TH WAS EUGENE FIELD A POET? HE sudden death of Eugene Field, November 4, at his home Mr. in Chicago, has already raised the question above. Field has for years been one of the most popular writers of newspaper verses, which have been quoted back and forth in the dailies and weeklies, to be finally collected by the author and enshrined in book-form. He has published several volumes of such verse, but the critics have persisted in regarding his work as journalistic and humorous rather than poetic. His last volume was done in collaboration with his brother, Ros studied at Williams College, Knox College at Galesburg, Ill., and the State University of Missouri, between the years 1868 and 1871, and after his graduation joined the staff of the St. Louis Journal, of which he was soon made city editor. He afterward worked on various Western journals, editorially, finally taking a position on the Chicago Daily News (now The Record), where he had full liberty to write what he pleased in a column that became widely known under the heading "Sharps and Flats." This place he occupied till the time of his death. The following estimate of Mr. Field as a littérateur we take from the New York Tribune: "Throughout his career Eugene Field kept his readers in doubt as to whether his true vocation was journalism or poetry. The new edition of his 'Echoes from the Sabine Farm' comes simultaneously with his death, and reminds us anew of his poetical pretensions. But the question is still undecided. While judgment is suspended journalism is strongly tempted to claim him as permanently its own. Certainly the most characteristic work by which he is known was done in that column of 'Sharps and Flats, published every day in the Chicago Record, which, from 1883 until his death, afforded him opportunity to criticize his friends and enemies, joke upon everything under the sun, and display his buoyant love for books, friends, and good living. It has often been said of him that this daily miscellany of fun and sarcasm, of rimes and personalities, was beneath his genius. As a matter of fact it is not plain that Field had genius. He had exactly the temperament, the brain, and the gifts of humor and fancy which are calculated to make a paragrapher in a daily newspaper read, quoted, and even quoted in high places. Field himself must have known this, however he may have appeared at times to agree with his friends, for he went on in his task, filled his column with airy talk, printed in it now and then a verse or two, and was content if he made you laugh ten times a week and touched your heart half as often. By and by he gathered the verses together, put others with them, and made a book. So many of the songs were so good, there was so much genuine sentiment in them, so much humor, so much of the tenderness for domestic happenings that in gentle rimes will leave the reader half-way between smiles and tears, that it was necessary to accept the writer as an author on the spot. A considerable public accepted the situation thus, and have not receded from the position. Impartially regarded, Field remains the unprofessional writer, the man who could write a pretty lullaby for his child and yet never convince the critic that he belonged to literature." Educational Revival of English.-"No careful observer of the signs of the times can fail to see that there is a revival of English learning in the closing decade of the nineteenth century as truly as there was a revival of classical learning in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Nor is such an awakening of interest and effort confined to any one section of the English world; to any one class of English students, or to any one department of English instruction and research. In England and her colonies, and in our own country; among older and younger students; in the sphere of criticism, philology, and literature, the movement is manifest. . . . We are beginning to learn that the study of our language and literature has a disciplinary side to it, which is, indeed, an important feature of its character as educational. Not only is it didactic in the sense of imparting needed information, but directly stimulating and provocative of thought, and conducive to general mental vigor. Much less is it exclusively or primarily esthetic in its nature and purpose, and he who approaches and discusses it on such a plane as this has but the faintest conception of what he has in hand, or the purpose of it. We are just beginning to make a business of studying English; not in any merely commercial or unduly practical sense, but in the sense of making it a real study in real earnest for definite results in the character, culture, discipline, education, and practical usefulness of those who pursue it. . . . In fine, English is fully holding its own in America in the modern and growing competition of studies, engaging more brains than ever before, pursued on more sensible methods than ever before, and guaranteed thus to secure more practical and permanent results than No rising American scholar need ask a more inspiring and useful mission than to be allowed to take some part in this most important work."