be induced to go on and on, blindly, aimlessly, for an almost indefinite time.  The cells multiply, but they do not organize themselves into a constructive community and build an organ or any purposeful part.  They may be likened to a lot of blind masons piling up brick and mortar without any architect to direct their work or furnish them a plan.  A living body of the higher type is not merely an association of cells; it is an association and cooeperation of communities of cells, each community working to a definite end and building an harmonious whole.  The biochemist who would produce life in the laboratory has before him the problem of compounding matter charged with this organizing tendency or power, and doubtless if he ever should evoke this mysterious process through his chemical reactions, it would possess this power, as this is what distinguishes the organic from the inorganic.

I do not see mind or intelligence in the inorganic world in the sense in which I see it in the organic.  In the heavens one sees power, vastness, sublimity, unspeakable, but one sees only the physical laws working on a grander scale than on the earth.  Celestial mechanics do not differ from terrestrial mechanics, however tremendous and imposing the result of their activities.  But in the humblest living thing—­in a spear of grass by the roadside, in a gnat, in a flea—­there lurks a greater mystery.  In an animate body, however small, there abides something of which we get no trace in the vast reaches of astronomy, a kind of activity that is incalculable, indeterminate, and super-mechanical, not lawless, but making its own laws, and escaping from the iron necessity that rules in the inorganic world.

Our mathematics and our science can break into the circle of the celestial and the terrestrial forces, and weigh and measure and separate them, and in a degree understand them; but the forces of life defy our analysis as well as our synthesis.

Knowing as we do all the elements that make up the body and brain of a man, all the physiological processes, and all the relations and interdependence of his various organs, if, in addition, we knew all his inheritances, his whole ancestry back to the primordial cells from which he sprang, and if we also knew that of every person with whom he comes in contact and who influences his life, could we forecast his future, predict the orbit in which his life would revolve, indicate its eclipses, its perturbations, and the like, as we do that of an astronomic body? or could we foresee his affinities and combinations as we do that of a chemical body?  Had we known any of the animal forms in his line of ascent, could we have foretold man as we know him to-day?  Could we have foretold the future of any form of life from its remote beginnings?  Would our mathematics and our chemistry have been of any avail in our dealing with such a problem?  Biology is not in the same category with geology and astronomy.  In the inorganic world, chemical affinity