bining energy acts. In one case the germ determines the formation of a man; in another, the formation of a frog. All the philosophy of the present day tends to show that it is the directing and compounding, in the organic world, of forces belonging equally to the inorganic, that constitute the mystery and the miracle of vitality. In discussing the material combinations which result in the formation of the human organism, it is impossible to avoid taking side glances at the phenomena of con The subject is of such vast importance, and is so sure to tinge the whole future course of philosophic thought, that I will dwell upon it a little longer, and endeavor, by reference to analogical processes, to give you a clearer idea of the part played by the sun in vital actions. We can raise water by mechanical action to a high level, and that water, in descending by its own gravity, may be made to assume a variety of forms and to perform various kinds of mechanical work. It may be made to fall in cascades, rise in fountains, twirl in eddies or flow along a uni-sciousness and thought. Science has asked form bed. It may, moreover, be employed to turn wheels, lift hammers, grind corn or drive piles. But all the energy exhibited by the water during its descent is merely the parcelling out and distribution of the original energy which raised it up on high. In this precise sense is the energy of man and animals the parcelling out and distribution of an energy originally exerted by the sun. But the question is not yet exhausted. Water produces all the motion displayed in its descent, but the form of the motion depends on the character of the machinery interposed in the path of the water. Thus also the primary action of the sun's rays is qualified by the atoms and molecules among which their power is distributed. Molecular forces determine the form which the solar energy will assume. In the one case this energy is so conditioned by its atomic machinery as to result in the formation of a cabbage; in an other case it results in the formation of an oak. So, also, as regards the reunion of the carbon and the oxygen in the animal, the form of their reunion is determined by the molecular machinery through which the com daring questions, and will, no doubt, continue to ask such. Problems will assuredly present themselves to men of a future age which, if enunciated now, would appear to most people as the direct offspring of insanity. Still, though the progress and development of science may seem to be unlimited, there is a region beyond her reach—a line with which she does not even tend to inosculate. Given the masses and distances of the planets, we can infer the perturbations consequent on their mutual attractions; given the nature of a disturbance in water, air or ether, we can infer from the properties of the medium how its particles will be affected. In all this we deal with physical laws, and the mind runs freely along the line which connects the phenomena from beginning to end. But when we endeavor to pass, by a similar process, from the region of physics to that of thought, we meet a problem not only beyond our present powers, but transcending any conceivable expansion of the powers we now possess. We may think over the subject again and again, but it eludes all intellectual presentation. The origin of the material universe is equally inscrutable. Thus, having exhausted science | infringement of the law which reveals im Still, presented rightly to the mind, the discoveries and generalizations of modern science constitute a poem more sublime than has ever yet addressed the human imagination. The natural philosopher of today may dwell amid conceptions which beggar those of Milton. Look at the integrated energies of our world-the stored power of our coal-fields, our winds and rivers, our fleets, armies and guns. What are they? They are all generated by a portion of the sun's energy which does not amount to 2300000000 of the whole. This is the entire fraction of the sun's force intercepted by the earth, and we convert but a small fraction of this fraction into mechanical energy. Multiplying all our powers by millions of millions, we do not reach the sun's expenditure. And still, not mutability in the midst of change, which recognizes incessant transference or conversion, but neither final gain nor loss. The energy of Nature is a constant quantity, and the utmost man can do in the pursuit of physical truth or in the applications of physical knowledge is to shift the constituents of the never-varying total, sacrificing one if he would produce another. The law of conservation rigidly excludes both creation and annihilation. Waves may change to ripples, and ripples to waves; magnitude may be substituted for number, and number for magnitude; asteroids may aggregate to suns, suns may invest their energy in flora and faunæ, and flora and fauna may melt in air: the flux of power is eternally the same. It rolls in music through the ages, while the manifestations of physical life, as well as the display of physical phenomena, are but the modulations of its rhythm. withstanding this enormous drain, in the lapse M PROFESSOR JOHN TYNDALL. BY PRAYER. ORE things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day; prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. ALFRED TENNYSON. One night, before the sheaves were gathered in, As Zimri lay upon his lonely bed Down to the field and add to his from And went down softly to the level field. mine." So he arose and girded up his loins, And went out softly to the level field. The moon shone out from dusky bars of clouds, The moon shone out from silver bars of clouds, The trees stood black against the starry sky, The dark leaves waved and whispered in the breeze; So Abram, guided by the doubtful light, The trees stood black against the cold blue Passed down the mountain-path and found sky, the field, The branches waved and whispered in the Took from his store of sheaves a generous So the next morning with the early sun Each wondered in his heart to find his heap, same. Now the next night went Zimri to the field, Took from his store of sheaves a generous share And placed them on his brother Abram's heap, And then lay down behind his pile to watch. The moon looked out from bars of silvery cloud, The cedars stood up black against the sky, The olive-branches whispered in the wind. Then Abram came down softly from his home, Neither could Zimri. So they walked along in prayer That he had bound them in such loving bands. CLARENCE COOK. THE GOLDEN AGE. FROM THE LATIN OF OVID. Unforced by punishment, unawed by fear, His words were simple and his soul sincere. Needless was written law where none opprest: The law of man was written in his breast. No suppliant crowds before the judge appeared; No court erected yet, nor cause was heard; But all was safe, for conscience was their guard. The teeming earth, yet guiltless of the plough, And unprovoked, did fruitful stores allow; And western winds immortal spring main HE Golden Age was first, when man, Humble valleys thrive with their bosoms full THE yet new, No rule but uncorrupted reason knew, And with a native bent did good pursue; Of flow'rs when hills melt with lightning and The rough anger of the clouds. JOHN FORD. |