and himself, of nearly touching with his finger the things and the men of the past. Thus it is that his Luther or his Melanchthon are alive for him. Thus it is that, when he sets opposite each other the views of the Lutherans and Zwinglians on the "real presence," he sees them, and the theological entities, in his eyes, are living things. Equally does he give you the impression that he was personally acquainted with Henry VIII. and Cranmer. This gift, so rare, which prevented Bossuet being mastered by the many details he had to handle, is what constitutes the superior truth of his Histoire des variations. Just as Pascal saw the Jesuits, just as Racine saw his Hermiones and his Phædras, so Bossuet saw the men and the matters of Protestantism.

There is but one thing for which we can reproach Bossuet in this history of his. Is it that he did not understand the true thought of Luther in the subject of "justification," or that of Calvin in the matter of the Eucharist? No; it is that he did not perceive that these "variations" or inconsistencies, out of which he thought to make an all-powerful arm against the Reformers, were precisely a good reason for the existence of Protestantism, its honor, and its glory. If, however, Bossuet did not recognize this right of inconstancy of opinion in religious matters, no more did Luther. Did Henry VIII. recognize such a right when he cut off Sir Thomas More's head? Did Calvin recognize such a right when he caused Servetus to be burnt at stake? Is not Bossuet, then, excusable, for not having understood Reform better than the doctors of the Reformation themselves?

THE RELATIONSHIP OF ART TO EVERY-DAY LIFE. HUME NISbet.

I

Belgravia, London, February.

DO not suppose that many, amongst even observant people (unless they take the trouble to investigate the matter specially) are aware what an important factor Art has become in the most trivial object of every-day life, or how impossible it is for us to do without its aid at every turn.

By Art I mean the embellishment or beautifying of articles of utility or necessity, the imitation of Nature so far as it is possible to copy or translate the perfect and beautiful so lavishly spread around us, and bring them within the scope of our hourly necessities. Those who aim at a high standard in what they produce sometimes resort to unexpected sources to obtain ideas for rendering their products beautiful. Thus I remember that once the great Parisian autocrat of costumes, Worth, went to Melrose, especially to study the ruins of that fine abbey, thinking thereby to get ideas for future designs in ladies' dresses.

Lessons in Art are constantly about ús in our every-day life. We walk through the forest in summer time under green arches, with the upstanding boughs of trees spreading away until they become indistinct in the shadowy distance. What does this suggest, if not the grand cathedrals with their pillars? This is what the early architects saw and tried to reproduce in their churches and abbeys. We look up and see the clouds floating above us, sometimes with shapes like cherubs and angels, at other times like demons and evil spirits. So the old painters watched and got their ideas of heaven and of hell. Everything helps Art, as Art enters into everything; music, poetry, science, history, romance. Every walk of life can be ennobled by Art. The draughtsman has a decided advantage over the man who cannot draw.

Are you a gardener? To be a master of the craft you must learn the laws of form, color, arrangement, and symmetry. Are you a tailor? If you can draw well, you will become a cutterout. In fact, I know of no trade where Art does not enter and give advantage to the man who has it at command.

All this it does on the practical, money-making, worldly side, which is to me the underside of Art; for, after all, moneymaking, although a very useful accomplishment so far as the

world goes, is not a very noble or high gift, excepting for the power which it gives to the lucky possessor to do good to his less fortunate fellow-creatures. Where Art comes in and fulfills its highest mission is in the almost limitless range which it imparts to intellectual pleasure. We are all born with eyes, and senses of taste, smell, and sight, it is true-that is, all healthy beings are so blessed-but it is Art which takes the grosser films from these senses, and renders them acute, so that each pleasure may be multiplied a thousand fold.

The ears can distinguish sounds as they are given us. Art makes the ears appreciate music. The eyes can see hills and valleys. Art makes them take exquisite pleasure in forms and colors, gives them a keener appreciation of all which comes within their range. It is the education and refinement of all

the five material senses.

