things. It penetrates where neshemet el cannot penetrate, but when speaking of the motivity and sustentation of organized dust, or souls, they co-exist with them, the Ruach Elohim becoming the ruach chayim, or spirit of lives; the neshemet el, the neshemet chayim, or breath of lives, and both together in the elaboration and support of life, the neshemet ruach chayim, or breath of the spirit of lives. Living creatures, or souls, are not animated, as is erroneously supposed, by a vital principle which is capable of disembodied existence. On the contrary, souls are made living by the coetaneous operation of the ruach chayim and the neshemet chayim upon their organized tissues according to certain fixed laws, called natural laws. When the as yet occult laws of the all-pervading ruach, or spirit, shall be made known, men will be astonished at their ignorance respecting living souls, as we are at the notion of the ancients that their immortal gods resided in the stocks and the stones they so ignorantly worshipped.

Though lent to the creatures of the natural world for the allotted period of their living existence, yet the ruach chayim and neshemet chayim are still God's breath and God's spirit, and to distinguish them from the expanse of air and spirit in their totality, they are sometimes specifically styled " the spirit of man" and "the spirit of the beast," or collectively "the spirits of all flesh," and "their breath." Thus it is written in Ecclesiastes, "they have all one ruach, or spirit, so that man hath no preëminence over a beast; for all is vanity or vapor." "All go to one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again." And in the sense of supplying to every living creature, or soul, spirit and breath, Jehovah is styled by Moses in the book of Numbers,-" God of the spirits of all flesh."

Enough has been advanced to show the Scriptural import of the text already quoted, that "the Lord God formed man, the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of lives; and man became a living soul." The simple, obvious and undogmatic meaning of this is, that the

dust being animalized, and then organized, was next set in motion by the inrush of the air through his nostrils into his lungs according to natural laws. This phenomenon was the neshemet el, or "breath of God," breathing into him; and as it was the pabulum of life to all creatures constituted of dust, it was very expressively styled the "breath of lives," and not the "breath of life." God breathes into every man at his birth the breath of lives to this day, and there can be no reason, Scriptural or otherwise, why we should deny that He breathed it into Adam as He hath done into the nostrils of his posterity by the operation of natural laws. Man, as soon as he began to respire, like the embryo passing from fœtal to infant life," became a living soul," that is, nephesh chayiah, a living, breathing frame, or body of life. All kinds of flesh, whether of man, beast, fowl and creeping thing, are made alive by the same breath and spirit. They all become, in consequence, living souls, so that, having a oneness of spirit, a man hath no superiority over a beast.

Having now proved, as we think, beyond the possibility of a doubt, that men and beasts "have all one ruach, or spirit," and hence are all living souls, we now approach a form of life, termed vegetable life, about which the Scriptures have little to say. Neshemet el, or atmospheric air, is just as essential to plants as to animals. Deprived of it they wither and die. No less necessary is the all-pervading ruach, or spirit. It is in the air, though not of the air. Plants, equally with animals, breathe it, but it is not their breath. Without it, even though filled with air, they would perish. Perhaps it is the base of each of the elementary constituents of the air. Uncombined, may it not be that wonderful fluid whose explosions are heard in the thunder, whose fiery bolts overthrow the loftiest towers and rive the sturdy monarchs of the woods, and whose influence, though in less intensity, gives polarity to light, the needle, and the brain?

Living plants are a part and parcel of the life of our globe. They preceded in the grand scheme of creation

