In the present day there is a girl as remarkable as Laura Bridgman, and who bids fair to attain even greater fame by her superior development. This girl, Helen Keller, is both deaf and blind; she has been seen in all the principal cities of the United States, has been examined by thousands of persons, and is famous for her victories over infirmities. On account of her wonderful power of comprehension special efforts have been made to educate Helen Keller, and for this reason her mind is far more finely developed than in most girls of her age. It is true that she has the advantage over Laura Bridgman in having the senses of taste and smell, both of which she has developed to a most marvelous degree of acuteness. It is said that by odor alone she is always conscious of the presence of another person, no matter how noiseless his entrance into the room in which she may be. She cannot be persuaded to take food which she dislikes, and is never deceived in the taste. It is, however, by the means of what might be called "touch-sight" that the most miraculous of her feats are performed. By placing her hands on the face of a visitor she is able to detect shades of emotion which the normal human eye fails to distinguish, or, in the words of one of her lay observers, "her sense of touch is developed to such an exquisite extent as to form a better eye for her than are yours or mine for us; and what is more, she forms judgments of character by this sight." According to a recent report of a conversation with one of the principals of the school in which her education is being completed, it is said that since the girl has been under his care he has been teaching her to sing with great success. Placing the fingers of her hands on the throat of a singer, she is able to follow notes covering two octaves with her own voice, and sings synchronously with her instructor. The only difference between her voice and that of a normal person is in its resonant qualities. So acute has this sense become, that by placing her hand upon the frame of a piano she can distinguish two notes not more than half a tone apart. Helen is expected to enter the preparatory school for Radcliffe College in the fall of 1896.

At a meeting of the American Association to Promote the Teaching of Speech to the Deaf, in Philadelphia, July, 1896, this child appeared, and in a well-chosen and distinct speech told the interesting story of her own progress. Miss Sarah Fuller, principal of the Horace Mann School for the Deaf, Boston, is credited with the history of Helen Keller, as follows:—

"Helen Keller's home is in Tuscumbia, Ala. At the age of nineteen months she became deaf, dumb, and blind after convulsions lasting three days. Up to the age of seven years she had received no instruction. Her parents engaged Miss Sullivan of the Perkins Institute for the Blind, South Boston, to go to Alabama as her teacher. She was familiar with methods of teaching the blind, but knew nothing about instructing deaf children. Miss Sullivan called upon Miss Fuller for some instruction on the subject. Miss Fuller was at that time experimenting with two little deaf girls to make them speak as hearing children do, and called Miss Sullivan's attention to it. Miss Sullivan left for her charge, and from time to time made reports to Dr. Anagnos the principal of the Perkins School, which mentioned the remarkable mind which she found this little Alabama child possessed. The following year Miss Sullivan brought the child, then eight years old, to Boston, and Mrs. Keller came with her. They visited Miss Fuller's school. Miss Sullivan had taught the child the manual alphabet, and she had obtained much information by means of it. Miss Fuller noticed how quickly she appreciated the ideas given to her in that way.

"It is interesting to note that before any attempt had been made to teach the child to speak or there had been any thought of it, her own quickness of thought had suggested it to her as she talked by hand alphabet to Miss Fuller. Her mother, however, did not approve Miss Fuller's suggestion that an attempt should be made to teach her speech. She remained at the Perkins School, under Miss Sullivan's charge, another year, when the matter was brought up again, this time by little Helen herself, who said she must speak. Miss Sullivan brought her to Miss Fuller's school one day and she received her first lesson, of about two hours' length.

"The child's hand was first passed over Miss Fuller's face, mouth, and neck, then into her mouth, touching the tongue, teeth, lips, and hard palate, to give her an idea of the organs of speech. Miss Fuller then arranged her mouth, tongue, and teeth for the sound of i as in it. She took the child's finger and placed it upon the windpipe so that she might feel the vibration there, put her finger between her teeth to show her how wide apart they were, and one finger in the mouth to feel the tongue, and then sounded the vowel. The child grasped the idea at once. Her fingers flew to her own mouth and throat, and she produced the sound so nearly accurate that it sounded like an echo. Next the sound of ah was made by dropping the jaw a little and letting the child feel that the tongue was soft and lying in the bed of the jaw with the teeth more widely separated. She in the same way arranged her own, but was not so successful as at first, but soon produced the sound perfectly."

"Eleven such lessons were given, at intervals of three or four days, until she had acquired all the elements of speech, Miss Sullivan in the meantime practicing with the child on the lessons received. The first word spoken was arm, which was at once associated with her arm; this gave her great delight. She soon learned to pronounce words by herself, combining the elements she had learned, and used them to communicate her simple wants. The first connected language she used was a description she gave Miss Fuller of a visit she had made to Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, in all over 200 words. They were, all but two or three, pronounced correctly. She now, six years afterward, converses quite fluently with people who know nothing of the manual alphabet by placing a couple of fingers on the speaker's lips, her countenance showing great intentness and brightening as she catches the meaning. Anybody can understand her answers."

In a beautiful eulogy of Helen Keller in a recent number of Harper's Magazine, Charles Dudley Warner expresses the opinion that she is the purest-minded girl of her age in the world.

Edith Thomas, a little inmate of the Perkins Institute for the Blind, at South Boston, is not only deaf and dumb but also blind. She was a fellow-pupil with Helen Keller, and in a measure duplicated the rapid progress of her former playmate. In commenting on progress in learning to talk the Boston Herald says: "And as the teacher said the word 'Kitty' once or twice she placed the finger-tips of one hand upon the teacher's lips and with the other hand clasped tightly the teacher's throat; then, guided by the muscular action of the throat and the position of the teeth, tongue, and lips, as interpreted by that marvelous and delicate touch of hers, she said the word 'Kitty' over and over again distinctly in a very pretty way. She can be called dumb no longer, and before the summer vacation comes she will have mastered quite a number of words, and such is her intelligence and patience, in spite of the loss of three senses, she may yet speak quite readily.

"Her history is very interesting. She was born in Maplewood, and up to the time of contracting diphtheria and scarlet fever, which occurred when she was four years old, had been a very healthy child of more than ordinary quickness and ability. She had attained a greater command of language than most children of her age. What a contrast between these 'other days,' as she calls them, and the days which followed, when hearing and sight were completely gone, and gradually the senses of speech and smell went, too! After the varied instruction of the blind school the little girl had advanced so far as to make the rest of her study comparatively easy. The extent of her vocabulary is not definitely known, but it numbers at least 700 words. Reading, which was once an irksome task, has become a pleasure to her. Her ideas of locality and the independence of movement are remarkable, and her industry and patience are more noticeable from day to day. She has great ability, and is in every respect a very wonderful child."

According to recent reports, in the vicinity of Rothesay, on the Clyde, there resides a lady totally deaf and dumb, who, in point of intelligence, scholarship, and skill in various ways, far excels many who have all their faculties. Having been educated partly in Paris, she is a good French scholar, and her general composition is really wonderful. She has a shorthand system of her own, and when writing letters, etc., she uses a peculiar machine, somewhat of the nature of a typewriter.

Among the deaf persons who have acquired fame in literature and the arts have been Dibil Alkoffay, an Arabian poet of the eighth century; the tactician, Folard; the German poet, Engelshall; Le Sage; La Condamine, who composed an epigram on his own infirmity; and Beethoven, the famous musician. Fernandez, a Spanish painter of the sixteenth century, was a deaf-mute.

All the world pities the blind, but despite their infirmities many have achieved the highest glory in every profession. Since Homer there have been numerous blind poets. Milton lost none of his poetic power after he had become blind. The Argovienne, Louise Egloff, and Daniel Leopold, who died in 1753, were blind from infancy. Blacklock, Avisse, Koslov, and La Mott-Houdart are among other blind poets. Asconius Pedianus, a grammarian of the first century; Didyme, the celebrated doctor of Alexandria; the Florentine, Bandolini, so well versed in Latin poetry; the celebrated Italian grammarian, Pontanus; the German, Griesinger, who spoke seven languages; the philologist, Grassi, who died in 1831, and many others have become blind at an age more or less advanced in their working lives.

