The scientific genius which could have enabled a man in those days thus to have anticipated the temper of modern thought, appears to me entitled to our highest veneration. Here, perhaps, more than anywhere else, he showed his instinctive appreciation of the objective methods; and here it is that the longest time has been taken for mankind to awaken to the truth of his appreciation. In subsequent centuries, when European thought drifted away from science into theology, the question was long and warmly debated whether or not Aristotle believed in the immortality of the soul. The truth of the matter is that his deliverances upon this question are more scarce than clear. The following brief passage, however, appears to show that he regarded the thinking principle, as distinguished from the animal soul, to be virtually independent of the corporeal organization: Only the intellect enters from without. It alone is god-like. Its actuality has nothing in common with the corporeal actuality.' 66 Aristotle appears to have been the first philosopher who at all appreciated the importance of heredity as a principle, not only in natural history, but also in psychology; for he distinctly affirms that the children of civilized communities are capable of a higher degree of intellectual cultivation than are children of savages. Among his other more noteworthy enunciations of general truths, we may notice the following: "The advantage of physiological division of labor was first set forth," says Milne-Edwards, "by myself in 1827;," yet Aristotle had said repeatedly that it is preferable when possible to have a separate organ for a separate office; and that nature never, if she can help it, makes one organ answer two purposes, as a cheap artist makes "spit and candlestick in one." Again, that the complexity of life varies with the complexity of organization; that the structural differences of the alimentary organs are correlated with differences of the animal's alimentation; that no animal without lungs has a voice, and that no animal is endowed with more than one adequate means of defence; that there is an inverse relation between the development of horns and of teeth, as also between growth and generation; that no dipterous insect has a sting; that the embryo is evolved by a succession of gradual changes from a homogeneous mass into a complete organism; that the development of an organism is a progress from a general to a special form; these and numerous others are instances of generalization made by Aristotle, which have lasted, with but slight modifications of his terms, to the present day.* Of these generalizations the most remarkable is the last which I have mentioned. For one of the greatest and most momentous controversies which the history of science has afforded is that which took place nearly two thousand years after the time of Aristotle, with regard to socalled evolution versus epigenesis. The question was whether the germ or egg of any organism contained the future or young organism already formed in miniature, and only requiring to be expanded in order to appear as the perfect organism, or whether the process of development consisted in a progress from the indefinite to the definite, from the simple to the complex, from what we call undifferentiated protoplasm to the fully differentiated animal. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, when this subject was most warmly debated, the balance of scientific opinion inclined to what is now known to be the erroneous view that the germ is merely the adult organism in miniature. It therefore speaks greatly in favor of Aristotle's sagacity that he clearly and repeatedly expressed the opinion which is now known to be right, viz., that the or ganism develops out of its germ by a series of differentiations. And not only with reference to this doctrine of epigenesis, but likewise throughout the whole course of his elaborate treatise on generation, be displays such wonderful powers both of patient observation and accurate scientific reasoning, that this treatise deserves to be regarded as the most remarkable of all his remarkable works pertaining to biology. The subject-matter of it is not, however, suited to any detailed consideration within the limits imposed by an article; and therefore I will merely back the gen. eral opinion which I have just given by quoting that of the most severe and exacting of all Aristotle's critics from the side of science-severe and exacting, indeed, to a degree which is frequently unjust; I mean the late George Henry Lewes. This is what he says of the treatise on "Generation :". RE speculative insight. We there find some of Looking to the enormous range of his the obscurest problems of Biology treated work in biology alone; remembering that with a mastery which, when we consider the in this work he had had no predecessors; condition of Science at that day, is truly aston- considering that at the same time he was ishing. . . . I know no better eulogy to pass thus a single-handed collector of facts, and on Aristotle than to compare his work with the "Exercitations concerning Generation" a single-minded thinker upon their import; of our immortal Harvey. The founder of it becomes evident that Aristotle would modern physiology was a man of keen insight, have been something more than human, of patient research, of eminently scientific if either his observations or his reasonmind. His work is superior to that of Arisings could everywhere be justly compared totle in some few anatomical details; but it is so inferior to it in philosophy, that at the present day it is much more antiquated, much less accordant with our views. I have now said enough to convey a general idea of the enormous range of Aristotle's work within the four corners of biology; his amazing instincts of scientific method, and his immense power of grasp ing generalizations. While doing this I have selected instances of his accuracy rather than of his inaccuracy, not only because