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Millionaire, An. By Grant D. C. L., LL. D. 2 vols. Clarendon
Allen. Grant Richards, Publisher.
At the Queen's Mercy. By Mabel Ful-
ler Blodgett. Lamson, Wolffe & Co.,
Publishers. Price $1.25.

Attitude of the Greek Tragedians
Toward Nature, The. By H. Rushton
Fairclough. Rowsell & Hutchinson,

Bible, The: Its Meaning and Suprem-
acy. By F. W. Farrar, D. D., F. R. S.
Longmans, Publishers.
Bibliography of the Works of William
Morris, A. By Temple Scott. George
Bell & Sons, Publishers.

Blind Larry: Irish Idyls. By Lewis
MacNamara. Jarrold & Sons, Pub-

Book of Parliament, The. By Michael
MacDonagh. Isbister & Co., Pub-

British Central Africa. By Sir Harry
H. Johnston, K. C. B. Methuen &
Co., Publishers.

Crooked Paths. By Francis Alling-
ham. Longman & Co., Publishers.
England in the Days of Old. By Wil-

liam Andrews. Andrews, Publisher.
English Verse-Structure. By T. S.
Omond. David Douglas, Publisher.
Essays in Liberalism. By Six Oxford

Men. Cassell & Co., Publishers.
Fall of the Congo Arabs, The. By Sid-
ney Langford Hinde, Late Captain
Congo Free State Forces. Thomas
Whittaker, Publisher.
Foreigner in the Farmyard, The. By
Ernest E. Williams. Heinemann,

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King of the Mountains, The. Translated from the French. With an Introduction by Andrew Lang. Heinemann, Publisher.

Letters of Women. By Marcel Prevost.
Translated by Arthur Hornblow.
Meyer Brothers & Co., Publishers.
Price $1.00.

Life and Letters of Benjamin Jowett,
The. By Evelyn Abbott and Lewis
Campbell. 2 vols. E. P. Dutton &
Co., Publishers. Price $10.00.
Limbo, and Other Essays. By Vernon
Lee. Grant Richards, Publisher.
Master-Beggars, The. By L. Cope
Cornford. J. B. Lippincott Co., Pub-

Missionary Sheriff, The. By Octave
Thanet. Harper & Bros., Publishers.
Price $1.25.

Modern Mythology. By Andrew Lang.
Longmans, Publishers.
Norse Sketches and Tales. By Alex-
ander L. Kielland. Translated by
R. L. Cassie. Stock, Publisher.
Old Dramatists, The: Conjectural Read-
ings. By K. Deighton. Archibald
Constable & Co., Publishers.

Old Memories. By General Sir Hugh
Gough. Blackwood & Sons, Publish-


Oxford and its Colleges. By J. Wells,
M. A. Illustrated by Edmund H.
New. Methuen & Co., Publishers.
Partisan Politics: The Evil and the
Remedy. By James Sayles Brown.
J. B. Lippincott Company, Publishers.
Price 50 cents.

Sir Walter Scott. By George Saints-
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Son of the Old Dominion, A. By Mrs.
Burton Harrison. Lamson, Wolffe &
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Twenty-Six Years of Missionary Work in China. By Grace Stott. Hodder & Stoughton, Publishers.

Trick of Fame, A. By H. Hamilton Fyfe. Richard Bentley & Sons, Publishers.

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Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, cr by post-office money order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks, and money-orders should be made payable to the order of THE LIVING AGE Co.

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Of all the little hearts in feather,

Of all the little wights in fur,
Give me the Kingfisher.

My soul and it, methinks, take life to-

Not where the shining spaces of the mere
Lie blue and clear,

But where the brook's small waters run
Reflecting emerald leaves and chinks of


On a dead branch, in solitude
It watches for its fleeting food.
So, poised on dead and dying things,
Not in the glare of being, but the sought
Dim, tranquil umbrage of sequester'd

The soul keeps vigil o'er the living springs

Bright bird, thine azure wings, thy ruddy breast

The colors of the furrow and the skyRemind me that at worst and best

Akin to earth and aimed for heaven am I.

