l62 



SCIENCE. 



[Vol. XIX. No. 476 



high compliment to say of A, that when he read his paper 

 in the mathematical section no one present was able to un- 

 derstand what it was about; or of B and his book, that there 

 are only three men in the world who can i-ead it.'' . . . 

 "There is a strange and unwholesome prejudice against 

 making science intelligible, for fear that science may become 

 popular." . . . ''There is an unfortunate and perhaps a 

 growing tendency among scientific men to despise the useful 

 and the practical in science, and it finds expression in the 

 by no means uncommon feeling of offended dignity when 

 an innocent layman asks what is the use of some new dis- 

 covery." . 



The progress of science during the last half-century has 

 been especially remarkable. We are enjoying the product 

 of the mental endeavor of all the past; one forward step has 

 been followed by another, until, in scientific attainments, 

 we are far in advance of the broadest views held a century 

 ago. The age of the earth, its motion and gravitation no 

 longer cause excited controversies. The existence of fossils 

 now occasions no alarm; whether found upon the mountain- 

 top or in the depths of the sea, the explanation is equally 

 satisfactory. 



Geology, like the fabled giants of old, has taken wonder- 

 ful strides; has stepped off, as it were, a thousand years at a 

 pace, and the sermons inscribed on nature's tablets have 

 quickened the understanding and broadened human concep 

 tions. Our knowledge of astronomy and geology has enabled 

 us to cast out the coiled serpent of superstition, and given us 

 truth in its stead. Can the most fertile imagination conceive 

 of loftier heights than chemistry has reached when it is able 

 to measure t' e five-millionth part of a grain of our far dis- 

 tant sun ? 



The use of anaesthetics is almost entirely a growth of the 

 last fifty years; like a beneficent angel, conquering pain, 

 annihilating as with magic breath the sufferings of thousands 

 of human beings. Witness now the electric light, and think 

 in comparison of the feeble glimmer of tallow candles. Not 

 many years ago even the lonely light-house tower afforded 

 nothing better thau tallow candles to guide the traveller on 

 the storm tossed sea. Until recently electricity has been like 

 a wild ungovernable force, but skilful hands are bringing it 

 more and more under subjection. It is taking the place of 

 brawn and muscle. The courier is no longer needed to de- 

 spatch our messages on land or by sea. Here and there it 

 has been harnessed to the street railway, and its practical 

 applications are numberless. 



It is but a few years since we have had any definite knowl- 

 edge of bacteria, but who now is not familiar with at least 

 the depredations of these insidious foes ? Foes we may well 

 call them when it is estimated that four-fifths of all diseases 

 of humanity are caused by these pathogenic microbes, and 

 that they destroy more lives than war or famine, fire or ship- 

 wreck. 



Who has enabled science, this second Hercules, to open 

 nature's doors and bring forth her treasures ? Who is it 

 that has gleaned her truths and read her laws, but he who 

 has made a special study of them ? There is not a practical 

 application of a force of nature and scarcely a material sub- 

 stance that we use which has not resulted from the experi- 

 mental researches of specialists. Is it not the geologist who 

 has told us the story of the earth ? Is it not the chemist 

 who analyzes the sun, the biologist who unfolds for us the 

 life histories of our invisible foes ? 



It is obvious that a geologist must have worked in geology, 

 that a botanist must have done special work in botany; and 



in order to have taken up special work they must necessarily 

 have done elementary work. There must be a foundation 

 laid before the super-structure of special work can be reared. 

 There is no royal road to knowledge, and there is no short 

 cut to special work. The disciplinary work which leads up 

 to special work must be done by each individual for himself; 

 skill in manipulation cannot be acquired at second-hand, 

 and judgment is gained through experience alone. The 

 specialist does not simply devote a few years to his chosen 

 work, and imagine his investigations cease when he takes 

 his Ph.D. ; not at all; the devotion of a lifetime is bestowed 

 on his speciality, which broadens out before him, luring him 

 on with the mysterious charm .of unexplored labyrinths.. 

 The work of the specialist is to investigate, to find out the 

 truth. He must divest himself of all prejudice, and with 

 unbiased mind "read from the manuscripts of God" the 

 truths there written, whether found on the granite rock or 

 in the story of embryonic life 



In the simplest forms of life there is no specialization of 

 organs. Take, for example, the amoeba, which is but a tiny 

 speck of protoplasm — an undifferentiated mass; having no 

 organs of locomotion, no mouth, no stomach, it yet moves 

 about, finds its own food, appropriates and digests it. How" 

 does it accomplish these complex operations ? It moves by 

 pushing out a tiny slimy thread of protoplasm, and the whole 

 mass flowing after it; when it comes in contact with an ob- 

 ject which will serve it as food, it flows over it, wraps itself 

 around it, absorbs the nutritious parts, and flows away from, 

 the debris. Thus this little animal is at times all legs, again 

 all mouth, and still again all stomach, but possesses no differ- 

 entiated specialized organs This we call the lowest type of 

 animal life; the higher we ascend, the greater the specializa- 

 tion, reaching its culmination in man. The stomach pre- 

 pares the food, the blood distributes it, the lungs fake charge 

 of ventilation, the liver looks to sanitation ; the heart is gen- 

 eral manager, and the brain, if you please, cultivates "social 

 science." It is plain to everyone that the work done by the 

 .'imoeba is extremely rudimentary compared with that accom- 

 plished by man. The amoeba fulfils the two essential purposes 

 of life, maintenance and reproduction; mankind does the 

 same, but who can measure the difference in degree ? 



Is not the work of the general student and that of the 

 specialist in a measure comparable to that of the lowest and 

 highest types of life ? The general student who claims an 

 equal familiarity with all branches of knowledge possesses 

 but the rudiments of each. And mark the interdependence of 

 the most specialized organs ! No one of them can carry on 

 the work alone; and it is thus with the sciences, advance- 

 ment in any one of them means general advancement of 

 the whole commonwealth. 



All organic life is built up of cells; take any herb, shrub 

 or tree; its tissues are made up ofJndividual cells: each cell 

 is filled with protoplasm, and though the cell walls are ap- 

 parently continuous, having no visible openings even under 

 high powers of the microscope, it has nevertheless been 

 found that infinitesmal streams of protoplasm extend frono, 

 cell to cell, connecting the entire plant as with a sympathetic 

 nerve into one continuous whole. And so there is an in- 

 visible cord which binds all nature into one harmonious 

 unity. There is a kinship, a brotherhood, a great sympa- 

 thetic nerve whi»h runs through all branches of natural 

 science. To the general student they may appear independ- 

 ent of each other, but the specialist digs down beneath the 

 surface where the roots are found ramifying in all direc- 

 tions; meeting, overlaping, interlocking with each other. 