Probably the most remarkable of the blind scientists was the Englishman, Saunderson, who in 1683, in his first year, was deprived of sight after an attack of small-pox. In spite of his complete blindness he assiduously studied the sciences, and graduated with honor at the University of Cambridge in mathematics and optics. His sense of touch was remarkable. He had a collection of old Roman medals, all of which, without mistake, he could distinguish by their impressions. He also seemed to have the ability to judge distance, and was said to have known how far he had walked, and by the velocity he could even tell the distance traversed in a vehicle. Among other blind mathematicians was the Dutchman, Borghes (died in 1652); the French astronomer, the Count de Pagan, who died in 1655; Galileo; the astronomer, Cassini, and Berard, who became blind at twenty-three years, and was for a long time Professor of Mathematics at the College of Briancon.

In the seventeenth century the sculptor, Jean Gonnelli, born in Tuscany, became blind at twenty years; but in spite of his infirmity he afterward executed what were regarded as his masterpieces. It is said that he modeled a portrait of Pope Urban VIII, using as a guide his hand, passed from time to time over the features. Lomazzo, the Italian painter of the eighteenth century, is said to have continued his work after becoming blind.

Several men distinguished for their bravery and ability in the art of war have been blind. Jean de Troczow, most commonly known by the name of Ziska, in 1420 lost his one remaining eye, and was afterward known as the "old blind dog," but, nevertheless, led his troops to many victories. Froissart beautifully describes the glorious death of the blind King of Bohemia at the battle of Crecy in 1346. Louis III, King of Provence; Boleslas III, Duke of Bohemia; Magnus IV, King of Norway, and Bela II, King of Hungary, were blind. Nathaniel Price, a librarian of Norwich in the last century, lost his sight in a voyage to America, which, however, did not interfere in any degree with his duties, for his books were in as good condition and their location as directly under his knowledge, during his blindness as they were in his earlier days. At the present day in New York there is a blind billiard expert who occasionally gives exhibitions of his prowess.

Feats of Memory.—From time to time there have been individuals, principally children, who gave wonderful exhibitions of memory, some for dates, others for names, and some for rapid mental calculation. Before the Anthropological Society in 1880 Broca exhibited a lad of eleven, a Piedmontese, named Jacques Inaudi. This boy, with a trick monkey, had been found earning his livelihood by begging and by solving mentally in a few minutes the most difficult problems in arithmetic. A gentleman residing in Marseilles had seen him while soliciting alms perform most astonishing feats of memory, and brought him to Paris. In the presence of the Society Broca gave him verbally a task in multiplication, composed of some trillions to be multiplied by billions. In the presence of all the members he accomplished his task in less than ten minutes, and without the aid of pencil and paper, solving the whole problem mentally. Although not looking intelligent, and not being able to read or write, he perhaps could surpass any one in the world in his particular feat. It was stated that he proceeded from left to right in his calculations, instead of from right to left in the usual manner. In his personal appearance the only thing indicative of his wonderful abilities was his high forehead.

An infant prodigy named Oscar Moore was exhibited to the physicians of Chicago at the Central Music Hall in 1888, and excited considerable comment at the time. The child was born of mulatto parents at Waco, Texas, on August 19, 1885, and when only thirteen months old manifested remarkable mental ability and precocity. S. V. Clevenger, a physician of Chicago, has described the child as follows:—

"Oscar was born blind and, as frequently occurs in such cases, the touch-sense compensatingly developed extraordinarily. It was observed that after touching a person once or twice with his stubby baby fingers, he could thereafter unfailingly recognize and call by name the one whose hand he again felt. The optic sense is the only one defective, for tests reveal that his hearing, taste, and smell are acute, and the tactile development surpasses in refinement. But his memory is the most remarkable peculiarity, for when his sister conned her lessons at home, baby Oscar, less than two years old, would recite all he heard her read. Unlike some idiot savants, in which category he is not to be included, who repeat parrot-like what they have once heard, baby Oscar seems to digest what he hears, and requires at least more than one repetition of what he is trying to remember, after which he possesses the information imparted and is able to yield it at once when questioned. It is not necessary for him to commence at the beginning, as the possessors of some notable memories were compelled to do, but he skips about to any required part of his repertoire.

"He sings a number of songs and counts in different languages, but it is not supposable that he understands every word he utters. If, however, his understanding develops as it promises to do, he will become a decided polyglot. He has mastered an appalling array of statistics, such as the areas in square miles of hundreds of countries, the population of the world's principal cities, the birthdays of all the Presidents, the names of all the cities of the United States of over 10,000 inhabitants, and a lot of mathematical data. He is greatly attracted by music, and this leads to the expectation that when more mature he may rival Blind Tom.

"In disposition he is very amiable, but rather grave beyond his years. He shows great affection for his father, and is as playful and as happy as the ordinary child. He sleeps soundly, has a good childish appetite, and appears to be in perfect health. His motions are quick but not nervous, and are as well coordinated as in a child of ten. In fact, he impresses one as having the intelligence of a much older child than three years (now five years), but his height, dentition, and general appearance indicate the truthfulness of the age assigned. An evidence of his symmetrical mental development appears in his extreme inquisitiveness. He wants to understand the meaning of what he is taught, and some kind of an explanation must be given him for what he learns. Were his memory alone abnormally great and other faculties defective, this would hardly be the case; but if so, it cannot at present be determined.

"His complexion is yellow, with African features, flat nose, thick lips but not prognathous, superciliary ridges undeveloped, causing the forehead to protrude a little. His head measures 19 inches in circumference, on a line with the upper ear-tips, the forehead being much narrower than the occipitoparietal portion, which is noticeably very wide. The occiput protrudes backward, causing a forward sweep of the back of the neck. From the nose-root to the nucha over the head he measures 13 1/2 inches, and between upper ear-tips across and over the head 11 inches, which is so close to the eight-and ten-inch standard that he may be called mesocephalic. The bulging in the vicinity of the parietal region accords remarkably with speculations upon the location of the auditory memory in that region, such as those in the American Naturalist, July, 1888, and the fact that injury of that part of the brain may cause loss of memory of the meaning of words. It may be that the premature death of the mother's children has some significance in connection with Oscar's phenomenal development. There is certainly a hypernutrition of the parietal brain with atrophy of the optic tract, both of which conditions could arise from abnormal vascular causes, or the extra growth of the auditory memory region may have deprived of nutrition, by pressure, the adjacent optic centers in the occipital brain. The otherwise normal motion of the eyes indicates the nystagmus to be functional.

"Sudden exaltation of the memory is often the consequence of grave brain disease, and in children this symptom is most frequent. Pritchard, Rush, and other writers upon mental disorders record interesting instances of remarkable memory-increase before death, mainly in adults, and during fever and insanity. In simple mania the memory is often very acute. Romberg tells of a young girl who lost her sight after an attack of small-pox, but acquired an extraordinary memory. He calls attention to the fact that the scrofulous and rachitic diatheses in childhood are sometimes accompanied by this disorder. Winslow notes that in the incipient state of the brain disease of early life connected with fevers, disturbed conditions of the cerebral circulation and vessels, and in affections of advanced life, there is often witnessed a remarkable exaltation of the memory, which may herald death by apoplexy.

"Not only has the institution of intelligence in idiots dated from falls upon the head, but extra mentality has been conferred by such an event Pritchard tells of three idiot brothers, one of whom, after a severe head injury, brightened up and became a barrister, while his brothers remained idiotic. 'Father Mabillon,' says Winslow, 'is said to have been an idiot until twenty-six years of age, when he fractured his skull against a stone staircase. He was trepanned. After recovering, his intellect fully developed itself in a mind endowed with a lively imagination, an amazing memory, and a zeal for study rarely equaled.' Such instances can be accounted for by the brain having previously been poorly nourished by a defective blood supply, which defect was remedied by the increased circulation afforded by the head-injury.

"It is a commonly known fact that activity of the brain is attended with a greater head-circulation than when the mind is dull, within certain limits. Anomalous development of the brain through blood-vessels, affording an extra nutritive supply to the mental apparatus, can readily be conceived as occurring before birth, just as aberrant nutrition elsewhere produces giants from parents of ordinary size.

"There is but one sense-defect in the child Oscar, his eyesight-absence, and that is atoned for by his hearing and touch-acuteness, as it generally is in the blind. Spitzka and others demonstrate that in such cases other parts of the brain enlarge to compensate for the atrophic portion which is connected with the functionless nerves. This, considered with his apparently perfect, mental and physical health, leaves no reason to suppose that Oscar's extravagant memory depends upon disease any more than we can suspect all giants of being sickly, though the anomaly is doubtless due to pathologic conditions. Of course, there is no predicting what may develop later in his life, but in any event science will be benefited.