Leaf-cloistered in a solitary reach,
Thou keepest watch without a mate,
Without a song;

Even so the soul that would await
Life by the living springs must linger
Withdrawn from human fellowship and

"My father led a sailor's life,

He was your joy," I cried;
"My mother was a sailor's wife;"
Yet still she only sighed.


My wedding clothes with her I chose,
We fitted them with pride;

With heart's content to church I went,
I left it Donal's bride.

When first I told my granny old
That I'd be Donal's bride,
She took my face between her hands,
Then turned away and sighed.

No bluer, truer eyes than his,
No breast of braver brown,
No stouter arm, no fonder kiss,
Search Derry up and down.

Yet we were wed but three months' time,
But three months and a day,
When Donal to a foreign clime
Should voyage far away.

Ah, then too well I learned to tell
Why first my granny sighed-
For four long years of aching fears
An absent sailor's bride.

Our boy's first cry, and he not by
My pride and joy to share-
Our boy's first walk and pretty talk,
And still no father there.

And letters long and letters short
From half the world around,
Grown leaf by leaf a blistered sheaf
In bridal ribbons bound.

And is he coming home again

Who all these years has ranged?
And will he be the same to me

Although I so have changed-
The same again, the same as when
Of old he courting came

Hark! dry wood snaps. Who dares in- And looked me through with eyes so blue-
Oh, will he be the same?

Upon thy sea-green solitude?
(Hush! hush!) No human will shall do
Thy spirit wrong: thou shalt be let

I would have drest in all my best;
He'd have me wear my worst,
The faded gown of homespun brown
In which he saw me first.

Alas, one flash of blue

Heaven's color-tells that thou art My woman's heart would have me smart,

I'm but a woman still;


Good Words.

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But bide, gay gown; come, old one, down;
Let Donal have his will.

The Southern Star has fetched the bar,
She's signalled from the land.
Quick, little Donal, to my arms!
Now on my shoulder stand.

See, there she sails, he's at the rails
He's waving to the shore!

Wave back, my lad, to your own dad
Ay, 'tis himself once more!



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Not further than thirty or forty years ago it was very generally maintained and taught that the psychical activity of mind on the one side, and the chemical or physical changes which take place in the brain and the nerves on the other side, belong to two quite distinct domains, separated by a wide gap which can by no means be bridged over. Our sensations, our emotions, our thoughts, it was said, and the material changes which may go on in the nervous system, are not only two distinct sets of facts-they are two quite separate worlds, "separate in existence." Consequently, if physiologists should ever succeed in tracing each electrical current and each chemical change produced in the brain and the nerves whilst a sensation is awakened and thoughts besiege our mind, they nevertheless would add absolutely nothing to our knowledge of sensations and thoughts; still less to their interpretation. Facts of psychology can not be explained by facts of physics or chemistry.

Current ideas, however, are rapidly changing upon this point. It lies beyond contest that from a mass of psycho-physiological investigations which have been made within the last thirty years, something new has continually been learned about man's psychical life-something that could not be learned from mere psychological self-observation. And gradually, even the strictest psychologists have grown accustomed to the idea that in the researches of physiologists they will find, to say the least, a most precious aid for their own investigations. One group of such researches-into the gradual evolution of senses in the animal worldwas analyzed last year in this Review; and the new light that was thrown by these researches upon the complicated nature of our own sensations, as well as upon the evolution of what we de

scribe as the conscious state of mind, was indicated. Now we have to analyze another group of epoch-making discoveries relative to the finer structure of the nerve-system, and to see what may be learned from them about a still higher sphere of mental activity, namely, the associations of ideas and mechanism of thought.

