By Dr. G. ARCHIE STOCKWELL.

Chemistry has made astounding strides since the days of the sixteenth century, when Italian malice and intrigue swayed all Europe, and poisons and poisoners stalked forth unblushingly from cottage and palace; when crowned and mitered heads, prelates, noblemen, beneficed clergymen, courtiers, and burghers became Borgias and De Medicis in hideous infamy in their greed for power and affluence; and when the civilized world feared to retire to rest, partake of the daily repast, inhale the odors of flower or perfume, light a wax taper, or even approach the waters of the holy font. These horrors have been laid bare, their cause and effect explained, and tests discovered whereby they may be detected, providing the law with a shield that protects even the humblest individual. Great as the science is, however, it is yet far removed from perfection; and there are substances so mysterious, subtle, and dangerous as to set the most delicate tests and powerful lenses at naught, while carrying death most horrible in their train; and chief of these are the products of Nature's laboratory, that provides some sixty species of serpents with their deadly venom, enabling them in spite of sluggish forms and retiring habits to secure abundant prey and resent mischievous molestation. The hideous trigonocephalus has forced the introduction and acclimation of the mongoose to the cane fields of the Western tropics; the tiger snake (Heplocephalus curtus) is the terror of Australian plains; the fer de lance (Craspedocephalus lanceolatus) renders the paradise of Martinique almost uninhabitable; the tic paloonga (Daboii russelli) is the scourge of Cinghalese coffee estates; the giant ehlouhlo of Natal (unclassified) by its presence secures a forbidding waste for miles about; the far famed cobra de capello (Naja tripudians) ravages British India in a death ratio of one-seventh of one per cent. of the dense population, annually, and is the more dangerous in that an assumed sacred character secures it largely from molestation and retributive justice; and in Europe and America we have vipers, rattlesnakes, copperheads, and moccasins (viperinae and crotalidae), that if a less degree fatal, are still a source of dread and annoyance. All these forms exhibit in general like ways and like habits, and if the venom of all be not generically identical, the physiological and toxicological phenomena arising therefrom render them practically and specifically so. Indeed, their attributes appear to be mere modifications arising from difference in age, size, development, climate, latitude, seasons, and enforced habits, aided perhaps by idiosyncrasies and the incidents and accidents of life.

In delicacy of organism and perfection in mechanism and precision, the inoculatory apparatus of the venomous reptile excels the most exquisite appliances devised by the surgical implement maker's art, and it is doubtful whether it can ever be rivaled by the hand of man. The mouth of the serpent is an object for the closest study, presenting as it does a series of independent actions, whereby the bones composing the upper jaw and palate are loosely articulated, or rather attached, to one another by elastic and expansive ligaments, whereby the aperture is made conformatory, or enlarged at will—any one part being untrammeled and unimpeded in its action by its fellows. The recurved, hook-like teeth are thus isolated in application, and each venom fang independent of its rival when so desired, and it becomes possible to reach points and recesses seemingly inaccessible.

The fangs proper, those formidable weapons whose threatening presence quails the boldest opponent, inspires the fear of man, and puts to flight the entire animal kingdom—lions, tigers, and leopards, all but the restless and plucky mongoose—and whose slightest scratch is attended with such dire results, are two in number, one in each upper jaw, and placed anteriorly to all other teeth, which they exceed by five or six times in point of size. Situated just within the lips, recurved, slender, and exceeding in keenness even the finest of cambric needles, they are penetrated in their longitudinal diameter by a delicate, hair-like canal opening into a groove at the apex, terminating on the anterior surface in an elongated fissure. As the canal is straight, and the tooth falciform, a like groove or longitudinal fissure is formed at the base, where it is inclosed by the aperture of the duct that communicates with the poison apparatus.

At the base of each fang, and extending from a point just beneath the nostril, backward two-thirds the distance to the commissure of the mouth, is the poison gland, analogous to the salivary glands of man, that secretes a pure, mucous saliva, and also a pale straw-colored, half-oleaginous fluid, the venom proper. Within the gland, venom and saliva are mingled in varying proportions coincidently with circumstances; but the former slowly distills away and finds lodgment in the central portion of the excretory duct, that along its middle is dilated to form a bulb-like receptacle, and where only it may be obtained in perfect purity.

When the reptile is passive, the fangs are arranged to lie backward along the jaw, concealed by the membrane of the mouth, and thus offer no impediment to deglutition. Close inspection, however, at once reveals not only their presence, but also several rudimentary ones to supply their place in case of injury or accident. The bulb of the duct, too, is surrounded by a double aponeurotic capsule, of which the outermost and strongest layer is in connection with a muscle by whose action both duct and gland are compressed at will, conveying the secretion into the basal aperture of the fang, at the same time refilling the bulb.

When enraged and assuming the offensive and defensive, the reptile draws the posterior portion of its body into a coil or spiral, whereby the act of straightening, in which it hurls itself forward to nearly its full length, lends force to the blow, and at the same instant the fangs are erected, drawn forward in a reverse plane, permitting the points to look outward beyond the lips. The action of the compressor muscles is contemporaneous with the blow inflicted, the venom being injected with considerable violence through the apical outlets of the fangs, and into the bottom of the wound. If the object is not attained, the venom may be thrown to considerable distances, falling in drops; and Sir Arthur Cunynghame in a recent work on South Africa relates that he was cautioned not to approach a huge cobra of six feet or more in length in its death agony, lest it should hurl venom in his eyes and create blindness; he afterward found that an officer of Her Majesty's XV. Regiment had been thus injured at a distance of forty-five feet, and did not recover his eyesight for more than a week.[1]

[Footnote 1: Presumably the Natal ombozi, or spitting cobra, Naja haemachites, who is fully equal to the feat described.]

With the infliction of the stroke and expression of its venom, the creature usually attempts to reverse its fangs in the wound, thereby dragging through and lacerating the flesh; an ingenious bit of devilishness hardly to be expected from so low a form of organism; but its frequent neglect proves it by no means mechanical, and it frequently occurs that the animal bitten drags the reptile after it a short distance, or causes it to leave its fangs in the wound. Some serpents also, as the fer de lance, black mamba, and water moccasin, are apparently actuated by most vindictive motives, and coil themselves about the part bitten, clinging with leech-like tenacity and resisting all attempts at removal. Two gentlemen of San Antonio, Texas,[2] who were bitten by rattlesnakes, subsequently asserted that after having inflicted all possible injury, the reptiles scampered away with unmistakable manifestations of pleasure. "Snakes," remarked one of the victims, "usually glide smoothly away with the entire body prone to the ground; but the fellow I encountered traveled off with an up and down wave-like motion, as if thrilled with delight, and then, getting under a large rock where he was safe from pursuit, he turned, and raising his head aloft waved it to and fro, as if saying. 'Don't you feel good now?' It would require but a brief stretch of the imagination to constitute that serpent a veritable descendant of the old Devil himself."

[Footnote 2: On the authority of N.A. Taylor and H.F. McDaniels.]

As the first blow commonly exhausts the receptacle of the duct, a second (the venom being more or less mingled and diluted by the salivary secretion) is comparatively less fatal in results; and each successive repetition correspondingly inoffensive until finally nothing but pure mucus is ejected. Nevertheless, when thoroughly aroused, the reptile is enabled to constantly hurl a secretion, since both rage and hunger swell the glands to enormous size, and stimulate to extraordinary activity—a fortuitous circumstance to which many an unfortunate is doubtless indebted for his life. The removal of a fang, however, affects its gland to a degree that it becomes almost inoperative, until such a time as a new tooth is grown, and again calls it into action, which is commonly but a few weeks at most; and a person purchasing a poisonous serpent under the supposition that it has been rendered innocuous, will do well to keep watch of its mouth lest he be some time taken unaware. It may be rendered permanently harmless, however, by first removing the fang, and then cauterizing the duct by means of a needle or wire, heated to redness; when for experimental purposes the gland may be stimulated, and the virus drawn off by means of a fine-pointed syringe.

In what the venom consists more than has already been described, we are not permitted to know. It dries under exposure to air in small scales, is soluble in water but not in alcohol, slightly reddens litmus paper, and long retains its noxious properties. It has no acrid or burning taste, and but little if any odor; the tongue pronounces it inoffensive, and the mucous surface of the alimentary track is proof against it, and it has been swallowed in considerable quantities without deleterious result—all the poison that could be extracted from a half dozen of the largest and most virile reptiles was powerless in any way to affect an unfledged bird when poured into its open beak. Chemistry is not only powerless to solve the enigma of its action, and the microscope to detect its presence, but pathology is at fault to explain the reason of its deadly effect; and all that we know is that when introduced even in most minute quantities into an open wound, the blood is dissolved, so to speak, and the stream of life paralyzed with an almost incredible rapidity. Without test or antidote, terror has led to blind, fanatical empiricism, necessarily attended with no little injury in the search for specifics, and it may be reasonably asserted that no substance can be named so inert and worthless as not to have been recommended, or so disgusting as not to have been employed; nor is any practice too absurd to find favor and adherents even among the most enlightened of the medical profession, who have rung all the changes of the therapeutical gamut from serpentaria[3] and boneset to guaco, cimicifugia, and Aristolochia India to curare, alum, chalk, and mercury to arsenic; and in the way of surgical dressings and appliances everything from poultices of human faeces,[4] burying the part bitten in fresh earth,[5] or thrusting the member or entire person into the entrails of living animals, to cupping, ligatures, escharotics, and the moxa.