-T. W. Hunt, in Modern Language Notes. ever. NOTES. "THE author of a much-talked-of book," says the New York Tribune, "must have his sense of the ridiculous tickled in observing the new importance attached to his earlier efforts, which have before languished in appropriate obscurity. Dr. Max Nordau, if he knows anything of the fate of his works in translation, is having a chance to enjoy that sensation. The industrious translator and enterprising publisher have been ransacking the German bookstalls for something which will turn to profit what is left of the fast-ebbing tide of interest in 'Degeneration.' There just comes from the press, heralded as Dr. Nordau's new book, an English edition of 'The Comedy of Sentiment,' a dull, insignificant, badly written and stupidly unsavory novel, which was first published in Germany about five years ago. We are mildly curious to see how many people will discover a sensation in the Hungarian's old attempt at a piece of fiction which could not get attention for its own sake. The showman is not the only person who mingles gentle cynicism with his judgment of his clients. The book market, too, has its little jokes." "IT is certain," says the New York Sun, "that there is a large measure of literary freedom under the Czar; for as many as 10,242 books were published in Russia last year, and over 32,000,000 copies of them were provided for the market. One tenth of the books of the year were of a religious cast, while nine tenths of them belonged to other departments of literature. Eight tenths of the whole output were in the Russian language, and the remainder were in the other languages used in Russia, including Hebrew. The Russian censorate is very critical in the examination of books dealing with politics or economics, all of which must be in conformity with theories affirmed by the ruling authorities; but the largest latitude is given to authors dealing with scientific or other subjects that are unrelated to the established laws or institutions of Russia." MR. HALL CAINE is reported as saying that the following story of Longfellow was told him by Dante Gabriel Rossetti shortly before his death; When Longfellow visited England he was under the impression that of the two Rossettis-Dante and William-Dante was the painter and William the poet. One day he called on Dante, when he was painting his picture of "Dante's Dream." On going away he said, "I have been very glad to see you, Mr. Rossetti, and I could have wished to see your brother, but I can not find the opportunity. Will you tell him how much I admired his poem of The Blessed Damozel"? The author of "The Blessed Damozel" looked Longfellow in the face and said, "Thank you, Mr. Longfellow, I will tell him." OUIDA, according to a correspondent of Woman, leads a most retired life in the neighborhood of Vallebuia, Italy. "She never receives now, but is occasionally to be seen walking about the lanes escorted by her six dogs, of whom she is passionately fond. More generally, tho, she prefers to sit or walk in her own grounds. Her villa is large and handsome, with a magnificent view from the windows." " 2 SCIENCE. END OF THE WAR BETWEEN RELIGION AND WHILE HILE some are still speaking of the conflict between religion and science as if the smoke of battle were yet rising, there is at least one eminent man of science who regards the fight as over and writes of it as the historian of a past era. In The Homiletic Review Prof. N. S. Shaler, professor of geology in Harvard and dean of the Lawrence Scientific School, tells the story of the conflict from the standpoint of the student of nature, and concludes that the victory is a divided one, tho on the whole it rests with the champions of a broad and true Christianity. In the first part of his article, Professor Shaler notes that among savage peoples the beginnings of science and of religion are apt to arise from the same feeling, curiosity about natural phenomena, and from rude attempts to explain them. Hence there is no conflict till different explanations are thus evolved, as, among the Greeks, the polytheistic and the philosophical. There is little doubt that paganism would have gone to the wall had Athenian civilization survived; but it did not survive, and the spread of Christianity was fatal not only to the pagan faith but also to the pagan philosophy, which contained all the science that then existed. With the revival of learning at the time of the Renascence came the first real conflict. Says Professor Shaler: "It was the misfortune of the revived natural learning that it was to a certain extent, and very naturally, associated with the curious body of beliefs commonly known as the 'black art,' with witchcraft, sorcery, and magic. The prejudices due to this association, combined with the fear of an independent explanation of nature, quickly led to an assault by the Roman church upon the new faith. It may fairly be said that the attack of the church was in a considerable measure warranted by the moral degradations which came in the train of the Renascence; there can be no question that the effect of this movement was to liberate men, not yet completely rid of the ancient Roman vices, from the needed restraint of canons of conduct which had served to lift them out of their original degradation, and that, in the antiRenascence movement, the church was, from its point of view, acting wisely. The point of importance for us is that here began the first important conflict between the Christian religion and natural science. As thus set, the battle was destined to continue down to our own century with little change in the objects of the contention. On the side of the men of science it was claimed, in effect, that the interpretation of nature set forth in the tenets of the church was unreasonable, or at least insufficient to account for the facts; on the other hand, the defenders of the faith claimed that the scientific view denied the inspired account of