A

LONGFELLOW'S

'GOLDEN LEGEND" AND ITS ANALOGUES.

Poet Lore, Philadelphia, February.

CURIOUS blending of the "Faust Legend" with the Alkestis myth is presented in the story of Longfellow's "Golden Legend." Is the Alkestis part of the story an especial heritage from the Pagan World, as the "Faust Legend" seems to be the peculiar product of the Christian mind? This is one of the questions of interest that meet us in the consideration of the "Golden Legend," and entice us on to a further investigation of its sources.

The legend of Faust is, in its essential attributes, the history of a man who sells his soul to the powers of evil, in order to obtain in return earthly joys. There are two main versions of the legend, the Catholic and the Protestant: in the former the powers of Heaven conquer the powers of evil, and the soul of the man is saved; while in the Protestant version the struggle invariably terminates with the damnation of the guilty one. The story of Longfellow's poem belongs to the first division. Of these main divisions there are almost innumerable variants. One of the most interesting of these is the legend of the chevalier who gave his wife to the devil. In this version the doomed woman appeals to the Holy Virgin on the way, and the Virgin, personating her, puts the Devil to flight and saves both man. and wife.

The collection of Lives of the Saints, called The Golden Legend," by Jacques de Voragine, Archbishop of Genoa, in the latter half of the thirteenth century, contains one legend which probably furnishes one of the earliest versions of our story. It is found in the Legend of St. Basil.

In this version, an honorable man named Herard had a daughter whom he wished to consecrate to the Lord, but the Devil getting wind of it, inflamed one of Herard's slaves with a passion for her. The slave went to a wizard and offered him a large sum of money to assist him in his desires, but the wizard sent him to. the Devil, who would not move in the matter until the slave had given in writing his renunciation of his baptism and Christian profession, and acknowledged himself the Devil's serf. Having complied with these requirements, the Devil acted in good faith and sent his emissaries to influence the maiden with so violent a passion for the slave, that her father was forced to consent to their union. After marriage, his refusal to enter a church led to his wife's questioning him, and she having learnt the truth, appealed to St. Basil, who after a terrible struggle with the Powers of Evil, recovered the written contract and saved the young man's soul.

Bishop Voragine's Legenda Aurea is the basis of the various French transcripts made by Jean de Vignay and others, and Jean de Vignay's is the source of this story.

The genealogy of the German tale on which Longfellow's poem is closely founded, is lost in the numerous side alliances, the curious old reunions, and new births of thought peculiar to the mediæval period. Its date may be traced back to the dawning of the thirteenth century. Hartman von Aue lived

about 1208, and his story which, in its opening lines, he shows was a "Rede," gathered from old books, was first printed from an old Strasburg manuscript. The scene of this story is laid in Suabia. It is a long-winded story, the principal characters in which are Heinrich von der Aue, a wealthy Suabian of high birth, and a farmer's daughter.

Heinrich being afflicted with leprosy, and in quest of a physician who could cure him of the loathsome disease, visited Salerno, where the best physician told him he could be, but would not be cured. That the only remedy was such blood as flows in the veins of a maiden who would willingly give her life for his. Realizing that this was hopeless, Heinrich went home and began to give away his property, giving much of his lands and goods to one of his farmers, with whom he made his home. One day he told them his story, and the farmer had a daughter who resolved to save him, and spoke of her intention to her parents with so much wisdom, that they concluded it was the will of God. Heinrich accepted the sacrifice, and together they started for Salerno. The physician explained to her that the death would be most painful, and that if she rued it a hair's breadth the sacrifice would be in vain; but she answered, "I am a woman and I have the strength."

The doctor took her into an adjoining room, and was sharpening the knife for the sacrifice when Heinrich looked through a chink in the wall, and of a sudden, his selfishness vanishing, he called aloud to the doctor forbidding the sacrifice. She was unwilling to forego the spiritual crown, but having wept and suffered until she was at death's door, all pain suddenly left her, and in that moment he too was made whole. His counsellors then advised his marriage, but disagreeing among themselves as to the choice of a maiden, Heinrich took the matter in his own hands, and married the farmer's daughter.