[Footnote 3: Serpentaria derives its name from its supposed antidotal properties, and guaco and Aristolochia India enjoyed widely heralded but rapidly fleeting popularity in the two Indias for a season. Tanjore pill (black pepper and arsenic) is still extensively lauded in districts whose serpents possess little vitality, but is every way inferior to iodine.]

[Footnote 4: A Chinese remedy—as might be imagined.]

[Footnote 5: Still extensively practiced, the first in Michigan, the latter in Missouri and Arkansas, and inasmuch as one is cooling and soothing, and the other slightly provocative of perspiration in the part, are not altogether devoid of plausibility.]

Although the wounds of venomous serpents are frequently attended with fatal results, such are not necessarily invariable. There are times and seasons when all reptiles are sluggish and inactive, and when they inflict comparatively trifling injuries; and the poison is much less virulent at certain periods than others—during chilling weather for instance, or when exhausted by repeated bites in securing sustenance. Young and small serpents, too, are less virile than large and more aged specimens, and it has likewise been observed that death is more apt to follow when the poison is received at the beginning or during the continuance of the heated term.

The action of the venom is commonly so swift that its effects are manifested almost immediately after inoculation, being at once conveyed by the circulatory system to the great nervous centers of the body, resulting in rapid paralysis of such organs as are supplied with motive power from these sources; its physiological and toxicological realizations being more or less speedy accordingly as it is applied near or remote from these centers, or infused into the capillary or the venous circulation. Usually, too, an unfortunate experiences, perhaps instantaneously, an intense burning pain in the member lacerated, which is succeeded by vertigo, nausea, retching, fainting, coldness, and collapse; the part bitten swells, becomes discolored, or spotted over its surface with livid blotches, that may, ultimately, extend to the greater portion of the body, while the poison appears to effect a greater or less disorganization of the blood, not by coagulating its fibrine as Fontana surmised, but in dissolving, attenuating, and altering the form of its corpuscles, whose integrity is so essential to life, causing them to adhere to one another, and to the walls of the vessels by which they are conveyed; being no longer able to traverse the capillaries, oedema is produced, followed by the peculiar livid blush. Shakespeare would appear to have had intuitive perception of the nature of such subtle poison, when he caused the ghost to describe to Hamlet

"The leprous distillment whose effect Bears such an enmity to the blood of man That swift as quicksilver, it courses through The natural gates and alleys of the body And with sudden vigor it doth posset And curd like eager droppings into milk, The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine And a most instant tetter marked about Most lazar like, with vile and loathsome crust All my smooth body."

It is not to be supposed, however, that all or even a major portion of the blood disks require to be changed or destroyed to produce a fatal result, since death may supervene long before such a consummation can be realized. It is the capillary circulation that suffers chiefly, since the very size and caliber of the heart cavities and trunk vessels afford them comparative immunity. But of the greatly dissolved and disorganized condition of the blood that may occur secondarily, we have evidences in the passive haemorrhages that attack those that have recovered from the immediate effects of serpent poisoning, following or coincident with subsidence of swelling and induration; and, as with scurvy, bleeding may occur from the mouth, throat, lungs, nose, and bowels, or from ulcerated surfaces and superficial wounds, or all together, defying all styptics and haemastatics. In a case occurring under the care of Dr. David Brainerd in the Illinois General Hospital,[6] blood flowed from the gums in great profusion, and on examination was found destitute, even under the microscope, of the faintest indications of fibrine—the principle upon which coagulation depends. The breath, moreover, gave most sickening exhalations, indicative of decomposition, producing serious illness in those exposed for any length of time to its influence. We may add, among other sequelae, aside from death produced through primary and secondary effects, paralysis, loss of nerve power, impotence, haemorrhage, even mortification or gangrene.

[Footnote 6: Medical Independent, 1855.]

The failure in myotic power of the heart and in the muscles of respiration through reflex influence of par vagum and great sympathetic nerves, whereby pulmonary circulation is impeded, are among the earliest of phenomena. Breathing becoming retarded and laborious, the necessary supply of oxygen is no longer received, and blood still venous, in that it is not relieved of its carbon, is returned through the arteries, whereby the capillaries of the brain are gorged with a doubly poisoned circulation, poisoned by both venom and carbon. In this we have ample cause for the attending train of symptoms that, beginning with drowsiness, rapidly passes into stupor followed by profound coma and ultimate dissolution—marked evidence of the fact that a chemical agent or poison may produce a mechanical disease; and autopsical research reveals absolutely nothing save the general disorganization of blood corpuscles, as already noted.

Taking circumstantial and pathological evidences into consideration, the hope of the person thus poisoned rests solely upon lack of vitality in the serpent and its venom, and in his personal idiosyncrasies, habits of life, condition of health, etc., and the varied chapters of accidents. To look for a specific, in any sense of the word, is the utmost folly! The action of the poison and its train of results follow inoculation in too swift succession to be overtaken and counteracted by any antidote, supposing such to be a possible product, even if administered hypodermically. We have evidence of this in iodic preparations, iodine being the nearest approach to a perfect antidote that can be secured by mortal skill, inasmuch, if quickly injected into the circulation, it retards and restrains the disorganizing process whereby the continuity of the blood corpuscles is lost; moreover, it is a marked antiseptic, favors the production of adhesive inflammation, whereby lymph is effused and coagulated about the bitten part, and absorption checked, and the poison rendered less diffusible. But when a remedy is demanded that shall restore the pristine form, functions, and energy of the disorganized globules, man arrogates to himself supernal attributes whereby it becomes possible not only to save and renew, but to create life; and we can scarce expect science or even accident (as some expect) to even rival Nature and set at defiance her most secret and subtle laws. Such, however, is the natural outcropping of an ignorant teaching and vulgar prejudice that feeds and clothes the charlatan and ascribes to savage and uncultured races an occult familiarity with pathological, physiological, and remedial effect unattainable by the most advanced sciences; and whereby the Negro, Malay, Hindoo, South Sea Islander, and red man are granted an innate knowledge of poisons and their antidotes more than miraculous. A reward of more than a quarter of a century's standing, and amounting to several thousand pounds, is offered by the East India Government for the discovery of a specific for the bite of the cobra, and for which no claims have ever been advanced; and the "snake charmers" or jugglers in whom this superior knowledge is supposed to center are so well aware of the futility of specifics, and the risk to which they are subjected, that few venture to ply their calling without a broad-bladed, keen-edged knife concealed about the person as a means of instant amputation in case of accident. Medical and scientific associations of various classes, in Europe, Australia, America, even Africa, and the East and West Indies, have repeatedly held out the most tempting lures, and indulged in exhaustive and costly experimentation in search of specifics for the wounds of vipers, cobras, rattlesnakes, and the general horde of venomous reptiles; and all in vain. Even the saliva of man, as well as certain other secretions, is at times so modified by anger as to rival the venom of the serpent in fatality, and it has no specific; and a careful analysis of the pathological relations of such poison proves that further experimentation and expectation is as irrational as the pursuit of the "philosopher's stone."

It is an indisputable fact, however, that there are individuals whose natural or acquired idiosyncrasies permit them to be inoculated by the most venomous of reptiles without deleterious or unpleasant results, and Colonel Matthews Taylor[7] knew several persons of this character in India, and who regarded the bite of the cobra or tic paloonga with nearly as much indifference as the sting of a gnat or mosquito. Again, in 1868, Mr. Drummond, a prominent magistrate of Melbourne, Australia,[8] met with untimely death under circumstances that attracted no little attention. An itinerant vender of nostrums had on exhibition a number of venomous reptiles, by which he caused himself to be successively bitten, professing to secure immunity by reason of a secret compound which he offered for sale at a round figure. Convinced that the fellow was an imposter, and his wares valuable only as a means of depleting the pockets of the credulous, Mr. Drummond loudly asserted the inefficacy of the nostrum, as well as the innocuousness of the reptiles, which he assumed to be either naturally harmless, or rendered so by being deprived of their fangs; and in proof thereof insisted upon being himself bitten. To this experiment the charlatan was extremely averse, offering strenuous objections, and finally conveyed a point blank refusal. But Mr. Drummond's demands becoming more imperative, and observing that his hesitancy impressed the audience as a tacit acknowledgment of the allegations, he finally consented, and placed in the hands of the magistrate a tiger snake, which he deemed least dangerous, and which instantly struck the gentleman in the wrist. The usual symptoms of serpent poisoning rapidly manifested themselves, followed by swelling and lividity of the part, obstructed circulation and respiration, and coma; and in spite of the use of the vaunted remedy and the attentions of physicians the result was most fatal. The vender subsequently conceded the worthless character of his nostrum, declaring that be enjoyed exemption from the effects of of serpent poison by virtue of recovery from a severe inoculation in early life; and he further added he knew "some people who were born so," who put him "up to this dodge" as a means of gaining a livelihood.

[Footnote 7: Vide report to Prof. J. Henry Bennett.]

[Footnote 8: London Times.]

