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toplasm differ from bacteria in not being | origin. The compound eye consists, as capable of a separate existence. They known, of hundreds and thousands of can only live in cells. It is absolutely impossible to say, at the present time, how far this view may find support in ulterior research, though it must be mentioned that it is derived from elaborate investigations into the cells of various glands and their secretions, and that it finds support in facts accumulated by many well-known anatomists. It must also be added that some biologists namely, J. C. Vogt†-go a step further and maintain that all micro-organisms, and all cells of more complicated organisms, are structures of a fourth or higher order; they are colonies of "polyplasts," which themselves consist of "monoplasts," or those granules which are distinguished in the protoplasm and the nuclear plasm. But, on the other side, we also have the other extreme view, supported by the authority of Professor O. Bütschli, who sees in protoplasm nothing but a foam, quite similar to the foams which may be artificially produced, and who maintains that all phenomena observed in living protoplasm are simply physical and chemical processes.

separate conical, almost cylindrical, parts, each of which corresponds to a separate eye; however, their structure widely dif fers from that of the mammalian eye. Each of the component eyes has, like ours, a cornua, but it is flat, and the crystalline part of the eye has not the shape of a lens, but of a "lens cylinder," that is, of a cylinder which is composed of sheets of transparent tissue, the refracting powers of which decrease towards the periphery of the cylinder. If an eye of this kind is removed and freed of the pigment which surrounds it, objects may be looked at through it from behind; but its field of vision is very small, and the direct images received from each separate eye are either produced close to one another on the retina (or rather the retinulæ of all the eyes) or superposed. In this last case no less than thirty separate images may be superposed, which is evidently a great advantage for nocturnal insects. Many other advantages are derived from the compound structure of the insect eye. Thus the mobile pigment which corresponds to our iris can take different positions, either between the separate eyes or behind the lens cylinders, in which case it acts as so many screens to intercept the over-abundance of light. Moreover, it has been ascertained by Exner that with its compound eye the common glow-worm (Lampyris) is capable of distinguishing large sign-board letters at a distance of ten or more feet, as also extremely fine on a firm footing.tlines engraved or of an inch apart, if they are at a distance of less than half an inch from the eye. As a rule, the compound eye is inferior to the mammalian eye for making out the forms of objects, but is superior to it for distinguishing the smallest movements of objects in the total field of vision.

The great question as to what protoplasm is, evidently will not be solved soon. But the above-mentioned researches will give an idea of the problems which at this moment absorb the attention of biologists. One important step has certainly been made: the complicated structure of protoplasm has been recognized, and the exploration of the vital processes in "living matter now stands

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V.

IT is known that Darwin, when he be gan thinking about the possible origin of the eye, used to feel a kind of shudder in consequence of the difficulties standing in the way. An important step towards smoothing these difficulties has now been made by Professor S. Exner, who has brought out an elaborate and richly illustrated work on the eyes of crustaceans and insects,§ and by Mr. Watase, who has studied the question as to their possible

The author names Gianuzzi, Ranvier, Renaut, and partly Henri Martin.

Das Empfindungsprinzip und das Protoplasma, auf Grund eines einheitlichen Substanzbegriffes, Leipzig, 1891; Journal of the Microscopical Society, February, 1892.

Prof. R. Greefs exploration of the motor-fibrils of

the Amaba terricola (Biologisches Centralblatt, November, 1891, pp. 599 and 633) may be mentioned as an illustration of such researches.

Die Physiologie der facettisten Augen von Krebsen und Insecten, Leipzig, 1891.

All stages of evolution of the eye may be studied among the insects and the Arachnides. Thus, beginning with the eye of the Limulus, Mr. Watase shows how it may have originated from a simple minute cavity in the epithelium. The sensitive cells lie in direct continuity with those of the epithelium, or hypodermis; and covered by epithelium, may represent and a cavity, with a pigment cell therein, the first rudiment of the eye. Later on the cavity deepens, and the roughly con

"On the Morphology of the Compound Eye of the Anthropodes," in "Studies from the Biological Laboratory, Johns Hopkins University," vol. iv. (Baltimore).

ical thickening of the epidermis which fills it becomes the "lens cylinder."

