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ever, a more certain mode of determining this by collecting together 

 all the observations of direct measurement of these volumes that I can 

 find, and I find that the mean is 2.125. From theoretical grounds I 

 believe that more accurate experiments and observations will prove 

 that the decimal fraction of an eighth must be struck off, and that the 

 true proportion is represented by 2. Certainly 2 is the number given 

 by the most accurate of the ten observers. But now to my verifications. 

 I measured the lengths of the common fibres in the heart of a great 

 number of oxen, and I find it to be 10.875 inches. I measured the 

 length of the fibres that go round the left ventricles in the same hearts, 

 and I find as the mean of many measurements 8.625. Well, I suppose 

 there is no one present here who is a good enough arithmetician to tell 

 me at sight what the ratio of the cubes of those numbers would be. I 

 have cubed the numbers, and their ratio comes out 2.004. I believe 

 that to be a remarkable result, and to entitle us to assert that the 

 principle of least action applied to the problem of the heart is capable 

 of solving it a step beyond what it has been solved, and bringing us 

 within reach of the knowledge of one more of the wonderful laws of 

 the Creator. How it would rejoice the soul of the great Kepler if he 

 had known that the ratio of the length of the fibres in his own heart 

 was in the proportion of cube root of 2 to i ! Divine Geometry ! 

 Queen and mistress of philosophy, thy right to rule the sciences shall 

 never be disputed ! 



This principle of least action applied to the heart consists, as you 

 will see, simply in making every fibre and particle of the heart do the 

 entire amount of work that it is capable of doing. In a somewhat ana- 

 logous case, mechanical engineers have attempted to produce the same 

 effect. If you take a fowling-piece, it is a matter of comparatively little 

 consequence how the fibres are arranged if they be of ordinary strength. 

 One fibre helps the other, and they all do their work ; therefore, no 

 one thinks of inquiring how the fibres of a fowling-piece are arranged ; 

 they are capable of resisting an explosion, because they all assist in 

 doing it. But when you come to build up monster guns like Mr. 

 Robert Mallet's great mortar, or Sir William Armstrong's six hundred 

 pounder, you have to calculate with the utmost nicety what your con- 

 trivances and arrangements must be, so as to compel every fibre of 

 steel or wrought iron in these great guns to bear its share in the work. 

 Some few days ago, I went to the Woolwich Arsenal, to see the Arm- 

 strong six hundred pounder which exploded. It consists of eight rings ; 

 the first, sixth, and eighth rings were burst; the remaining five were 

 not injured. Now, this gun, although a great attempt to solve the 

 problem, was not a perfect gun, because a perfect gun would burst in 

 such a manner that all the eight rings would give way together, each 

 perishing in the effort to resist the explosion. That which human 



