sister-in-law who are poseurs, would-be intellectuals and dilettanti scholars. Doris, the daughter, has fallen in love with an anarchist artisan who earns £5 a week. Before the first act closes Wilfrid Callender, the 'anarchist,' admits to the father that he has been deceiving Doris. He is no anarchist and has a large income. The second act is laid in the living-room of David Effick, an eccentric anarchist, whose daughter, Rose, loves Callender. She decides, after inspecting her rival, to capture Callender's heart.

"The last act, like an infinite number-of other last acts, is a very weak affair, notwithstanding the remark of a young woman spectator who clasped her hands together excitedly and exclaimed: 'Goody, goody, he's going to marry her!' True, Rose is about to marry the imitation anarchist, but why all the excitement? No

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251

For an example of a play whose author has mastered the secret of getting his work talked about and whose masterpiece has just been given in New York, one must go to William Shakespeare. His "Hamlet" was presented at the Forty - Fourth Street Theater the other night by Robert Mantell, and from the mass of printed matter to which the effort has given rise let us select what Mr. Mantell said to an interviewer for the New York Review-it illustrates so completely the point we have been making:

""The big thing about Shakespeare,' said Mr. Mantell, when I found him in

""That is good news, where can we find him?'

"In the heart of every human beingin every audience. There are dozens of Hamlets in every audience I play to. I will wager that there was a King John out in front to-night, more than one Constance, and goodness knows how many Romeos and Juliets. That is the secret and ran the gamut of human nature. of Shakespeare's appeal. He wrote life There is not a person alive in the world to-day who cannot find his prototype in one of Shakespeare's dramas.'"

And Mr. Mantell might have added that even the Suffragettes are represented in Shakespeare's gallery.

S a picture-play "The Birth of a Nation" impresses the Reverend Dr. Thomas B. Gregory, writing in the N. Y. American, sufficiently to make him affirm that it is by all odds the greatest thing that has ever come to New York. In this masterpiece of motion-picture production, he says, we may see something of the possibilities of the art

as an educator of the human race through the most royal of the senses,

the eye.

The historical drama called

men

"The Birth of a Nation," presented through the medium of moving pictures in the Liberty Theater (New York) just eight years after Thomas Dixon's dramatic arrangement of his novel, "The Clansman," from which this new piece was made, was acted on the same stage for the first time. To create this wonderful spectacle of "The Birth of a Nation," Mr. D. W. Griffith, the producer, employed the services of eighteen thousand and women, and over three thousand horses. Miles of film were used to catch detail. every Cities were built and scenes of historical interest were reproduced in every particular. Battlefields were again laid out and registered upon the camera. Mr. Griffith and his forces were eight months making the pictures. They traveled over the sections in which the story is located, and reproduced the scenes with rigid fidelity. Thousands of works of historical and official value were care

THE MOVIES

the Civil War. They cover scenes North and South preceding the war (life in the South on a cotton plantation and anti-slavery meetings in the North), lurid battle-scenes of the war itself, and the throes of the reconstruction period. To quote further from Dr. Gregory:

"The trench fighting before Petersburg is also represented by a series of pictures that are simply amazing in their production of warfare as we know it in books

18,000 CHARACTERS IN IT

D. W. Griffith, producer of "The Birth of a Nation."

The scenes represent the welding of a loose union of sovereign states into a real nation in the Titanic forge of

and war pictures. No photographs that have come from Europe of the present sobering effect with these Mr. Griffiths war can compare for thrilling horror and 'composed' and which were 'fought' under his direction with that of the military offi

cers who helped him with their technical knowledge.

"The assassination of President Lin

coln, which brings the first part to a close, also shows some extraordinary pictures of the interior of Ford's Theater with 'Our American Cousin' being acted, the movements of the actors on the stage, of the throng comprising the audience suggesting nothing but the great tragedy itself, with never a blur of artificiality anywhere in the pictures.