it is in the former that he stands in most conspicuous contrast with all preceding, and with most succeeding, philosophers of antiquity; but also because it is here that we may be most sure of according justice. Where we meet with statements of fact which are accurate, we may be satisfied that we are in immediate contact with the mind of Aristotle himself; but when we meet with inaccurate statements we must not be so sure of this. Not only is it probable that in the great majority of these cases he has been misled by erroneous information supplied to him by travellers, fishermen, and others; but there is good reason to suppose that in some places his MSS. may have been tampered with. These were hidden underground for the better part of two centuries, and when they were eventually brought to light, Apellicon, into whose hands they fell, "felt no scruples in correcting what had been worm-eaten, and supplying what was defective or illegible."* Thus, to quote Dr. Ogle, who suggests the view here taken: "Is it possible to believe that the same eye that has distinguished the cetacea from the fishes, that had detected their hidden mammæ, discovered their lungs, and recognized the distinct character of their bones, should have been so blind as to fancy that the mouth of these animals was on the under surface of the body?" And so on with other cases. Inaccuracies of observation, however, there must have been; and there must have been inaccuracies of reasoning. • See Grote's Aristotle, 1, 51. with those of scientific genius when more favorably circumstanced. But it is the glory of Aristotle that both his observations and his reasonings can stand such comparison as well as they do. For when on the one hand we remember the immensity of his achievement, and on the other hand reflect that he was worse than destitute of any ancestral experience of method, born into a world of mysticism, nurtured in the school of Plato, therefore compelled himself to forge the intellectual instruments of research, himself to create the very conception of scientific inquiry,when we thus remember and thus reflect, it appears to me there can be no question that Aristotle stands forth, not only as the greatest figure of antiquity, but as the greatest intellect that has ever appeared upon the face of this earth. The overmastering power with which this intellect swayed the course of subsequent thought was in one respect highly beneficial to the interests of science; but in another respect it was no less deleterious. It was beneficial in so far as it revealed to mankind the true method of science as objective and not subjective. It was deleterious inasmuch as the very magnitude of its force reduced the intellect of Europe for centuries afterwards to a condition of abject slavery. Nothing is more deleterious to the interests of science than undue regard to authority. Before all else the spirit of science must be free; it must be unfettered by the chains of prejudice, whether these be forged by our own minds or manufactured for us by the minds of others. Her only allegiance is that which she owes to nature; to man she owes nothing, and here, as elsewhere, it is impossible to serve two masters. Therefore, the only use of authority in science is to furnish men of less ability with suggestions which, as suggestions, may properly be considered more worthy of testing by the objective methods on account of their parentage in the minds of genius. But it is an evil day for science when such parentage is taken as in itself a sufficient warrant for the truth of the ideas which have been born of it; for then it is that authority is allowed to usurp the place of verification; instead of her true motto, "Prove all things," science thus adopts its very opposite-Only believe." Now the whole history of science has been more or less blotted by this baleful influence of authority which even in our own days is far from having been wholly expunged. But in no part of her history has this influence been exerted in any degree at all comparable with that which was thrown over her, like a shadow, by Aristotle. Partly owing to the magnitude of his genius, but still more, I think, to the predominance of the spirit in the dark ages which regarded submission to authority as an intellectual virtue; through all these ages stood to science the name of Aristotle in very much the same relation as stood to religion the name of God. His writings on purely scientific subjects were regarded as well-nigh equivalent to a revelation; and, therefore, the study of nature became a mere study of Aristotle. There was almost a total absence of any independent inquiry in any one department of science, and even in cases where the utterances of Aristotle were obscure, the men of intellect who disputed over his meanings never thought of appealing to nature herself for a solution. They could only view nature through the glasses which had been given them by Aristotle; and, therefore, the only questions with which they troubled themselves were those as to the exact meaning of their oracle. It is, of course, only fair to add that Aristotle himself was in no way responsible for this evil effect of his work. The spirit in which his work was thus received was quite alien to that in which it had been accomplished; and alike by precept and example he was himself the most noble opponent of the former that the world has ever produced. And therefore I doubt not that if Aristotle could have been brought back to life during the Middle Ages, he would have made short work of the Aristotelians, by himself becoming their bitterest foe. For listen to his voice, which upon this as upon so many other matters speaks with the spirit of truest philosophy speaks, moreover with the honesty of a great and beautiful nature; let us listen to what this master mind has told us of its own labors, and with a veneration more worthy than that of the Aristotelians let us bow before the man who said these words: much thought and hard