creation, deposed intelligence from its control of the universe, and destroyed the beliefs on which alone it was possible to found the moral conduct of the individual or the safety of the social order. The natural issue of these contentions, waged as they were with medieval bitterness, was the institution of an enduring feud between the followers of the two interpretations of nature. Roman Church, because of its traditions of imperial power and its long-continued control of the secular strength, made free use of coercive methods in the suppression of scientific opinion. The naturalist Buffon, in the middle of the last century, was compelled to publish a groveling recantation of the philosophical views contained in his excellent theory of the earth. The Protestant churches, tho less imperious, in their method, had their own effective ways of administering discipline to the men of the new intrepretation. Social pressure to the point of ostracism was often used to defeat the activities of those who were suspected of heresy in their opinions as to the organization of the world. The "Whoever approaches the study of this great conflict in the manner of the naturalist will be sure to feel little resentment toward the church for the severity with which it has dealt with the innovators. To the men of science the function of the ecclesiastical body is clearly seen to be conservative; its province is to maintain the good that has been won, to rest upon tradition rather than to explore the unknown. What the church has done in its opposition to science, so far as the spirit of the action is concerned, has been clearly in its province, and in accordance with the traditions which are at the foundation of its usefulnesstraditions which served to bring society through the trials of medieval times and made it ready for modern development. Moreover, looking at the history of the conflict from the point of view of the inquirer, it may be said that the opposition of the theologians to scientific methods' of thought does not appear to have had any permanently ill effects on the development of those modes of exploration. Here and there individual students were silenced; but no branch of natural learning can be cited which seems to have permanently suffered from the repression, or the drastic criticism, to which it has been subjected. Whoever care. fully notes the tendency to extravagant conjecture which characterized modern science, in the centuries of development before our own, will be likely to agree with me in the opinion that the evils of repression, due to the action of the church, were in a great measure, if not altogether, compensated by the greater care in exploring the grounds of their beliefs, the more ample verification to which inquirers were subjected. "I have spoken of the conflict between religion and science as a thing of the past. This view of the matter is warranted by the singularly rapid growth of the tolerant motive, which is evident alike among theologians and professional naturalists in every field of inquiry. Altho, among a few of the elders in these walks of life, and some of the narrow-minded of the younger generation, there may be found echoes of the combat, the war is clearly over. It remains for the historian to note the influences which have brought about this reconciliation." Chief among these influences, says the professor, is the vast enlargement of our views of life-we are broader-minded. There are also secondary influences, such as the lessening of scientific conceit and the acknowledgment of spiritual as well as of material nature. "Those [scientific men] who regard the matter closely are likely to be driven to the conclusion that the Christian religion, embodying as it does the motive of sympathy and the moral code that relates thereto, is fairly to be considered as the highest product of all life. Thus, quite apart from all questions of the supernatural, indeed, we may say, in spite of that claim, the essentials of the Christian religion are attracting, and are destined in larger measure to attract, the minds of those investigators who have the unbiased habit of truly scientific men." THE "FOURTH DIMENSION" AS A REFUGE SCIE CIENTISTS, who have the reputation of being materialists, are offered an avenue of escape from their materialism in the "fourth dimension" of space. Prof. Arthur E. Bostwick not only holds to the possibility of a fourth dimension, but of a fortyfourth, and indeed of an indefinite number, and attempts to give scientific reasons for this faith (New Science Review, October). That we are bound down to three-dimensional space, Dr. Bostwick fully admits, but he maintains that this limitation is purely mechanical, and he urges that the great law of continuity or of the uniformity of nature would be broken if the limitation were regarded as inherent in the nature of space itself. This the writer endeavors to make clear by a few simple geometrical considerations, as follows: "If a point moves, it leaves behind it a line, as a sort of trail; the mark made by a moving pencil-point on paper is an example. If we take a broad pencil, however, and sharpen it to a ridge, representing a line, we shall have, when we draw with it, not a line but a band-a geometrical surface. Likewise, if we move through the air a surface-a sheet of paper, for example-it would leave behind it, were the space colored or marked somehow, a solid colored space. Thus, as far as we have gone, the trail has always one more dimension than the thing that leaves it. A point has no dimensions at all, neither