﻿THE 
  LINGERING 
  DRYAD 
  

  

  By 
  Paul 
  R. 
  Heyl 
  

   U 
  . 
  S. 
  Bureau 
  of 
  Standards 
  

  

  There 
  is 
  an 
  every 
  day 
  test 
  which 
  we 
  all 
  instinctively 
  apply 
  when 
  we 
  

   are 
  in 
  doubt 
  whether 
  a 
  certain 
  thing 
  is 
  alive. 
  We 
  watch 
  for 
  it 
  to 
  

   move. 
  This 
  is 
  a 
  test 
  as 
  old 
  as 
  humanity, 
  though 
  as 
  we 
  now 
  apply 
  it 
  

   we 
  introduce 
  a 
  logical 
  refinement 
  which 
  was 
  lacking 
  in 
  other 
  days. 
  

   Absence 
  of 
  motion, 
  now 
  as 
  then, 
  indicates 
  absence 
  of 
  life, 
  but 
  the 
  mere 
  

   observation 
  of 
  motion 
  does 
  not 
  always 
  suggest 
  to 
  modern 
  thought 
  the 
  

   presence 
  of 
  Ufe. 
  A 
  sheet 
  of 
  paper 
  may 
  be 
  rustled 
  by 
  an 
  invisible 
  

   breeze; 
  stormy 
  waves 
  may 
  arise 
  in 
  the 
  ocean; 
  the 
  ground 
  beneath 
  our 
  

   feet 
  may 
  tremble 
  and 
  split 
  open; 
  yet 
  we 
  of 
  to-day 
  see 
  in 
  such 
  phe- 
  

   nomena 
  no 
  reason 
  for 
  assuming 
  life 
  as 
  a 
  cause. 
  

  

  Not 
  so 
  with 
  the 
  ancients. 
  To 
  them 
  motion 
  invariably 
  suggested 
  

   life, 
  directly 
  or 
  indirectly 
  involved. 
  The 
  sheet 
  of 
  paper, 
  of 
  course, 
  

   was 
  not 
  alive, 
  but 
  the 
  wind 
  was 
  the 
  breath 
  of 
  ^Eolus. 
  The 
  stormy 
  sea 
  

   was 
  the 
  direct 
  physical 
  result 
  of 
  the 
  wrathful 
  strokes 
  of 
  Neptune's 
  

   trident, 
  and 
  the 
  heaving 
  earth, 
  by 
  the 
  same 
  token, 
  gave 
  evidence 
  of 
  

   the 
  displeasure 
  of 
  Poseidon, 
  the 
  earth-shaker. 
  

  

  While 
  the 
  mythology 
  of 
  the 
  ancients 
  contained 
  much 
  that 
  we 
  now 
  

   regard 
  as 
  childish 
  and 
  ridiculous, 
  there 
  is 
  also 
  to 
  be 
  found 
  in 
  it 
  that 
  

   which 
  we 
  must 
  still 
  recognize 
  as 
  beautiful, 
  such 
  as 
  the 
  myth 
  of 
  the 
  

   dryad. 
  

  

  The 
  dryad 
  was 
  a 
  tree 
  nymph. 
  Every 
  tree 
  had 
  its 
  protecting 
  spirit 
  

   who 
  was 
  born 
  with 
  the 
  tree, 
  Uved 
  in 
  or 
  near 
  it 
  in 
  intimate 
  association, 
  

   watching 
  over 
  its 
  growth, 
  and 
  who 
  died 
  when 
  the 
  tree 
  fell. 
  The 
  

   dryad 
  was 
  thus 
  a 
  personification 
  of 
  the 
  life 
  of 
  the 
  tree, 
  and 
  the 
  con- 
  

   nection 
  between 
  nymph 
  and 
  tree 
  was 
  far 
  more 
  intimate 
  than 
  was 
  the 
  

   case 
  with 
  the 
  deities 
  dominating 
  sea 
  or 
  wind. 
  Because 
  of 
  this 
  pecul- 
  

   iarly 
  intimate 
  relation 
  the 
  tree 
  possessed 
  life 
  which 
  the 
  sea 
  did 
  not, 
  

   though 
  Neptune 
  inhabited 
  its 
  depths, 
  and 
  which 
  the 
  wind 
  did 
  not, 
  

   though 
  set 
  in 
  motion 
  by 
  iEolus. 
  

  

  The 
  men 
  of 
  old, 
  it 
  seems 
  drew 
  very 
  much 
  the 
  same 
  distinction 
  that 
  

   we 
  do 
  when 
  we 
  speak 
  of 
  living 
  and 
  nonliving 
  substances. 
  Water, 
  

  

  ' 
  Presidential 
  Address 
  before 
  the 
  Philosophical 
  Society 
  of 
  Washington, 
  Jan. 
  5, 
  1929. 
  Reprinted 
  by 
  per- 
  

   mission 
  from 
  Journal 
  of 
  the 
  Washington 
  Academy 
  of 
  Sciences, 
  vol. 
  19, 
  No. 
  4, 
  Feb. 
  19, 
  1929. 
  

  

  205 
  

  

  