Now there is dissociated fat in the intestine after a meal, but there is only neutral fat in the wall of the intestine. The fat itself cannot pass through the cells forming the intestinal wall, but the glycerine and fatty acid into which it is dissociated can so pass, since they are soluble in the liquids of the intestine. We suppose that the cells of the wall of the intestine also contain the fat-splitting ferment; this ferment in the cells acts on the glycerine and fatty acid immediately they enter and recombines these radicles again into neutral fat, the above equation now reading from right to left. But after a time this reaction in the cells will also begin to reverse, for the enzyme will begin to split up the synthesised neutral fat when the state of chemical equilibrium in the new conditions is attained. Fatty acid and glycerine will then diffuse out from the cells into the adjacent lymph stream or blood stream—perhaps neutral fat will also pass from the cells into these liquids, we are not sure. At all events the lymph and blood after a meal containing much fat are crowded with minute fat globules. But why are there no fatty acids or glycerine in the blood, for the latter also contains lipase (the fat-splitting enzyme)? The explanation is, apparently, that either an anti-enzyme is produced, or that the enzyme passes into a zymoid condition. Why also does fat accumulate in the tissues? Here, again, the activity of the enzyme, which from other considerations we may regard as being universally present almost everywhere in the body, must be supposed to be arrested by some means.

The conception of a catalytic agent, such as we can study in pure chemistry, thus carries us a long way in our description of the processes of digestion, absorption, and assimilation. We have applied it to the case of fat-digestion, but very much the same general scheme might also apply to many other processes in the body. Obviously it enables us to describe these processes in terms of physico-chemical reactions, but we cannot fail to see that ultimately we are compelled to assume the existence of reactions which were not included in the original conception—the activation of the enzyme at the proper moment by the kinase, the operation of the anti-enzyme, and the passage of the enzyme into the zymoid. Just why these things happen as they do we do not know, yet the whole problem becomes shifted on to these reactions.

In the same way we apply the purely physical processes of the osmosis and diffusion of liquids to the circulation of substances in the animal body. The nature of these processes will probably be familiar to the reader, nevertheless it may be useful to remind him that by diffusion we understand the passage of a liquid, containing some substance in solution, through a membrane; and by osmosis the passage of a solvent (but not of the substance dissolved in it) through a “semi-permeable membrane.” The molecules of the solvent (water, for instance) pass through the membrane (the wall of a capillary, or lymphatic vessel), but the molecules of the substance (salt, for instance) dissolved in the solvent do not pass. Let us suppose that a strong solution of common salt in water is injected into the blood stream: what happens is that osmosis takes place, the water in the surrounding lymph spaces passing into the blood stream because the concentration of salt there is greater than it is in the lymph. While this is happening, the capillary walls are acting as semi-permeable membranes, allowing the molecules of water to pass through but not the molecules of salt. Very soon, however, the process of osmosis becomes succeeded by one of diffusion, and the salt molecules pass through the capillary wall into the lymph and are excreted.

Undoubtedly the purely physical processes of diffusion and osmosis occur all over the animal body and are the means whereby food-materials, secretory, and excretory substances are transported from blood to lymph, or vice versa, from lymph to cell substance or to glandular cavities, and so on. But it is also the case that in very many processes the activity of the cells themselves plays an important part. It may even be the case that a particular process, after all physical agencies are taken into account, reduces down to this action of the cells. To understand this we must consider the mode of working of some well-known organ, and the best possible example of such an organ, considered as a mechanism, is that of the sub-maxillary salivary gland of the mammal.

Fig. 9.

What, then, is this mechanism and how does it act? The gland is a compound tubular one, its internal cavity being prolonged into the duct which opens into the mouth. The saliva prepared in the gland issues from this duct. Blood is carried to the gland by twigs of the facial artery, and, after circulating through it, is carried away by factors of the jugular vein. Two nerves supply the gland: one is the chorda tympani, a branch of a cranial nerve, and the other is a sympathetic nerve. Lymph also leaves the gland by a little vessel.

Now suppose we have laid bare all this mechanism in a living animal and make experiments upon it. If we stimulate the chorda tympani there is a copious flow of thin watery saliva, but if we stimulate the sympathetic there is a less copious flow of thick viscid saliva. Why is this? We find on closer analysis that the chorda contains fibres which dilate the small arteries so that there is an increased flow of blood through the gland; but that, on the other hand, the sympathetic contains fibres which constrict the arteries, thus leading to a reduced flow of blood. This accounts for the fact that “chorda-saliva” is abundant and thin, while “sympathetic-saliva” is scarce and thick. It was thought at one time that the chorda contained fibres which stimulated the gland to produce watery saliva, while the sympathetic contained fibres which stimulated it to produce mucid saliva. This, however, is not the case. Both nerves contain the same kind of secretory fibres: their other fibres differ mainly in that they act differently on the arteries.

It might be the case—indeed it was at one time thought that it was the case—that secretion of saliva was simply a matter of blood-flow: an abundant arterial circulation gave rise to abundant saliva, a sparse flow to a sparse saliva. Undoubtedly the secretion depends on blood supply, but not solely. If it did, then the whole process might be conceived to be a very simple mechanical one—filtration or diffusion of the saliva from the blood stream through the thin walls of the blood vessels, and the walls of the tubules into the cavity of the gland. If this were the case, then the liquid in the gland would be the same in composition and concentration as the liquid part of the blood—the plasma. But it is really different in composition and it is not so concentrated. Now osmotic pressure—on the action of which so much is based—cannot help us, for the liquid in the gland is less concentrated than that in the blood vessels, so that water ought to pass from gland to blood instead of from blood into gland. Again, if we tie the duct, so that the saliva cannot escape, secretion still goes on, though the hydrostatic pressure of saliva in the cavity of the gland may be considerably greater than that of the liquid in the blood vessels. Yet again, if we stop the blood flow by tying the artery, secretion of saliva may still go on for a time.

Therefore the only physical agencies we can think of do not explain the secretion. The latter is actually the work of the individual cells, stimulated by the nerves. If the volume of the gland be measured just while it is being stimulated to secrete, it will be found that the organ becomes smaller, yet while it is being stimulated the blood-vessels are being dilated so that the volume of the whole structure ought to become greater. Obviously part of the substance of the gland is being emptied out through its duct as the secretion.