length, breadth, nor thickness; its trail has length alone. A line has one dimension -length; its trail, a surface, has two-length and breadth. The trail of this surface has three-length, breadth, and. thickness. Here, however, we stop. The trail of a solid, as one may see by moving a box or a block of wood through the air, has no more dimensions than itself-mere length, breadth, and thickness. Why is this? "The reason is simple enough. We did not examine the case thoroughly. The ridged pencil does not always mark a broad band. If the ridge is slid along in the direction of its own length it makes only a line. The sheet of paper will not always describe a solid space in the air. If it is slid along edgewise it will pass through a surface like itself, only more extended. The reason is that in both these cases every point on the body follows in the trail of the point just in front of it, while in the case first described every point struck out as it were for itself into a new dimension. Now when we move a cube about in the air, however we move it, no matter what direction we try, every point save those in the front rank will follow in the trail of some other; it is impossible to make them all start out for themselves in a new dimension. We have, in fact, used up all the dimensions at our disposal-length, breadth, and thickness; what we want is a fourth dimension. That this does not exist, or seems not to exist, thus appears almost equivalent to the breaking-down of a law of nature. The law is true up to a certain point, then it suddenly fails. What shall we say of this apparent failure? indeed the only escape, from materialism as opposed to all that is higher, from realism as oppoed to idealism, from unbelief as opposed to spiritual religion. That it has not been appreciated as such, and that it has been relegated on the one hand to students of pure mathematics and on the other to idle speculators and visionaries, is one of the most significant facts of our times. It shows that most of us are of the earth earthy, and that we do not care to escape from the mire." That the average man finds some difficulty in accepting all this -an illustration, the author probably would say, of the final assertion of the last paragraph-is shown by the comments made upon it by the New York World in an editorial headed "Some Absurdities of Science." After quoting from the article, in a somewhat misleading manner, a list of the wonderful results that would follow were space of higher dimensions open to us, it consigns the author and his fellow students of mathematics to Bedlam as follows: "Men have been sent to lunatic asylums for less than this, yet it is undoubtedly a fact that these inconceivable absurdities are put forward as deductions from mathematics-supposably the only science in which absolute certainty is possible. The fourth dimension' is gravely discussed by mathematicians, and one of the current scientific 'libraries' has a treatise on it written by a senior wrangler of Cambridge. "Such conclusions are not put forward hurriedly. They are the result of profound study and the most intense application of which the human mind is capable. Being so, they show the great danger there is in allowing the mind to become completely specialized. The man who studies a single subject until he loses sight of everything else is always in danger of parting with his judgment. When he does that, when he is entirely wrapped up in his single idea, he almost inevitably develops what unspecialized people call 'crankiness. "Now it happens that just such apparent breakages or stoppages of natural law have frequently been observed, and they have been found in so many cases to be only apparent that scientific men have generally asserted the broad law that no such real abrupt stoppage is possible. This broader law they call the law of continuity, and they assert that it is the great foundation law of nature- the law controlling all other laws. Either they must be wrong, then, or this absence of a fourth dimension must be only apparent. Indeed, the law compels us to say that there must be also a fifth, a sixth, and so on to infinity. We can not move in these higher dimensions-or rather, we never have been able to do so. But neither have we been able to reach the stars. The physical conditions of our existence bind us down to earth. In like manner these physical conditions confine us to three dimensions. This fact scientific men state by saying that our space is a tri-dimensional space. But rather than believe that the law of continuity is broken they prefer to think that it is a lim PROBABLY ited space." How all this bears on the question of the reality of spirit as opposed to matter, and how it offers us a vision of something more than the physical environment of the everyday world, Dr. Bostwick goes on to tell us in the following paragraphs: "If a man were limited to two dimensions instead of three-if, for instance, he lived on a sheet of paper as a picture does-he would know of nothing outside of that sheet. A race of men might live in every one of a pile of a million sheets of paper, and it would be physically impossible that they should ever communicate or even be aware of the possibility of each other's existence, tho the distance separating any two would be less than the thousandth of an inch. So, three-dimensional universes may be packed closely together in four-dimensional space, and we may be surrounded-almost touched-by myriads of beings like ourselves, of whose existence we are unconscious and into whose sphere we