presumptuous .commentator who would dare to challenge such an array of competence, many beautiful surprises await the traveller among the dewy shadows. Whoever has made such a journey will not only return with the consciousness that he has doubled his possessions, but that he has also explored a new world-a realm which he can look in the face on the morrow with an exchange of recognition that was truly impossible yesterday. Whether or not all the facts that have been adduced show that plants are conscious organisms in the particulars for which it is claimed, it matters not, for enough have been set forth to demonstrate beyond the shadow of a doubt the position that they are endowed with a consciousness, no matter how infinitesimally small a part it plays in nature. Everyday observation of the botanist teaches the fact. Sensation, which is consciousness, has preceded in time and in history the evolution of the greater part of plants and animals, unicellular and multicellular, and, therefore, if kinetogenesis, or the doctrine of the effects of molar motion, be true, "consciousness," as Cope alleges, "has been essential to a rising scale of organic evolution." Animals which do not perform simple acts of self-preservation must necessarily, sooner or later, perish. Impossible it is to understand how the lowest forms of life, wholly dependent as they are on physical conditions of many kinds, should to-day exist if they were not possessed of some degree of consciousness under stimuli at least. We have but to picture to ourselves the condition of a vertebrate, without general or special sensation, would we obtain a clear perception of the essentiality of consciousness to its existence. If now use, as has been maintained, has modified structure, and so, in coöperation with the environment, has directed evolution, we can understand the origin and development of useful organs, and also how, by parasitism, or some other mode of gaining a livelihood without exertion, the adoption of new and skilful movements would be unnecessary, and consciousness itself seldom aroused, for continual repose would be followed by sub-consciousness, and later by unconsciousness. Such appears to be largely the history of degeneracy everywhere, and such is, perhaps, in a great measure the history of the entire vegetable kingdom, for plants, from their ability to manufacture protoplasm from inorganic substances, do not bodily move about in quest of food as animals generally do, and therefore require no conscious conditions, it would seem, to guide their movements. They become fixed, and their entire organization, except in specialized instances, becomes monopolized by the functions of nutrition and reproduction. Their movements are mostly rhythmic or rotary, but that they exhibit the quality of impromptu design more frequently than scientists are willing to allow must be admitted, or facts and the conclusions which naturally flow therefrom constitute no criteria of judging. Too much stress, I fear, is placed in these days upon the action of certain supposed forces that are resident in the plant's or animal's environment in accounting for its behavior, to the utter exclusion of any energy that may be acting from within the organism itself. "That consciousness as well as life preceded organism, and has been the primum mobile in the creation of organic structure," as Cope assumes, there is no doubt; but that it early abandoned the vegetable world, and also that all the energies of vegetable protoplasm soon became automatic, causing plants in general to become sessile, and therefore parasitic and in one sense degenerate, I cannot wholly accept. That insects have, in the matter of evolution of plant-types, exerted considerable influence on the conditions of almost all of their organs, the forms of the organs of fructification and especially of the flowers, through certain stimuli and strains to which they have become subjected by reason of these insects and their occupancy of parts as dwelling-places, there can be no doubt; and it is probable also, as has been maintained, that we owe to insects, directly or indirectly, not only the forms, but also the colors of the flowers, and their odors and peculiar し markings as well. And thus while degeneracy, as observed in the abortion of ovules, carpels and perianth, may be seen everywhere, which the influences that have acted upon them have induced, yet it is the height of presumption to assert that consciousness has entirely abandoned the members of the vegetable kingdom, and that they are reduced to the condition of mere automata. It is true, as has been claimed, that the permanent and the successful forms of organization have ever been those in which motion and sensibility have been preserved, as well as the most highly developed; and just as true it is that plants, even though fixed to the soil and unable to effect a change of environment in consequence, are not so incapable of conscious actions as not to be able to meet any changes, and these changes do very often occur, that climate, new conditions of soil, helps or hindrances to growth and wear, may bring about. That they must adapt themselves to such changes, or perish in their struggle to exist, none can question. It is not enough to say that natural selection affords an explanation of every phenomenon that they may exhibit. There is an energy within the plant, think and write as we will, and it is this that comes to its aid and directs the movement that will be productive of the most good. Concluding, then, let me aver that no plant can exist or fulfil its allotted part in the drama of life without the possession of some form or degree of consciousness. If it be true that life and consciousness preceded organization, and the statement can hardly be disputed, and have been the primum mobile in the creation of organic structure, what reason, seeing that life necessarily persists in vegetable organism, can be given for their dissociation in existing forms of plants, as seems to be the tendency of modern scientific thought? That plants once possessed consciousness, there can be no difference of opinion. Well, then, what has become of this consciousness? It could not have been destroyed, for energy or force, and consciousness certainly must be placed under this category, can never be destroyed. I repeat the question. What has become of it? Either it exists in the plant in a dormant condition, awaiting opportunities to call it into existence, or it has returned to the great Source of all consciousness, whence each individual organism, whether of plant or animal, obtained its quantum. It still exists, but how or under what conditions, I cannot affirm, and is to plants what mind is to man and animals, controlling their actions when such are for their well-being and good. If mind persists in a future state, then consciousness, which may be considered as mind in plants, must also persist, for it is not at all likely that the Source of all consciousness, which we worship as God, the Creator of all things, could be unmindful of the least of His children. MIND IN ANIMALS. THAT HAT the lower animals are in possession of all the characters of the mind or soul that are either the inherited or acquired properties of man, some evidence will now be adduced. Foremost among these qualities is Reason. Much vagueness of idea exists as to what constitutes reason, the general tendency being to confound it with instinct, and to wonder where the one ends and the other begins. Hundreds of anecdotes, too familiar for mention, might be instanced, which have been described as wonderful examples of instinct, but which, upon careful examination, have been shown to be undoubted proofs of reason. That disposition of mind by which, independent of all instruction or experience, animals are unerringly directed to do spontaneously whatever is necessary for the preservation of the individual or the continuation of the species, is instinct. It is instinct that teaches the newly-born child to breathe, or to seek its mother's breast and obtain its nourishment by suction. Instinct teaches the bird how to make its nest after the manner of its kind, but it is reason that leads it to construct a fabric radically different from the typical form. Taking the case of insects, there can be no doubt that it is instinct that teaches the caterpillar to make its cocoon, to remain there until it has developed into an imago, and then to force its entrance into the world. Ducks, though hatched under a hen, instinctively make their way to the water, while chickens, though hatched under a duck, instinctively keep away from it. Man, as well as the lower animals, has his instincts, but very few of them are apparent, for he is able to bring the most of them under |