"The second part, with Reconstruction scenes and the machinations of Austin Stoneman and his mulatto satellite, Silas Lynch; the riding of the Ku Klux Klan and the saving of both the Camerons and Elsie Stoneman by this organization, is equally remarkable for its effectiveness. as pictures and as dramatic representations of the course of the story. The assembling of the masked riders and their riding through the country and into the town of Piedmont had the spectators of the play on their tiptoes with excitement; and no melodramatic trooper riding in with the reprieve at the last moment ever received heartier applause than did these pictured riders as they reached the Camerons and Elsie Stoneman just in the nick of time."

That the story as told by the pictures is true the Reverend Doctor Gregory is ready to swear on the Bible, the Koran, the Zend and all the other "Holy Scriptures" put together. He knows it is true because he lived through the actual realities themselves. He saw the real carpet-baggers, the real "New Voters," the real reconstruction "Statesmen," the real Ku Klux Klanners. He is prepared to say that not one of the more than five thousand pictures that go to make up the wonderful drama is in any essential way an exaggeration. They are one and all faithful to historic fact, he says, so that, looking upon them, you may feel that you are beholding that which actually happened.

F

ROM the very earliest times, philosophers have discussed the special characteristics of living bodies, and they have tried to establish a fundamental difference between the organic and the inorganic. They have likewise tried to draw sharp distinctions between human beings and the rest of the animal world. They regarded the universe as graded in successive and distinct orders of priority: man, animals and plants, minerals.

Between each of these classes there was supposed to be complete discontinuity. The theory of evolution broke down one of the great divisions-that between animals and man. The progress of science now threatens speedily to break down the other great division —that between organic and inorganic. The assertion is made, at any rate, by the distinguished Professor Hugh Elliot, whose work in biology and chemistry, as well as physiology, has tended to put him forth as the champion of the materialists in contemporary thought. It may be admitted, he writes in London Science Progress, that there is complete material continuity in evolution from the most primitive forms of inorganic matter to the most advanced forms of organic matter; and from the properties of the most elementary substances to the manifestations of the highest forms of life. Under this view the manifestations of life are considered as simply the physical and chemical properties of the highly complex substances composing living mat

ter:

"It is alleged on the other hand that this continuity is only a material continuity that living bodies manifest a mental or spiritual life of which no counterpart exists in inorganic bodies that this new spiritual factor appears for the first

FACTOR IN LIFE

as the dividing line between organic and inorganic.

"The whole problem is nevertheless a survival of medieval modes of thought, possessing no greater reality than the cognate problem as to the site of the soul. It rests upon a totally false conception of the relation between mind and matter. It is based upon the assumption that the universe exhibits two agencies, by which all events are brought to pass. The one agency is that dealt with in our mechanics, physics, and chemistry: it works by an absolutely uniform and invariable procedure, which has been to formulated as the laws of science. some extent analyzed, crystallized, and The other supposed agency is the spiritual: it works in a wholly capricious and arbitrary manner, displays no kind of uniformity, and is by its very nature incapable of reduction to any scientific laws."

Many classes of events, previously unaccountable and arbitrary, fall into their place in the expanding system of scientific laws. They were perceived not to be haphazard after all, but to follow strictly uniform sequences, so that in simple cases their occurrence could with entire confidence be prophesied beforehand. For these classes of events there was no further occasion for the assumption of spirits, which accordingly were discarded as a means of explanation. But many other classes of events remained, not so easily correlated with any recognizable laws; and for the explanation of these spiritual influence was still retained. As these more complex events continued to yield before increasing knowledge, the conception ultimately arose that all events are in reality the product of natural law. No sooner was this conception reached than it was applied to the most extreme case of arbitrary events the activities and conduct of man. It had always been extremely

the material body? Do we not know that our actions are controlled largely by mental processes and can not therefore be a necessary product of our material organization?