can not come. The removal of dimensional conditions To one who believes in a future would open all these to us. world, the certainty that there is space enough for universes upon universes, almost in touch with every point of our own space, is much more pleasing than the relegation of all departed spirits to a planet hundreds of millions of miles distant. "In fact, upon any one who reflects much on the subject, the conclusion must force itself with almost irresistible cogency that here must be the refuge from the materialism that is seeking to hem us in on every side. The materialistic arguments are sound so far as they go; in their own sphere they are convincing; yet they reckon entirely within the sphere of our own tri-dimensional universe. That there must be more than this is, as we have seen, an inevitable consequence of the great foundation-law of that universe. It is not necessary here to point out in exactly what way this may be applied to explain the observed facts regarding spirit as opposed to matter; it is enough to show that here is a field so wide that its prospect almost takes one's breath away. So far as appears now it offers a complete escape, VIVISECTION IN THE SCHOOLROOM. no scientific question has been discussed with more heat than that of vivisection. A new phase of the question, however, now claims attention. Dr. Albert Leffingwell, understanding that cats, dogs, frogs, etc., are now sometimes vivisected by school-teachers before their classes, has addressed a circular to large numbers of teachers, clergymen, men of letters, and physicians, asking their opinions of such a course. The answers, some of which we quote below, from Our Animal Friends (November), were very various. Nearly all those that understood the questions properly seem to have condemned the practise, tho many, interpreting them to refer to vivisection, as a laboratory method of research, naturally defended the latter earnestly. Dr. William T. Harris, United States Commissioner of Education, writes as follows in his answer: "I am glad to learn of some movement against a practise too widely extended, of dissecting animals before the children in the elementary schools. I think it well-nigh useless as far as teaching children a knowledge of anatomy is concerned, and at the same time very injurious to their moral and esthetic feelings (especially the latter), even when there is no cruelty involved. For elementary schools the practisc is strongly objectionable." Prof. Edmund J. James, of the University of Pennsylvania, answers as follows: "I regard such experiments as barbarous and calculated to do far more harm, from an educational point of view, than they can possibly do good. Any dissection of live animals for the mere purpose of instruction is, in my opinion, not only inhuman, but highly unpedagogical." The clergymen and literary men interrogated seem to be more generally opposed than the men of science, as might have been expected. W. D. Howells thinks that "the whole notion of such instruction is detestable;" Dr. Georg Ebers, the German Egyptologist and novelist, says that children so instructed "will, when grown up and having charge of the fate of human beings, be tyrannical and cruel;" Cardinal Gibbons, more moderate, is "inclined to think such experiments, tend to blunt the natural sensibilities of children assisting thereat; Dr. Dix, of Trinity Church, fails "to see any justification for it;" Dr. Lyman Abbott believes that the practise "must do a great deal more harm than it can possibly do good." Even many medical men, when they consider the question apart from that of scientific vivisection, are to be found among the ranks of the opponents. There is, however, one thoroughgoing exception, and he is a man who is not afraid of saying what he thinks. It is Dr. D. G. Brinton, the eminent anthropologist and ex-president of the American Association for the Advancement of Science. Dr. Brinton's opinion is so bold and striking that it deserves quotation at some length. Says he: "I believe that physiology can be taught in no other way so successfully as by demonstration on the living subject; and as you and I learned it as physicians in that way, I think that we can both answer that our natural sensibilities' were not blunted. I certainly think that children and every one ought to be familiarized with the sight of blood, the pangs of disease, and the solemn event of dying. Death and pain should not be concealed; they are the greatest of all educators, for they alone teach us the value of life in its highest measure. The whole tone of your circular is, in my opinion (which you have done me the honor to ask), contrary to the true spirit of education." On this Our Animal Friends comments as follows in its concluding paragraph: "We shall not discuss these propositions. Dr. Brinton is of the opinion that his 'natural sensibilities' have not been blunted by his experience in 'demonstration on the living subject.' We doubt whether anybody else will agree with him; that is to say, if he had any natural sensibilities to begin with. We should hesitate a good while before we should be ready to adopt Dr. Brinton's methods of cultivating humane sentiments by the practise of killing and torturing in the presence of children in our public schools." WE AN AMPHIBIOUS BOAT. E alluded some time ago to the novel Danish boat that propels itself both on land and in water. We are now enabled to present to our readers a detailed description, with illustrations, from La Nature (Paris, October 19). The article, which is by