they desire such restoration. If the "plastic forces of nature" would now supply teeth as they formerly did to the animals wishing for them, would there be as many dentists as the signs on the doors seem to indicate?

If it should be urged that having once furnished the organs to the individuals, the powers of "natural selection" had been exhausted in their case, we may well ask, How is it that no one of the short men we meet, who often manifest a desire to be tall, has, even by the most vehement wishing, been able to add a cubit or a single inch to his stature? If, in truth, the mind of animal or man were able simply by its action to change material things to the extent which the theories of the evolutionists assume, then its potency over matter would be immensely greater than its most enthusiastic advocates have ever claimed for it.

Again, the facts presented by geological science have been appealed to as lending support to the views of the evolutionists. It is said that the animals which existed in the early geological periods were inferior to those which succeeded them in later ages, and that an upward progress has been steady and uniform, from the shell-fish up to quadrupeds and men. Though this fact has been disputed in certain respects, yet I regard it as in the main true, and for the purpose of the present argument will accept it as absolutely true. In other words, after the oyster the vertebrated fish, like the salmon, came, then the crocodile and other reptiles, and in succession lions, horses and similar quadrupeds, and finally man. Does such a succession, even if it were mathematically true, afford a respectable argument in support of the view that each of these classes came from the preceding one, or was a modification of it by the process of evolution? Admit that this succession was invariably upward, does its invariability establish the doctrine of "natural selection?"

Let us suppose that the man in the moon has come down to earth from a laudable desire to learn how matters are managed here. Of course he would be invited to dine with the President. The first dish will be soup, then fish, afterwards roast beef and other meats, the dinner ending with jellies, ice cream and coffee. On the next day he dines with the Secretary of State, and is surprised to find the same succession of dishes. Each member of the Cabinet treats him precisely in the same manner, and so do such of the private citizens as he dines with. Being of a scientific turn of mind, he philosophizes, and is soon convinced that he has divined the true theory of these phenomena. The succession of dishes is invariably the same, and, therefore, it is clear that each dish must have been a modification of the preceding one. In the laboratory of the cook a certain primordial form of matter existed, and through some evolution which he did not precisely understand, it at first appeared as soup. By continuing the operation this substance became partially solidified and took the form of salmon. The action being continued by the aid of time, it was so hardened as to become roast beef. The operation longer persevered in, broke up the consistency of the material somewhat, so that it appeared as jelly and ice cream, while certain watery portions, which could not be even par

tially solidified, remained as coffee. The invariability of this succession left no doubt on his mind as to the soundness of his theory. Had he not in truth all in this form of evidence that geology gives to the evolutionist? On stating his hypothesis, however, he was told that his theory was so plausible that it was not singular that he should have adopted it, but that he was mistaken. That the dinner invariably began with soup and ended with coffee was merely due to the fact that the person who arranged the dinner thought that such a succession of dishes was better suited to the tastes, appetites and constitutions of men than any other arrangement. Does geology furnish to the advocate of "natural selection" a stronger argument than this lunar philosopher had? If at one time the earth, from its warmer condition, was enveloped in an immense mass of cloudy vapors, so that the sunlight was excluded, the creative power might be supposed capable of perceiving that it was in its condition well suited to the existence of shell-fish in its waters. After further cooling its vapors subsided, and permitted the sunlight to penetrate its ocean, and vertebrates, furnished with eyes, could be accommodated; and as the land emerged its marshy surface was well-fitted for the comfortable existence of reptiles. Further hardening rendered it a suitable habitation for quadrupeds, that could be well fed on its luxuriant grasses and other vegetation. At length it acquired a condition fitting it for the growth of the cereals, and man was called into being. Such a supposition as this would not require in the creative power a higher degree of intelligence than the farmer displays, when, after having newly drained a piece of marsh land, seeing it still wet, he uses it for a meadow, and after it has been thoroughly dried cultivates it in wheat.