*

exhausted, while the dark lines under her eyes told a story of study protracted late into the night. She was dressed in some kind of loose-fitting gown, of a style free and unfashionable; her dark-brown hair was cut short, in the way that many girls now choose for comfort and convenience; not any of her features were beautiful, but there was the beauty of thoughtfulness about her face. Her table was strewn with exercise and lesson books, and a few set apart were obviously for her own private work, being several volumes of biology, inorganic chemistry, and physics, and Salmon's "Conic Sections," and Smith's

A succession of drawings made by Mr. Watase upon the simplest forms of the ocellæ of larvæ and some millepeds perfectly well illustrate the various possible phases of evolution of the eye, from the minute cavities, or ocellæ, which appear in great numbers, closely packed together, to the more complicated eyes described by Exner. We thus have in Mr. Watase's work, confirmed by another work, by M. Kishinouye, a most valuable contribution to the solution of one of the complicated problems of the doctrine of evolution. We can only mention several very in-“ Analytical Conics," and two or three teresting works on the origin of the prickles in various plants, on the effects of high altitudes upon animals, on the compound structure of the higher plants and the effects of atavism, and so on all resulting from the modern endeavors of many biologists at explaining the origin and development of variations in animals and plants under the effects of their surroundings. A good deal of attention being paid now to the chapter of "direct adaptation "in the theory of the evolution of species, many interesting facts are continually brought to light by the work of the modern followers of Lamarck.

P. KROPOTKIN.

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It was about half past five, on a March afternoon some few years ago, when Gertrude Hurst, worn out with a long morning of teaching, and a long afternoon of correcting books, let her pen slip from her hand, and leaned back in her armchair, just for a few moment's laziness. "I will not even shut my eyes," she said, as though in excuse to herself for this unwonted indulgence.

But Nature inexorably claims her own, and before many minutes had passed, this tired London high-school teacher had fallen fast asleep. Her arms rested list lessly on each side of the chair, and her head was pressed against its cane back. There was a worried look on her thin face; and indeed her whole strength seemed

frowning treatises on trigonometry. Her little sitting-room, rather comfortless in its poverty, had for ornaments two or three photographs of pictures from the National Gallery, and a photograph of Watts's beautiful picture of "Hope." This picture faced Gertrude Hurst's writing-table, so that every time she raised her eyes from her work, they fell naturally there. The other ornaments of the room were a few books, held together by a home-made book-shelf.

On the fire the kettle was boiling merrily, waiting impatiently until it should please the lady to fill the little black teapot which was reposing in a corner of the fender. A shabby white cat was sitting upright on the hearth, contemplating with learned gravity some loose sheets, which had fallen to the ground, and which were covered with figures and signs having something to do with parabolæ and tangents, asymptotes and other mathematical mysteries. The room was evidently that of a solitary student, and yet the slight figure of the girl yonder seemed so childlike, that at first sight she might well have been taken for a child; only on closer inspection one could see that she had lived through years of toil and of sorrow, and had learned things which time alone can teach.

Gertrude Hurst must have been sleeping for more than half an hour, when some one knocked at the door. Receiving no answer, the person asking for admittance refused to be kept waiting any longer, and opened the door for himself and looked into the room. Then, seeing the sleeper in the armchair, he stood hesitating what to do.

"Poor tired child!" he whispered; "she is worn out with work."

He went gently up to her side and bent over her, and stooping down, picked up the pen which had fallen from her hand, and replaced it on the inkstaud. He lin

gered by the fireplace as though he were | before his time; but the enemy, consump reluctant to go away.

"I suppose I ought to go," he said to himself; "for she thinks I am still in Australia, and I should startle her on her first awakening."

And again he murmured to himself "Poor child! she is worn out. I am glad I have come home to help her."

Perhaps he would have really gone; but at that moment the black kettle boiled over, and Elkin Annerley bent down to rescue it from the indignant fire, whilst the shabby cat looked calmly on, as though it understood all about the proceedings, and did not intend to ruffle itself on ac count of an agitated kettle. The kettle was placed in safety on the hob; and Elkin Annerley was just turning towards the door, when he suddenly caught sight of those papers lying under the armchair. And a few well-known hieroglyphics arrested his attention, everything that was mathematical in him arose in excitement. He took up the loose sheet as though it were some precious gem, and began to examine it; then he frowned and shook his head, and mechanically drawing a pencil out of his pocket, he made some few corrections.

"The whole thing is wrong," he said impatiently; "waste of time and waste of paper. She ought to be ashamed of herself, after all my teaching, too."

He snatched from the shelf a large book on which to fix the paper, and he settled himself in a low chair near the fire, and rested his feet against the fender. He was soon lost in the interesting and absorbing nature of his work; and to judge from the far-away look on his face, he had probably forgotten everything save the one important fact that here was a most intricate problem badly worked out, in defiance, too, of some of the most elementary mathematical rules and formulæ. "This is just the sort of carelessness to irritate me," he said. “Perhaps it is a good thing for my pupils that I am not now teaching mathematics.”

His face cleared, though, when he turned over the page and found some other problems cleverly worked out.