"Notwithstanding these truly formidable difficulties, philosophers and men of science boldly affirmed that all manifestations of life were subject to the same uniformities and inevitable sequences, which had received the name of natural laws. They asserted that all conduct or acts are the necessary outcome of our material organization, and that they are not in the smallest degree affected by mind or any similar entity, in so far as any such entity is a separate thing from our bodily functions. Thus there arose two separate schools of thinkers, one of whom affirmed that all the manifestations of life are physico-chemical in character, while the other alleged that a mental or spiritual force acts in cooperation with the material forces known to science, which forces alone are inadequate to furnish an explanation of the observed phenomena. The latter school are now commonly known as vitalists, while the former have often been described as mechanists.”

The whole subject has now been carried to a far higher level of discussion by the advance of physiology, and the question has become definitely a physiological problem. It is obvious indeed that the agencies at work in human activity can be properly investigated only by the science which deals with the nature of organic functions:

"The mechanist begins by pointing out that the whole course of science has led and the regular and uninterrupted substito the adoption of material forces alone, tution of material agencies for the spiritual agencies so copiously invoked by un

civilized races. Whereas in former times every kind of natural event, from the movements of the planets to the blowing of a wind, were attributed to spiritual agency, the progress of science has in

and that at the point of its appearance there must be a true discontinuity, which abruptly and fundamentally severs those bodies which have it from those which do not have it. Opinion has differed widely as to the precise point at which this supposed transition has occurred. Descartes placed it between men and other animals. He regarded all animals except man as soulless machines, devoid of sensation or any kind of feeling. Lamarck placed it between his classes of worms and insects,

where he imagined the earliest traces of a nervous system appeared. Modern philosophers are inclined to place it at a still earlier stage, and in fact to mark it

and behavior were controlled by the ordinary material laws of cause and effect, and, in short, that all human activities were simply a special manifestation of physical and chemical processes which, altho of incredible intricacy, yet worked out their effects with the same fatal and absolute necessity that characterizes the most elementary phenomena of the inorganic world. Such a belief, moreover, seemed to be directly contradicted by introspection; for are we not conscious of possessing a mind altogether separate and distinct from

set up a material agency in its place. Whatever the universe may be in its ultimate character-and that is a question which does not concern us-the isolated events occurring in it hang together on strictly materialistic lines. The universality of cause and effect is broken in not one single instance.

"In so far as the functions of living

beings have been brought within the range of observation and experiment, they are found to conform with the most absolute

rigor to the uniformity of law which holds good in the inorganic world. The older vitalists used to urge that an organism is a center of activity, a perpetual fountain

of energy, that it creates mechanical power, which outside the organic world can neither be created nor destroyed. They knew this by introspection: we can raise our arm by an effort of the will—

there is the spiritual cause, followed by the material creation of energy. But the It is not the will answer was obvious. that moves the muscle, but the nerves running to it. It is not even the will that stimulates the nerves. They are stimulated by other nervous processes within the brain, and with these processes the spiritual will has no more to do than an inert and accompanying shadow. The nervous processes are the counterpart of the will, and indistinguishable from it. When we say that the will moves the arm, the true facts are that the cerebral processes associated with the will effect the movement. The organism thus presents no exception to the law of conservation of energy. It is found by actual experiment that the quantity of energy emanating from the organism is precisely equal to that absorbed into the organism mainly in the form of chemical energy in the food. The organism as a whole is proved to be a machine for the transformation of energy, in which the food is the fuel."

