The fact of the existence of fossil remains of the horse in America has been generally received with a good deal of incredulity, arising, perhaps, from the mere fact being stated of their having been found, often without even mentioning the associate fossils, and in all cases, previous to Mr. Owen, without describing the specimen. At present their existence being fully confirmed, it is probably as much a wonder to naturalists as was the first sight of the horses of the Spaniards to the aboriginal inhabitants of the country, for it is very remarkable that the genus Equus should have so entirely passed away from the vast pastures of the western world, in after ages to be replace by a foreign species to which the country has proved so well adapted; and it is impossible, in the present state of our knowledge, to conceive what could have been the circumstances which have been so universally destructive to the genus upon one continent, and so partial in its influence upon the other.

The remains are by no means unfrequent, and according to William Cooper, the author of a paper entitled “Notices of Big-Bone Lick,” in Featherstonhaugh's “Journal of Geology,” the first printed notice of them occurs in Mitchell's “Catalogue of Organic Remains,” upon referring to which, I find mentioned pp. 7, 8, that a cervical vertebra and teeth of the horse were found associated with the Mastodon, &c., in a tract extending from the base of the Neversink Hills to Bordentown, New Jersey.

In presenting to our readers a new word, and a scientific principle yet unrecognized except in the writings of a single author, we may reasonably be asked for a fuller exposition of the term and of its bearings than is given in our recent paper on “Man's Zoological Postion;” and, accordingly, we here offer the following thoughts on the subject.

The importance of the head to an animal all understand. It makes the great difference between an animal and a plant. The former may be correctly described as a fore-and-aft structure. The former has more or less of will emanating from its headextremity, producing voluntary action; and an animal is therefore, typically, a forward-moving, or a “go-ahead” being; while a plant simply stands and grows. An animal is cognizant of existences about him, and, however minutes or simple, it knows enough to steer clear of obstacles, in its head-forward progress, or to attempt it at least; but a plant is, utterly, a non-percipient, unknowing thing.

The head of an animal is the seat of power. It contains not merely the principal nervous mass (the brain, in the higher tribes, and a ganglion or mass corresponding to a brain, in the lower) but also the various organs of the senses, as of sight, hearing, smell, taste, and also the mouth with its parts or appliances.

A desire to advance the science of Botany by any additional remarks and facts which might be in my possession, connected with an endeavour to instruct the ignorant, in this engaging science, are the motives which have induced the author to the prosecution of a laborious but gratifying task.

How much he has drawn from every popular source of information and thus advanced the merit of this little publication by the labours of others almost every page can testify.

The tacit evidence of Botanists to the accuracy of the prevailing definitions of genera and species, afford, as it were, an almost inviolable sanction to the labours of their authors, and appear to stamp with temerity every attempt at subversion. The limits of genera, however, since the times of Linnaeus, reverting in a measure to their former simplicity, have now been greatly reduced, and more particularly so, since Botany, assuming a philosophical character, lays claim to a classification by natural affinities. In this interesting and now prevailing view of the subject, a reduction of heterogenous materials to their natural types, has led the way to the construction of genera better according with the plan of nature.

One of the strongest, and perhaps most important objections urged against these improvements is the confusion which they are innocently the means of introducing into Botanical nomenclature, and indeed it must be acknowledged that the concussion of revolution whether in science or politics, even to fulfil the most important object, but little accords with our natural desire of harmony.

Mathematics is the science which draws necessary conclusions.

This definition of mathematics is wider than that which is ordinarily given, and by which its range is limited to quantitative research. The ordinary definition, like those of other sciences, is objective; whereas this is subjective. Recent investigations, of which quaternions is the most noteworthy instance, make it manifest that the old definition is too restricted. The sphere of mathematics is here extended, in accordance with the derivation of its name, to all demonstrative research, so as to include all knowledge strictly capable of dogmatic teaching. Mathematics is not the discoverer of laws, for it is not induction; neither is it the framer of theories, for it is not hypothesis; but it is the judge over both, and it is the arbiter to which each must refer its claims; and neither law can rule nor theory explain without the sanction of mathematics. It deduces from a law all its consequences, and develops them into the suitable form for comparison with observation, and thereby measures the strength of the argument from observation in favor of a proposed law or of a proposed form of application of a law.

Mathematics, under this definition, belongs to every enquiry, moral as well as physical. Even the rules of logic, by which it is rigidly bound, could not be deduced without its aid. The laws of argument admit of simple statement, but they must be curiously transposed before they can be applied to the living speech and verified by observation.

