viii FOREWORD 



of the real searcher after truth. No one who loves that 

 search will lay this book down unrewarded. 



Men who have grown grey in those quarters of the City 

 of Science, which are devoted to the service of medicine, 

 are accustomed to the visits of strangers of diverse types. 

 They have seen chemists like Pasteur and Lavoisier, and 

 clergymen like Stephen Hales and Priestley, force their 

 ways into their workshops, ultimately revolutionizing 

 their industries. They are also familiar with the newly 

 fledged student of first-aid, who breaks his way through the 

 circle of spectators surrounding a street accident, and 

 brushing aside the skilled surgeon, takes charge of the case. 

 Occasionally, too, they come across those visitors who, letting 

 their imagination rise on untrammelled wing, picture for 

 them a future full of marvels. In Morley Roberts we have a 

 visitor of a new kind — one who compels his imagination 

 when in flight to observe the laws of gravity, time, and space. 

 Nay, so like a native does this visitor carry himself, that for 

 several years there were many besides myself that had no 

 suspicion that Morley Roberts, the erudite writer on medical 

 and allied problems, was the same Morley Roberts who is 

 known in Bohemia as an artist of noted skill with pen 

 and brush. In these essays he has earned for himself the 

 freedom of the City of Realities or Science. 



With one last word my privileged task of introducing 

 the reader to these essays is finished. Their author has 

 drawn large drafts on the Bank of Science ; I, for one, am 

 willing to endorse his bills. 



ARTHUR KEITH. 