It is a general supposition that such immunity, when congenital, is acquired in utero by the inoculation of the parent, and Oliver Wendell Holmes' fascinating tale of "Elsie Venner" embodies many interesting features in this connection. Admitting such inoculation may secure immunity, recent experiments in the action of this as well as kindred poisons give no grounds for believing it at all universal or even common, but as depending upon occult physiological or accidental phenomena. For instance, the writer and his father are equally proof against the contagion and inoculation of vaccination and variola, in spite of repeated attempts to secure both, while their respective mothers suffered terribly with smallpox at periods subsequent to the birth of their children; and it is well understood that there are striking analogies between the poisons of certain contagious fevers and those of venomous serpents, inasmuch as one attack conveys exemption from future ones of like character. In other words, many animal poisons, as well as the pathological ones of smallpox, measles, scarlatina, whooping cough, etc., have the power of so modifying the animal economy, when it does not succumb to their primary influence, as to ever after render it all but proof against them. Witness, for instance, the ravages of the mosquito, that in certain districts punishes most terribly all new comers, and who after a brief residence suffer little, the bite no longer producing pain or swelling.

Regarding the supposed correlation of serpent poison and the septic ferments of certain tropical and infectious fevers, they are not necessarily always contagious. It may be interesting to note that one Doctor Humboldt in 1852,[9] in an essay read before the Royal Academy of Medical Sciences at Havana, assumed their proximate identity, and advocated the inoculation of the poison of one as a prophylactic of the other. He claimed to have personally inoculated numberless persons in New Orleans, Vera Cruz, and Cuba with exceedingly dilute venom, thereby securing them perfect immunity from yellow fever. Aside from the extraordinary nature of the statement, the fact that the doctor affirmed, he had never used the virus to an extent sufficient to produce any of its toxic symptoms, cast discredit over the whole, and proofs were demanded and promised. This was the last of the subject, however, which soon passed into oblivion, though whether from failure on the part of the medico to substantiate his assertions, or from the inanition of his colleagues, it is difficult to determine, though the presumption is largely in favor of the former. Nevertheless, it is worthy of consideration and exhaustive experimentation, since it is no less plausible than the theory which rendered the name of Jenner famous.

[Footnote 9: London Lancet.]

Outside of the transfusion of blood, for which there are strong reasons for believing would be attended with happy results, the sole remedies available in serpent poisoning are measures looking to the prompt cutting off of the circulation of the affected part, and the direct stimulation of the heart's action and the respiratory organs, until such a time as Nature shall have eliminated all toxical evidences; and these must necessarily be mechanical. Alcoholic stimulants are available only as they act mechanically in sustaining cardiac and pulmonary activity, and where their free use is prolonged efficacy is quickly exhausted, and they tend rather to hasten a fatal result. They are devoid of the slightest antidotal properties, and in no way modify the activity of the venom; and an intoxicated person, so far from enjoying the immunity with which he is popularly credited, is far more apt to succumb to the virus than him of unfuddled intellect. The reasons are obvious. Theoretically, for purely physiological and therapeutic reasons amyl nitrite should be of incalculable value, though I have no knowledge of its use in this connection, since its vapor when inhaled is a most powerful stimulator of cardiac action, and when administered by the mouth it is unapproached in its control of spasmodically contracted vessels and muscles. The relief its vapor affords in the collapse of chloroform anaesthesia, in which dissolution is imminent from paralyzed heart's action, is instantaneous, and its effect upon the spasmodic and suffocative sensations of hydrophobia are equally prompt. Moreover, without further discussing its physiological functions, it is the nearest approach to an antidote to certain zymotic poisons, and especially valuable in warding off and aborting the action of the ferment that gives rise to pertussis, or whooping cough. Iodide of ethyl is another therapeutical measure that is worthy of consideration; and iodoform in the treatment of the sequelae incident to recovery.

The native population of India, in spite of the contrary accepted opinion, are remarkably free from resort to nostrums that lay claim to being antidotes. The person inoculated by the cobra is at once seized by his friends, and constant and violent exercise enforced, if necessary at the point of stick, and severe and cruel (but nevertheless truly merciful) beatings are often a result. In this we see a direct application, without in the least understanding them, of the rules laid down to secure certain physiological results, as for the relief of opium and morphia narcosis, which serpent poisoning almost exactly resembles. The late Doctor Spillsbury (Physician-General of Calcutta),[10] while stationed at Jubulpore, Central India, was informed late one evening that his favorite horse keeper had just been dangerously bitten by a cobra of unusual size, and therefore more than ordinarily venomous. He at once ordered his gig, and in spite of the wails and protestations of the sufferer and his friends, with whom a fatal result was already a foregone conclusion, the doctor caused his wrists to be bound firmly and inextricably to the back of the vehicle; then assuring the man if he did not keep up he would most certainly be dragged to death, he mounted to his seat and drove rapidly away. Three hours later, or a little more, he returned, having covered nearly thirty miles without cessation or once drawing rein. The horse keeper was found bathed in profuse perspiration, and almost powerless from excessive fatigue. Eau de luce, an aromatic preparation of ammonia, was now administered at frequent and regular intervals as a diffusible stimulant, and moderate though constant exercise enforced until near dawn, when the sufferer was found to be completely recovered.

[Footnote 10: London Lancet.]

The value of violent and profuse cutaneous transpiration, thereby securing a rapidly eliminating channel for discharging poison from the system, is well known; in no other way can action be had so thorough, speedy, and prompt. Captain Maxwell[11] tells us it was formerly the custom among the Irish peasantry of Connaught, when one manifested unmistakable evidences of hydrophobia, to procure the death of the unfortunate by smothering between two feather beds. In one instance, after undergoing this treatment, the supposed corpse was seen, to the horror and surprise of all who witnessed it, to crawl from between the bolsters, when he was found to be entirely free from his disorder; the beds, however, were saturated through and through with the perspiration that escaped the body in the intensity of his mortal agony. More recently a French physician,[12] recognizing the incubatory stage of rabies in his own person, resolved upon suicide rather than undergo its attendant horrors. The hot bath was selected for the purpose, with a view of gradually increasing its temperature until syncope should be induced, which he hoped would be succeeded by death. To his surprise, however, as the temperature of the water rose, his sensations of distress improved; and the very means chosen for terminating life became instead his salvation, restoring to perfect health. Again, Dr. Peter Hood[13] relates that a blacksmith residing in the neighborhood of his country house was in high repute for miles about by reason of his cures of rabies. His remedy consisted simply in forcing the person bitten to accompany him in a rapid walk or trot for twenty miles or more, after which he administered copious draughts of a hot decoction of broom tops, as much for its moral effect as for its value in sustaining and prolonging established diaphoresis.

[Footnote 11: Wild Sports or the West.]

[Footnote 12: L'Union Medicale—name withheld by request of the gentleman.]

[Footnote 13: London Lancet.]

Though the pathological conditions of hydrophobia and serpent poisoning are by no means parallel, the rationale of the methods employed in opening the emunctories of the skin are the same; and were it not for its powerful protracting effect and depressing action upon the heart, we might perhaps secure valuable aid from jaborandi (pilocarpus), since it stimulates profusely all the secretions; as it is, more is to be hoped for in the former disorder than in the latter. It would be desirable also to know what influence the Turkish bath might exert, and it would seem worthy at least of trial.

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TO FIND THE TIME OF TWILIGHT.

To the Editor of the Scientific American:

Given latitude N. 40 deg. 51', declination N. 20 deg. 25', sun 18 deg. below the horizon. To find the time of twilight at that place. In the accompanying diagram, E Q = equinoctial, D D = parallel of declination, Z S N a vertical circle, H O = the horizon, P = North pole, Z = zenith, and S = the sun, 18 deg. below the horizon, H O, measured on a vertical circle. It is seen that we have here given us the three sides of a spherical triangle, viz., the co-latitude 49 deg. 9', the co declination 69 deg. 35', and the zenith distance 108 deg., with which to compute the angle Z P S. This angle is found to be 139 deg. 16' 5.6". Dividing this by 15 we have 9 h. 16 m. 24.4 s., from noon to the beginning or termination of twilight. Now, in the given latitude and declination, the sun's center coincides with the horizon at sunset (allowance being made for refraction), at 7 h. 18 m. 29.3 s. from apparent noon. Then if we subtract 7 h. 18 m. 29.3 s. from 9 h. 16 m. 24.4 s., we shall have 1 h. 57 m. 55.1 s. as the duration of twilight. But the real time of sunset must be computed when the sun has descended about 50' below the horizon, at which point the sun's upper limb coincides with the line, H O, of the horizon. This takes place 7 h. 16 m. 30.8 s. mean time. It is hoped the above will be a sufficient answer to L.N. (See SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN of Dec. 1, 1883, p. 346.)

B.W. H.



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ETHNOLOGICAL NOTES.

The distinguished anthropologist M. De Quatrefages has recently spoken before the Academy of Sciences in Paris, and we extract from his discourse on "Fossil Man and Savages" some notes reported in the Journal d'Hygiene: "It is in Oceanica and above all in Melanesia and in Polynesia where I have looked for examples of savage races. I have scarcely spoken of the Malays except to bring to the surface the features which distinguish them among the ethnic groups which they at times touch, and which in turn frequently mingle with them. I have especially studied the Papuans and Negritos. The Papuans are an exclusively Pelasgic race, that many anthropologists consider as almost confined to New Guinea and the neighboring archipelago. But it becomes more and more manifest that they have had also periods of expansion and of dissemination.

"On one side they appear as conquerors in some islands of Micronesia; on the other we have shown—M. Hamy and myself—that to them alone can be assigned the skulls found in Easter Island and in New Zealand. They have hence touched the east and south, the extremities of the maritime world.