There has recently been much discussion in relation to the discovery of the "basis of life," or that point where mere matter first assumes the character of vitality. Microscopic examinations show that there are certain minute particles of matter designated as ova, cells or protoplasms, which manifest a potentiality to be developed into plants and animals. They are found to consist of the four elements: oxygen, carbon, nitrogen, and hydrogen; but they become food for plants only in their combinations of carbonic acid, water, and ammonia. In this form they can sustain the growth of the "protoplasms," which constitute plants, while animals can only assimilate them secondarily from plants. These protoplasms seem to be so near to mere matter that Professor Tyndall said in his address at Belfast, that he "passed over" the interval which separated these protoplasms from matter itself. In other words, he seems to regard matter alone as sufficient to constitute vitality in plants and animals, excluding the idea that there is any such thing as life other than as a modification of matter.

But do the alleged discoveries sustain this view? It would be but a superficial view if we were to assume that the knowledge of the fact that the oak came from an acorn, and a fowl from an egg, explained the origin of vegetable or animal life. How it was that the acorn had a potentiality to germinate into a tree, or the egg to be developed into a fowl, would remain still none the less a mystery. The chemist might

place the egg in an exhausted receiver, hermetically seal it, and by applying a moderate degree of heat he could deprive it of its vitality or potentiality to become a fowl. After this had been done, he would have under his control all the material elements of the egg with its numerous dead protoplasms, but no skill of his could restore its vitality. Does not this show that vitality is something more than mere matter, a something to be added to matter before it can possess the potentiality to manifest itself as a living organization? So is it with the protoplasms. Professor Tyndall says he passes over the chasm which separates his protoplasms from matter. So can the protoplasms also, but when they have thus passed they have crossed a chasm over which they return not again. No man of science can again restore their vitality. Their condition is then as hopeless as would be that of the Professor himself when he once passed from the living to dead matter. Is it not clear, then, that the discovery of protoplasms has not enabled us to understand the "basis of life" any better than men did centuries ago? How they become living organizations is just as much a mystery as the potentiality of the acorn or the egg to produce vegetable or animal beings.

Again, the fact that the microscope does not enable the man of science to distinguish the protoplasms of one animal from those of another, does not tend to establish the identity of different species. It was discovered long ago that animals and vegetables, with slight additions, were constituted of these four elements. But no one ever assumed that because chemical analysis showed that the flesh of men and dogs were composed of these same elements it thus proves that men and dogs are identical in species, or must have had a common origin. The very fact the protoplasms of different animals cannot be distinguished from each other, accompanied by the other fact that the protoplasm of each animal invariably produced that animal, and not any other, indicates that life, which determines species, is something entirely different from mere matter.

The question may be asked, then, "Why is it that such views have attracted of late so much attention, and been adopted by a number of persons?" It must be remembered that the minds of many men of science in the pursuit of certain inquiries, run in narrow channels, and, like the microscopes they use, make small objects appear very large; and thus they attach undue importance to some new discovery. The mass of readers are influenced by the authority of great names, and are also fond of a novelty. Their minds are confused by the use of terms not well understood. "Natural selection," the "survival of the fittest," "evolution," "proptolasms," "monads," "protein," "the physical basis of life," "correllation of growth," "correllation of vital and physical forces," and similar terms disturb their minds, and induce them to believe that there must be something deep and mysterious in such theories, just as the traveler who comes to a stream so . muddy that he cannot see the bottom, is easily persuaded that it is of indefinite depth. Such persons, seeing that they have often been surprised by great discoveries in science, become credulous, and ready to adopt new theories, however improbable.

Mr. Quirk, because Tittlebat Titmouse had, from being a beggar, suddenly become the owner of ten thousand a year, was induced to believe that the red, green, blue, and purple colors of his hair, produced by his brisk application of the various hair-dyes, with which he so suddenly surprised his acquaintances, might have been caused by the change of his pecuniary condition.

The several works lately published on these subjects contain inuch valuable scientific information, and, if read as we do "Gulliver's Travels" will furnish knowledge as well as amusement. Science, in her sphere, gives us an amount of knowledge that cannot be overestimated, but it has utterly failed to explain the origin of life, the connection of mind and matter, or the manner in which they act on each other.