Modern researches into the physiology of the nervous system indicate that the reflex arc is the functional unit of the system, and indeed that the system has been built up in the course of evolution by the multiplication of reflex arcs, and their superimposition upon one another to a degree of almost infinite number and complexity. In the simple, typical reflex arc- which by the way is an abstraction nowhere found in nature, tho none the less a useful conception-a stimulus at one end of the arc is conveyed down an “afferent" nerve to the central ganglion, whence proceeds a further impulse along an "efferent" nerve to, say, a muscle, which thereupon undergoes contraction. The contraction of the muscle is de

J

WAR UNDER WATER

pendent upon the original stimulus and follows necessarily and fatally upon that stimulus by means of some nervous process of a physico-chemical nature. Given this reflex arc preparation in a fit functional condition, the effect is bound to follow the cause, and the whole process works with the same inevitable certainty as the law of gravitation:

"In order to obtain a conception of a nerve impulse, let us take a large number of billiard balls and arrange them in a straight line at a few inches' distance from each other. Let us now propel one of the balls at the end of the line against the center of the next ball. What happens? The end ball gives up its entire motion to the second ball: the end ball comes to a dead stop, while the second ball carries on the motion to the third. In this way the original impulse travels right down the line: each ball in turn takes up the motion from the one behind it, and passes it on to the one in front, immediately coming to rest itself. At the end of the experiment all the balls will remain in the same straight line and at the same distances from one another as at first, except, of course, for the last ball of all, which will travel away with precisely the same velocity that was originally impressed upon the first ball.

"Now this, of course, is a very rough representation of the nervous impulse. It symbolizes the fact, however, that, in the nervous impulse, something is passed on from molecule to molecule. That some

thing is not motion, indeed; it appears to be some kind of electromotive change: but whatever it is, the molecule or other unit of the nerve-substance passes it on, and then immediately reverts to its former quiescence.

"Now the vitalistic conception requires and affirms that at certain points in the

propagation of impulses a vital or spiritual force intervenes and causes a diversion of the current from the channel into which the material forces would be themselves have guided it. With the help

253

of our analogy of the billiard balls we may visualize the process. Each ball passes on its motion to its next neighbor as described. All at once, in the midst of the series, one of the balls, instead of

traveling forward in the direction conferred upon it, moves off at a totally new angle at a right angle to the line, for instance and carries off the impulse perhaps to some other series of balls in the neighborhood. Or we may suppose that a ball, before it has been struck, moves off of its own accord and begins hitting other balls, thus conferring upon them a motion which had no material origin.

"Were such an event to occur on a billiard table, we should at once assume some peculiarity in the table or in the make of the ball, to account for the phenomenon. But by hypothesis all physical explanations are ruled out. We are in the presence of a miracle: ghosts are at work

genuine ghosts which no investigation can ever convert into rats-good, honest ghosts which cannot be precipitated by any known chemical reagent."

Now this is the event, says the scientist whose words are here set down, which the vitalists allege to occur. The vitalists ascribe it, no doubt, not to billiard balls but to processes in the brain which can not be seen; but that makes no difference. Their main contention is that the physical sequences are hung up and diverted, and that events pursue a course which is contrary to the material nature of the particles concerned. But if it be alleged that the mechanistic proposition is difficult to imagine, it may be replied, thinks Doctor Elliot, that the vitalistic proposition is impossible to imagine. For the mechanistic proposition, the only requirement is a machine of enormous elaboration and complexity, just such a machine as the developed brain appears to be. For the vitalistic proposition no machine is necessary at all and the machine which we actually find for the transmission of impulses appears to be a redundancy.

EALOUSLY guarded as are the secrets of submarine tactics, more particularly as regards the method of discharging the torpedo and the use of dry and wet batteries, it seems possible to many experts in Europe to set down definitely certain limitations besetting this type of craft. The capacities of the submarine have so caught the general imagination, as the naval expert of the Paris Figaro remarks, that an exaggerated idea of its possibilities prevails. Nevertheless, all sorts of limitations are imposed upon the submarine. The most conspicuous of these concerns the human factor. The experience of one commander helps another very little owing to the differ

ence in the aptitudes of men mechanically and because of the extreme novelty of the tactical problems presented by war under water. There is, furthermore, the paradoxical difficulty of making a submarine sink swiftly enough. Most landsmen have an impression that the submarine tends to go to the bottom unexpectedly-and it does. A more serious difficulty is presented by its tendency to rise unexpectedly, if there be a failure to coordinate all maneuvers. Nor can this type of boat travel many hours at its utmost speed without rising to the surface. It is disconcertingly visible at times even when submerged. It lacks mobility in action to a surprising extent. No doubt, vast improvements

are made always. One must state conclusions cautiously, but these seem justified to our expert.