A comparison of this with Longfellow's poem will show at once how faithfully he has traced its main outline, and how many artistic occasions of departure he has seized, in order to enhance the beauty of the story, or to represent the scenes where it was enacted. His introduction of Lucifer, however, makes an important change in the construction of the story, and suggests the question: How far is it an imitation from Goethe's Faust '?"

The development in literature of this ethical perception, of the real value and influence of such vicarious atonements, may be tracked onward from the casual reference in Homer to Alkestis, to the wonderful leap taken by the story in the Alkestis of Euripiaes, and, then, as it passes in new forms through mediæval Christianized legends, to its modern transformations in Goethe's Faust," in Longfellow's Golden Legend"; to the fruitful commentary upon Euripides that Browning puts in the mouth of Balustion; to William Morris's" Alkestis" in the "Earthly Paradise"; and particularly, as one of the most significant and exalted of modern readings of this fertile legend, to the Admetus of Emma Lazarus.

A

The Bookworm, London, February. PHOTOGRAPHIC fac-simile of the original quarto edition (1590) of the "Arcadia," with a bibliographical introduction by Dr. Oskar Sommer, has just appeared. Every typographical eccentricity and error is here preserved, so that, to all intents and purposes, it is as good as that issued three hundred years ago by the industrious publisher, William Ponsonbie or Ponsonby.

The story of the "Arcadia "-that is to say, as regards its origin and appearance in print-is very simple. The brief dedication to Sidney's sister, the Countess of Pembroke-for whom, in fact, the book was written-tells its history. "It is done onelie for you, onely to you" wrote its gifted and heroic author, it being written mostly on "loose sheetes of paper" in her presence. Publicity was never intended by Sir Philip and, perhaps, but for the sudden termination of his career, it might never have emerged from the manuscript state-unless, indeed,

one of the many publishing "sharks," as Anthony à Wood calls them, had, by some surreptitious means, obtained possession of the " 'copy." The sixteenth century publishers were rarely men with unpleasantly nice scruples about the sacred rights of literary property-as witness many of Shakespeare's plays in quarto-and it was a matter of supreme indifference to them whether the " copy" of anything by an eminent person was garbled or no-they printed it all the same. An author's protest was rather agreeable than otherwise, for it served to advertise the piracy.

It is a matter of all but absolute certainty, that if the author of the "Arcadia" had made up his mind to give it to the world, it would not have appeared in its present form. As it would be profitless to attempt to conjecture in what shape Sir Philip would have sanctioned the appearance of this child of his brain, we must content ourselves with being thankful that so splendid an inheritance has come down to us, even in its present incomplete state.

The immediate popularity of the "Arcadia" is in striking contrast with its subsequent almost complete neglect. Between 1590 and 1674 thirteen editions appeared. The fourteenth was not called for until 1725, and the fifteenth was not published until 1867. This neglect may, perhaps, be considered extraordinary, in view of the revival of Elizabethan literature.

The "Arcadia" has been both praised and decried. Milton characterized it as "vain and amatorious," and Walpole declared it a " tedious, lamentable, pedantic, pastoral romance, which the patience of a young virgin in love cannot wade through." For a totally different reason, Powell, in his "Tom of all Trades," advises the gentlewomen of the period to read the "Groundes of Good Huswifery " instead of the "Arcadia." I like not a female poetess at any hand" is his sententious remark. For three-quarters of a century, however, the Arcadia" was a book not only in favor with the ladies, but one which no gentleman's library was without.

Under the name of Ponsonby the Arcadia" of "Sir Phillippe Sidnei" was entered in the Registers of the Stationers' Company on August 23, 1588, and it was published in a quarto volume of 764 pages about two years later. There are very few perfect copies of the editio princeps in existence, the most carefully preserved being that in the Greville collection in the British Museum, from which the present photographic facsimile is taken.