From PART I

In collecting, enforcing and adding to the evidence accumulated upon this most serious subject, I would not be understood to imply that there exists a doubt in the mind of any well-informed member of the medical profession as to the fact that puerperal fever is sometimes communicated from one person to another, both directly and indirectly. In the present state of our knowledge upon this point I should consider such doubts merely as a proof that the sceptic had either not examined the evidence, or, having examined it, refused to accept its plain and unavoidable consequences. I should be sorry to think, with Dr. Rigby, that it was a case of “oblique vision”; I should be unwilling to force home the argumentum ad hominem of Dr. Blundell, but I would not consent to make a question of a momentous fact which is no longer to be considered as a subject for trivial discussions, but to be acted upon with silent promptitude. It signifies nothing that wise and experienced practitioners have sometimes doubted the reality of the danger in question; no man has the right to doubt it any longer. No negative facts, no opposing opinions, be they what they may, or whose they may, can form any answer to the series of cases now within the reach of all who choose to explore the records of medical science.

It is telling that two of the most useful background sources for this period, George H. Daniels' 1967 essay, “The Process of Professionalization in American Science,” and Robert V. Bruce's Pulitzer Prize winning book, The Launching of Modern American Science: 1846–1876, should both have titles with words of becoming, for this was indeed a dynamic period. As Daniels puts it, “Most of the controversies within science can be understood in terms of tensions inherent in the transition from one mode of scientific activity to another” (p. 151); and Bruce notes more specifically, “By 1846 the influence of technology was proving to be a match for that of abundant land, and by 1876 the way of collective, organized enterprise clearly dominated American life. The tension between these two ways to wealth were mirrored in American science during the nineteenth century, and not by coincidence” (p. 5). The scientists of this period seemed aware that they were both the raw material and the potential victors (in bounty and fame) of these dynamic years, which may account in part for the urgency, competition, and tension that marked it. If there is one word that connects all the various themes of this period, it is tension, and so it is around these tensions that I focus this introduction to Part Two.

Lazzaroni / U.S. Coast Survey / Dudley Observatory / National Academy of Sciences

If Louis Agassiz could be considered the face of American science in the antebellum period and Joseph Henry the brains, then Alexander Dallas Bache would be its body.

Introduction

Cities in developing countries have been the sites of dramatic wealth creation and consumption generated by the processes of globalization. Globalization has generated enormous wealth for those who are already wealthy, while at the same time pulling many sections of urban society into employments, income and consumption patterns which were hitherto unknown.

On the other hand, this unprecedented creation of wealth and opportunities have highlighted the plight of those who are excluded, in two senses. Firstly, there are thousands of people in cities who continue to be trapped in unskilled and semi-skilled work that brings low returns to hard labour, in traditional employments like the construction industry, or domestic service; globalization has possibly made some difference to them in terms of work availability (for example, through the boom in the construction industry in rapidly growing cities), but no significant opportunities have been generated to expand their life chances, or those of their next generation. Secondly, globalization itself has created a new workforce, as multinational producers locate manufacturing industries in Third World cities to take advantage of low wages. Typically, this has led to export zones, employing large numbers of semi-skilled or unskilled workers, often comprising a predominantly female workforce, with low wages and little security. Again, while this process has created a large number of urban jobs for the underclass, simultaneously new pockets of urban deprivation have been generated.

Char. General color greenish black; side stripe of white from the bill down the sides of the neck; chin, throat, and part of wings white or pale yellow. Male with scarlet crown, crest, and cheek patch. Females with crest partly black and no scarlet on cheek. Length about 18 inches.

Nest. In a deep forest or the seclusion of a swampy grove; excavated in high trees, and lined only with fine chips.

Eggs. 4–6; snow white and glossy; 1.25 × 1.00.

This large and common Woodpecker, considerably resembling the preceding species, is not unfrequent in well-timbered forests from Mexico and Oregon to the remote regions of Canada, as far as the 63d degree of north latitude; and in all the intermediate region he resides, breeds, and passes most of the year, retiring in a desultory manner only into the Southern States for a few months in the most inclement season from the North and West. In Pennsylvania, however, he is seen as a resident more or less throughout the whole year; and Mr. Hutchins met with him in the interior of Hudson Bay, near Albany River in the month of January. It is, however, sufficiently singular, and shows perhaps the wild timidity of this northern chief of his tribe, that though an inhabitant towards the savage and desolate sources of the Mississippi, he is unknown at this time in all the maritime parts of the populous and long-settled State of Massachusetts.

The Passenger Pigeon, or, as it is usually named in America, the Wild Pigeon, moves with extreme rapidity, propelling itself by quickly repeated flaps of the wings, which it brings more or less near to the body, according to the degree of velocity which is required. Like the Domestic Pigeon, it often flies, during the love season, in a circling manner, supporting itself with both wings angularly elevated, in which position it keeps them until it is about to alight. Now and then, during these circular flights, the tips of the primary quills of each wing are made to strike against each other, producing a smart rap, which may be heard at a distance of thirty or forty yards. Before alighting, the Wild Pigeon, like the Carolina Parrot and a few other species of birds, breaks the force of its flight by repeated flappings, as if apprehensive of receiving injury from coming too suddenly into contact with the branch or the spot of ground on which it intends to settle.

