result of our analysis will be but dust in our eyes, and ashes in our mouths.  Unless there is something like mind or intelligence pervading nature, some creative and transforming impulse that cannot be defined by our mechanical concepts, then, to me, the whole organic world is meaningless.  If man is not more than an “accident in the history of the thermic evolution of the globe,” or the result of the fortuitous juxtaposition and combination of carbonic acid gas and water and a few other elements, what shall we say?  It is at least a bewildering proposition.

Could one by analyzing a hive of bees find out the secret of its organization—­its unity as an aggregate of living insects?  Behold its wonderful economics, its division of labor, its complex social structure,—­the queen, the workers, the drones,—­thousands of bees without any head or code of laws or directing agent, all acting as one individual, all living and working for the common good.  There is no confusion or cross-purpose in the hive.  When the time of swarming comes, they are all of one mind and the swarm comes forth.  Who or what decides who shall stay and who shall go?  When the honey supply fails, or if it fail prematurely, on account of a drought, the swarming instinct is inhibited, and the unhatched queens are killed in their cells.  Who or what issues the regicide order?  We can do no better than to call it the Spirit of the Hive, as Maeterlinck has done.  It is a community of mind.  What one bee knows and feels, they all know and feel at the same instant.  Something like that is true of a living body; the cells are like the bees:  they work together, they build up the tissues and organs, some are for one thing and some for another, each community of cells plays its own part, and they all pull together for the good of the whole.  We can introduce cells and even whole organs, for example a kidney from another living body, and all goes well; and yet we cannot find the seat of the organization.  Can we do any better than to call it the Spirit of the Body?

IV

Our French biologist is of the opinion that the artificial production of that marvel of marvels, the living cell, will yet take place in the laboratory.  But the enlightened mind, he says, does not need such proof to be convinced that there is no essential difference between living and non-living matter.

Professor Henderson, though an expounder of the mechanistic theory of the origin of life, admits that he does not know of a biological chemist to whom the “mechanistic origin of a cell is scientifically imaginable.”  Like Professor Loeb, he starts with the vital; how he came by it we get no inkling; he confesses frankly that the biological chemist cannot even face the problem of the origin of life.  He quotes with approval a remark of Liebig’s, as reported by Lord Kelvin, that he (Liebig) could no more believe that a leaf or a flower could be formed or could grow by chemical