For the student of sixteenth-century literature, as for the student of the English language of the period, the "Arcadia" has a deep interest; but it is, perhaps, as the first great English essay in romance that it will hold for all time its position in the literature of England.

I

SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY.

DEMOGRAPHY.

IN A HUNDRED YEARS.

III.*

CHARLES RICHET.

Revue Scientifique, Paris, January.

HAVE tried to forecast the future of the nations and have concluded that the two preponderating facts of the twentieth century will be, on one hand, the enormous power of the United States and Russia; on the other, the development of international relations and communications.

Now, I undertake to study the lot reserved for the future societies, which will compose civilized nations: for we need take no account of China or India. Powerful as these may be by reason of their numerous population, they do not, and will not, exercise any influence over the march of civilization. In Europe, or America, or Australia, or colonized Africa, the *For Parts I. and II. see LITERARY DIGEST, Vol. IV., pp. 264, 294.

conditions will probably be nearly the same in all. The progress of one is going to influence irresistibly, with increasing rapidity, the progress of the others. All the same, we shall have to make an exception of Russia, which is at present so different from the other nationalities in respect to general culture, that it cannot be foreseen what amount of progress that country will have made a century from now. I incline to believe that Russia will be, in 1992, very like what we are today. Certainly the differences due to national genius will endure; but at bottom the social state of the Russians will be the same as ours is to-day. Just as two runners, following the same road, although at a certain distance from each other, pass by the same places and discover, at different times, the same landscapes, so the Russian people will go through the same phases which the peoples of Western Europe have gone through.

The question then is, what will be the social state of the American and European peoples-the United States, Germany, France, Italy, Spanish-America, Spain, Great Britain, and so on.

The answer to this question appears nearly certain: all these will be democratic societies.

The conquering march of democracy is evident; and, in

The cheap daily press, diffused more and more, will become the principal instrument of education and civilization. This tendency can be seen already in the considerable space which is given, in the small journals, not to political discussions, but to scientific discourses, with general notions and commonplaces of hygiene and morality. The journals which are most read are those which have nothing to do with politics. A little literature, science, and history, with dispatches relating to the events of the day, such is the tendency of the cheap daily press. The part formerly played by the book is gradually disappearing; the journal, which gives an account of the book, is taking its place, and everybody will read the journal.

A vote, a newspaper, primary instruction obligatory and universal; such, without doubt, will be the political conditions of European societies in the twentieth century. There is something, however, more important than instruction. That is the social and financial condition of the citizens. What that is likely to be a hundred years from now I propose to examine next.

THE THERAPEUTIC IMPORTANCE OF PSYCHOLOGY.
ALEXANDER MORISON. M.D., F.R.C.P.
The Practitioner, London, January.

́T appears to me that the reaction from the ancient, meta

me the revolt

in spite of the military and imperial constitutions of Germany and Austria, Germany and England will be completely democratized; that is to say, the real sovereign will be the people, and the monarchs, if they shall be still in existence, will have but nominal power.

It is true that the word democracy, without any qualificaion, does not mean a great deal. A democracy may take different forms; but so far as can be judged from what has taken place during the last hundred years, the new societies seem likely to take the form of a parliamentary democracy.

After all, notwithstanding its real inconveniences, the parliamentary form is the one which best guarantees the rights of all. A parliamentary democracy, inclining towards a species of socialism, is what, doubtless, our great-great-grandsons will see. It is possible that this evolution towards a democratic socialism on a parliamentary basis will not be effected everywhere without revolution. The classes, which are called directing, will not consent without resistance that the directing power be taken from them; they will not always accept, with resignation, the effacement to which the people will condemn them. Revolutions, however, as history demonstrates, do not hinder the march of social phenomena. A revolution is a sudden stroke, which is generally followed by a reaction more or less violent; but, at the end of twenty or thirty years, the result is the same as if there had been no revolution.