"The Negritos, scarcely known a few years ago, and to-day confounded with the Papuans by some anthropologists, have spread to the west and northwest.

"They have left unmistakable traces in Japan; we find them yet in the Philippines and in many of the islands of the Malay archipelago; they constitute the indigenous population of the Andaman Islands, in the Gulf of Bengal. Indeed, they have formerly occupied a great part of the two peninsulas of India, and I have elsewhere shown that we can follow their steps to the foot of the Himalayas, and beyond the Indus to Lake Zerah. I have only sketched here the history of this race, whose representatives in the past have been the type of the Asiatic pygmies of whom Pliny and Ctesias speak, and whose creoles were those Ethiopians, black and with smooth hair, who figured in the army of Xerxes.

"I have devoted two long examinations to another black race much less important in numbers and in the extent of their domain, but which possess for the anthropologist a very peculiar interest and a sad one. It exists no more; its last representative, a woman, died in 1877. I refer to the Tasmanians.

"The documents gathered by various English writers, and above all by Bouwick, give numerous facts upon the intellectual and moral character of the Tasmanians. The complete destruction of the Tasmanians, accomplished in at most 72 years over a territory measuring 4,400 square leagues, raises a sorrowful and difficult question. Their extinction has been explained by the barbarity of the civilized Europeans, and which, often conspicuous, has never been more destructively present than in their dealings with the Tasmanians. But I am convinced that this is an error. I certainly do not wish to apologize for or extenuate the crimes of the convicts and colonists, against which the most vigorous protests have been raised both in England and in the colony itself, but neither war nor social disasters have been the principal cause of the disappearance of the Tasmanians. They have perished from that strange malady which Europeans have everywhere transplanted in the maritime world, and which strikes down the most flourishing populations.

"Consumption is certainly one of the elements of this evil. But if it explains the increase of the death rate, it does not explain the diminution of births. Both these phenomena are apparent. Captain Juan has seen at the Marquesas, in the island of Taio-Hahe, the population fall in three years from 400 souls to 250. To offset this death-rate, we find only 3 or 4 births. It is evident that at this rate populations rapidly disappear, and it is the principal cause of the disappearance of the Tasmanians."

The lecturer, after alluding to his studies in Polynesia, speaks of his interest in the western representatives of these races and his special studies in New Zealand, and referring to the latter continues:

"One of the most important results of the labors in this direction has been to establish the serious value of the historical songs preserved, among the Maoris, by the Tohungus, or wise men, who represent the Aiepas of Tahiti. Thanks to these living archives, we have been able to reconstruct a history of the natives, to fix almost the epoch of the first arrival of the Polynesians in that land, so distant from their other centers of population, and to determine their point of departure."

Other studies refer to peoples far removed from the preceding. One is devoted to the Todas, a very small tribe of the Nilgherie Hills, who by their physical, intellectual, and social characteristics differ from all the other races of India. "The Todas burn their dead, and we possess none of their skulls. But thanks to M. Janssen, who has lived among them, I have been able to fill up this gap."

The last subject referred to by the lecturer was the Finns of Finland, whose study reveals the fact that they embrace two ethnic types, one of which, the Tavastlanda, belongs without doubt to the great Finnish family, spread over Asia as well as in Europe, and a second, the Karelien, whose representatives possessed the poetic instinct, which causes M. Quatrefages to ally them with the Aryan race, "to whom we owe all our epics, from the Ramayana, Iliad, and Eneas to the poems of to-day."

* * * * *



GRECIAN ANTIQUITIES.



Although so much has been written about Athens, there is one striking feature which has been little noticed. This is the beautiful colors of the Parthenon and Erectheum, the soft mellow yellow which is due to age, and which gives these buildings when lighted by the setting sun, and framed by the purple hills beyond, the appearance of temples of gold.



Until A.D. 1687 the Parthenon remained almost perfect, and then not age but a shell from the Venetians falling upon Turkish powder, made a rent which, when seen from below, makes it look like two temples.



The Temple of Theseus is the best preserved and one of the oldest of the buildings of ancient Athens. It was founded in B.C. 469, and is a small, graceful, and perfect Doric temple. Having served as a Christian church, dedicated to St. George, it escaped injury. It contains the beautiful and celebrated tombstone of Aristion, the warrior of Marathon.



All that remains of Hadrian's great Temple to Zeus (A.D. 132) are a few standing columns in an open space, which are imposing from their isolated position.



The monument of Philopappus is thought to have been begun A.D. 110, and for a king in Asia Minor.



The Tower of the Winds, erected by Andronicus Cyrrhestes about B.C. 100, contained a weathercock, a sun dial, and a water clock. It is an octagonal building, with reliefs on the frieze, representing by appropriate figures the eight winds into which the Athenian compass was divided.



In the Street of Tombs the monuments are lying or standing as they were found; each year shows many changes in Athens, a tomb last year in the Ceramicus may be this year in a museum. There is a great similarity in all these tombstones; no doubt they were made beforehand, as they seldom suggest the idea of a portrait. They generally represent an almost heroic leave-taking. The friends standing in the act of saying farewell are receiving presents from the dead; often in the corner is a crouching slave, and frequently a dog.



Beyond the river Kephiesus, the hill of Colonus, and the groves of the Academy, is the Pass of Daphne, which was the road to Eleusis, and along which passed the annual sacred processions in the days of the Mysteries. Cut there in the rock are the niches for the votive offerings. This dark Daphne Pass seems still to possess an air of mystery which is truly in keeping with the rites which were once observed there.



From several points in Athens, on very clear days, may be seen the great rock fort Acrocorinthus, which is directly above the site of ancient Corinth. It is now a deserted fort; the Turkish drawbridge and gate stand open and unused. There are on it remains of a Turkish town; at one time it was one of the strongest and most important citadels in Greece. In the middle of the almost deserted, wretched, straggling village of Old Corinth stand seven enormous massive columns. These are all that remain of the Temple, and indeed of ancient Corinth. The pillars, of the Doric order, are of a brown limestone, not of the country. The Turks and earthquakes have destroyed Old Corinth, and driven the inhabitants to New Corinth, about one hour and a half's drive from the Gulf.—London Graphic.



* * * * *



SPANISH FISHERIES.

The Spanish Court at the late Fisheries Exhibition was large and well furnished, there being several characteristic models of vessels. No certain figures can be obtained of the results of the whole fishing industry of Spain. It is, however, estimated that 14,202 boats, with a tonnage of 51,397 tons, were employed during the year 1882. They gave occupation to 59,974 men, and took about 78,000 tons of fish. The Government interfere in the fishing industry only to the extent of collecting and distributing information to the fishermen on subjects that are most likely to be of use to them in their calling. In consequence, principally no doubt of this wise policy, we find in Spain a vigorous and self-reliant class of men engaged in the fisheries. Some of the most interesting features in the Spanish Court were the contributions sent by the different fishermen's associations, and although the Naval Museum of Madrid supplied a collection of articles that would have formed a good basis in itself for an exhibition, yet in no other foreign court was the fishing industry of the nation better illustrated by private enterprise than in that of Spain. The fishing associations referred to are half benefit societies and half trading communities. That of Lequeito has issued a small pamphlet, from which we learn that this body consists of 600 members divided into three classes, viz., owners of vessels, patrons or men in charge, and ordinary fishermen. A board of directors, consisting of 22 owners, and 24 masters of boats or ordinary fishermen, has the sole control of the affairs of the society. The meetings are presided over by a majordomo elected triennially, and who must be the owner of a boat over 40 ft. long. This functionary receives a stipend of 8,000 reales a year, a sum which sounds more modest when expressed as 80l. He has two clerks, who are on the permanent staff, to help him. His duties are to keep the books with the assistance of the two clerks, to take charge of the sales of all fish, recover moneys, and make necessary payments. In stormy weather he gets up in a watch tower and guides boats entering the harbor. The atalayero is an official of the society, whose duty it is to station himself on the heights and signal by means of smoke, to the boats at sea, the movements of schools of sardines and anchovies or probable changes of weather. It is also the duty of this officer to weigh all the bream caught from the 1st November to the 31st of March, for which he receives a "gratuity" of 100 pesetas, or say 4l., sterling. Two other seneros, or signalmen, are told off to keep all boats in port during bad weather, and to call together the crews when circumstances appear favorable for sailing. Should there be a difference of opinion between these experts as to the meteorological probabilities, the patrons, or skippers of the fishing-boats, are summoned in council and their opinion taken by "secret vote with black and white balls." The decision so arrived at is irrevocable, and all are bound to sail should it be so decided; those who do not do so paying a fine to the funds of the association. The boats carrying the seneros fly a color by means of which they signal orders for sailing to the other vessels. These seneros appear to be the Spanish equivalent to the English admiral of a trawling fleet.

The boats used by these fishermen are fine craft; one or two models of them were shown in the Exhibition. A first-class boat will be of about the following dimensions: Length over all, 45 ft. to 50 ft.; breadth (extreme), 9 ft. to 10 ft. 3 in.; depth (inside), 3 ft. 10 in. to 4 ft. The keel is of oak 6 in. by 31/2 in. The stem and stern posts are also of oak. The planking is generally of oak or walnut—the latter preferred—and is 3 in. thick, the width of the planks being 41/2 in. Many boats are now constructed of hard wood to the water line and Norway pine above.

