With a full appreciation of the magnitude and importance of the act, we advance the following definition of a species.
A species is a class of organisms, capable of indefinitely continued, fertile reproduction among each other, and endowed with the possession—either actual or potential—of character; the suppression, reduction, or disproportionate development of which is incompatible with a state of physiological integrity.
A HERO, OR A HEROINE?
CHAPTER VIII.
THE LION'S DEN.
Dr. James invited Margaret to visit "the shop," and one day, after returning a few calls in Sealing, she stopped, with her aunt, on their way home, at a plain brown house in the one street of Shellbeach. There were two square pieces of green, one on each side of the front door, shut in with a brown fence; the small door seemed quite covered up, for, besides a large shining knocker in the middle, there was above it a brass plate, on which was inscribed "Dr. James," in large letters. There also appeared a small bell on one side, and another opposite labelled "night-bell." Which of these advantages to improve, was at first rather a puzzle to Margaret; but her aunt settled the question by giving a smart pull to the right-hand bell, whence she concluded that the knocker, on which she had meditated an attack, was intended solely for unprofitable ornament.
A tall and thin young man, who had the appearance of having outgrown all his clothes, opened the door with a promptness which seemed to imply that he had been lying in wait for the favorable moment to pounce upon them, and which was a little startling to the ladies. He surveyed them both with interest, explained that the doctor was not at home, but was expected in, and proposed that they should walk into the parlor and wait. Having ushered them into that apartment, the youth discreetly withdrew.
"My dear aunt, what a forlorn room! And do you see the dust?"
Miss Spelman shook her head in a mournful manner, and proceeded to establish herself on a black horsehair couch, (having first gently flapped it with her handkerchief,) while Margaret walked about from one thing to another, commenting and criticising.
"This is where he sits to write, I suppose. And if here isn't a family of three little kittens curled up in his arm-chair! I hope he won't mistake them for a cushion, that's all! What piles of books! Medicine, medicine, medicine! Oh! here is something of a different kind; poetry! who would have imagined it? Shelley, Longfellow, Tennyson. How many nice things! This bookcase is filled with treasures. The dust can't get in there, that's a comfort! And this is a family portrait, I suppose; a lady with one, two, three, six children. How funny and old-fashioned it is! Here are his pipe and smoking-cap; oh! do see these funny skin slippers;" and she balanced one on each hand. "How I would like to rummage here! Oh! there are sleigh-bells." And Margaret established herself, prim and proper, in one of the hard, straight-backed chairs just as Dr. James entered. He gave them a pleasant welcome, and conducted them at once into "the shop."