"It is a popular idea that great vigor of memory is often associated with low-grade intelligence, and cases such as Blind Tom and other 'idiot savants,' who could repeat the contents of a newspaper after a single reading, justify the supposition. Fearon, on 'Mental Vigor,' tells of a man who could remember the day that every person had been buried in the parish for thirty-five years, and could repeat with unvarying accuracy the name and age of the deceased and the mourners at the funeral. But he was a complete fool. Out of the line of burials he had not one idea, could not give an intelligible reply to a single question, nor be trusted even to feed himself. While memory-development is thus apparent in some otherwise defective intellects, it has probably as often or oftener been observed to occur in connection with full or great intelligence. Edmund Burke, Clarendon, John Locke, Archbishop Tillotson, and Dr. Johnson were all distinguished for having great strength of memory. Sir W. Hamilton observed that Grotius, Pascal, Leibnitz, and Euler were not less celebrated for their intelligence than for their memory. Ben Jonson could repeat all that he had written and whole books he had read. Themistocles could call by name the 20,000 citizens of Athens. Cyrus is said to have known the name of every soldier in his army. Hortensius, a great Roman orator, and Seneca had also great memories. Niebuhr, the Danish historian, was remarkable for his acuteness of memory. Sir James Mackintosh, Dugald Stewart, and Dr. Gregory had similar reputations.

"Nor does great mental endowment entail physical enfeeblement; for, with temperance, literary men have reached extreme old age, as in the cases of Klopstock, Goethe, Chaucer, and the average age attained by all the signers of the American Declaration of Independence was sixty-four years, many of them being highly gifted men intellectually. Thus, in the case of the phenomenal Oscar it cannot be predicted that he will not develop, as he now promises to do, equal and extraordinary powers of mind, even though it would be rare in one of his racial descent, and in the face of the fact that precocity gives no assurance of adult brightness, for it can be urged that John Stuart Mill read Greek when four years of age.

"The child is strumous, however, and may die young. His exhibitors, who are coining him into money, should seek the best medical care for him and avoid surcharging his memory with rubbish. Proper cultivation of his special senses, especially the tactile, by competent teachers, will give Oscar the best chance of developing intellectually and acquiring an education in the proper sense of the word."

By long custom many men of letters have developed wonderful feats of memory; and among illiterate persons, by means of points of association, the power of memory has been little short of marvelous. At a large hotel in Saratoga there was at one time a negro whose duty was to take charge of the hats and coats of the guests as they entered the dining-room and return to each his hat after the meal. It was said that, without checks or the assistance of the owners, he invariably returned the right articles to the right persons on request, and no matter how large the crowd, his limit of memory never seemed to be reached. Many persons have seen expert players at draughts and chess who, blindfolded, could carry on numerous games with many competitors and win most of the matches. To realize what a wonderful feat of memory this performance is, one need only see the absolute exhaustion of one of these men after a match. In whist, some experts have been able to detail the succession of the play of the cards so many hands back that their competitors had long since forgotten it.

There is reported to be in Johnson County, Missouri, a mathematical wonder by the name of Rube Fields. At the present day he is between forty and fifty years of age, and his external appearance indicates poverty as well as indifference. His temperament is most sluggish; he rarely speaks unless spoken to, and his replies are erratic.

The boyhood of this strange character was that of an overgrown country lout with boorish manners and silly mind. He did not and would not go to school, and he asserts now that if he had done so he "would have become as big a fool as other people." A shiftless fellow, left to his own devices, he performed some wonderful feats, and among the many stories connected with this period of his life is one which describes how he actually ate up a good-sized patch of sugar cane, simply because he found it good to his taste.

Yet from this clouded, illiterate mind a wonderful mathematical gift shines. Just when he began to assert his powers is not known; but his feats have been remembered for twenty years by his neighbors. A report says:—

"Give Rube Fields the distance by rail between any two points, and the dimensions of a car-wheel, and almost as soon as the statement has left your lips he will tell you the number of revolutions the wheel will make in traveling over the track. Call four or five or any number of columns of figures down a page, and when you have reached the bottom he will announce the sum. Given the number of yards or pounds of articles and the price, and at once he will return the total cost—and this he will do all day long, without apparent effort or fatigue.

"A gentleman relates an instance of Fields' knowledge of figures. After having called several columns of figures for addition, he went back to the first column, saying that it was wrong, and repeating it, purposely miscalling the next to the last figure. At once Fields threw up his hand, exclaiming: 'You didn't call it that way before.'

"Fields' answers come quick and sharp, seemingly by intuition. Calculations which would require hours to perform are made in less time than it takes to state the question. The size of the computations seems to offer no bar to their rapid solution, and answers in which long lines of figures are reeled off come with perfect ease. In watching the effort put forth in reaching an answer, there would seem to be some process going on in the mind, and an incoherent mumbling is often indulged in, but it is highly probable that Fields does not himself know how he derives his answers. Certain it is that he is unable to explain the process, nor has any one ever been able to draw from him anything concerning it. Almost the only thing he knows about the power is that he possesses it, and, while he is not altogether averse to receiving money for his work, he has steadily refused to allow himself to be exhibited." In reviewing the peculiar endowment of Fields, the Chicago Record says:—

"How this feat is performed is as much a mystery as the process by which he solves a problem in arithmetic. He answers no questions. Rapid mathematicians, men of study, who by intense application and short methods have become expert, have sought to probe these two mysteries, but without results. Indeed, the man's intelligence is of so low an order as to prevent him from aiding those who seek to know. With age, too, he grows more surly. Of what vast value this 'gift' might be to the world of science, if coupled with average intelligence, is readily imagined. That it will ever be understood is unlikely. As it is, the power staggers belief and makes modern psychology, with its study of brain-cells, stand aghast. As to poor Fields himself, he excites only sympathy. Homeless, unkempt, and uncouth, traveling aimlessly on a journey which he does not understand, he hugs to his heart a marvelous power, which he declares to be a gift from God. To his weak mind it lifts him above his fellow-men, and yet it is as useless to the world as a diamond in a dead man's hand."

Wolf-Children.—It is interesting to know to what degree a human being will resemble a beast when deprived of the association with man. We seem to get some insight to this question in the investigation of so called cases of "wolf-children."

Saxo Grammaticus speaks of a bear that kidnapped a child and kept it a long time in his den. The tale of the Roman she-wolf is well known, and may have been something more than a myth, as there have been several apparently authentic cases reported in which a child has been rescued from its associations with a wolf who had stolen it some time previously. Most of the stories of wolf-children come from India. According to Oswald in Ball's "Jungle Life in India," there is the following curious account of two children in the Orphanage of Sekandra, near Agra, who had been discovered among wolves: "A trooper sent by a native Governor of Chandaur to demand payment of some revenue was passing along the bank of the river about noon when he saw a large female wolf leave her den, followed by three whelps and a little boy. The boy went on all-fours, and when the trooper tried to catch him he ran as fast as the whelps, and kept up with the old one. They all entered the den, but were dug out by the people and the boy was secured. He struggled hard to rush into every hole or gully they came near. When he saw a grown-up person he became alarmed, but tried to fly at children and bite them. He rejected cooked meat with disgust, but delighted in raw flesh and bones, putting them under his paws like a dog." The other case occurred at Chupra, in the Presidency of Bengal. In March, 1843, a Hindoo mother went out to help her husband in the field, and while she was cutting rice her little boy was carried off by a wolf. About a year afterward a wolf, followed by several cubs and a strange, ape-like creature, was seen about ten miles from Chupra. After a lively chase the nondescript was caught and recognized (by the mark of a burn on his knee) as the Hindoo boy that had disappeared in the rice-field. This boy would not eat anything but raw flesh, and could never be taught to speak, but expressed his emotions in an inarticulate mutter. His elbows and the pans of his knees had become horny from going on all-fours with his foster mother. In the winter of 1850 this boy made several attempts to regain his freedom, and in the following spring he escaped for good and disappeared in the jungle-forest of Bhangapore.

The Zoologist for March, 1888, reproduced a remarkable pamphlet printed at Plymouth in 1852, which had been epitomized in the Lancet. This interesting paper gives an account of wolves nurturing small children in their dens. Six cases are given of boys who have been rescued from the maternal care of wolves. In one instance the lad was traced from the moment of his being carried off by a lurking wolf while his parents were working in the field, to the time when, after having been recovered by his mother six years later, he escaped from her into the jungle. In all these cases certain marked features reappear. In the first, the boy was very inoffensive, except when teased, and then he growled surlily. He would eat anything thrown to him, but preferred meat, which he devoured with canine voracity. He drank a pitcher of buttermilk at one gulp, and could not be induced to wear clothing even in the coldest weather. He showed the greatest fondness for bones, and gnawed them contentedly, after the manner of his adopted parents. This child had coarse features, a repulsive countenance, was filthy in his habits, and could not articulate a word.