labor. It must be looked at as a first step, and judged with indulgence. You, my readers or hearers of my lectures, if you think I have done as much as can fairly be required for an initiatory start, as compared with more advanced de partments of theory, will acknowledge what I have achieved, and pardon what I have left for others to accomplish. GEORGE J. ROMANES. From The Nineteenth Century. THE FATHER OF ALL THE GOATS. IT was not the search for forgotten sites or treasures of marble, a passion which tempts so many learned and enterprising men to visit Asia Minor, but the desire to hunt a rock-haunting ibex, dwelling on certain mountain ranges in that country, which took me there with two companions at the end of last October. Once only during the month which we spent in those regions did we leave this absorbing pursuit to pay a duty visit to the lime-laden waters, pink and white terraces, and earthquake-riven basilicas of the ancient baths of Hierapolis. These pages have therefore, no higher purpose to serve than as a brief record of a hunting-trip which I found very interesting, even though the results from a sporting point of view were rather inadequate. The Capra Egagrus is believed by naturalists to have deserved the title with which I have headed this article beyond any other wild type of goat. Mentioned by Homer as being abundant in the gaan Islands, in some of which it still exists, its habitat ranges thence at the present day from the Egæan Sea, through Asia Minor and Persia, into Afghanistan, and therefore in close proximity to the most forward civilizations of ancient times. It is thus not surprising that the various breeds of tame goat, however modified by man, should in many respects "favor," as they say in the eastern countries, this ancestry. The scimitar horn curving over the back, the black shoulder-stripe of the old males, the beard, not worn by all species of ibex, are its most distinguishing characteristics. As an old Turk put it to me: "Why do you come all the way from England to shoot a little goat not worth two medjids?" The truest answer would perhaps be that the old "billy" of the species who is caged at the Zoo is a particular friend of mine. His high-bred appearance and pugnacious habits, and the fact that he is occasionally, when in his tantrums, chained up to avoid a great salt lake ten miles long and five his damaging attacks on his prison-miles broad, or rather an expanse of white damaging, that is, to his own handsome salt slime, for as we saw it, at the end of a head - perhaps first suggested that he long drought, but a fraction of its surface was a gentleman of character whose ac- was covered with water, and that, whatquaintance it was desirable to make. Be ever the weather on the mountain, was that as it may, a hunting expedition to always as still as glass, reflecting the obtain this goat had long been among my white cliffs of the Suut Dagh or Milk keenly desired projects. Mountain, three leagues away. If there came a shower of rain, which happened later, it lay in a thin sheet of water over the whole area and transformed it for the time into the semblance of a bank-full In three places at the edge were swamps, where a scanty supply of undrinkable water oozed from the base of the mountain and was trodden into mud. For along this strip of plain was carried not only the newly opened railway, but an important caravan route, and trains of camels, donkeys, and bullock-carts with solid wooden wheels were continually passing. The harsh "klonk-klonk" of innumerable wild geese and the plaintive notes of curlew and plover constantly arose from these swamps, and to them also must have come the ibex for their only drinking place, for the whole face of the mountain was as dry as a captain's biscuit. On one occasion one of our followers saw some drinking there in broad daylight. By dint of pertinacious inquiry from the few travellers who have sought out the haunts of the animal I had an accurate general knowledge of the ranges where he must be sought. But this second-hand | lake. learning would not have sufficed if I had not been assisted on the spot. With such zeal did her Majesty's vigorous representative at Smyrna second my project, that one would think that my success was of international importance. Unfortunately for the extent of my bag, the limits of my absence from England -a rigid six weeks - precluded me from reaching the best ground, which is the chain of the Taurus forming the rock-bound southern coast of Asia Minor. Nearly a fortnight more of my scanty time would have been consumed in the to and fro of this journey, and the cholera creeping up that coast introduced an element of uncertain delay which I could not afford to risk. I had, therefore, to aim at the second best, which I knew to be a certain find. This was called the Maimun Dagh or Monkey Mountain, a small but isolated range on the Aidin railway, and about two hundred miles from the coast. I hoped that, once on the spot, I should be able to hear of alternative ranges inhabited by this goat, but, except to a very limited extent, this did not prove to be so. The railway kings of Smyrna can do most things that they wish, and, thanks to their friendly co-operation, we reached Chardak, a station close to one end of the mountain, five minutes under the week from London, travelling via Athens; and the return journey by Constantinople was accomplished almost exactly in the same time. Here we were at one end of a precipitous range seven or eight miles in length. These cliffs rose abruptly from the plain to a height of about fifteen hundred feet, and at their base we pitched our camp. An angle in the rocks made an excellent fireplace, and a little cave a convenient cellar where we kept our supply of water. This had to be brought to us daily from the nearest village, five miles off, for the mountain was, at the time of our visit, waterless. In front, a narrow strip of plain divided us from the basin of At sunrise a faint