Bacteria are not all deadly or even maleficent. There are bacteria that are good for us, necessary for our existence. The human body can be described as made up of minute organisms. Disease means that the destructive ones have prevailed over the constructive; but when there is a proper balance of the two sorts we are healthy.
And now we learn that some of the beneficent bacteria shine—emit light—a sure token of their saintly character! But they do not merely absorb it and give it out again like some chemicals and phosphorescent bodies; they create their own light. "Fiat Lux," they say, et lux fit. This light, too, is without heat, wherefore it is the most economical light possible. When we create light we create with it enough heat to run a hell, and all this represents waste. The most efficient electric filament, it is said, gives only 5% of the energy in the form of light. The luminous bacteria must have a nutritive substance and oxygen. They abound most in sea-water, and on the Pacific Coast the sea at certain seasons is a magnificent spectacle at night, each wave shining with a soft bright light of undefinable colors. But they can be experimented with in the laboratory. Photobacterium phosphorescens is obtained from the herring, duly fed and bottled, and can be used to read by. A scientific magazine shows a photograph of a picture of Lord Lister most appropriately illuminated by bacteria which are contained in glass tubes near the picture.
Light has been regarded mainly as a means of vision; but it is evidently more than this. In ancient science it is spoken of as one of the creative powers. In physics we recognize it as among the active transforming forces. We can regard it either as a form of energy or as a form of matter—these amounting to little more than alternative points of view. Behind the various phenomena classed as "light" lies their ultra-physical cause—the being, the thing-in-itself. When we speak of light as illuminating the mind or emanating from the source of inspiration, we are commonly held to be employing a figure of speech, a metaphor. But we might as well turn the matter around and regard the scientific use of the word light as a metaphor.
There are various kinds of light. Moonlight may be mistaken for the light of the sun by some creatures that have not seen the latter; also there are owls and bats which prefer it. Candles prove a source of destruction to ignorant moths. The lowliest germs, as we see, can emit a certain luminosity; even decaying matter shines. And so there are various kinds of light in the world of mind; but best of all is the sunlight.
Twinkle, twinkle, little germ,
How I wonder why you squirm,
Down among my flesh and blood,
Like a diamond in the mud.
How doth the little busy bug
Improve each shining hour
By causing it to shine some more
With half a candle-power.
Dr. What's-his-name
LINNAEUS AND THE DIVINING-ROD:
Contributed by P. F.
LINNAEUS in one of his works relates an experience he had in the finding of noble metals by means of the divining-rod, and does it in the simple good-humored way that marks all his writings and makes them such delightful reading. He says:
The divining-rod is a curious contrivance, and people will have us believe that the rod can tell where metals are hidden. Now and again my secretary would take a twig of hazel forked evenly at one end and would amuse the company with it. This happened also at this place, one person concealing his silver snuff-box, another his watch, here and there in the bushes, and in most cases the secretary found them. Now I had never believed in the divining-rod and did not like to hear it mentioned. It provoked me that it should be recommended in this way, and I imagined that my friends and my secretary were in collusion to deceive the company. So going to a large field north of the barn, I cut out a piece of turf, placed my little purse in the hole, and covered it up so carefully that nobody could see the least trace of it. My own mark was a great ranunculus growing near the place, and there was no other tall flower in the whole field. When all was arranged I went back to the company, told them that I had concealed my purse in the field, and asked the secretary to find it with the help of his divining-rod. If he found it, then I would believe in the rod, so sure was I that no mortal but myself knew the place where the money was.
The secretary was delighted with such an opportunity to make me think better of the rod which I used always to ridicule; and the company too were most anxious to watch this master-test. The secretary searched for a long while, a full hour at least, and my host and hostess and I had the pleasure of seeing the rod work in vain; and as we did not get the money back, the rod was held up to ridicule.
At last I repaired to the spot with the intention of recovering my purse, but only to find that our rod-walkers had trampled down all the grass by their perambulations. Not a trace was left of my ranunculus, and I was compelled to search for my money with the same uncertainty as the rod. I felt no inclination to bet a hundred crowns on the rod, for all of us were engaged in a vain search which provoked both irritation and amusement. Finally I had to give it up, but the baron and the secretary asked me to tell them the place approximately, which I did. The wicked rod, however, refused to strike and pointed to a place right opposite. Finally, when all of us were tired of it, and I most of all, the secretary stopped at a place quite far from the one I had indicated, saying that if the purse was not there it would be useless to try to tell the place. I did not care to seek, as it was not at all in this direction that I had (as I thought) placed the purse. But Baron Oxenstjerna lay down upon the ground and put his fingers around the little piece of turf where the money was lying!
Thus the rod was right that time, and gave me back the money I should otherwise have lost. This is fact. If I see more such instances, I suppose I must believe what I do not want to believe. For it is quite different from the magnet and attraction between iron and iron; that a hazel twig can tell me the place where noble metals are—to that neither our outer nor our inner senses consent. Still I am not settled as to the divining-rod; yet I will not venture to bet as many crowns on it another time.