In another case the child was kidnapped at three and recovered at nine. He muttered, but could not articulate. As in the other case, he could not be enticed to wear clothes. From constantly being on all-fours the front of this child's knees and his elbows had become hardened. In the third case the father identified a son who had been carried away at the age of six, and was found four years afterward. The intellectual deterioration was not so marked. The boy understood signs, and his hearing was exceedingly acute; when directed by movements of the hands to assist the cultivators in turning out cattle, he readily comprehended what was asked of him; yet this lad, whose vulpine career was so short, could neither talk nor utter any decidedly articulate sound.

The author of the pamphlet expressed some surprise that there was no case on record in which a grown man had been found in such association. This curious collection of cases of wolf-children is attributed to Colonel Sleeman, a well-known officer, who is known to have been greatly interested in the subject, and who for a long time resided in the forests of India. A copy, now a rarity, is in the South Kensington Museum.

An interesting case of a wolf-child was reported many years ago in Chambers' Journal. In the Etwah district, near the banks of the river Jumna, a boy was captured from the wolves. After a time this child was restored to his parents, who, however, "found him very difficult to manage, for he was most fractious and troublesome—in fact, just a caged wild beast. Often during the night for hours together he would give vent to most unearthly yells and moans, destroying the rest and irritating the tempers of his neighbors and generally making night hideous. On one occasion his people chained him by the waist to a tree on the outskirts of the village. Then a rather curious incident occurred. It was a bright moonlight night, and two wolf cubs (undoubtedly those in whose companionship he had been captured), attracted by his cries while on the prowl, came to him, and were distinctly seen to gambol around him with as much familiarity and affection as if they considered him quite one of themselves. They only left him on the approach of morning, when movement and stir again arose in the village. This boy did not survive long. He never spoke, nor did a single ray of human intelligence ever shed its refining light over his debased features."

Recently a writer in the Badmington Magazine, in speaking of the authenticity of wolf-children, says:—

"A jemidar told me that when he was a lad he remembered going, with others, to see a wolf-child which had been netted. Some time after this, while staying at an up-country place called Shaporeooundie, in East Bengal, it was my fortune to meet an Anglo-Indian gentleman who had been in the Indian civil service for upward of thirty years, and had traveled about during most of that time; from him I learned all I wanted to know of wolf-children, for he not only knew of several cases, but had actually seen and examined, near Agra, a child which had been recovered from the wolves. The story of Romulus and Remus, which all schoolboys and the vast majority of grown people regard as a myth, appears in a different light when one studies the question of wolf-children, and ascertains how it comes to pass that boys are found living on the very best terms with such treacherous and rapacious animals as wolves, sleeping with them in their dens, sharing the raw flesh of deer and kids which the she-wolf provides, and, in fact, leading in all essentials the actual life of a wolf.

"A young she-wolf has a litter of cubs, and after a time her instinct tells her that they will require fresh food. She steals out at night in quest of prey. Soon she espies a weak place in the fence (generally constructed of thatching grass and bamboos) which encloses the compound, or 'unguah,' of a poor villager. She enters, doubtless, in the hope of securing a kid; and while prowling about inside looks into a hut where a woman and infant are soundly sleeping. In a moment she has pounced on the child, and is out of reach before its cries can attract the villagers. Arriving safely at her den under the rocks, she drops the little one among her cubs. At this critical time the fate of the child hangs in the balance. Either it will be immediately torn to pieces and devoured, or in a most wonderful way remain in the cave unharmed. In the event of escape, the fact may be accounted for in several ways. Perhaps the cubs are already gorged when the child is thrown before them, or are being supplied with solid food before their carnivorous instinct is awakened, so they amuse themselves by simply licking the sleek, oily body (Hindoo mothers daily rub their boy babies with some native vegetable oil) of the infant, and thus it lies in the nest, by degrees getting the odor of the wolf cubs, after which the mother wolf will not molest it. In a little time the infant begins to feel the pangs of hunger, and hearing the cubs sucking, soon follows their example. Now the adoption is complete, all fear of harm to the child from wolves has gone, and the foster-mother will guard and protect it as though it were of her own flesh and blood.

"The mode of progression of these children is on all fours—not, as a rule, on the hands and feet, but on the knees and elbows. The reason the knees are used is to be accounted for by the fact that, owing to the great length of the human leg and thigh in proportion to the length of the arm, the knee would naturally be brought to the ground, and the instep and top of the toes would be used instead of the sole and heel of the almost inflexible foot. Why the elbow should be employed instead of the hand is less easy to understand, but probably it is better suited to give support to the head and fore-part of the body.

"Some of these poor waifs have been recovered after spending ten or more years in the fellowship of wolves, and, though wild and savage at first, have in time become tractable in some degree. They are rarely seen to stand upright, unless to look around, and they gnaw bones in the manner of a dog, holding one end between the forearms and hands, while snarling and snapping at everybody who approaches too near. The wolf-child has little except his outward form to show that it is a human being with a soul. It is a fearful and terrible thing, and hard to understand, that the mere fact of a child's complete isolation from its own kind should bring it to such a state of absolute degradation. Of course, they speak no language, though some, in time, have learned to make known their wants by signs. When first taken they fear the approach of adults, and, if possible, will slink out of sight; but should a child of their own size, or smaller, come near, they will growl, and even snap and bite at it. On the other hand, the close proximity of "pariah" dogs or jackals is unresented, in some cases welcomed; for I have heard of them sharing their food with these animals, and even petting and fondling them. They have in time been brought to a cooked-meat diet, but would always prefer raw flesh. Some have been kept alive after being reclaimed for as long as two years, but for some reason or other they all sicken and die, generally long before that time. One would think, however, that, having undoubtedly robust constitutions, they might be saved if treated in a scientific manner and properly managed."

Rudyard Kipling, possibly inspired by accounts of these wolf-children in India, has ingeniously constructed an interesting series of fabulous stories of a child who was brought up by the beasts of the jungles and taught their habits and their mode of communication. The ingenious way in which the author has woven the facts together and interspersed them with his intimate knowledge of animal-life commends his "Jungle-Book" as a legitimate source of recreation to the scientific observer.

Among observers mentioned in the "Index Catalogue" who have studied this subject are Giglioli, Mitra, and Ornstein.

The artificial manufacture of "wild men" or "wild boys" in the Chinese Empire is shown by recent reports. Macgowan says the traders kidnap a boy and skin him alive bit by bit, transplanting on the denuded surfaces the hide of a bear or dog. This process is most tedious and is by no means complete when the hide is completely transplanted, as the subject must be rendered mute by destruction of the vocal cords, made to use all fours in walking, and submitted to such degradation as to completely blight all reason. It is said that the process is so severe that only one in five survive. A "wild boy" exhibited in Kiangse had the entire skin of a dog substituted and walked on all fours. It was found that he had been kidnapped. His proprietor was decapitated on the spot. Macgowan says that parasitic monsters are manufactured in China by a similar process of transplantation. He adds that the deprivation of light for several years renders the child a great curiosity, if in conjunction its growth is dwarfed by means of food and drugs, and its vocal apparatus destroyed. A certain priest subjected a kidnapped boy to this treatment and exhibited him as a sacred deity. Macgowan mentions that the child looked like wax, as though continually fed on lardaceous substances. He squatted with his palms together and was a driveling idiot. The monk was discovered and escaped, but his temple was razed.