A more optimistic tone pervades the remarks of Germany's noted naval expert, Count Reventlow, who writes in the Berlin Deutsche Tageszeitung that the submarines of his country are all adapted to warfare on the high seas. He does not go into details on the ground that he must not give valuable information to the enemy. He does scout the inference that torpedos are incapable of discharge at high speed and long range from German submarines. He makes great claims for the superiority in size and mobility of the craft under Admiral von Tirpitz's orders. Such claims greatly astonish British

experts who, in some instances, seem to contradict the Count. In the words, for example, of the expert of the London Times, writing on the subject of mobility, "about fourteen knots is the highest speed of the most modern submarines on the surface when propelled by their internal combustion engines." There are, he admits, submarines now under construction with still higher speed on the surface, but not one can approach her own surface speed when submerged, the maximum speed being then considerably reduced. Moreover, the radius of action when submerged is small, being only about one hundred knots and this at a still further reduction of speed. The reason for this is that when shut down the only source of power available for propulsion is from the storage batteries, of which it is possible to carry only a limited number, owing to their great weight.

The uninitiated imagine, adds this expert in the London Times, that submarines can travel long distances while remaining always invisible. The truth

B

GOING DOWN

flected by the explosion of a shell close by it and some feet under water. The recent loss of a German submarine in the North Sea, when a British cruiser shot away its periscope and thus obliged it to come to the surface, then blew away its conning tower and sunk it, is a case in point. It is anticipated, however, that the worst enemy of the submarine will be the aeroplane, especially in clear weather. It is easier to see a considerable distance beneath the surface of the sea from a height above it than from near the surface. Scouting aeroplanes, if not flying too high, will be able to detect and report submerged submarines which would be invisible to ships unless the periscopes chanced to be seen.

The embarrassments of those aboard the submarine itself are in some respects greater than those aboard her target. That noted student of the subject, Lieut. Charles W. Domville-Fife,* dwells upon them thus:

a

"It will be readily understood that any delay in disappearing beneath the surface when attacking would be a great danger to a submarine in action. For example, number of hostile torpedoboat destroyers are scouring the sea in advance of a fleet, and are discovered at daybreak by the submarines, which are waiting to attack the fleet behind, approaching at a speed of thirty knots an hour. A hurried dive beneath the surface is necessary if the waiting submarine would avoid detection, which would, in all probability, mean destruction by the quick-firing guns of the destroyers.

is, according to him, that they can go below only over a distance of some fifty miles from their base and back at a slow speed unless they rise to the surface. When traveling on the surface they are plainly visible and would be an easy prey to any other type of warship. Now the confidence of some persons in submarines would be justified if and when these vessels could travel long distances in the submerged condition at a fair speed.

The doubtful precision of the torpedo fired from a submarine is dwelt upon by this authority. The warships sunk by such fire were all stationary

on the surface of the sea. It is well known that even with guns, the percentage of hits is small, and that there can be little doubt that with torpedoes, which can only be fired in comparatively small numbers, the percentage will be still less. Even if the protection of battleships against torpedo attack be not improved, it is still too much to count upon the annihilation of a battleship that keeps moving, however truly a submarine comes within range. A submarine can, of course, be sunk by gun fire. The course of a torpedo, when betrayed by the bubbles which rise to the surface, may be de

"When a submarine is traveling on the surface, she is in what is technically known as light condition, that is to say, with her water ballast tanks empty, but when it is required to sink her so that only the tiny platform or deck, and conning tower are above the surface, water is let into these ballast tanks, and the additional weight causes her to sink into the sea until her back is almost flush with the surface-this is known as the awash condition.