We may, then, suppose that the aspirations of democracy towards socialism will proceed slowly, by successive steps, formidable and irresistible, and that the programme which has been formulated by the doctrinaire socialists, the only ones whose opinion is worth anything, will be realized in part, and that without a bloody revolution.

I wish now to consider, in order, certain hypotheses which seem very probable:

First of all, as to instruction: of this there will be a general diffusion. Every citizen will know how to read and write; and as the knowing how to read implies the practice of reading, every citizen will read a newspaper. Whether that will be a good or an evil is something which does not concern me in treating my present subject. I am only supposing the most probable case; the absolute diffusion of the newspaper. Thanks to the progress in paper-making and printing, the cost of newspapers has become less and less. While everything else, without exception, has risen in price, the newspaper has fallen in price. The progress of postal service and telegraphs will bring it about that every citizen will know immediately what passes in the entire world.

letting, has been carried too far. A system, much abused, has been practically ignored to the temporary loss of whatever usefulness it contained. I say temporarily lost; for the recurring needs of man will be sure to result in the rediscovery of what has been useful in the past.

The enthusiasm begotten of successful research in the physical domain, such as the ever-memorable discovery of the circulation of the blood by Harvey, the difference between the sensory and motor-nerve roots by Bell, and many other positive increments to our knowledge, on which we could place our fingers and say, "This we know," was to a truth-seeking animal, like man, a great relief from the weary attitude of a seemingly eternal, "This we only think."

We cannot under these circumstances be surprised that, in the routine practice of medicine, the physician gradually came to consider that he had done his duty, as a rule, when he had punched, pummeled, and inspected the biped before him, and had asked him what he usually ate and drank.

A good deal has been written of late years on the injurious consequences of prolonged vascular tension due to physical causes. Is there no such state as prolonged mental tension due to moral causes? And are not the consequences of tension, whether due to physical or moral causes, in a measure the same, and both highly injurious? We can, given a fairly normal absence of aggravating mental circumstances, do much for a purely physical, vascular tension (except in advanced stages of the causal disease), whether of heart, or liver, or kidneys, or all combined. But is there any physical agent known, which, in those whose reason is unimpaired, will relieve a tension due to moral causes? Our greatest poet has touched upon this as upon most other important questions in moral philosophy in words too familiar for quotation. No! there are no physical agents or methods for the cure of this state of such frequent occurrence, and so baneful in its results. When such a condition ends fatally it may be said of its victims, as was well expressed by Alfred Austin: "There is no name for that of which (they) died," and the material drug likely to have proved of service to them has also yet to be discovered.

If, then, there is none such and the physician is to be of any service to his patient, it must be by the agency of mind acting upon mind; and this takes us out of the vestibule littered with crucibles, microscopes, and retorts, and into that inner chamber-the holy of holies in the life of a physician and his patient-where a human heart and mind are capable of being laid bare to the sympathetic gaze of a fellow-man, whose dis

cretion may be relied on, and who may, from his training in the knowledge of the human soul, as well as the human body, be able to relieve or cure his brother of a disturbing factor in his life, beyond the reach alike of experimenl.physics and the most advanced therapeutics of a purely physical kind. I do not for a moment desire to underrate the subsidiary and useful role which an enlightened regimen and careful therapeutics may play in building up a system broken down primarily by a moral ailment; but, however, we may, by artificial means, soothe a nervous system in which a moral irritant is implanted, it requires only the subsidence of such artificial relief for the original cause to resume its persistently evil influence.

The study of mind, then, no less than that of the body, is within the domain, not of some physicians, but of all physicians. From his relations to the patient, there are confessions poured into the ear of the physician which never reach even the confessional, and throw upon him the part of the consoler as well as the healer, under circumstances in which he, from his special position and training, can frequently "minister to a mind diseased" with greater prospect of success than one who is primarily an ecclesiastic, and only sometimes a psychologist.