The fastenings are galvanized nails 41/2 in. long. The mast-partners and all the thwarts are of oak 11/2 in. thick and 8 in. wide; the latter are fastened in with iron knees. Lee-board and rudder are of oak, walnut, or chestnut; the rudder extends 31/2 ft. to 4 ft. below the keel, and, in giving lateral resistance, balances the lee-board, which is thrust down forward under the lee-bow. The rig consists of two lags, the smaller one forward right in the eyes of the boat; the mainmast being amidships. The lug sails are set on long yards, the fair-weather rig consisting of a fore lug with 120 square yards, and a main lug of 200 square yards. There are six shifts of sail, the main being substituted for the fore lug in turn as the weather increases, in a manner similar to that in which our own Mounts Bay boats reduce canvas. The fair weather rig requires two masts 42 ft. and 36 ft. long, and yards 28 ft. and 30 ft. long, respectively. The oars are 16 ft. long, and are pulled double-banked. Such a boat will cost 90l. to 100l. fitted for sea, of which sum the hull will represent rather more than half. These vessels generally remain at sea for twelve hours, from about three to four in the morning until the same time in the evening. Tunny, merluza (a species of cod), and bream are the principal fish taken. The first-named are caught by hook and line operated by means of poles rigged out from the boat much in the same way, apparently, as we drail for mackerel on the southwest coast. A filament of maize straw is used for bait. The boat sails to a distance of about 90 miles off the land and run back before the prevailing wind, until they are about nine miles from the shore or until they lose the fish. When the fisherman gets a bite the wind is spilled out of the sail so as to deaden the boat's way. The fish is then got alongside, promptly gaffed, and got on board. Tunny sells for about three halfpence a pound in Lequeito. The season extends from June to November. Bream are taken in the winter and spring, 9 to 12 miles off the coast. They are caught by hook and line in two ways. The first is worth describing. A line 50 fathoms long has bent to it snoods with hooks attached, 16 in. apart. Each man handles three lines. On reaching the fishing ground the line, to the end of which a stone is attached, is gradually paid out until soundings are taken; then another stone is attached and the operation repeated. If a bite is felt the line is slacked away freely, and this goes on until about 500 fathoms are overboard. When, by the lively and continuous jerking of the line, the fisherman concludes that he has a good number of fish on the hooks, he will haul aboard and then prepare to shoot again.

The second method of taking the bream is by long lining; fifty of the lines we have just described being bent together and duly anchored and buoyed. Spaniards do not much care for this way of fishing, as it is costly in bait and the gear is often lost in bad weather. Bream sells at about 31/2d. a pound. Cod are taken during the first six months of the year, about 9 miles off shore, by hand lines. Sold fresh the price is about 6d. per lb. A small quantity is preserved in tins. Anchovy or cuttlefish is the bait used; sometimes the two are placed on one hook.

A smaller description of boat, called traineras, is built especially for taking sardine and anchovy, although in fine weather they often engage in the same fishery as the larger boats. The traineras are light and shapely vessels, with a graceful sheer and curved stem and stern posts. The keel is much cambered, and the bottom is flat and has considerable hollow. The usual dimensions vary between: Length, 38 feet to 42 feet; beam, 7 feet to 7 feet 6 inches; depth, 2 feet 6 inches to 2 feet 10 inches. The sails and gear are much the same as in the larger boats, excepting that there are only four shifts in place of six. The largest main lug has an area of about 90 square yards and the fore lug about 50 square yards. The other sails for heavier weather are naturally smaller. The largest masts for fine weather are respectively 36 feet and 22 feet, long. The average cost of one of these boats and gear is about L122, made up as follows: Hull, L32; sails, gear, and oars, L30; nets and gear attached, L60. The season for anchovy fishing commences on the 1st of March and ends 30th of June; it begins again on the 15th of September, and continues until the end of the year. Most fish are taken at a distance of about 9 miles from the land, although they often come in much closer. Anchovies are sold fresh, or are salted to be sent away, some are used for bait, and in times of great plenty quantities are put on the land for manure. The greater part are, however, preserved in barrels or tins, and are exported to France or England.

The net used in the capture of anchovies is called traina or copo. It is in principle like the celebrated purse seine of the United States, but in place of being 200 fathoms long, as are many of the nets, which, in American waters, will inclose a whole school of mackerel, it is but 32 to 40 fathoms long. The depth is 7 to 10 fathoms, and the mesh 3/4 inch. Sardine fishing commences on the 1st of July and lasts until December. The principal ground is 2 to 10 miles off shore. The price of sardines on the coast is about 21/2d. per pound. When the sardines appear in shoals they are taken with the traina in the same way as anchovies, a net of 1/2-inch mesh being used. Sardines are also taken by gill nets about 200 feet long and 18 feet wide. When used in the daytime the fish are tolled up by a bait consisting of the liver of cod. When the sardines have been attracted to the neighborhood of the net, bait is thrown on the other side of it. The fish in their rush for the bait become entangled in the mesh. These nets are sometimes anchored out all night, in which case no bait is used.

A third class of boats of much the same character are of about the following dimensions: Length, 28 feet to 35 feet; beam, 7 feet 6 inches to 8 feet; depth, 2 feet 6 inches to 2 feet 8 inches. The two lugs will contain 16 and 30 square yards of canvas respectively. They are used for sardine catching, when they will carry a crew of four men, or for taking conger and cod, in which case they will be manned by eight hands.

Their cost will average approximately as follows: Hull, L15; gear and sail, L10; nets and lines, L13; about L40. The conger season extends from March to June, and from October to November. The fish are taken by hook and line; sardine and fish known as berdel (which in turn is taken by a hook covered with a feather) are used as bait.

There are other smaller fishing boats, among which may be noticed the bateler, a powerful little vessel, 13 feet to 16 ft. long, about 51/2 ft. wide, and 2 ft. deep. They are sailed by one man, set a good spread of canvas, and are fast and handy. They are used for taking a species of cuttlefish which supplies a bait, and is caught by hook and line, the fishes being attracted by colored threads, at which they rush, when the hook will catch in their tentacles. There is a small well in the middle of the boat for keeping the fish alive. None of the boats on the northern coast of Spain carry ballast. They have flat hollow floors, and set a large area of of canvas on a shallow draught. Lobster fishing is pursued in much the same manner as in England, but often four or five miles from land, and in very deep water.

One of the most noticeable objects in the Spanish court was a full-sized boat about 25 ft. long, which had a square hole cut in the bottom amidships. Through this hole was let down a glass frame in which was placed a powerful paraffine lamp. The object of this was to attract the fish. It is said that tunny will be drawn from a distance of over a hundred yards, and will follow the boat so that they may be enticed into the nets. Sardines and other fish will follow the light in shoals. It is claimed that the boat will be useful in diving operations, for pearl or coral fishing, or for ascertaining the direction of submarine currents, which can be seen at night by a lamp to a depth to 25 to 30 fathoms.—Engineering.

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DUCK SHOOTING AT MONTAUK.

Montauk Point, Long Island, is the most isolated and desolate spot imaginable during this weather. The frigid monotony of winter has settled down upon that region, and now it is haunted only by sea fowl. The bleak, barren promontory whereon stands the light is swept clean of its summer dust by the violent raking of cold hurricanes across it, and coated with ice from the wind-dashed spume of the great breakers hurled against the narrow sand spit which makes the eastern terminus of the island. The tall, white towered light and its black lantern, now writhing in frosty northern blizzards, and again shivering in easterly gales, now glistening with ice from the tempest tossed seas all about it, and now varnished with wreaths of fog, is the only habitation worthy of the name for many miles around. Keeper Clark and his family and assistants are almost perpetually fenced in from the outside world by the cold weather, and have to hug closely the roaring fires that protect them in that desolation.

But for ducks and the duck hunter the lighthouse family would die of inanition. With the cold weather comes the ducks, and they continue to come till the warmer blasts of spring drive them to the northward. Montauk Point is a favorite haunt for this sort of wild fowl. It is a good feeding ground, is isolated, and there is nearly always a weather shore for the flocks to gather under. But year by year the point is being more and more frequented by sportsmen, and the reports of their successes increase the applicants for lodgings at the light. Some 20 gunners were out there last week with the most improved paraphernalia for the sport, and did telling work. Flight shooting is the favorite method of taking them. The light stands very near the end of the point, about a sixteenth of a mile to the west, and all migratory birds in passing south seem to have it down in their log-book that they must not only sight this structure, but must also fly over it as nearly as possible. Hence the variety and extent of the flocks which are continually passing is a matter of interest and wonder to a student of natural history as well as to the sportsman. Coots, whistlers, soft bills, old squaws, black ducks, cranes, belated wild geese, and, in fact, all sorts of northern birds make up this long and strange procession, and the air is frequently so densely packed with them as to be actually darkened, while the keen, whistling music of their whizzing wings makes a melody that comparatively few landsmen ever hear. Millions of the birds never hesitate at this point in their flight, although thousands of them do. These latter make the neighboring waters their home for the rest of the winter. Great flocks of ducks are continually sailing about the rugged shores, and the frozen cranberry marshes of Fort Pond Bay, lying to the westward, are their favorite feeding-grounds. The birds are always as fat as butter when making their flight, and their piquant, spicy flavor leads to their being barbecued by the wholesale at the seat of shooting operations. One of the gunner's cabins has nailed up in it the heads of 345 ducks that have been roasted on the Point this winter.