The ambition of modern physiologists will be best understood from some such illustration as he following. Suppose a flash of lightning strikes our eyes, and we see a thunderbolt striking a tree in our neighborhood. Immeḍiately, and quite unconsciously, we may stop in our walk, turn pale, or lift our hand as if to protect our eyes. Next we may make some quite conscious movement-run, let us say, towards the tree to ascertain whether a child which we saw a moment before in that direction has not been struck by the thunderbolt. Or the reminiscence of a friend who has had a narrow escape in a similar circumstance may be awakened all of a sudden. Or we may set thinking about the rain which is coming, and is much wanted for the crops, or about electricity and the cause of lightning, or about the beauty of the suddenly illuminated landscape, and so on. Now, our sensations in this case, and our subsequent emotions, conscious actions, and thoughts may, of course, be described and studied by the psychologist; in fact nearly all the domain of psychology can be strolled over in this simple case. But then the physiologist steps in. He wants to know, in his turn, what changes, chemical or physical, took place in the retina of our eye as it was struck by light; what nerves were irritated next, and to what parts of the brain and the spinal cord the nerve-current was transmitted; in which way these or those muscles of the arm, or such blood-vessels of the face, were contracted; what took place in the cells of the brain, and in which way the conscious run towards the tree was originated; by what mechanism the old, dormant reminiscences of a friend, or the familiar associations of lightning with rain, with electricity, or

with the beauty of a landscape, were awakened; in which spots of the brain were these associations stored, and how was it that once more they came to consciousness?

The problem is immense, and is imbued with the deepest interest. It matters little what are one's particular views upon "matter" and "mind." Once it is admitted that for each sensation, emotion, or thought there is an equivalent process which goes on in the brain and the nerves-and that much is now admitted on all sides both processes must be known in full. They may be described as simply "parallel," but "separate in existence," and not in the least independent-that would be the dualist's view; or they may be considered, by the monist, as the two aspects, inner and outer, of the very same process; or the psychical process may be considered as a result of what took place in the brain and the nerves -such would be the materialist's view; but all three-the dualist, the monist, and the materialist-are equally interested in knowing both processes in all their details. This is, in fact, what science aims at at the present time.

The task is, however, beset with almost incredible difficulties, and one of the chief among them was for a very long time the impossibility of making out the finer structure of nerve-tissues. In all sciences dealing with life it has been lately found out that a grosso modo study of the organs is utterly insufficient; that in order to understand nutrition and growth, reproduction and heredity-life in a word-attention must be turned to the wonderful phenomena which go on in the tiny microscopical cells. The same became necessary in psycho-physiology: the tiny nerve-cells, each of which leads its own life, while all are thoroughly connected together, had to be studied. Not further back than ten years ago that study met with almost insuperable obstacles. The nerve-cells were found to be surrounded with such an inextricable tissue of finest nerve-fibres that it seemed almost hopeless to disentangle the tissue. Imagine a thick felt, which is

composed not of thick hair, but of millions of finest microscopical fibres ramifying in all directions, and try to follow in it each separate fibre! Various roundabout methods were tried, and the most astounding was that certain anatomists (especially His) succeeded to some extent in disentangling that network, at least for the white bundle of nerves. But the grey substance of the brain and the spinal cord defied all their efforts.

Then came, in 1885, the welcome news that the Italian professor, Golgi, had discovered a new method of staining microscopical preparations, which enabled him to trace separate nervefibres in the grey tissue as well. The method soon was tested, slightly improved upon, and in the hands of such anatomists as His, Lenhossék, van Gehuchten, Retzius, Sala, and especially the Spanish anatomist, S. Ramón y Cajal, and the veteran histologist Kölliker, it soon yielded quite unexpected results. In less than ten years the felt was disentangled; and the intimate structure of the brain and the spinal cord-their grey and white substances alike-the nerve-ganglia, and the nerve-system altogether, appeared under a quite new aspect.

It is firmly established now that the different parts of the nerve-system consist of millions of microscopical nerveunits, which are all built upon the same fundamental plan. The name of neurons has been proposed for these units, and is now pretty generally accepted. Like all other cells, the nervecells consist of protoplasm, and have a nucleus and a still smaller nucleolus: while they vary, of course, very much in size, and their shape may be round or stellar, or roughly triangular. A typical nerve-cell differs, however, from all other cells in that it has, as a rule. two sorts of outgrowths. On the one side it gives origin to short ramifications of naked grey protoplasm, which may be covered with protoplasm granules or send out short side branches, so that they resemble a microscopic moss; these ramifications have received the name of dendrons. From the other side

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