I do not want to have it thought that I wish to pose as a reactionary against that scientific method which has been so fruitful in building up the New Atlantis. I will even go further, and state my conviction that a metaphysical bias is a danger to the physician, unless jealously restrained by a cultivated habit of close objective observation.

But, having said so much, I cannot altogether plead innocence of the conviction that physical research has tended to materialize (in the cruder sense of that elastic term) our perceptions, and has caused us, for example, in the preparation of a patient for operation, to overlook, in some measure, the mental sustenance so necessary to the accumulation of a reserve of force; and in the after-treatment of the case, to undervalue the assistance which may be afforded us by fostering sedulously the lively emotions of hope and confidence. Yea, even up to the very gates of death, I maintain that a sanguine cheerfulness, and a hopeful expectation are infinitely more warrantable and more useful on the part of the physician than a brutal candor, which may quickly snap the slender thread which holds the vital powers together; or than a pessimism which is apt, at once, to warp the ingenuity of the physician, and to prejudice the well-being of the patient.

TRUTH IN MYTHOLOGY.

DR. PAUL CARUS.

Monist, Chicago, January.

F one calls the representation of facts positive science, or

I simply truth, and the scaffolding the mythology of science,

we shall see that the road to truth leads everywhere through mythology. Certain facts of the surrounding world impress themselves upon a sentient being, and these impressions come to represent facts. These facts are not seen at once in their causal connection, they appear unconnected among themselves, and, in the attempt to formulate them, to represent them, to construct them in mental images, we fill out the gaps of our knowledge with such events as are supplied by analogy.

Mythology is in religion, as well as in science, the indispensable ladder to truth. We cannot build without scaffolds. So we cannot conscruct truths without mythology.

Mythology becomes fatal to the building up of truth, as soon as we consider it as truth itself. The scaffold is erected simply to facilitate the building, and, if the building is finished, the scaffolding should be torn down. The progress of science, which is so much helped by mythology, has periods of purification in which the mythology is discarded. This is sometimes a difficult task, because the very terms of science are mostly, at the

same time both truth and mythology, building-stones and scaffold.

Take for instance the term "atom." The chemist observes that the elements have all definite combining proportions, and formulates the law of the equivalence of their atomic weights, In order to think this process, to reconstruct it in mental images, he imagines that matter consists of infinitely small indivisible particles of constant weight. This is a fiction useful for its purpose, but it may be just as erroneous as the method employed in the infinitesimal calculus, of thinking of a continuous curve as consisting of a broken line of infinitely small parts, or of thinking of a certain force as being composed of a parallelogram of forces. The parallelogram of forces is a scaffold helpful for representing in mental symbols, the coexistence of different abstractions of the same kind, (e. g., motions of different velocity and direction). But this scaffold is not a mere scaffold, it is not erected without any purpose, its final aim is the description of facts.

The proposition to consider light as rays traveling in straight lines is a scaffold, it is mythology; but this analogy contains a truth, it contains a real building-stone which should not be torn down with the scaffold. This truth is one-sided; it represents one feature of light and disregards other features. It disregards entirely the transversal oscillations of the ether, yet it describes another feature-viz., the transmission and refraction of light, for the comprehension of which we need not take into consideration the undulation theory.

The physicist calculates with his formula sin a/sinß=n, the angle of refraction. There is, certainly, neither a sign a nor a sign in reality, but there are certain relations of reality which are described in these expressions, and the action of light has a definite quality which can be determined with the assistance of the formula sin a sin ẞ=n.

If the scientist succeeds in determining such real qualities of things, even though it is done with the assistance of mythology, he discovers a truth. He has, with the help of his scaffolds, succeeded in placing a building-stone where it belongs.

The idea that science is full of mythology appears strange to the non-scientific, and it is a fact often overlooked by scientists themselves. But the idea that religious mythology, in

spite of its many irrational superstitions and wrong analogies, beams with truth, is also little heeded by the many. In fact, man's method of reaching truth is the same in religion as in science.