WATER SPOUTS.

LECTURE BEFORE THE PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY OF WASHINGTON, JANUARY, 1877.

By Hon. T. L. CLINGMAN.

On the 15th day of June, 1876, there fell in the western part of North Carolina from forty to sixty water spouts as they are popularly termed. The manner of their fall and the facts connected with it are of such a character, that I think the phenomena ought to be brought to the attention of the scientific world. I will, therefore, so state them as probably to make them fairly understood by such persons as take an interest in the subject:

The area of territory on which they fell is embraced in the southern portions of the counties of Macon and Jackson, in North Carolina, and the adjoining parts of South Carolina and Georgia. The greater portion of this territory consists of an elevated plateau of an altitude of more than three thousand feet above the level of the sea. It is traversed irregularly by several ridges of mountains of considerable height, and has occasionally to be seen detached peaks, the highest of which rises above four thousand (4,000) feet. One of the ledges is the Blue Ridge, which divides the waters running into the Atlantic from those flowing into the Mississippi. The course of this chain along the plateau is very nearly east and west.

The distance from the spot where the most westerly of the water spouts fell, to that of the most easterly of them, near the border of Transylvania county, cannot be less than thirty miles in a direct line, while from the position of the most northerly to that of the most southerly, the distance must be fully twenty miles. In other words, the water spouts fell irregularly over an area of thirty miles in length by twenty miles in breadth.

On the day of this fall there was rain over a large area, embracing the western portion of North Carolina, and territory in the adjoining States. There was in some localities thunder and lightning, but not an unusual amount, nor was it remarkable for wind. In fact, in the immediate vicinity of some of the water falls, it was described as being a still, wet day.

I will now describe, particularly, one of those "spouts" or water falls. Mr. Horatio Conley lives about twelve miles south, and rather east of the town of Franklin, in Macon county. His house stands on the west side of the Tessantee, a stream of several yards in width, and probably fifty yards from the stream. In the afternoon of this day, June 15th, 1876, during the rain, which had been falling steadily for the greater part of the day, he was surprised to see the stream suddenly rise much higher than he had ever seen it at any previous time. This rise was in part produced by the falling, two miles above him, of two smaller water spouts of which he then knew nothing. Though the banks of the stream were high, yet the water rose above them and extended into his yard, and alarmed him for the safety of his house. The stream, however, rapidly subsided into its channel, but was still much swollen. On the opposite side of the creek, and immediately in front of his house, there is a ravine along which there flows a little branch that comes down at right angles to the Tessantee. While he and his wife were in the piazza of their house, next to the creek, their attention was arrested by a remarkable appearance up this ravine distant perhaps one hundred and fifty yards from them. They saw a large mass of water and timber, heavy trees floating on the top, which appeared ten or fifteen feet high, moving rapidly towards them, as if it might sweep directly across the Tessantee and overwhelm them. Fortunately, however, sixty or seventy yards beyond the creek the ground became comparatively level, and the water expanded itself, became thus shallower, and leaving many of the trees strewn for a hundred yards along the ground, entered the creek with a moderate current. The Tessantee, however, was again so full as to overflow its banks, and large trees were carried down it, and left at intervals for at mile or more. This sudden rise was caused by the water spout which I am now about to describe. It appeared at Mr. Conley's at half-after three o'clock in the afternoon.

At a distance of two and a half miles to the eastward of Mr. Conley's there is a ridge known as the Fishhawk Mountain. It extends in a direction nearly north and south, and is probably more than thirtyfive hundred feet in altitude above the sea, but it can scarcely exceed four thousand feet. Within two or three hundred feet of the crest of its ridge two of these water spouts fell, but on opposite sides. I will describe that which struck on its western side, and flowed down towards Mr. Conley's house. After ascending with considerable difficulty, chiefly on horseback, but making the upper part of the journey on foot, I reached the spot where it fell. The ground was quite steep, the surface ascending at the rate of twenty five degrees, probably. There was a circular opening in the ground about twelve or fifteen feet deep in the centre. It had the figure of almost an exact semi-circle