M. Hansen-Blangsted, runs as follows: "In the northern and most beautiful part of the island of Zealand may be seen in practical use an amphibious boat, in which passengers cross the lakes of Lyngby, Fur, and Farum, as well as the isthmuses that separate them. This new kind of boat is the invention of M. C. J. Magnell, a Swedish engineer, and was built at the expense of a company which, in view of its success, has decided to build other similar boats. "This amphibious boat, which bears the name of Svanen, that " the arbor of the screw and immediately cause to turn four wheels placed two near the bow and two near the stern. These wheels, which are placed horizontally with reference to the keel, then touch the rails; the engine that turns the screw turns the wheels also and forces the boat to ascend or descend the track between the lakes by a grade of about 25 millimeters to the meter [one in forty]. "The bottom of the boat between the wheels is quite flat, so that the vessel needs to be raised only a few feet above the rails. The wheels are very large, and flanged like those of railway trains. They are mounted on water-tight axles, so that the water can not enter the boat. When the boat enters on terra firma the screw emerges, striking the surface of the water lightly at the end, like the wings of a bird, and finally working in open air (see Fig. 2), which produces a singular effect on persons who observe the passage. When it has descended on the other side, the Swan settles little by little in the water and the screw begins to be of use again, while with a movement of the iron bar the cogs are disengaged and the wheels again become immovable till the next crossing. The experiments with the Swan have naturally created something of a sensation among the inhabitants."-Translated for THE LITERARY DIGEST. "UNCLE WHY UNCLE SAM IS THIN AND DYSPEPTIC. NCLE SAM," Brother Jonathan," and other supposed types of the average American are always represented as thin and gaunt, while "John Bull," the corresponding personification of the British nation, appears as a fat and hearty old man. This fact reflects the popular impression that Americans as contrasted with their English relatives are thin and dyspeptic. This has been accounted for by laying it to our climate, to a national proneness to worry, or to our haste to get rich. Modern Medicine (September) tells us editorially that it is largely because we do not chew our food. We quote so much of an editorial on "Fat and Blood" as treats of this particular phase of the subject: "The cadaverous appearance of the typical American, as compared with his British cousin, is an indication of a national deficiency in fat and blood, the tissues which suffer first and most from indigestion. The almost universal prevalence of indigestion among Americans is indicated by the enormous quantities of pepsin, peptones, peptonoids, malt extracts, and various digestants and predigested food elements which are annually consumed by the people of the United States. "A well-known Chicago packer, some time ago, made up three hundred barrels of pepsin in a single batch, but even this prodigious amount would go but a little ways toward supplying the demand for assistance made by the enfeebled American stomach. What the stomach needs, however, is not pepsin, peptone, pancreatic preparations, etc., but the ability to make more pepsin and more hydrochloric acid. The stomach needs peptogens rather than peptones, peptonoids, or pepsin. Nature has so arranged the order of the digestive processes that each digestive act prepares the way for and facilitates the next succeeding act; thus mastication, by the comminution of the food, facilitates the action of all the organs and fluids which deal with the food after it leaves the mouth, as well as that of the saliva which is mingled with the food in the mought. The saliva acting upon the starch of the food in the mouth and for some time after the food enters the stomach, in case a sufficient amount of the saliva has been mingled with the food by proper mastication, converts the starch into dextrin and maltose. "In the careful study of a large number of cases of indigestion the writer has observed that the imperfect digestion of starch in the stomach is one of the most common of all the morbid conditions present. " That this is largely due to deficient mastication is shown by the results of an experiment described in the editorial. Two test meals were taken by the same person, first with thorough mastication, and second without mastication. The moral is evident. If we are to be fat, we must assimilate our food, and if deliberate chewing is a necessary condition to this, it follows that we must take down our signs "Quick Lunch," and "Five Minutes for Refreshments," or continue to represent Uncle Sam as a sufferer from chronic indigestion. THE SIZE OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM. HE first scientific attempt to determine the sun's distance, according to J. E. Gore (Knowledge, October), was that of the Greek Aristarchus, who by calculating the angles and sides of the right-angled triangle formed by earth, sun, and moon, found, as he thought, that the sun's distance from the earth is just nineteen times the moon's-a ridiculously small result, since, as we now know, the ratio of their distances is no less than 388 to I. The most recent results tend to show that the sun's distance 'is 92,790,000 miles. Mr. Gore then gives the following figures: The "Multiplying this number by the figures given above, we find that the mean distances