The religious ideas, such as God and soul, are mental constructs which copy certain realities; but these very terms, as they are used, are mythological expressions; they are still surrounded by their scaffolds. Many people know by their own experience the usefulness and indispensability of the scaffold. Without the scaffold they would never have had an inkling of the truth, for the representation of which it was built, and it is natural that they should consider the scaffold the building itself. This is the reason the narrow-minded orthodox denounce anyone who would lay hand on or tear down any part of the scaffold, which has become a hindrance to the further development of religious ideals.

Science has not a merely theoretic value, its aim and purpose consists in its application to practical life. Science is throughout ethical. Thus, ethics has also its mythological phase. We should find it ridiculous if one who presumed to be an ethical teacher would say Man must not be descended from monkeys; the earth ought not to rotate," etc.; because we cannot prescribe a certain deportment to facts. It is, however, not ridiculous to let a precise and carefully sifted knowledge of facts determine our deportment..

Science has to teach ethics. But here, also, we must distinguish between positive facts and mythology. Ethics based upon mere theories, upon our interpretations of nature which we add to facts is mythological; positive ethics is simply that deportment which is suggested by a comprehension of the facts themselves.

Mythological ethics may be quite correct, just as much so as the application of a mythological theory of science may be, within certain limits, reliable as a working hypothesis. But it is desirable to understand the nature of mythological ethics in order to distinguish between truth and fiction.

THE

LA GRIPPE.

HENRI DE PARVILLE.

Le Correspondant, Paris, February 10.

HE epidemic of La Grippe of 1892, which has been severe in certain countries of Europe, notably in England, appears to have reached its height. It is probable that now it is going to decrease, as in February, 1890. The malady, although it has had too numerous victims, has been, however, for Paris and France, much less malignant in 1892 than in 1890. If the statistics are not at fault, La Grippe must have killed in France at least 40,000 persons.

The grippe is not very dangerous in itself; but it puts the organism in truly bad conditions of receptivity. It is especially dangerous for persons who have passed their fiftieth year, for the feeble and those who have chronic affections. The influenza, in a word, aggravates all maladies, and particularly maladies of the respiratory organs.

It has not been doubtful, since 1890, that the grippe is infectious and contagious. In November, 1889, we were almost alone in holding that opinion, which is generally admitted now. It has become clear as the day. Yet we know absolutely nothing about the prophylaxis of the grippe. Do climatic conditions, fogs, cold, humidity play any part in producing it? That seems evident at first thought. It seems reasonable to recommend precautions against the cold, to keep the circulation and secretions active by warm drinks and tonics, to avoid the night air, and such things. At Berlin, Mr. Pfeiffer, the son-in-law of Doctor Koch, has discovered in the tissues of persons who have died of influenza an extremely small bacillus, linked together in a little chain, and heretofore unknown. This bacillus has been seen also in the blood by Mr. Canon, and observed in all persons who have died of influenza by Mr. Kitasato, a young Japanese bacteriologist, who has experimented largely in the laboratory of Koch. The experiments on animals with this microbe lack exactness, so that we cannot affirm that the microbe of influenza has really been discovered.

At all events, we do not possess any specific for this disease. The newspapers have had a great deal to say about bicarbonate of potash in doses of thirty grains. Who would dare to insist that this substance has really any beneficial action? In the session of the Academy of Medicine on February 4th, Mr. A. Ollivier made a brief communication about the precautions to be taken against grippe. These are always the same. "Guard yourself against damp cold, especially if you are consumptive, if you have a malady of the heart, diabetes, and so on." He added, however, that from a preventive point of view, he found an efficacious agent in cod-liver oil. This he administered in 1890 to thirty children; among these there has not been a single case of grippe, while several of their brothers and sisters who had not taken the oil were attacked. In 1892, Mr. Ollivier had but a single case of grippe among sick persons systematically treated with cod-liver oil. In that case the patient was consumptive and his grippe was a slight attack only. Mr. Ollivier prescribes the oil to be taken during an early breakfast in a dose of one or two spoonfuls in some "soup or porridge. Evidently if the cod-liver oil is of use, it is only by its powerful tonic action on the organism, for the oil is not a specific for the malady. Is its use an illusion? Anyway it is not difficult to try Mr. Ollivier's remedy.