"Come, come," he said, "this problem redeems the other." And with the old instinct of a master, he put V. G. at the end of it, and signed his initials E. A., smiling somewhat mournfully as he did so. He was a man of about thirty years of age, very frail, and of medium height. He had the appearance of being worn out

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tion, had not been able to rob him of
everything, and there was still a pleasing
sort of defiance in the way in which he
carried his head a head which had not
submitted itself to the doubtful mercies
of the conventional barber. His eyes
seemed fixed on distant objects, as though
they were trying to penetrate into that In-
finite which is the pleasure-ground of all
mathematicians. For a mind bent on tan-
gents and parabolæ and hyperbolæ, on
sines and cosines, and the resultant of
forces, and the properties of cones, is
allowed on all hands to be hopeless, so far
as the plain and matter-of-fact things of
the outer world are concerned.
Elkin Annerley, the young mathematical
master, whose bad health had obliged him
to give up all his work and his prospects,
seemed quite to have lost himself, as he
sat there working out problems, probably
suggested by these others which he had
just been correcting. His hand moved
over the paper quickly, and then as
quickly crossed out all the working, the
writer shaking his head in vexation.

And

"That was not the shortest way of doing it," he said. "Ah! this is far neater and prettier. It would be a good rider to set for an examination paper. I shall make a note of it."

Whilst he was thus busily engaged, Gertrude Hurst awoke, and, turning round, saw her visitor. She rose, and stood waiting until he should look up. At last he did look up, and she said: "Why, I thought you were in Australia, Mr. Annerley. I have been wondering all the time how you were getting on there.'

That was all she said, but there was a glad smile on her frank face, which told how pleased she was to welcome him back from Australia. He had thrown aside his papers, and stood beside her.

"Do you know," he said, "you look very tired? And you cannot disguise from me that you have fallen asleep over your work."

She pushed the hair off her face, and laughed. "Is that all you have to say, after your long voyage to Australia?" she said. "I should have thought you would have had some remarks to make about the climate, or your fellow-passengers, or the steamer."

"That may come later," he answered, as he watched her busying herself about making the tea.

66

"Perhaps you'll clear the table?” she said to him, "and get the cups and sau

cers, and the sugar out of the cupboard. Tell me about yourself; you look a little better. Do you feel better?

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"You know I have no illusions about myself," he said with strange indifference, as he placed the cups and saucers and the sugar-bowl on the table. "I have only a few months to live, and when I got out to Australia, it suddenly struck me what a fool I was to take all the trouble of going there, just for the sake of prolonging my life for a few paltry months. After all, what are a few months in the long-run ? Surely it is better to have the shorter time with the surroundings one cares for, and near the work to which one has given one's whole life. There is some comfort in being near the work, even if one cannot do it."

He held the teapot for her to pour the boiling water into, and then she drew her chair nearer to the table.

"And then," he continued, "I thought how selfish my choice was. There I was, out in Australia, doing no one any good, and at least, if I were at home, I might be giving the best of my help to those who might be glad to have such help. It seemed such an utter waste of my abilities, such an utter waste of all my studying. And then I thought of you.'

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She was leaning back in her armchair, and did not look up, even at his last words.

"Yes," he answered. "I hope I did not vex you. I could not bear to think that you were to be put to the extra expense because of me. But I see you are vexed."

"No," she answered, smiling frankly at him. "If I were vexed at that, I should not be able to understand any kind of poetry and chivalry. You have always been good to me, and I have never been a credit to you. But you must not say that my failure was owing to you, for it was entirely owing to my own stupidity and to my over-fatigue. Still I was disappointed. One always does hope for success. it is a serious thing for any one working for a livelihood to be kept back a whole year. And I lost the chance of an appointment which was to depend on my success in the Intermediate Science."

And

"I did not answer your letter which an nounced your failure," he said, "because I felt that there was nothing to be said on the subject. But, you know, there are other failures in the world. Look at my own."

"Ah! do not say that," she said eagerly; "no one who has done good work, as you have done, can be said to have failed.'

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"But I have had no time," he said im patiently.

"What is time?" she asked, smiling sadly. "You yourself said that a few months more or less made no difference."

"But that is when a man is doomed," he said. "When he is doomed, the sooner he goes the better. But, for my own part, I seemed to be played out before I had a chance of playing myself in. It is maddening to have opportunity, and tal

"And then I thought of you," he repeated, "and I remembered how you worked all the day, and how you studied against such odds, with all your highschool teaching to do as well. And the idea seized me, that I should like to help you, and see you safely through your ex-ent, and ambition, and to be denied time amination this time."

Again she pushed the hair back from her forehead, and still she did not look up. She seemed to be thinking.

"I took your failure to heart, last year," he said, as he balanced his tea-spoon on his finger. "I believe I gave careless lessons, for at times I felt almost too ill to teach well. I never thought that you had a genius for mathematics; but all the same, I felt as though you had failed because of me. And I wish you to pass, because, when you have once taken your degree, or even part of it, your whole position in the teaching world will be altered, and you will not have to drudge."