Early morning is the favorite time for shooting. At daybreak the flights are heavy, and from that time until seven o'clock in the morning they increase until it seems as though all the flocks which had spent the night in the caves and ponds on the Connecticut shore were on the wing and away for the south. By ten o'clock in the forenoon the flights grow rarer, and the rest of the day only stragglers come along. A good gunner can take five dozen of these birds easily in a morning's work, provided he can and will withstand the inclemency of the weather.

Keeper Clark never shoots ducks. Scarcely a morning has dawned for two months but that several of the poor birds have been picked up at the foot of the light house tower with the broken necks which have mutely told the story of death, reached by plunging headlong against the crystal walls of the dazzling lantern overhead the night before. There is a tendency with such migratory birds as are on the wing at night to fly very high. But the great, glaring, piercing, single eye of Montauk light seems to draw into it by dozens, as a loadstone pulls a magnet, its feathered victims, and they swerve in their course and make straight for it. As they flash nearer and nearer, the light, of course, grows brighter and brighter, and at length they dash into what appears a sea of fire, to be crushed lifeless by the heavy glass, and they fall to the ground below, ready to be plucked for the oven. Inside the lantern the thud made by these birds when they strike is readily felt. Although they are comparatively small, yet so great is their velocity that the impact creates a perceptible jar, and the lantern is disfigured with plashes of their blood. Upon stormy and foggy nights the destruction of birds is found to be greatest. When the weather is clear and fair many smaller birds, like robins, sparrows, doves, cuckoos, rail, snipe, etc., will circle about the light all night long, leaving only when the light is extinguished in the morning. Large cranes show themselves to be almost dangerous visitors. Recently one of these weighing 40 pounds struck the wrought iron guard railing about the lantern with such force as to bend the iron slats and to completely sever his long neck from his body.—N.Y. Times.

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[THE GARDEN.]



THE HORNBEAMS.

The genus Carpinis is widely distributed throughout the temperate regions of the northern hemisphere. There are nine species known to botanists, most of them being middle-sized trees. In addition to those mentioned below, figures of which are herewith given, there are four species from Japan and one from the Himalayan region which do not yet seem to have found their way to this country; these five are therefore omitted. All are deciduous trees, and every one is thoroughly deserving of cultivation. The origin of the English name is quaintly explained by Gerard in his "Herbal" as follows: "The wood," he says, "in time, waxeth so hard, that the toughness and hardness of it may be rather compared to horn than unto wood, and therefore it was called horne-beam or hardbeam."



Carpinus Betulus,[1] the common hornbeam, as is the case with so many of our native or widely cultivated trees, exhibits considerable variation in habit, and also in foliage characters. Some of the more striking of these, those which have received names in nurseries, etc., and are propagated on account of their distinctive peculiarities, are described below. In a wild state C. Betulus occurs in Europe from Gothland southward, and extends also into West Asia. Although apparently an undoubted native in the southern counties of England, it appears to have no claim to be considered indigenous as far as the northern counties are concerned; it has also been planted wherever it occurs in Ireland.

[Footnote 1: IDENTIFICATION.—Carpinus Betulus, L., Loudon, "Arboretum et Fruticetum Britannicum," vol. iii., p. 2004; Encycl. of Trees and Shrubs, 917. Boswell Syme, "English Botany," vol. viii., p. 176, tab. 1293; Koch, "Dendrologie," zweit. theil. zweit. abtheil., p. 2: Hooker, "Student's Flora of the British Islands," ed. 2, p. 365. C. Carpinizza, Host., "Flora Austriaca," ii., p. 626. C. intermedia. Wierbitzsky in Reichb Ic. fl. Germ. et Helvet., xxii. fig. 1297.]



Few trees bear cutting so well as the hornbeam, and for this reason, during the reign of the topiarist, it was held in high repute for the formation of the "close alleys," "covert alleys," or the "thick-pleached alleys," frequently mentioned in Shakespeare and in the works of other authors about three centuries ago. In the sixteenth century the topiary art had reached its highest point of development, and was looked upon as the perfection of gardening; the hornbeam—and indeed almost every other tree—was cut and tortured into every imaginable shape. The "picturesque style," however, soon drove the topiarist and his art out of the field, yet even now places still remain in England where the old and once much-belauded fashion still exists on a large scale—a fact by no means to be deplored from an archaeological point of view. Dense, quaintly-shaped hornbeam hedges are not unfrequent in the gardens of many old English mansions, and in some old country farmhouses the sixteenth century craze is still perpetuated on a smaller scale.



Sir J.E. Smith, in his "English Flora," after enumerating the virtues of the hornbeam as a hedge plant, gives it as his opinion that "when standing by itself and allowed to take its natural form, the hornbeam makes a much more handsome tree than most people are aware of." Those who are familiar with the fine specimens which exist at Studley Park and elsewhere will have no hesitation in confirming Sir J.E. Smith's statement. The Hornbeam Walk in Richmond Park, from Pembroke Lodge toward the Ham Gate, will recur to many Southerners as a good instance of the fitness of the hornbeam for avenues. In the walk in question there are many fine trees, which afford a thorough and agreeable shade during the summer months.



In any soil or position the hornbeam will grow readily, except exceedingly dry or too marshy spots. On chalky hillsides it does not grow so freely as on clayey plains. Under the latter conditions, however, the wood is not so good. In mountainous regions the hornbeam occupies a zone lower than that appropriated by the beech, rarely ascending more than 1,200 yards above sea level. It is not injured by frost, and in Germany is often seen fringing the edges of the beech forests along the bottom of the valleys where the beech would suffer. Scarcely any tree coppices more vigorously or makes more useful pollards on dry grass land.



On account of its great toughness the wood of the hornbeam is employed in engineering work for cogs in machinery. When subjected to vertical pressure it cannot be completely destroyed; its fibers, instead of breaking off short, double up like threads, a conclusive proof of its flexibility and fitness for service in machinery (Laslett's "Timber and Timber Trees"). According to the same recent authority, the vertical or crushing strain on cubes of 2 inches average 14.844 tons, while that on cubes of 1 inch is 3.711 tons.



A few years ago an English firm required a large quantity of hornbeam wood for the manufacture of lasts, but failed to procure it in England. They succeeded, however, in obtaining a supply from France, where large quantities of this timber are used for that purpose. It may be interesting to state that in England at any rate lasts are no longer made to any extent by hand, but are rapidly turned in enormous numbers by machinery. In France sabots are also made of hornbeam wood, but the difficulty in working it and its weight render it less valuable for sabotage than beech. For turnery generally, cabinet making, and also for agricultural implements, etc., this wood is highly valued; in some of the French winegrowing districts, viz., Cote d'Or and Yonne, hoops for the wine barrels are largely made from this tree. It makes the best fuel and it is preferred to every other for apartments, as it lights easily, makes a bright flame, which burns equally, continues a long time, and gives out an abundance of heat. "Its charcoal is highly esteemed, and in France and Switzerland it is preferred to most others, not only for forges and for cooking by, but for making gunpowder, the workmen at the great gunpowder manufactory at Berne rarely using any other. The inner bark, according to Linnaeus, is used for dyeing yellow. The leaves, when dried in the sun, are used in France as fodder; and when wanted for use in water, the young branches are cut off in the middle of summer, between the first and second growth, and strewed or spread out in some place which is completely sheltered from the rain to dry without the tree being in the slightest degree injured by the operation." (Dict. des Eaux et Forets, art. Charme, as quoted by London).



It hardly seems necessary to dwell upon the value of the hornbeam as a hedge or shelter plant. In many nurseries it is largely used for these purposes, the russet-brown leaves remaining on the twigs until displaced by the new growths in spring.

Var. incisa (Aiton, "Hortus Kewensis," v., 301; C. asplenifolia, Hort.; C. laciniata, Hort.).—These three names represent two forms, which are, however, so near each other, that for all practical purposes they are identical. A glance at the accompanying figure will show how distinct and ornamental this variety is.



Var. quercifolia (Desf. tabl. de l'ecol. de bot. du Mus. d'hist. nat., 213; Ostrya quercifolia, Hort.; Carpinus heterophylla, Hort.)—This form, as will be seen by the figure, is thoroughly distinct from the common hornbeam; it has very much smaller leaves than the type, their outline, as implied by the varietal name, resembling that of the foliage of the oak. It frequently reverts to the type, and, as far as my experience goes, appears to be much less fixed than the variety incisa.

Var. purpurea (Hort.).—The young leaves of this are brownish red; it is well worth growing for the pleasing color effect produced by the young growths in spring. Apart from color it does not differ from the type.

Var. fastigiata (Hort.).—In this variety the branches are more ascending and the habit altogether more erect; indeed, among the hornbeams this is a counterpart of the fastigiate varieties of the common oak.

Var. variegata, aureo-variegata, albo-variegata (albo-marmorata).—These names represent forms differing so slightly from each other, that it is not worth while to notice them separately, or even to treat them as distinct. In no case that I have seen is the variegation at all striking, and, except in tree collections, variegated hornbeams are hardly worth growing.