From a prophylactic point of view, I take leave to recommend in 1892, as in 1890, certain simple practices. The microbe, whatever it may be, enters the system through the mouth or nose. It is useful therefore to carefully wash the mouth and nose with antiseptic liquids. I have also recommended the use of perfumes. Mr. Vallin, the eminent hygienist, advises this, in a brief communication to the Academy of Medicine: the mouth, he says, is the door of entrance and the place for cultivation of most of the germs of disease contained in the air. If these germs are rarely found in the respira

tory passages, they are none the less swallowed with the saliva and can contaminate the organism through the intestines. Messrs. Roux and Yersin have examined the mouths of children, placed beside diphtheritic patients, in the Hospital for Sick Children, and have found in these mouths the pseudodiphtheritic bacillus, which, though it be but an attenuated bacillus, is none the less capable of becoming infectious under certain conditions. The same researches have been made in a school in Normandy, on the border of the sea, in a place where there had not been a case of diphtheria for a long time, and the same bacillus was found there. Mr. Netter likewise found, some years ago, in a man who had been cured of pneumonia more than a year previously, the pneumococcus, which is thought to be the origin of pneumonia, and which had been cultivated in the mouth of the man spoken of, and preserved there. He also found in the mouth of healthy persons the streptococcus pyogenes, the element of propagation of erysipelas and septicæmia. Now, a sore in the mouth or intestines, produced by an inflammatory malady, such as quinsy, bronchitis, typhoid fever, and the like, suffices to give birth to the gravest infectious accidents. Thus, the use of some antiseptic in the nasal passages, in the mouth, and at the bottom of the throat is imperative. For this it is enough to wash these parts frequently with some alcoholic liquid perfumed with essence of cinnamon, of lemon, and the like, and containing antiseptics, such as naphtol or salol.

At the present time, then, it is of the first importance to take constant hygienic care of the mouth, by washing, gargling, inhaling perfumes, and so on. The mouth and the nose are the apertures through which the grippe enters. Let us not forget it.

A FREE PENDULUM AS A TIME-STANDARD.
T. C. Mendenhall.

THE

American Journal of Science, New Haven, February. HE use of the new half-second pendulums in the gravitation work of the United States Coast and Geodetic Survey has suggested the possibility of employing a pendulum with the improved methods of ascertaing its period in terms of a clock or chronometer second, as a standard of time, which, in constancy and ease of application might go beyond anything now readily attainable.

The natural unit of time is the sidereal day, but as this is inconveniently long for operations in which great precision in time measurement is required, its subdivision is rendered necessary, and this is accompanied with rather more uncertainty than usually attends the subdivision of a standard. Even the daily rate of our best clocks and chronometers is, by no means, constant, and it is safe to say, that in most cases, little if anything is known regarding their hourly variations from the mean of the day. In laboratories in which it is desired to determine intervals of time with a high degree of accuracy, it is common to depend upon the daily rate of chronometer or clock, which rate is itself determined by means of clock signals from an astronomical observatory, or directly by the use of a transit instrument. In both cases the daily rate is usually all that is known, although this may differ widely from that existing when the particular experiment was made for which the time is to be standardized. It is believed that a free pendulum, vibrating under constant conditionsf urnishes a much more reliable standard for short intervals than any clock or chronometer.

The half-second pendulum is about a quarter of a meter long. Its mass is only a trifle greater than a kilogram, and the most of this is concentrated in the bob. The knife edge, rigidly attached to the pendulum, is of agate, and it swings upon agate planes. It should be furnished with a starting and stopping apparatus, and an arc for measuring the amplitude of its vibrations. If it is to be used only for comparing chronometers and clocks, no arrangements for securing constant pressure and uniform temperature are necessary. If it is to be