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"Mr. Annerley," she said suddenly, soon after you had gone, I went to the New College to pay in my fees. I found I had been forestalled. You paid them for me, did you not?"

and strength. And then to think of the many people in the world who do not make the best use of their strength, and who complain of time hanging heavily on them. Good God! if one might take from them both time and strength!"

He pushed the teacup impatiently away from him. "But there now!" he said. "I hate grumblers, and I have not come to talk about myself. I want to hear what you have been doing in my absence. By the way, you had done one of those problems most disgracefully; indeed I think your mistake there was unpardonable." As he spoke, he showed her the corrections he had made. "You ought to have known better than this," he said; "it is a careless piece of work, enough to dishearten any teacher."

"I do not want to excuse myself," she said; "but lately I have been so worried

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and overwrought, that my own private | spirited man would have resented. But I study has suffered in consequence."

"But you redeemed yourself here," he said, pointing to the problem which had met with his approval. "That is really neatly and elegantly done, enough to enCourage any teacher. Ah! I am glad I have come home. I am going to make you help me to fulfil my one remaining ambition."

"And what is that?" she asked.

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My one remaining ambition," he said, half to himself, "is that you should pass your examination. For this purpose, I wish you to accept my help in your work, as long as I am able to give it. I have always had the deepest reverence for you, Miss Hurst, and wish all good things to fall to your share. Such knowledge as I have, I should like to leave behind as a legacy to you, to make life easier for you. Independent natures do not care to be under obligations to any one, I know well; but if you would be generous enough to accept my help, you would make these few remaining weeks very beautiful for

me."

Her hand rested gently on his.

never thought it worth while to be agitated about, or disappointed with, men or things. Humanity might be unsatisfactory, but I never found hyperbolæ unsatisfactory. Ellipses were always my consistent friends."

Gertrude Hurst laughed. "Perhaps it all depended on the way in which the hyperbolæ and ellipses were treated," she said. 66 Perhaps you understand them better than humanity. With all due respect to you, I prefer humanity."

"We have never been able to agree on that subject," he said, smiling. It is no use whatever to pin one's faith to humanity; it is much better to believe in hyperbola."

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"Well, like every one else," she said, 'you are a contradiction to yourself, for you are always interesting yourself in humanity. My own case, for instance; if you find every one so disappointing, why should you take the trouble to interest yourself in me?

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"You are something quite apart," he answered quietly. "I regard you very much in the way that I do the choicest curves. All things considered, I should think you could not be disappointing."

She shook her head deprecatingly. "To

said, as she turned to her exercise-book.

66

"Indeed I accept it," she said quietly. "I am glad you have come back, for your companionship was always a pleasure to me, Mr. Annerley. And then, too, al-know is the beginning of sorrow," she though you knew how to scold me, you also knew how to encourage me. That is what your pupils have always said of you. I think it must be a real comfort to you in your trouble, to know how your pupils have felt for you, and how they have missed you too. The new master at the New College had a very difficult position to fill when he took your place amongst us. And though he did his best for us all, he had not that sympathy which makes teaching a success, nor that enthusiasm which can turn mathematics into real poetry. If you only knew how we had missed you, you must needs have been gratified.”

"Well, I shall not have much time to know," he said with sad humor; so just allow yourself to remain on the list of the choicest curves. Do you mind me sitting quietly here, while you finish correcting your books? And then, if you are not too tired, we might perhaps have a mathemat ical lesson with which to finish up the evening. And meanwhile I will read one of these treatises on socialism, and try to become interested in all those new theories. No wonder you are over-tired, if you crowd so much into your life. You ought to be content with your own per

"You speak very kindly to me," he an-sonal work." swered, as he shook his head; "but there "I cannot go on correcting books if you is really no comfort in what you say. The go on talking like that," she said, "and I only comfort is in work, and I envy those am just engaged on two particularly bad who can do it. If they can do it, they are specimens of Latin prose. You always not to be pitied, even if they have lost irritate me when you pretend to take a everything else that people value, such as narrow view of life. Why, if I had not faith, and love, and friendship. I have interests apart from my own personal work, always thought that as long as one could I should be utterly miserable; and bework, nothing else mattered. The little sides, to be interested in anything outside worries of life passed by me unheeded, one's self, saves one from one's self. It simply because I always said: 'Ah, there is always such a difficulty to get away remains my work.' I believe I was often from one's self; and that has always considered wanting in proper dignity be- seemed to me the loveliest part of Buddhcause I let things slip which any proper-ism. I think it was Buddha who spoke

LIVING AGE.

VOL. LXXIX. 4054

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