Carpinus orientalis[2] (the Oriental hornbeam) principally differs from our native species in its smaller size, the lesser leaves with downy petioles, and the green, much-lacerated bractlets. It is a native of the south of Europe, whence it extends to the Caucasus, and probably also to China; the Carpinus Turczaninovi of Hance scarcely seems to differ, in any material point at any rate, from western examples of C. orientalis. According to Loudon, it was introduced to this country by Philip Miller in 1739, and there is no doubt that it is far from common even now. It is, however, well worth growing; the short twiggy branches, densely clothed with dark green leaves, form a thoroughly efficient screen. The plant bears cutting quite as well as the common hornbeam, and wherever the latter will grow this will also succeed. In that very interesting compilation, "Hortus Collinsonianus," the following memorandum occurs: "The Eastern hornbeam was raised from seed sent me from Persia, procured by Dr. Mounsey, physician to the Czarina. Received it August 2, 1751, and sowed it directly; next year (1752) the hornbeam came up, which was the original of all in England. Mr. Gordon soon increased it, and so it came into the gardens of the curious. At the same time, from the same source, were raised a new acacia, a quince, and a bermudiana, the former very different from any in our gardens." This memorandum was probably written from recollection long afterward, with an error in the dates, and the species was first entered in the catalogue as follows: "Azad, arbor persica carpinus folio, Persian hornbeam, raised from seed, anno 1747; not in England before." It appears, however, from Rand's "Index" that there was a plant of it in the Chelsea Garden in 1739. The name duinensis was given by Scopoli, because of his having first found it wild at Duino. As, however, Miller had previously described it under the name orientalis, that one is adopted in accordance with the rule of priority, by which must be decided all such questions in nomenclature.

[Footnote 2: IDENTIFICATION.—Carpinus orientalis. Miller, "Gardener's Dictionary," ed. 6 1771; La Marck, Dict, i., 107; Watson, "Dendrologia Britannica," ii., tab. 98; Reich. Ic. fl. Germ. et Helvet., xxii., fig, 1298; Tenore, "Flora Neapolitana," v., 264; Loudon, Arb. et Fruticet. Brit., iii., 2014, Encycl. Trees and Shrubs, p. 918; Koch, "Dendrologie." zweit, theil zweit, abtheil, p. 4. C. duinensis, Scopoli, "Flora Carniolica," 2 ed., ii., 243, tab. 60; Bertoloni, "Flora Italica," x., 233; Alph. De Candolle in Prodr., xvi. (ii.), 126.]

The American Hornbeam [3] also known under the names of blue beech, water beech, and iron wood, although a less tree than our native species, which it resembles a good deal in size of foliage and general aspect, is nevertheless a most desirable one for the park or pleasure ground, on account of the gorgeous tint assumed by the decaying leaves in autumn. Emerson, in his "Trees and Shrubs of Massachusetts," pays a just tribute to this tree from a decorative standpoint. He says: "The crimson, scarlet, and orange of its autumnal colors, mingling into a rich purplish red, as seen at a distance, make it rank in splendor almost with the tupelo and the scarlet oak. It is easily cultivated, and should have a corner in every collection of trees." It has pointed, ovate oblong, sharply double serrate, nearly smooth leaves. The acute bractlets are three-lobed, halberd-shaped, sparingly cut-toothed on one side. Professor C.S. Sargent, in his catalogue of the "Forest Trees-of North America," gives the distribution, etc., of the American hornbeam as follows: "Northern Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, through the valley of St. Lawrence and Lower Ottawa Rivers, along the northern shores of Lake Huron to Northern Wisconsin and Minnesota; south to Florida and Eastern Texas. Wood resembling that of ostrya (hop hornbeam). At the north generally a shrub or small tree, but becoming, in the Southern Alleghany Mountains, a tree sometimes 50 feet in height, with a trunk 2 feet to 3 feet in diameter." It will almost grow in any soil or exposition in this country.

[Footnote 3: IDENTIFICATION.—Carpinius caroliniana, Walter, "Flora Caroliniana," 236; C. americana, Michx. fl. bor. Amer., ii., 201; Mich. f. Hist. des. Arbres Forestiers de l'Amerique Septentrionale, iii., 57, tab. 8; Watson, "Dendrologia Britannica," ii., 157; Gray, "Manual of the Botany of the Northern United States," p. 457.]

Carpinus viminea[4] is a rather striking species with long-pointed leaves; the accompanying figure scarcely gives a sufficiently clear representation of their long, tail-like prolongations. Judging from the height at which it grows, it would probably prove hardy in this country, and, if so, the distinct aspect and graceful habit of the tree would render it a decided acquisition. It is a moderate-sized tree, with thin gray bark, and slender, drooping warted branches. The blade of the smooth leave measures from 3 inches to 4 inches in length, the hairy leaf-stalk being about half an inch long. It is a native of Himalaya, where it occurs at elevations of from 5000 to 7000 feet above sea-level. As in our common hornbeam, the male catkins appear before the leaves, and the female flowers develop in spring at the same time as the leaves. The hard, yellowish white wood—a cubic foot of which weighs 50 lb.—is used for ordinary building purposes by the natives of Nepaul.

[Footnote 4: IDENTIFICATION.—Carpinus viminea, Lindl. in Wall. Plant. Asiat. Rar., ii., p. 4, t. 106; D.C. Prodr., xvi., ii., 127. Loudon, "Arboretum et Fruticetum Britannicum," iii., p. 2014; Encycl. of Trees and Shrubs, p. 919. Brandis, "Forest Flora," 492.]

GEORGE NICHOLSON. Royal Gardens, Kew.

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FRUIT OF CAMELLIA JAPONICA.

The fruiting of the camellia in this country being rather uncommon, we have taken the opportunity of illustrating one of three sent to us a fortnight ago by Mr. J. Menzies, South Lytchett, who says: "The fruits are from a large plant of the single red, grown out of doors against a wall with an east aspect, and protected by a glazed coping 4 feet wide. The double, semi-double, and single varieties have from time to time borne fruit out of doors here, from which I have raised seedlings, but have hitherto failed to get any variety worth sending out or naming."

In the annexed woodcut the fruit is represented natural size. Its appearance is somewhat singular. It is very hard, and has a glazed appearance like that of porcelain. The color is pale green, except on the exposed side, which is dull red. It is furrowed like a tomato, and on the day after we received it the furrows opened and exposed three or four large mahogany-brown seeds embedded in hard pulp.—The Garden.



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[SCIENCE.]



A NEW RULE FOR DIVISION IN ARITHMETIC.

The ordinary process of long division is rather difficult, owing to the necessity of guessing at the successive figures which form the divisor. In case the repeating decimal expressing the exact quotient is required, the following method will be found convenient:

Rule for division.

First. Treat the divisor as follows:

If its last figure is a 0, strike this off, and treat what is left as the divisor.

If its last figure is a 5, multiply the whole by 2, and treat the product as the divisor.

If its last figure is an even number, multiply the whole by 5, and treat the product as a divisor.

Repeat this treatment until these precepts cease to be applicable. Call the result the prepared divisor.

Second. From the prepared divisor cut off the last figure: and, if this be a 9, change it to a 1, or if it be a 1, change it to a 9; otherwise keep it unchanged. Call this figure the extraneous multiplier.

Multiply the extraneous multiplier into the divisor thus truncated, and increase the product by 1, unless the extraneous multiplier be 7, when increase the product by 5. Call the result the current multiplier.

Third. Multiply together the extraneous multiplier and all the multipliers used in the process of obtaining the prepared divisor. Use the product to multiply the dividend, calling the result the prepared dividend.

Fourth. From the prepared dividend cut off the last figure, multiply this by the current multiplier, and add the product to the truncated dividend. Call the sum the modified dividend, and treat this in the same way. Continue this process until a modified dividend is reached which equals the original prepared dividend or some previous modified dividend; so that, were the process continued, the same figures would recur.

Fifth. Consider the series of last figures which have been successively cut off from the prepared dividend and from the modified dividends as constituting a number, the figure first cut off being in the units' place, the next in the tens' place, and so on. Call this the first infinite number, because its left-hand portion consists of a series of figures repeating itself indefinitely toward the left. Imagine another infinite number, identical with the first in the repeating part of the latter, but differing from this in that the same series is repeated uninterruptedly and indefinitely toward the right into the decimal places.

Subtract the first infinite number from the second, and shift the decimal point as many places to the left as there were zeros dropped in the process of obtaining the prepared divisor.

The result is the quotient sought.

Examples.

1. The following is taken at random. Divide 1883 by 365.

First. The divisor, since it ends in 5, must be multiplied by 2, giving 730. Dropping the O, we have 73 for the prepared divisor.

Second. The last figure of the prepared divisor being 3, this is the extraneous multiplier. Multiplying the truncated divisor, 7, by the extraneous multiplier, 3, and adding 1, we have 22 for the current multiplier.

Third. The dividend, 1883, has now to be multiplied by the product of 3, the extraneous multiplier, and 2, the multiplier used in preparing the divisor. The product, 11298, is the prepared dividend.

Fourth. From the prepared dividend, 11298, we cut off the last figure 8, and multiply this by the current multiplier, 22. The product, 176, is added to the truncated dividend, 1129, and gives 1305 for the first modified divisor. The whole operation is shown thus:

1 8 8 3 6 - 1 1 2 9 8 1 7 6 - - 1 3 0 5 1 1 0 - - 2 4 0 8 8 - - 9 0 - 1 9 8 1 7 6 - - 1 9 5 1 1 0 - - 1 2 9 1 9 8 - - 2 1 0 2 2 - 2 4

We stop at this point because 24 was a previous modified dividend, written under the form 240 above. Our two infinite numbers (which need not in practice be written down) are, with their difference:

. . 10,958,904,058 . . 10,958,904,109.5890410958904 —————————————— . . 51.5890410958904 . . Hence the quotient sought is 5.158904109.