Equilibrists.—Many individuals have cultivated their senses so acutely that by the eye and particularly by touch they are able to perform almost incredible feats of maintaining equilibrium under the most difficult circumstances Professional rope-walkers have been known in all times. The Greeks had a particular passion for equilibrists, and called them "neurobates," "oribates," and "staenobates." Blondin would have been one of the latter. Antique medals showing equilibrists making the ascent of an inclined cord have been found. The Romans had walkers both of the slack-rope and tight-rope Many of the Fathers of the Church have pronounced against the dangers of these exercises. Among others, St. John Chrysostom speaks of men who execute movements on inclined ropes at unheard-of heights. In the ruins of Herculaneum there is still visible a picture representing an equilibrist executing several different exercises, especially one in which he dances on a rope to the tune of a double flute, played by himself. The Romans particularly liked to witness ascensions on inclined ropes, and sometimes these were attached to the summits of high hills, and while mounting them the acrobats performed different pantomimes. It is said that under Charles VI a Genoese acrobat, on the occasion of the arrival of the Queen of France, carried in each hand an illuminated torch while descending a rope stretched from the summit of the towers of Notre Dame to a house on the Pont au Change. According to Guyot-Daubes, a similar performance was seen in London in 1547. In this instance the rope was attached to the highest pinnacle of St. Paul's Cathedral. Under Louis XII an acrobat named Georges Menustre, during a passage of the King through Macon, executed several performances on a rope stretched from the grand tower of the Chateau and the clock of the Jacobins, at a height of 156 feet. A similar performance was given at Milan before the French Ambassadors, and at Venice under the Doges and the Senate on each St. Mark's Day, rope-walkers performed at high altitudes. In 1649 a man attempted to traverse the Seine on a rope placed between the Tour de Nesles and the Tour du Grand-Prevost. The performance, however, was interrupted by the fall of the mountebank into the Seine. At subsequent fairs in France other acrobats have appeared. At the commencement of this century there was a person named Madame Saqui who astonished the public with her nimbleness and extraordinary skill in rope walking. Her specialty was military maneuvers. On a cord 20 meters from the ground she executed all sorts of military pantomimes without assistance, shooting off pistols, rockets, and various colored fires. Napoleon awarded her the title of the first acrobat of France. She gave a performance as late as 1861 at the Hippodrome of Paris.

In 1814 there was a woman called "La Malaga," who, in the presence of the allied sovereigns at Versailles, made an ascension on a rope 200 feet above the Swiss Lake.

In the present generation probably the most famous of all the equilibrists was Blondin. This person, whose real name was Emile Gravelet, acquired a universal reputation; about 1860 he traversed the Niagara Falls on a cable at an elevation of nearly 200 feet. Blondin introduced many novelties in his performances. Sometimes he would carry a man over on his shoulders; again he would eat a meal while on his wire; cook and eat an omelet, using a table and ordinary cooking utensils, all of which he kept balanced. In France Blondin was almost the patron saint of the rope-walkers; and at the present day the performers imitate his feats, but never with the same grace and perfection.

In 1882 an acrobat bearing the natural name of Arsens Blondin traversed one river after another in France on a wire stretched at high altitudes. With the aid of a balancing-rod he walked the rope blindfolded; with baskets on his feet; sometimes he wheeled persons over in a wheelbarrow. He was a man of about thirty, short, but wonderfully muscled and extremely supple.

It is said that a negro equilibrist named Malcom several times traversed the Meuse at Sedan on a wire at about a height of 100 feet. Once while attempting this feat, with his hands and feet shackled with iron chains, allowing little movement, the support on one side fell, after the cable had parted, and landed on the spectators, killing a young girl and wounding many others. Malcom was precipitated into the river, but with wonderful presence of mind and remarkable strength he broke his bands and swam to the shore, none the worse for his high fall; he immediately helped in attention to his wounded spectators. A close inspection of all the exhibitionists of this class will show that they are of superior physique and calm courage. They only acquire their ability after long gymnastic exercise, as well as actual practice on the rope. Most of these persons used means of balancing themselves, generally a long and heavy pole; but some used nothing but their outstretched arms. In 1895, at the Royal Aquarium in London, there was an individual who slowly mounted a long wire reaching to the top of this huge structure, and, after having made the ascent, without the aid of any means of balancing but his arms, slid the whole length of the wire, landing with enormous velocity into an outstretched net.

The equilibrists mentioned thus far have invariably used a tightly stretched rope or wire; but there are a number of persons who perform feats, of course not of such magnitude, on a slack wire, in which they have to defy not only the force of gravity, but the to-and-fro motion of the cable as well. It is particularly with the Oriental performers that we see this exhibition. Some use open parasols, which, with their Chinese or Japanese costumes, render the performance more picturesque; while others seem to do equally well without such adjuncts. There have been performers of this class who play with sharp daggers while maintaining themselves on thin and swinging wires.

Another class of equilibrists are those who maintain the upright position resting on their heads with their feet in the air. At the Hippodrome in Paris some years since there was a man who remained in this position seven minutes and ate a meal during the interval. There were two clowns at the Cirque Franconi who duplicated this feat, and the program called their dinner "Un dejouner en tete-a-tete." Some other persons perform wonderful feats of a similar nature on an oscillating trapeze, and many similar performances have been witnessed by the spectators of our large circuses.

The "human pyramids" are interesting, combining, as they do, wonderful power of maintaining equilibrium with agility and strength. The rapidity with which they are formed and are tumbled to pieces is marvelous they sometimes include as many as 16 persons men, women, and children.

The exhibitions given by the class of persons commonly designated as "jugglers" exemplify the perfect control that by continual practice one may obtain over his various senses and muscles. The most wonderful feats of dexterity are thus reduced into mere automatic movements. Either standing, sitting, mounted on a horse, or even on a wire, they are able to keep three four, five, and even six balls in continual motion in the air. They use articles of the greatest difference in specific gravity in the same manner. A juggler called "Kara," appearing in London and Paris in the summer of 1895, juggled with an open umbrella, an eye-glass, and a traveling satchel, and received each after its course in the air with unerring precision. Another man called "Paul Cinquevalli," well known in this country, does not hesitate to juggle with lighted lamps or pointed knives. The tricks of the clowns with their traditional pointed felt hats are well known. Recently there appeared in Philadelphia a man who received six such hats on his head, one on top of the other, thrown by his partner from the rear of the first balcony of the theater. Others will place a number of rings on their fingers, and with a swift and dexterous movement toss them all in the air, catching them again all on one finger. Without resorting to the fabulous method of Columbus, they balance eggs on a table, and in extraordinary ways defy all the powers of gravity.

In India and China we see the most marvelous of the knife-jugglers.

With unerring skill they keep in motion many pointed knives, always receiving them at their fall by the handles. They throw their implements with such precision that one often sees men, who, placing their partner against a soft board, will stand at some distance and so pen him in with daggers that he cannot move until some are withdrawn, marking a silhouette of his form on the board,—yet never once does one as much as graze the skin. With these same people the foot-jugglers are most common. These persons, both made and female, will with their feet juggle substances and articles that it requires several assistants to raise.

A curious trick is given by Rousselet in his magnificent work entitled "L'Inde des Rajahs," and quoted by Guyot-Daubes. It is called in India the "dance of the eggs." The dancer, dressed in a rather short skirt, places on her head a large wheel made of light wood, and at regular intervals having hanging from it pieces of thread, at the ends of which are running knots kept open by beads of glass. She then brings forth a basket of eggs, and passes them around for inspection to assure her spectators of their genuineness. The monotonous music commences and the dancer sets the wheel on her head in rapid motion; then, taking an egg, with a quick movement she puts it on one of the running knots and increases the velocity of the revolution of the wheel by gyrations until the centrifugal force makes each cord stand out in an almost horizontal line with the circumference of the wheel. Then one after another she places the eggs on the knots of the cord, until all are flying about her head in an almost horizontal position. At this moment the dance begins, and it is almost impossible to distinguish the features of the dancer. She continues her dance, apparently indifferent to the revolving eggs. At the velocity with which they revolve the slightest false movement would cause them to knock against one another and surely break. Finally, with the same lightning-like movements, she removes them one by one, certainly the most delicate part of the trick, until they are all safely laid away in the basket from which they came, and then she suddenly brings the wheel to a stop; after this wonderful performance, lasting possibly thirty minutes, she bows herself out.

A unique Japanese feat is to tear pieces of paper into the form of butterflies and launch them into the air about a vase full of flowers; then with a fan to keep them in motion, making them light on the flowers, fly away, and return, after the manner of several living butterflies, without allowing one to fall to the ground.

Marksmen.—It would be an incomplete paper on the acute development of the senses that did not pay tribute to the men who exhibit marvelous skill with firearms. In the old frontier days in the Territories, the woodsmen far eclipsed Tell with his bow or Robin Hood's famed band by their unerring aim with their rifles. It is only lately that there disappeared in this country the last of many woodsmen, who, though standing many paces away and without the aid of the improved sights of modern guns, could by means of a rifle-ball, with marvelous precision, drive a nail "home" that had been placed partly in a board. The experts who shoot at glass balls rarely miss, and when we consider the number used each year, the proportion of inaccurate shots is surprisingly small. Ira Paine, Doctor Carver, and others have been seen in their marvelous performances by many people of the present generation. The records made by many of the competitors of the modern army-shooting matches are none the less wonderful, exemplifying as they do the degree of precision that the eye may attain and the control which may be developed over the nerves and muscles. The authors know of a countryman who successfully hunted squirrels and small game by means of pebbles thrown with his hand.