traveling awash, a "It is not difficult to perceive that when wave might at any moment roll along the tiny unprotected deck of the submarine, break over the mouth of the conning-tower, and descend like a waterspout into the interior. Were this to happen a terrible disaster might result, for it must be remembered that when traveling awash, a very little additional weight would cause the submarine to plunge beneath the surface. In order to obviate this risk it has become a rule that when proceeding with this small margin of buoyancy, the

*SUBMARINE ENGINEERING OF TO-DAY. By Charles W Domville-Fife. Philadelphia: Lippin

cott.

hatch covering the mouth of the conning-tower should be screwed down and the submarine hermetically closed, ready to sink.

"To many it may appear strange that total submergence is not accomplished by letting still more water into the ballast tanks, but entirely with the aid of the propellers and rudders. A submarine has two, and sometimes three, pairs of rudders; one pair of ordinary vertical ones to guide her to port or starboard, and a horizontal pair to cause her to dive and rise.

"In order to make the submarine dive beneath the surface, the horizontal rudders are deflected when the boat is proceeding at full speed. The action of the water against the rudders is such that the bows are forced down and the whole vessel slides under the surface. The principle is much the same as that of steering an ordinary surface vessel, where the force of the water against the rudder causes the vessel to swing to right or left."

From this it will be seen that a submarine is held below the surface only by the action of her rudders on the passing water. Should the propellers driving her along cease to revolve and the vessel slow down, she automatically rises to the surface because the rudders no longer have any effect. And of the many complicated problems involving submarines, the motive power and propelling engines have been and are still the most profound puzzles. It is quite impossible to use a petrol engine when running submerged. A second motive power, an engine, with its additional space and weight, has to be carried to drive the submarine when under water:

"For this purpose electricity is used in almost all types. But electricity, again, has many drawbacks. It costs in weight nearly thirty times more than other motive powers, and is extremely dangerous, for should salt water in any way gain access to the storage batteries, chlorine gas would be given off in large quantities, altho in the more recent vessels of the British, American, and French navies this danger has been minimized by enclosing the batteries in air-tight cases. count of the weight and the space required, it is impossible to install a very powerful electric engine in a submarine (compared with the size of the boat), and thus both the speed and radius of action are curtailed.

On ac

"If this division of power between the surface and submerged engines could be overcome, and the whole space made available for one powerful set of engines suitable for driving the vessel both on the surface and when submerged, not only

ODD FISH

W®

HAT the magicians did in ancient days before Pharaoh in the way of turning sticks into snakes has often been done

since, or its converse in turning snake into stick, but it remains in great measure a physiological puzzle, declares London Nature. If the cobra in its threatening attitude be deftly caught behind the head and gently pressed, it soon becomes stiff and will remain so for a considerable time, either coiled up or drawn out straight. It has passed into the strange state of animal hypnosis. In the seventeenth century the Jesuit father Athanasius Kircher described the remarkable experiment of the imaginative hen. He laid a hen on the table, held it firmly for a little while, and drew a chalk line in front of its eyes. The result was that the hen remained as if in a state of catalepsy. Czermak showed in the nineteenth century that this feat could be performed with birds, and that the chalk line was quite unnecessary. The veteran entomologist Fabre tells us that he and his school companions used to put a whole flock of turkeys to sleep with their heads tucked under their wings. Animal hypnosis can also be induced in mammals (guinea pig, rabbit, mouse, squirrel, bat, dog, cat) and this is usually effected experimentally by fastening them to a board and turning this suddenly upside down. Frogs are readily susceptible and newts will also submit.

"In backboned animals the state of immobility is scarcely known except in artificial conditions, and can scarcely be of much importance in life. It is otherwise, however, when we pass to the analogous 'death-feigning' or katalepsy in certain beetles, water-bugs, stick-insects, and spiders. The immobility occurs in natural conditions, and it seems often to save the life. The case of the female Galeodes is of special interest, since the more than recalcitrant female passes into a convenient hypnosis when she is suddenly seized by the weaker male. This may be induced artificially in the sexually mature female by gripping her suddenly in the dorsal region of the abdomen with a pair of fine forceps and raising her from the ground.