unpleasant odor always came up from these marshes, sug. gesting a liberal use of quinine; but we were assured that at this elevation — between two thousand and three thousand feet- we need not fear fever. While pitching our camp, we were engaged in clearing the projecting stones from the sites of the tents. One of my followers was busy over a particularly obstinate one with his heavy iron-shod alpenstock, and at length turned up, with much labor, a large living tortoise, which had buried itself there for the winter. It lay on its back, meekly kicking its legs in the air, while the Frenchman blushed up to the roots of his hair with surprise and disgust. Above, on the higher rocks, were great quantities of eagles and vultures. On one occasion I counted nine circling close to me, and high above them a great crane wheeling in similar fashion, with his long legs sticking out behind as the herons at home are wont to carry theirs. The vultures had a curious habit of diving straight into deep fissures in the cliffs and disappearing with a clumsy plunge of wings. Then they would waddle to the outer edge and stretch out their cadaverous white necks. Great quantities of partridges lived on the lower cliffs. Dur. | broidered and sleeveless cloak that hung ing the heat of the day they lay close, and were perfectly silent; but about an hour before sunset they would all wake suddenly into life, as if at a given signal, and begin strutting and talking so that you might think it was No. 15 committee room. Besides our three selves, my party comprised Celestin, my constant companion on such trips, who has appeared before in these pages, and Benjamin both hailing from the Pyrenees. Our following, as happens on these trips, was rather a large one, and the commissariat required some foresight and generalship, for the country does not produce much that is acceptable to European palates. Our cook, who was distinguished by the title of Hadji, having once visited Mecca, seemed to think that all further effort in life was unnecessary, and that Providence would send whatever it was fated that we should receive; but his manners, I must say, were beautiful, and he had a sweet, responsive smile. Omar, a fine young Turk from the neighboring village, knew something about hunting, and I got very fond of him, though our communications were confined to dumb-crambo. During the whole trip I only encountered one Turk whose behavior was rough. Indeed, he was a Yuruk. The genuine Turk had nearly always the manners of a courtier. This exception was Meflut, another hunter of repute from Chardak, whom we employed for certain drives, and whose whole manner expressed the rooted opinion that dogs of Christians were only fit to act as stops for the likes of him; but even he softened to the diplomatic flatteries of F., who addressed him perseveringly as my pet lamb," " my suckingdove." My preconceived notions of Christian and Turk received a rude shock. Up here there were scarcely any native Christians, but nearer the coast they abounded. A more villainous-looking lot I never saw, but it was 'probably only the scum that gathered at the railway-stations, and one should not generalize in this way. 66 But I have still to describe the most important member of my staff. I had heard before my arrival that a "retired brigand" had been secured for our service and protection. This description was literally true, but we had no reason to regret the selection. We picked up old "Bouba at a station on our journey inland; and so true to the character was his appearance and dress, including his em down his shoulders, that as the train drew along the platform we "spotted" him instantly among the crowd, most of whom could have played the stage-villain at a moment's notice. Whatever Bouba's crimes may have been—and they would certainly have filled a book—since his wind got short, and for other reasons, he had become a reformed if not a repentant character. We found him a solid and reliable person, and good company withal. A popular favorite throughout that country, his moral weight would certainly carry him in at the head of the poll if there were a school board election. I never found out his real name "Bouba" means father, and is simply a familiar term of affection, much as you say "Grand Old Man." He would sit all day smoking cigarettes in the tent, with a benign smile on his face, but any little emergency galvanized the phlegmatic cavass into an energetic leader of men whose word was law with high and low, and he never failed us. His Martini rifle was rarely laid aside, and he would without doubt have used it in our behalf if necessary. It would have taken bim some time to use up all his cartridges, which he carried in an enormous belt right round his rather stout person. When he got to know us pretty well I drew his story from him one night, with the assistance of the Greek station-master. He told it in a matter-of-fact style, without apparent regret, and at the same time without affectation or "side." It was confirmed by people of authority; besides, I never knew him to tell a lie. Very likely he minimized his little escapades. 66 Why did you take to the mountains, Bouba?" He gave a fat chuckle. "It was because of a woman. There was a girl that I was intimate with — I was very fond of her. A man came and took her away. I went after him to his house and struck him." (He did not say what he struck him with). "Two days after he happened to die. Then the authorities tried to catch me, but I was always escaping out of the back door and coming back at night. So when they found they could not catch me they put my father in prison, and then my brother; and I thought I had better go quite away. I was for one year by myself about the mountains, picking up what I could get. I could not at first find any companions that were any good for that sort of work. Then came the time for the conscription. Many ran away to escape being drawn, so I got some good men. There were nine of us, and |