Physiologic wonders are to be found in all our modern sports and games. In billiards, base-ball, cricket, tennis, etc., there are experts who are really physiologic curiosities. In the trades and arts we see development of the special senses that is little less than marvelous. It is said that there are workmen in Krupp's gun factory in Germany who have such control over the enormous trip hammers that they can place a watch under one and let the hammer fall, stopping it with unerring precision just on the crystal. An expert tool juggler in one of the great English needle factories, in a recent test of skill, performed one of the most delicate mechanical feats imaginable. He took a common sewing needle of medium size (length 1 5/8 inches) and drilled a hole through its entire length from eye to point—the opening being just large enough to admit the passage of a very fine hair. Another workman in a watch-factory of the United States drilled a hole through a hair of his beard and ran a fiber of silk through it.

Ventriloquists, or "two-voiced men," are interesting anomalies of the present day; it is common to see a person who possesses the power of speaking with a voice apparently from the epigastrium. Some acquire this faculty, while with others it is due to a natural resonance, formed, according to Dupont, in the space between the third and fourth ribs and their cartilaginous union and the middle of the first portion of the sternum. Examination of many of these cases proves that the vibration is greatest here. It is certain that ventriloquists have existed for many centuries. It is quite possible that some of the old Pagan oracles were simply the deceptions of priests by means of ventriloquism.

Dupont, Surgeon-in-chief of the French Army about a century since, examined minutely an individual professing to be a ventriloquist. With a stuffed fox on his lap near his epigastrium, he imitated a conversation with the fox. By lying on his belly, and calling to some one supposed to be below the surface of the ground, he would imitate an answer seeming to come from the depths of the earth. With his belly on the ground he not only made the illusion more complete, but in this way he smothered "the epigastric voice."

He was always noticed to place the inanimate objects with which he held conversations near his umbilicus.

Ventriloquists must not be confounded with persons who by means of skilful mechanisms, creatures with movable fauces, etc., imitate ventriloquism. The latter class are in no sense of the word true ventriloquists, but simulate the anomaly by quickly changing the tones of their voice in rapid succession, and thus seem to make their puppets talk in many different voices. After having acquired the ability to suddenly change the tone of their voice, they practice imitations of the voices of the aged, of children, dialects, and feminine tones, and, with a set of mechanical puppets, are ready to appear as ventriloquists. By contraction of the pharyngeal and laryngeal muscles they also imitate tones from a distance. Some give their performance with little labial movement, but close inspection of the ordinary performer of this class shows visible movements of his lips. The true ventriloquist pretends only to speak from the belly and needs no mechanical assistance.

The wonderful powers of mimicry displayed by expert ventriloquists are marvelous; they not only imitate individuals and animals, but do not hesitate to imitate a conglomeration of familiar sounds and noises in such a manner as to deceive their listeners into believing that they hear the discussions of an assemblage of people. The following description of an imitation of a domestic riot by a Chinese ventriloquist is given by the author of "The Chinaman at Home" and well illustrates the extent of their abilities: "The ventriloquist was seated behind a screen, where there were only a chair, a table, a fan, and a ruler. With this ruler he rapped on the table to enforce silence, and when everybody had ceased speaking there was suddenly heard the barking of a dog. Then we heard the movements of a woman. She had been waked by the dog and was shaking her husband. We were just expecting to hear the man and wife talking together when a child began to cry. To pacify it the mother gave it food; we could hear it drinking and crying at the same time. The mother spoke to it soothingly and then rose to change its clothes. Meanwhile another child had wakened and was beginning to make a noise. The father scolded it, while the baby continued crying. By-and-by the whole family went back to bed and fell asleep. The patter of a mouse was heard. It climbed up some vase and upset it. We heard the clatter of the vase as it fell. The woman coughed in her sleep. Then cries of "Fire! fire!" were heard. The mouse had upset the lamp; the bed curtains were on fire. The husband and wife waked up, shouted, and screamed, the children cried, people came running and shouting. Children cried, dogs barked, squibs and crackers exploded. The fire brigade came racing up. Water was pumped up in torrents and hissed in the flames. The representation was so true to life that every one rose to his feet and was starting away when a second blow of the ruler on the table commanded silence. We rushed behind the screen, but there was nothing there except the ventriloquist, his table, his chair, and his ruler."

Athletic Feats.—The ancients called athletes those who were noted for their extraordinary agility, force, and endurance. The history of athletics is not foreign to that of medicine, but, on the contrary, the two are in many ways intimately blended. The instances of feats of agility and endurance are in every sense of the word examples of physiologic and functional anomalies, and have in all times excited the interest and investigation of capable physicians.

The Greeks were famous for their love of athletic pastimes; and classical study serves powerfully to strengthen the belief that no institution exercised greater influence than the public contests of Greece in molding national character and producing that admirable type of personal and intellectual beauty that we see reflected in her art and literature. These contests were held at four national festivals, the Olympian, the Pythian, the Nemean, and the Isthmean games. On these occasions every one stopped labor, truce was declared between the States, and the whole country paid tribute to the contestants for the highly-prized laurels of these games. Perhaps the enthusiasm shown in athletics and interest in physical development among the Greeks has never been equaled by any other people. Herodotus and all the Greek writers to Plutarch have elaborated on the glories of the Greek athlete, and tell us of the honors rendered to the victors by the spectators and the vanquished, dwelling with complacency on the fact that in accepting the laurel they cared for nothing but honor. The Romans in "ludi publici," as they called their games, were from first to last only spectators; but in Greece every eligible person was an active participant. In the regimen of diet and training the physicians from the time of Hippocrates, and even before, have been the originators and professional advisers of the athlete. The change in the manner of living of athletes, if we can judge from the writings of Hippocrates, was anterior to his time; for in Book V of the "Epidemics" we read of Bias, who, "suapte nature vorax, in choleram-morbum incidit ex carnium esu, praecipueque suillarum crudarum, etc."

From the time of the well-known fable of the hero who, by practicing daily from his birth, was able to lift a full-grown bull, thus gradually accustoming himself to the increased weight, physiologists and scientists have collaborated with the athlete in evolving the present ideas and system of training. In his aphorisms Hippocrates bears witness to the dangers of over-exercise and superabundant training, and Galen is particularly averse to an art which so preternaturally develops the constitution and nature of man; many subsequent medical authorities believed that excessive development of the human frame was necessarily followed by a compensatory shortening of life.

The foot-race was the oldest of the Greek institutions, and in the first of the Olympiads the "dromos," a course of about 200 yards, was the only contest; but gradually the "dialos," in which the course was double that of the dromos, was introduced, and, finally, tests of endurance as well as speed were instituted in the long-distance races and the contests of racing in heavy armor, which were so highly commended by Plato as preparation for the arduous duties of a soldier. Among the Greeks we read of Lasthenes the Theban, who vanquished a horse in the course; of Polymnestor, who chased and caught a hare; and Philonides, the courier of Alexander the Great, who in nine hours traversed the distance between the Greek cities Sicyone and Elis, a distance of over 150 miles. We read of the famous soldier of Marathon, who ran to announce the victory to the Magistrates of Athens and fell dead at their feet. In the Olympian games at Athens in 1896 this distance (about 26 miles) was traversed in less than three hours.

It is said of Euchidas, who carried the fire necessary for the sacrifices which were to replace those which the Persians had spoiled, that he ran a thousand stadia (about 125 miles) and fell dead at the end of his mission. The Roman historians have also recited the extraordinary feats of the couriers of their times. Pliny speaks of an athlete who ran 235 kilometers (almost 150 miles) without once stopping. He also mentions a child who ran almost half this distance.

In the Middle Ages the Turks had couriers of almost supernatural agility and endurance. It is said that the distance some of them would traverse in twenty-four hours was 120 miles, and that it was common for them to make the round trip from Constantinople to Adrianople, a distance of 80 leagues, in two days. They were dressed very lightly, and by constant usage the soles of their feet were transformed into a leathery consistency. In the last century in the houses of the rich there were couriers who preceded the carriages and were known as "Basques," who could run for a very long time without apparent fatigue. In France there is a common proverb, "Courir comme un Basque." Rabelais says: "Grand-Gousier depeche le Basque son laquais pour querir Gargantua en toute hate."

