one or the other become infected with the generally present bacillus of tubercle, it is evident that there can be no distinctive diathesis. It is more than probable, moreover, that the cutaneous disease so long described as lupus vulgaris is simply a tubercular ulcer of the skin, and not a special disease of unknown causation.
The metastatic abscesses of pyæmia are clearly explained when the surgeon remembers that they are simply due to a softened blood clot containing pus-causing germs being carried through the circulation and lodged in some of the small capillaries.
A patient suffering with numerous boils upon his skin has often been a puzzle to his physician, who has in vain attempted to find some cause for the trouble in the general health alone. Had he known that every boil owed its origin to pus bacteria, which had infected a sweat gland or hair follicle, the treatment would probably have been more efficacious. The suppuration is due to pus germs either lodged upon the surface of the skin from the exterior or deposited from the current of blood in which they have been carried to the spot.
I have not taken time to go into a discussion of the methods by which the relationship of micro-organisms to surgical affections has been established; but the absolute necessity for every surgeon to be fully alive to the inestimable value of aseptic and antiseptic surgery has led me to make the foregoing statements as a sort of résumé of the relation of the germ theory of disease to surgical practice. It is clearly the duty of every man who attempts to practice surgery to prevent, by every means in his power, the access of germs, whether of suppuration, putrefaction, erysipelas, tubercle, tetanus, or any other disease, to the wounds of a patient. This, as we all know, can be done by absolute bacteriological cleanliness. It is best, however, not to rely solely upon absolute cleanliness, which is almost unattainable, but to secure further protection by the use of heat and antiseptic solutions. I am fully of the opinion that chemical antiseptics would be needless if absolute freedom from germs was easily obtained. When I know that even such an enthusiast as I myself is continually liable to forget or neglect some step in this direction, I feel that the additional security of chemical antisepsis is of great value. It is difficult to convince the majority of physicians, and even ourselves, that to touch a finger to a door knob, to an assistant's clothing, or to one's own body, may vitiate the entire operation by introducing one or two microbic germs into the wound.
An illustration of how carefully the various steps of an operation should be guarded is afforded by the appended rules, which I have adopted at the Woman's Hospital of Philadelphia for the guidance of the assistants and nurses. If such rules were taught every medical student and every physician entering practice as earnestly as the paragraphs of the catechism are taught the Sunday school pupil (and they certainly ought to be so taught) the occurrence of suppuration, hectic fever, septicæmia, pyæmia, and surgical erysipelas would be practically unknown. Death, then, would seldom occur after surgical operations, except from hemorrhage, shock, or exhaustion.
I have taken the liberty of bringing here a number of culture tubes containing beautiful specimens of some of the more common and interesting bacteria. The slimy masses seen on the surfaces of jelly contained in the tubes are many millions of individual plants, which have aggregated themselves in various forms as they have been developed as the progeny of the few parent cells planted in the jelly as a nutrient medium or soil.
With this feeble plea, Mr. President and members of the Society, I hope to create a realization of the necessity for knowledge and interest in the direction of bacteriology; for this is the foundation of modern surgery. There is, unfortunately, a good deal of abominable work done under the names of antiseptic and aseptic surgery, because the simplest facts of bacteriology are not known to the operator.
Rules to be observed in Operations at Dr. Roberts' Clinic at the Woman's Hospital of Philadelphia.—After wounds or operations high temperature usually, and suppuration always, is due to blood poisoning, which is caused by infection with vegetable parasites called bacteria.
These parasites ordinarily gain access to the wound from the skin of the patient, the finger nails or hands of the operator or his assistants, the ligatures, sutures, or dressings.
Suppuration and high temperature should not occur after operation wounds if no suppuration has existed previously.
Bacteria exist almost everywhere as invisible particles in the dust; hence, everything that touches or comes into even momentary contact with the wound must be germ-free—technically called "sterile."
A sterilized condition of the operator, the assistant, the wound, instruments, etc., is obtained by removing all bacteria by means of absolute surgical cleanliness (asepsis), and by the use of those chemical agents which destroy the bacteria not removed by cleanliness itself (antisepsis).
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.
The address in surgery delivered before the Medical Society of the State of Pennsylvania, June 4, 1890.
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°, 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°.
Let us carry, at H and E, the angles, O H E = H E O = 43° = 90°-47°; the angle at 0° will be equal to 180-86 = 94°. 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°. 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°; P H H¹ = 18°; P E E¹ = 65°. The first shows that the instrument has been constructed for a place on the parallel of 50°, and the others show that, at the solstices, the height of the sun was respectively 18° and 65°, decompounded as follows:
| 18° = | polar height of the place | -23½°. |
| 65° = | " | +23½°. |
The polar height of the place where the object was to be observed would therefore be 41½°, that is to say, its latitude would be 48½°.
Minor views of construction and measurement and the deformations that the instrument has undergone sufficiently explain the divergence of 1½° 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° + 8°. The compass was therefore constructed in view of an eastern declination of 8°.
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° 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 8½°. 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 algæ, 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 (), is larger than the other, the 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]
By JACQUES W. REDWAY.
INTRODUCTION.
The purport of the following paper is to show that corrosion of its banks and deposition of sediment constitute the legitimate business of a river. If the bed of the Mississippi were of adamant, and its drainage slopes were armored with chilled steel, its current would do just what it has been doing in past ages—wear them away, and fill the Gulf of Mexico with the detritus.
Many thoughts were suggested by Mr. S.C. Clemens, erstwhile a Mississippi pilot, and by Mr. D.A. Curtis. Both of these gentlemen know the river.