Example 2. Find the reciprocal of 333667.

The whole work is here given:

3 3 3 6 6 7 7 2 3 3 5 6 7 - 1 6 3 4 9 6 9 2 1 0 2 1 0 3 - - 2 2 6 5 5 9 9 2 1 0 2 1 0 3 - - 2 3 2 8 6 6 2 4 6 7 1 3 4 - - 7 0 0 0 0 0

. . Answer, 0.000002997.

Example 3. Find the reciprocal of 41.

Solution.—

4 1 9 - - 3 7 9 3 3 3 - 1 1 1 - - 1 4 4 1 4 8 - - 1 6 2 7 4 - - 9 0 . . Answer, 0.02439.

C.S. PEIRCE.

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[SCIENCE.]



EXPERIMENTS IN BINARY ARITHMETIC.

Those who can perform in that most necessary of all mathematical operations, simple addition, any great number of successive examples or any single extensive example without consciousness of a severe mental strain, followed by corresponding mental fatigue, are exceptions to a general rule. These troubles are due to the quantity and complexity of the matter with which the mind has to be occupied at the same time that the figures are recognized. The sums of pairs of numbers from zero up to nine form fifty-five distinct propositions that must be borne in memory, and the "carrying" is a further complication. The strain and consequent weariness are not only felt, but seen, in the mistakes in addition that they cause. They are, in great part, the tax exacted of us by our decimal system of arithmetic. Were only quantities of the same value, in any one column, to be added, our memory would be burdened with nothing more than the succession of numbers in simple counting, or that of multiples of two, three, or four, if the counting is by groups.

It is easy to prove that the most economical way of reducing addition to counting similar quantities is by the binary arithmetic of Leibnitz, which appears in an altered dress, with most of the zero signs suppressed, in the example below. Opposite each number in the usual figures is here set the same according to a scheme in which the signs of powers of two repeat themselves in periods of four; a very small circle, like a degree mark, being used to express any fourth power in the series; a long loop, like a narrow 0, any square not a fourth power; a curve upward and to the right, like a phonographic l, any double fourth power; and a curve to the right and downward, like a phonographic r, any half of a fourth power; with a vertical bar to denote the absence of three successive powers not fourth powers. Thus the equivalent for one million, shown in the example slightly below the middle, is 2^{16} (represented by a degree-mark in the fifth row of these marks, counting from the right) plus 2^{17} + 2^{9} (two l-curves in the fifth and third places of l-curves) plus 2^{18} + 2^{14} + 2^{6} (three loops) plus 2^{19} (the r-curve at the extreme left); while the absence of 2^{3}, 2^{2}, and 2^{1} is shown by the vertical stroke at the right. This equivalent expression may be verified, if desired, either by adding the designated powers of two from 524,288 down to 64, or by successive multiplications by two, adding one when necessary. The form of characters here exhibited was thought to be the best of nearly three hundred that were devised and considered and in about sixty cases tested for economic value by actual additions.

In order to add them, the object for which these forty numbers are here presented in two notations, it is not necessary to know just why the figures on the right are equal to those on the left, or to know anything more than the order in which the different forms are to be taken, and the fact that any one has twice the value of one in the column next succeeding it on the right. The addition may be made from the printed page, first covering over the answer with a paper held fast by a weight, to have a place for the figures of the new answer as successively obtained. The fingers will be found a great assistance, especially if one of each hand be used, to point off similar marks in twos, or threes, or fours—as many together as can be certainly comprehended in a glance of the eye. Counting by fours, if it can be done safely, is preferable because most rapid. The eye can catch the marks for even powers more easily in going up and those for odd powers (the l and r curves) in going down the columns. Beginning at the lower right hand corner, we count the right hand column of small circles, or degree marks, upward; they are twenty-three in number. Half of twenty-three is eleven and one over; one of these marks has therefore to be entered as part of the answer, and eleven carried to the next column, the first one of l-curves. But since the curves are most advantageously added downward, it is best, when the first column is finished, simply to remember the remainder from it, and not to set down anything until the bottom is reached in the addition of the second column, when the remainders, if any, from both columns can be set down together. In this case, starting with the eleven carried and counting the number of the l-curves, we find ourselves at the bottom with twenty-four—twelve to carry, and nothing to set down except the degree mark from the first column. With the twelve we go up the adjoining loop column, and the sum must be even, as this place is vacant in the answer; the r-curve column next, downward, and then another row of degree marks. The succession must be obvious by this time. When the last column, the one in loops to the extreme left, is added, the sum has to be reduced to unity by successive halvings. Here we seem to have eleven; hence we enter one loop, and carry five to the next place, which, it must be remembered, is of r-curves. Halving five we express the remainder by entering one of these curves, and carry the quotient, two, to the degree mark place. Halving again gives one in the next place, that of l-curves; and the work is complete.

It is recommended that this work be gone over several times for practice, until the appearance and order of the characters and the details of the method become familiar; that, when the work can be done mechanically and without hesitation, the time occupied in a complete addition of the example, and the mistakes made in it, be carefully noted; that this be done several times, with an interval of some days between the trials, and the result of each trial kept separate; that the time and mistakes by the ordinary figures in the same example, in several trials, be observed for comparison. Please pay particular attention to the difference in the kind of work required by the two methods in its bearing on two questions—which of them would be easier to work by for hours together, supposing both equally well learned? and in which of them could a reasonable degree of skill be more readily acquired by a beginner? The answer to these questions, if the comparison be a fair one, is as little to be doubted as is their high importance.

Example in addition by two notations

77,823,876 14,348,907 8,654,912 5,764,801 4,635,857 1,594,323 6,417,728 4,782,969 83,886,075 34,012,224 2,903,111 48,828,125 1,724,826 7,529,536 43,344,817 10,000,000 8,334,712 1,953,125 11,308,417 759,375 21,180,840 9,765,625 18,643,788 1,000,000 44,739,243 1,889,568 2,517,471 40,353,607 4,438,414 1,679,616 23,708,715 11,890,625 945,754 823,543 15,308,805 60,466,176 30,685,377 10,077,696 19,416,381 43,046,721 =========== 740,685,681



Eight volunteer observers to whom this example has already been submitted showed wide difference in arithmetical skill. One of them took but a few seconds over two minutes, in the best of six trials, to add by the usual figures, and set down the sum, but one figure in all the six additions being wrong; another added once in ten minutes fifty-seven seconds, and once in eleven minutes seven seconds, with half the figures wrong each time. The last-mentioned observer had had very little training in arithmetical work, but perhaps that gave a fairer comparison. In the binary figures she made three additions in between seven and eight minutes, with but one place wrong in the three. With four of the observers the binary notation required nearly double the time. These observers were all well practiced in computation. Their best record, five minutes eighteen seconds, was made by one whose best record was two minutes forty seconds in ordinary figures. The author's own best results were two minutes thirty-eight seconds binary, and three minutes twenty-three seconds usual. He thus proved himself inferior to the last observer, as an adder, by a system in which both were equally well trained; but a greater familiarity (extending over a few weeks instead of a few hours) with methods in binary addition enabled him to work twice as fast with them. Of the author's nine additions by the usual figures, four were wrong in one figure each; of his thirty-two additions by different forms of binary notation, five were wrong, one of them in two places. One observer found that he required one minute thirty-three seconds to add a single column (average of five tried) by the usual figures, and fifteen seconds to count the characters in one (average of six tried) by the binary. Though these additions were rather slow, the results are interesting. They show, making allowance for the greater number of columns (three and a third times as many) required by the binary plan, a saving of nearly half; but they also illustrate the necessity of practice. This observer succeeded with the binary arithmetic by avoiding the sources of delay that particularly embarrass the beginner, by contenting himself with counting only, and not stopping to divide by two, to set down an unfamiliar character, or to recognize the mark by which he must distinguish his next column. One well-known member of the Washington Philosophical Society and of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, who declined the actual trial as too severe a task, estimated his probable time with ordinary figures at twenty minutes, with strong chances of a wrong result, after all.

These statistics prove the existence of a class of persons who can do faster and more reliable work by the binary reckoning. But too much should not be made of them. Let them serve as specimens of facts of which a great many more are to be desired, bearing on a question of grave importance. Is it not worth our while to know, if we can, by impartial tests, whether the tax imposed on our working brains by the system of arithmetic in daily use is the necessary price of a blessing enjoyed, or an oppression? If the strain produced by greater complexity and intensity of mental labor is compensated by a correspondingly greater rapidity in dealing with figures, the former may be the case. If, on the contrary, a little practice suffices to turn the balance of rapidity, for all but a small body of highly drilled experts, in favor of an easier system, the latter must be. This is the question that the readers of Science are invited to help in deciding. The difficulties attending a complete revolution in the prevalent system of reckoning are confessedly stupendous; but they do not render undesirable the knowledge that experiment alone can give, whether or not the cost of that system is unreasonably high; nor should they prevent those who accord them the fullest recognition from assisting to furnish the necessary facts.

THE END