In the olden times the English nobility maintained running footmen who, living under special regimen and training, were enabled to traverse unusual distances without apparent fatigue. There is an anecdote of a nobleman living in a castle not far from Edinburgh, who one evening charged his courier to carry a letter to that city. The next morning when he arose he found this valet sleeping in his antechamber. The nobleman waxed wroth, but the courier gave him a response to the letter. He had traveled 70 miles during the night. It is said that one of the noblemen under Charles II in preparing for a great dinner perceived that one of the indispensable pieces of his service was missing. His courier was dispatched in great haste to another house in his domain, 15 miles distant, and returned in two hours with the necessary article, having traversed a distance of over 30 miles. It is also said that a courier carrying a letter to a London physician returned with the potion prescribed within twenty-four hours, having traversed 148 miles. There is little doubt of the ability of these couriers to tire out any horse. The couriers who accompany the diligences in Spain often fatigue the animals who draw the vehicles.

At the present time in this country the Indians furnish examples of marvelous feats of running. The Tauri-Mauri Indians, who live in the heart of the Sierra Madre Mountains, are probably the most wonderful long-distance runners in the world. Their name in the language of the mountain Mexicans means foot-runners; and there is little doubt that they perform athletic feats which equal the best in the days of the Olympian games. They are possibly the remnants of the wonderful runners among the Indian tribes in the beginning of this century. There is an account of one of the Tauri-Mauri who was mail carrier between Guarichic and San Jose de los Cruces, a distance of 50 miles of as rough, mountainous road as ever tried a mountaineer's lungs and limbs. Bareheaded and barelegged, with almost no clothing, this man made this trip each day, and, carrying on his back a mail-pouch weighing 40 pounds, moved gracefully and easily over his path, from time to time increasing his speed as though practicing, and then again more slowly to smoke a cigarette. The Tauri-Mauri are long-limbed and slender, giving the impression of being above the average height. There is scarcely any flesh on their puny arms, but their legs are as muscular as those of a greyhound. In short running they have the genuine professional stride, something rarely seen in other Indian racers. In traversing long distances they leap and bound like deer.

"Deerfoot," the famous Indian long-distance runner, died on the Cattaraugus Reservation in January, 1896. His proper name was Louis Bennett, the name "Deerfoot" having been given to him for his prowess in running. He was born on the reservation in 1828. In 1861 he went to England, where he defeated the English champion runners. In April, 1863, he ran 11 miles in London in fifty-six minutes fifty-two seconds, and 12 miles in one hour two minutes and two and one-half seconds, both of which have stood as world's records ever since.

In Japan, at the present day, the popular method of conveyance, both in cities and in rural districts, is the two-wheeled vehicle, looking like a baby-carriage, known to foreigners as the jinrickisha, and to the natives as the kuruma. In the city of Tokio there is estimated to be 38,000 of these little carriages in use. They are drawn by coolies, of whose endurance remarkable stories are told. These men wear light cotton breeches and a blue cotton jacket bearing the license number, and the indispensable umbrella hat. In the course of a journey in hot weather the jinrickisha man will gradually remove most of his raiment and stuff it into the carriage. In the rural sections he is covered with only two strips of cloth, one wrapped about his head and the other about his loins. It is said that when the roadway is good, these "human horses" prefer to travel bare-footed; when working in the mud they wrap a piece of straw about each big toe, to prevent slipping and to give them a firmer grip. For any of these men a five-mile spurt on a good road without a breathing spell is a small affair. A pair of them will roll a jinrickisha along a country road at the rate of four miles an hour, and they will do this eight hours a day. The general average of the distance traversed in a day is 25 miles. Cockerill, who has recently described these men, says that the majority of them die early. The terrible physical strain brings on hypertrophy and valvular diseases of the heart, and many of them suffer from hernia. Occasionally one sees a veteran jinrickisha man, and it is interesting to note how tenderly he is helped by his confreres. They give him preference as regards wages, help push his vehicle up heavy grades, and show him all manner of consideration.

Figure 180 represents two Japanese porters and their usual load, which is much more difficult to transport than a jinrickisha carriage. In other Eastern countries, palanquins and other means of conveyance are still borne on the shoulders of couriers, and it is not so long since our ancestors made their calls in Sedan-chairs borne by sturdy porters.

Some of the letter-carriers of India make a daily journey of 30 miles. They carry in one hand a stick, at the extremity of which is a ring containing several little plates of iron, which, agitated during the course, produce a loud noise designed to keep off ferocious beasts and serpents. In the other hand they carry a wet cloth, with which they frequently refresh themselves by wiping the countenance. It is said that a regular Hindustanee carrier, with a weight of 80 pounds on his shoulder,—carried, of course, in two divisions, hung on his neck by a yoke,—will, if properly paid, lope along over 100 miles in twenty-four hours—a feat which would exhaust any but the best trained runners.

The "go-as-you-please" pedestrians, whose powers during the past years have been exhibited in this country and in England, have given us marvelous examples of endurance, over 600 miles having been accomplished in a six-days' contest. Hazael, the professional pedestrian, has run over 450 miles in ninety-nine hours, and Albert has traveled over 500 miles in one hundred and ten hours. Rowell, Hughes, and Fitzgerald have astonishingly high records for long-distance running, comparing favorably with the older, and presumably mythical, feats of this nature. In California, C. A. Harriman of Truckee in April, 1883, walked twenty-six hours without once resting, traversing 122 miles.

For the purpose of comparison we give the best modern records for running:—

100 Yards.—9 3/5 seconds, made by Edward Donavan, at Natick, Mass., September 2, 1895.

220 Yards.—21 3/5 seconds, made by Harry Jewett, at Montreal, September 24, 1892.

Quarter-Mile.—47 3/4 seconds, made by W. Baker, at Boston, Mass., July 1, 1886.

Half-Mile.—1 minute 53 2/3 seconds, made by C. J. Kirkpatrick, at Manhattan Field, New York, September 21, 1895.

1 Mile.—4 minutes 12 3/4 seconds, made by W. G. George, at London, England, August 23, 1886.

5 Miles.—24 minutes 40 seconds, made by J. White, in England, May 11, 1863.

10 Miles.—51 minutes 6 3/5 seconds, made by William Cummings, at London, England, September 18,1895.

25 Miles.—2 hours 33 minutes 44 seconds, made by G. A. Dunning, at London, England, December 26, 1881.

50 Miles.—5 hours 55 minutes 4 1/2 seconds, made by George Cartwright, at London, England, February 21, 1887.

75 Miles.—8 hours 48 minutes 30 seconds, made by George Littlewood, at London, England, November 24, 1884.

100 Miles.—13 hours 26 minutes 30 seconds, made by Charles Rowell at New York, February 27, 1882.

In instances of long-distance traversing, rapidity is only a secondary consideration, the remarkable fact being in the endurance of fatigue and the continuity of the exercise. William Gale walked 1500 miles in a thousand consecutive hours, and then walked 60 miles every twenty-four hours for six weeks on the Lillie Bridge cinder path. He was five feet five inches tall, forty-nine years of age, and weighed 121 pounds, and was but little developed muscularly. He was in good health during his feat; his diet for the twenty-four hours was 16 pounds of meat, five or six eggs, some cocoa, two quarts of milk, a quart of tea, and occasionally a glass of bitter ale, but never wine nor spirits. Strange to say, he suffered from constipation, and took daily a compound rhubarb pill. He was examined at the end of his feat by Gant. His pulse was 75, strong, regular, and his heart was normal. His temperature was 97.25 degrees F., and his hands and feet warm; respirations were deep and averaged 15 a minute. He suffered from frontal headache and was drowsy. During the six weeks he had lost only seven pounds, and his appetite maintained its normal state.

Zeuner of Cincinnati refers to John Snyder of Dunkirk, whose walking-feats were marvelous. He was not an impostor. During forty-eight hours he was watched by the students of the Ohio Medical College, who stated that he walked constantly; he assured them that it did not rest him to sit down, but made him uncomfortable. The celebrated Weston walked 5000 miles in one hundred days, but Snyder was said to have traveled 25,000 miles in five hundred days and was apparently no more tired than when he began.