She remains quite passive until she is restored to earth. It is very interesting to note that older females, who have paired, do not pass into katalepsy, but turn fiercely on the forceps. In the same connection shore-crab, holding the shield between it is worth recalling that when we lift a finger and thumb, and wave it in the air, it becomes immobile, but the two sexes dispose their limbs in different ways, the female bending them in over the abdomen, as if protecting the eggs. The familiar case of the fresh-water crayfish is interesting, because the creature does not pass suddenly into hypnosis, but usually

resists for a considerable time.

It may

be fixed in any position of equilibrium— on its head, on its back, or even in its normal pose. The stick-insect, Dixippus, which feeds at night, normally assumes its protective immobile attitude under the stimulus of light, but a mechanical stimulus also serves. Schmidt has recently shown that the insect can be fixed in any grotesque attitude for hours on end. It has been shown that the transition from one state to the other can in this creature be effected almost in a moment."

In a case like that of the stick-insect we can not but regard the kataleptic habit as of protective value. It adds to the safety which the protective form and the protective color also help to secure. The creature behaves as if it knew, for it almost always disposes itself parallel to the twig to which it is attached. A student of this subject also points out that when it lets go on being touched, the elongated, straight disposition of the appendages makes it easier for it to slip down among the twigs. In another organism the sudden passivity of the female is of importance in reproduction, and a similar thing has been noticed in the case of the octopus. In many cases, however, it seems quite impossible to maintain that the katalepsy is protective at all. Thus Fabre notes that one of the large groundbeetles, which a snake sends into a lasting katalepsy, is voracious, well armored, nocturnal and unpalatable. What has it to do with "death feigning"? Cases of this sort suggest that the kataleptic tendency may be simply an accompaniment of a certain type of nervous constitution and that it is only occasionally turned to advantage. Ac

cording to the careful, accurate observer Mangold, the characteristics of human hypnosis are that it is a sleeplike state, induced by suggestion; that it implies a correspondence of some sort between the hypnotizer and the patient and an increased amenability to suggestion; that it involves a controlled power of locomotion and of righting the body, a change in muscular tone-from initial increase to somewhat sudden decrease and a change in sensitiveness which may amount to insensibility to pain.

"Suggestion is a psychically-conditioned effect, for which the physiological stimulus seems to be inadequate. Little is known in regard to the hypnosis of the highest animals, like dogs and cats, the amenability of which to human influence is well known, but in ordinary cases it may be concluded, according to Mangold, that animal hypnosis differs from man's in the absence of the suggestion, the rapport, and the deeper stages. It may be induced in animals without a cerebrum, which indicates that the psychological factor is unimportant. Physiologically. considered, however, the more typical forms of animal hypnosis must be ranked beside human hypnosis, and studied in this light.

"The resemblances are many. The sleeplike state is induced in man by suggestion or psychical inhibition, in animals by me

chanical inhibition, but in both cases sen

sory stimuli may assist. These stimuli may be optic (fixing the gaze on some object), or tactile (stroking the skin), or otherwise. Sometimes an absence of wonted stimuli may induce the state, as in the case of absolute silence. The awakening may be brought about by sounds, shaking, currents of air, or elecously. There is great specific and inditric shocks; or it may occur spontanevidual diversity in susceptibilty; the easier the inducing of the hypnosis, the deeper and more lasting it is. The muscular tonus changes characteristically (now great stiffness and again 'waxy flexibility'); resistance to fatigue is increased. Reflexes are to some extent affected by the altered tonus. Sensitiveness to touch and to pain may be greatly lessened, and operations may be performed during hypnosis. But the senses remain awake, and,

except in the deeper phases in man, memory partly persists. Anemic symptoms are sometimes observed."