animal existences. Low down in the scale of life are forms about which it cannot be predicated these are plants and these are animals. Scientists are unable to say where plant-life ends and animal-life begins. No hard-and-fast line can be drawn beween the two vast kingdoms of life, and it is often wholly impossible to decide whether we are dealing with an animal or a plant. There can be no question that the earliest life was vegetable by nature, and that its habitat was the primeval ocean. This is no less the teaching of science than that of the Scriptures. From some such life, originating de novo as the Spirit of God passed over the waters, the two great branches of animate nature may have taken their rise. What the form of this life may have been, whether cellular or a mere mass of formless protoplasm, the mind of man cannot asseverate. It is a mystery, and will doubtless ever remain as such to finite intelligence. That this life, no matter how apparently insignificant it must have been, breathed in its own simple fashion, that is, by the coetaneous operation of the ruach chayim and the neshemet chayim upon its simple substance in accordance with natural law, there can be no dispute. Breathing is not always conditioned by the existence of nostrils. Plants respire, or, in other words, take in carbonic acid from the air through their stomata, or mouths, which they separate into its components of carbon and oxygen, appropriating the former, which they build into solid matter, but usually throwing off the latter into the great receptacle of atmosphere from which it was extracted. Even a moner, which has no distinction of parts, may be said to breathe, but it breathes by means of its whole external surface, for neshemeh and ruach are as necessary to it as to man himself. It will thus be obvious that plants are living, breathing frames, or bodies of life, and hence are as much entitled to be considered as living souls as animals are. Let but God withdraw his ruach, or spirit, from them, and they die and to their dust return. Surely no more could be predicated of animals.

CONSCIOUSNESS IN PLANTS.

PLANT

LANTS, it has been vaguely asserted, differ from animals by not having the power of movement. Rather should it be stated that plants acquire and display this power when it is to their advantage. This will be found to be of comparatively rare occurrence, as they are affixed to the ground, and food is brought to them by the air and rain. Evidence of the very high position a plant may attain in the scale of organization may be seen when we look at one of the more perfect tendril-bearers. As a polypus adjusts its tentacula for action, so a plant places its tendrils. If the tendril be displaced, it sets to work to right itself. Acted on by the light, it bends towards or from it, or disregards it altogether, whichever course may be the most advantageous. For several days the tendrils or internodes of the plant, or both, spontaneously or otherwise revolve with a steady motion. But should they strike some object, they curl quickly around it, grasp it with wonderful firmness, and in the course of a few hours contract into spirals, dragging up the stems, and forming most excellent springs. All external movements now cease, and by growth the tissues soon become surprisingly strong and durable.

Such a movement, as has just been considered, is a widely prevalent one in plants, and is essentially of the same nature as that of the stem of a climbing plant, which successively bends to all points of the compass, so that the tip is made to revolve. This movement has been called revolving nutation by some writers, and circumnutation by others. In the case of the circumnutating movement of the tip of the radicle of

some plants, there can be no doubt that it is it that affords the radicle some slight assistance in penetrating the ground. But whether or not a radicle, when surrounded by softened earth, is aided in making a passage for itself by circumnutating, one thing is certain, that is, that this movement, by guiding the radicle along a line of least resistance, can hardly fail to be of high importance. Should, however, a radicle in its downward growth break obliquely into any crevice, or an opening left by a decayed root, or one made by the larva of an insect, and more especially by worms, the circumnutating movement of the tip will materially aid it in following such open passages. Not only our own observation, but also those of such eminent authorities as Darwin and Hensen, conclusively show that roots commonly run down the old burrows of worms.

But radicles of seedlings, as well as those of more vigorous plants, would pass over stones, roots and other obstacles, which they must necessarily encounter in the soil. This they are abundantly able to do, for they are exceedingly sensitive just above their apices, and bend like a tendril towards the touching object. When, however, one side of the apex is pressed by any object, the growing part bends away from that object, and this seems a beautiful adaptation for avoiding obstacles in the soil, and for following the lines of least resistance.

So feeble is the circumnutating movement of the terminal growing part, both of the primary and secondary radicles, that it can assist them but little in penetrating the ground, excepting when the superficial layer is very soft and moist. But it must aid them materially when they chance to break obliquely into cracks, or into burrows that have been made by earth-worms or larvæ. Moreover, combined as it is with the sensitiveness of the tip of the radicle to contact, it can hardly fail to be of the highest importance, for as the tip is always endeavoring to bend to all sides, it will press on all sides, and will thus be able to discriminate between the