Recently there was a person who pushed a wheelbarrow from San Francisco to New York in one hundred and eighteen days. In 1809 the celebrated Captain Barclay wagered that he could walk 1000 miles in one thousand consecutive hours, and gained his bet with some hours to spare. In 1834 Ernest Mensen astonished all Europe by his pedestrian exploits. He was a Norwegian sailor, who wagered that he could walk from Paris to Moscow in fifteen days. On June 25, 1834, at ten o'clock A.M., he entered the Kremlin, after having traversed 2500 kilometers (1550 miles) in fourteen days and eighteen hours. His performances all over Europe were so marvelous as to be almost incredible. In 1836, in the service of the East India Company, he was dispatched from Calcutta to Constantinople, across Central Asia. He traversed the distance in fifty-nine days, accomplishing 9000 kilometers (5580 miles) in one-third less time than the most rapid caravan. He died while attempting to discover the source of the Nile, having reached the village of Syang.

A most marvelous feat of endurance is recorded in England in the first part of this century. It is said that on a wager Sir Andrew Leith Hay and Lord Kennedy walked two days and a night under pouring rain, over the Grampian range of mountains, wading all one day in a bog. The distance traversed was from a village called Banchory on the river Dee to Inverness. This feat was accomplished without any previous preparation, both men starting shortly after the time of the wager.

Riders.—The feats of endurance accomplished by the couriers who ride great distances with many changes of horses are noteworthy. According to a contemporary medical journal there is, in the Friend of India, an account of the Thibetan couriers who ride for three weeks with intervals of only half an hour to eat and change horses. It is the duty of the officials at the Dak bungalows to see that the courier makes no delay, and even if dying he is tied to his horse and sent to the next station. The celebrated English huntsman, "Squire" Osbaldistone, on a wager rode 200 miles in seven hours ten minutes and four seconds. He used 28 horses; and as one hour twenty-two minutes and fifty-six seconds were allowed for stoppages, the whole time, changes and all, occupied in accomplishing this wonderful feat was eight hours and forty-two minutes. The race was ridden at the Newmarket Houghton Meeting over a four-mile course. It is said that a Captain Horne of the Madras Horse Artillery rode 200 miles on Arab horses in less than ten hours along the road between Madras and Bangalore. When we consider the slower speed of the Arab horses and the roads and climate of India, this performance equals the 200 miles in the shorter time about an English race track and on thoroughbreds. It is said that this wonderful horseman lost his life in riding a horse named "Jumping Jenny" 100 miles a day for eight days. The heat was excessive, and although the horse was none the worse for the performance, the Captain died from the exposure he encountered. There is a record of a Mr. Bacon of the Bombay Civil Service, who rode one camel from Bombay to Allygur (perhaps 800 miles) in eight days.

As regards the physiology of the runners and walkers, it is quite interesting to follow the effects of training on the respiration, whereby in a measure is explained the ability of these persons to maintain their respiratory function, although excessively exercising. A curious discussion, persisted in since antiquity, is as to the supposed influence of the spleen on the ability of couriers. For ages runners have believed that the spleen was a hindrance to their vocation, and that its reduction was followed by greater agility on the course. With some, this opinion is perpetuated to the present day. In France there is a proverb, "Courir comme un derate." To reduce the size of the spleen, the Greek athletes used certain beverages, the composition of which was not generally known; the Romans had a similar belief and habit Pliny speaks of a plant called equisetum, a decoction of which taken for three days after a fast of twenty-four hours would effect absorption of the spleen. The modern pharmacopeia does not possess any substance having a similar virtue, although quinin has been noticed to diminish the size of the spleen when engorged in malarial fevers. Strictly speaking, however, the facts are not analogous. Hippocrates advises a moxa of mushrooms applied over the spleen for melting or dissolving it. Godefroy Moebius is said to have seen in the village of Halberstadt a courier whose spleen had been cauterized after incision; and about the same epoch (seventeenth century) some men pretended to be able to successfully extirpate the spleen for those who desired to be couriers. This operation we know to be one of the most delicate in modern surgery, and as we are progressing with our physiologic knowledge of the spleen we see nothing to justify the old theory in regard to its relations to agility and coursing.

Swimming.—The instances of endurance that we see in the aquatic sports are equally as remarkable as those that we find among the runners and walkers. In the ancient days the Greeks, living on their various islands and being in a mild climate, were celebrated for their prowess as swimmers. Socrates relates the feats of swimming among the inhabitants of Delos. The journeys of Leander across the Hellespont are well celebrated in verse and prose, but this feat has been easily accomplished many times since, and is hardly to be classed as extraordinary. Herodotus says that the Macedonians were skilful swimmers; and all the savage tribes about the borders of waterways are found possessed of remarkable dexterity and endurance in swimming.

In 1875 the celebrated Captain Webb swam from Dover to Calais. On landing he felt extremely cold, but his body was as warm as when he started. He was exhausted and very sleepy, falling in deep slumber on his way to the hotel. On getting into bed his temperature was 98 degrees F. and his pulse normal. In five hours he was feverish, his temperature rising to 101 degrees F. During the passage he was blinded from the salt water in his eyes and the spray beating against his face. He strongly denied the newspaper reports that he was delirious, and after a good rest was apparently none the worse for the task. In 1876 he again traversed this passage with the happiest issue. In 1883 he was engaged by speculators to swim the rapids at Niagara, and in attempting this was overcome by the powerful currents, and his body was not recovered for some days after. The passage from Dover to Calais has been duplicated.

In 1877 Cavill, another Englishman, swam from Cape Griz-Nez to South Forland in less than thirteen hours. In 1880 Webb swam and floated at Scarborough for seventy-four consecutive hours—of course, having no current to contend with and no point to reach. This was merely a feat of staying in the water. In London in 1881, Beckwith, swimming ten hours a day over a 32-lap course for six days, traversed 94 miles. Since the time of Captain Webb, who was the pioneer of modern long-distance swimming, many men have attempted and some have duplicated his feats; but these foolhardy performances have in late years been diminishing, and many of the older feats are forbidden by law.

Jumpers and acrobatic tumblers have been popular from the earliest time. By the aid of springing boards and weights in their hands, the old jumpers covered great distances. Phayllus of Croton is accredited with jumping the incredible distance of 55 feet, and we have the authority of Eustache and Tzetzes that this jump is genuine. In the writings of many Greek and Roman historians are chronicled jumps of about 50 feet by the athletes; if they are true, the modern jumpers have greatly degenerated. A jump of over 20 feet to-day is considered very clever, the record being 29 feet seven inches with weights, and 23 feet eight inches without weights, although much greater distances have been jumped with the aid of apparatus, but never an approximation to 50 feet. The most surprising of all these athletes are the tumblers, who turn somersaults over several animals arranged in a row. Such feats are not only the most amusing sights of a modern circus, but also the most interesting as well. The agility of these men is marvelous, and the force with which they throw themselves in the air apparently enables them to defy gravity. In London, Paris, or New York one may see these wonderful tumblers and marvel at the capabilities of human physical development.

In September, 1895, M. F. Sweeney, an American amateur, at Manhattan Field in New York jumped six feet 5 5/8 inches high in the running high jump without weights. With weights, J. H. Fitzpatrick at Oak Island, Mass., jumped six feet six inches high. The record for the running high kick is nine feet eight inches, a marvelous performance, made by C. C. Lee at New Haven, Conn., March 19, 1887.

Extraordinary physical development and strength has been a grand means of natural selection in the human species. As Guyot-Daubes remarks, in prehistoric times, when our ancestors had to battle against hunger, savage beasts, and their neighbors, and when the struggle for existence was so extremely hard, the strong man alone resisted and the weak succumbed. This natural selection has been perpetuated almost to our day; during the long succession of centuries, the chief or the master was selected on account of his being the strongest, or the most valiant in the combat. Originally, the cavaliers, the members of the nobility, were those who were noted for their courage and strength, and to them were given the lands of the vanquished. Even in times other than those of war, disputes of succession were settled by jousts and tourneys. This fact is seen in the present day among the lower animals, who in their natural state live in tribes; the leader is usually the strongest, the wisest, and the most courageous.

The strong men of all times have excited the admiration of their fellows and have always been objects of popular interest. The Bible celebrates the exploits of Samson of the tribe of Dan. During his youth he, single handed, strangled a lion; with the jaw-bone of an ass he is said to have killed 1000 Philistines and put the rest to flight. At another time during the night he transported from the village of Gaza enormous burdens and placed them on the top of a mountain. Betrayed by Delilah, he was delivered into the hands of his enemies and employed in the most servile labors. When old and blind he was attached to the columns of an edifice to serve as an object of public ridicule; with a violent effort he overturned the columns, destroying himself and 3000 Philistines.