I have commenced my description of this species with the above account of its flight, because the most important facts connected with its habits relate to it migrations. These are entirely owing to the necessity of procuring food, and are not performed with the view of escaping the severity of a northern latitude, or of seeking a southern one for the purpose of breeding.

Although the phenomenon of the production of light by all solid bodies, when their temperature is raised to a certain degree, is one of the most familiar, no person so far as I know has hitherto attempted a critical investigation of it. The difficulties environing the inquiry are so great that even among the most eminent philosophers a diversity of opinion has prevailed respecting some of the leading facts. Thus Sir Isaac Newton fixed the temperature at which bodies become self-luminous as 635°; Sir Humphrey Davy at 812°; Mr. Wedgwood at 947°; and Mr. Daniel at 980°. As respects the nature of the light emitted, there are similar contradictions. In some philosophical works of considerable repute it is stated that when a solid begins to shine it first emits red and then white rays; in others it is asserted that a mixture of blue and red light is the first that appears.

I have succeeded in escaping or overcoming many of the difficulties of this problem, and have arrived at satisfactory solutions of the main points; and as the experiments now to be described lead to some striking and perhaps unexpected analogies between light and heat, they commend themselves to our attention, as having a bearing on the question of the identity of those principles.

The discovery of the aberration of light was soon followed by an explanation according to the emission theory. The effect was attributed to a simple composition of the velocity of light with the velocity of the earth in its orbit. The difficulties in this apparently sufficient explanation were overlooked until after an explanation on the undulatory theory of light was proposed. This new explanation was at first almost as simple as the former. But it failed to account for the fact proved by experiment that the aberration was unchanged when observations were made with a telescope filled with water. For if the tangent of the angle of aberration is the ratio of the velocity of the earth to the velocity of light, then, since the latter velocity in water is three-fourths its velocity in a vacuum, the aberration observed with a water telescope should be four-thirds of its true value.

On the undulatory theory, according to Fresnel, first, the ether is supposed to be at rest except in the interior of transparent media, in which secondly, it is supposed to move with a velocity less than the velocity of the medium in the ratio (n2 - 1)/n2, where n is the index of refraction. These two hypotheses give a complete and satisfactory explanation of aberration. The second hypothesis, notwithstanding its seeming improbability, must be considered as fully proved, first, by the celebrated experiment of Fizeau, and secondly, by the ample confirmation of our own work. The experimental trial of the first hypothesis forms the subject of the present paper.

Read February 4, 1819

I have before me a specimen of ocythoe in an argonauta, forming part of the collection of the Acad. of Nat. Sciences. It was taken from the stomach of a dolphin, which was caught in soundings on our Atlantic coast, and is in the most perfect state of preservation, not having suffered the slightest decomposition from gastric action.

It is sufficiently distinct from your O. cranchii, as well as from the animal of Nautilus sulcatus of Klein; and if the figure given by Shaw of the animal of Argonauta argo has any pretensions to accuracy, it is most probably an unknown species.

I here attempt a description of it, and also submit a few remarks on the genus.

Ocythoe punctata

Body pale, punctured with purplish; abdomen conic-compressed, vertical, semifasciate near the summit, with a profoundly indented transverse line; arms much longer than the body, attenuated, filiform at their tips, alated; membranes rounded.

Inhabits the Atlantic ocean near the North American coast.

Descrip. Abdomen conical, slightly compressed, nearly vertical with respect to the disk of the head, with a profoundly indented transverse line, which extends half round, near the summit.

Few persons care to study logic, because everybody conceives himself to be proficient enough in the art of reasoning already. But I observe that this satisfaction is limited to one's own ratiocination, and does not extend to that of other men.

We come to the full possession of our power of drawing inferences, the last of all our faculties; for it is not so much a natural gift as a long and difficult art. The history of its practice would make a grand subject for a book. The medieval schoolman, following the Romans, made logic the earliest of a boy's studies after grammar, as being very easy. So it was as they understood it. Its fundamental principle, according to them, was, that all knowledge rests either on authority or reason; but that whatever is deduced by reason depends ultimately on a premise derived from authority. Accordingly, as soon as a boy was perfect in the syllogistic procedure, his intellectual kit of tools was held to be complete.

To Roger Bacon, that remarkable mind who in the middle of the thirteenth century was almost a scientific man, the schoolmen's conception of reasoning appeared only an obstacle to truth. He saw that experience alone teaches anything – a proposition which to us seems easy to understand, because a distinct conception of experience has been handed down to us from former generations; which to him likewise seemed perfectly clear, because its difficulties had not yet unfolded themselves.