of the planets from the sun are as follows, in round numbers: Mercury 35,909,000 miles, Venus 67,087,000, Mars 141,384,000, the minor planets 193,000,000 to 395,470,000 miles, Jupiter 482,786,000, Saturn 885, 105,000, Uranus 1,779,990,000, and Neptune 2,788,800,000. This makes the diameter of the solar system, so far as at present known, about 5,578 millions of miles. Across this vast space light traveling at the rate of 186,300 miles per second would take eight hours nineteen minutes to pass. "But vast as this diameter really is, compared with the size of our earth, or even with the distance of the moon, it is very small indeed when compared with the distance of even the nearest fixed star, from which light takes over four years to reach us. most reliable measures of the distance of Alpha Centauri, the nearest of the fixed stars, places it at 275,000 times the sun's distance from the earth, or about 9, 150 times the distance of Neptune from the sun. If we represent the diameter of Neptune's orbit by a circle of two inches in diameter, Alpha Centauri would lie at a distance of 762 feet, or 254 yards, from the center of the small circle. If we make the circle representing Neptune's orbit two feet in diameter, then Alpha Centauri would be distant from the center of this circle 9,150 feet, or about 134 miles. As the volumes of spheres vary as the cubes of their diameters, we have the volume of the sphere which extends to Alpha Centauri 766,000 million times the volume of the sphere containing the whole solar system to the orbit of Neptune. If we represent the sphere containing the solar system by a grain of shot one twentieth of an inch in diameter, the sphere which extends to Alpha Centauri would be represented by a globe 38 feet in diameter. "It will thus be seen what a relatively small portion of space the solar system occupies compared with the sphere which extends to even the nearest fixed star. But this latter sphere, vast as this is, is again relatively small compared with the size of the sphere which contains the great majority of the visible stars. Alpha Centauri is an exceptionally near star. Most of the stars are at least ten times as far away, and probably many a hundred times further off. A sphere with a radius 100 times greater than the distance of Alpha Centauri would have a million times the volume, and therefore 766,000 billion times the volume of the sphere which contains the whole solar system! From these facts it will be seen that enormously large as the solar system absolutely is, compared with the size of our own earth, it is, compared with the size of the visible universe, merely as a drop in the ocean. The Deadly School-Slate.-A possible danger that lurks in the slate used by children at school is thus pointed out by The National Board of Health Magazine: "The common practise which prevails in schools is to hand the slates to the children without any attempt being made to insure that each child shall have the same slate time after time. The result is inevitable. The first thing that the child does is to clean the slate by means of the finger wetted with saliva. In this process, of course, the finger travels many times from mouth to slate, and vice versa, and thus conveys to the mouth any material which may happen to be upon the slate. Thus, if a child happened to be suffering from tuberculosis, the tubercle bacilli might be readily conveyed to the mouth of another healthy pupil, and the same contingency would be likely to happen, perhaps, in all probability, with greater effect, if the disease were to be diphtheria." A very simple remedy, the writer adds, is to provide a sponge with every slate. SCIENCE BREVITIES. "THE example furnished by nature in the production of marble from chalk by water-the latter percolating gradually and steadily through the chalky deposits, dissolving the chalk particle by particle, and crystallizing it, mountain pressure effecting its characteristic solidity-it is now found may be the basis of accomplishing similar results by a resort to chemical processes," says The Decorator's Gazette. "Slices of chalk are for this purpose dipped into a color-bath, staining them with tints that will imitate any kind of marble known, the same mineral stains answering this end as are employed in nature. For instance, to produce the appearance of the wellknown and popular verde antique an oxid of copper application is resorted to, and in a similar manner green, pink, black, and other colorings are obtained. The slices after this are placed in another bath, where they are hardened and crystallized, coming out, to all intents and purposes, real marble." A PROCESS has been patented in Germany for making a substitute for the natural skin for use on wounds. The muscular coating of the intestines of animals is divested of mucous membrane, and then treated in a pepsin solution until the muscular fibers are half digested. After a second treatment with tannin and gallic acid, a tissue is produced which can take the place of the natural skin, and which, when laid on the wound, is entirely absorbed during the healing process. "IT is a common idea," says A. J. Webster, in Cassier's Magazine, "that because coal is heavy and dusty, coal-machinery is rough and coarse; but this is a wholly mistaken belief. No Waltham watch or compound locomotive is more carefully designed, the details more thoroughly studied, or the materials more carefully selected and put into shape than are the workingparts of the coal-handling appliances turned out by the high-class makers of to-day." |