we had extensive glaciation. Again it is difficult by this hypothesis to explain the relatively rapid oscillation of conditions within the glacial periods, as indicated by alternations of glaciation and deglaciation. In the face of these and similar criticisms the hypothesis fails of winning general acceptance.

Another hypothesis explains glaciation and deglaciation by a variation in the amount of heat received by the earth from the sun. It is based on the fact established by the observations of Langley and Abbott that the heat of the sun actually varies in short periods by as much as ten per cent. It is argued that, if variation in the sun's heat is a fact, the limits of that variation being unknown, there is nothing to preclude the possibility that there may have been notable variation in geological time. The universality of the temperature changes involved in this suggestion again affords the means of checking its value. The distribution of glacial conditions in Permian time does not accord with the notion of a general lowering of the temperature of the earth's surface, since under this condition the high latitudes would be more likely to be glaciated than the lower, and this expectation is not realized in the geological record.

These brief references to supposed causes of climatic variation show that none of them is entirely satisfactory. Those who argue in favor of any one of these hypotheses can of course make out a very much better case for them than I have been able to do in the space at my disposal. But those who criticize them adversely are also more trenchant and convincing than I have been in my attempt at a very condensed summary. In general I can only relate briefly the fact that, while the several hypotheses put forward have all had a sympathetic and interested reception, and while some of them have been distinctly popular for a time, none of them appears to be able to withstand the skeptical criticism that new

knowledge suggests. If we admit that the general circulation of the atmosphere is subject to great changes which are for the most part independent of geographical changes it would be an easy matter to explain the variation of climate in geological time. But this would be merely a transformation of the terms of the problem, not a solution of it. A transformation of terms may, however, facilitate the solution, and if we consider the problem to be one of variation in the circulation of the atmosphere, I am tempted in closing to throw out a suggestion as to a possible solution. Hale's work at the Mount Wilson observatory has disclosed the fact that the spots on the sun are great magnetic vortices, or cyclones, and that there is a remarkable analogy, amounting to almost identity, between the general magnetic conditions of the sun and those of the earth. If this be so, and the magnetic disturbances of the sun affect this earth, as many believe, it may well be that the cyclonic movements of the earth's atmosphere have a magnetic origin. That there are secular variations in the earth's magnetic field is well known; and this fact is suggestive of the possibility that we may be on the eve of a new and fundamental hypothesis explanatory of the variation of climate. Whatever probability may be found to inhere in this suggestion, as to a connection between the cyclonic spots on the sun and the cyclonic movements of the earth's atmosphere, would of course flow from the splendid and thoroughly scientific work being done by Hale at Mount Wilson, and not from the exploitation of the popular credulity recently active at Santa Clara. And this brings us back to where we started, namely the uncertainty of the weather.

SEEKING

JACK LYMAN

The cry of my spirit goes far astray

Calling, calling.

It echoes faint a distant way

On the edge of the world where night meets day;

It floats along earth's whirling way.

A dim spark, falling, falling,

And fades into spaces gray.

It calls when the moons

Silver my path with pale "fire
And summon the heart's desire

Yearning, yearning;

Or when the bright golden noons

Cling with their burning.

And when I would be the beam of a star

Rapt to the realms where true dreams are

That voice is my soul's scimitar.

Shall it answer find in the rushing years?

Was that a cry

Deeply sounding in my heart,

The answering cry of one apart

So seeming nigh

But lost in the world's thick crowding spears?

I know not yet, but till I die

My spirit shall seek and its voice shall cry

Aloud for its answer unceasingly.

THE ETHICS OF THE BHAGAVAD GITA
AND OF BUDDHISM. I

CHARMIAN CRITTENDEN

In these days of eternal strife and unrest, when men's minds are entirely engrossed in the attainment of material well-being or in the advancement of the physical sciences, we of the West may well turn to the great philosophers and teachers of the East to gain some conception of the great spiritual peace in which they lived and taught. Absolutely, our part in the great drama of evolution is of no less importance and value than theirs; the man of the future must have high ideals both of physical and spiritual life; but relatively—that is, as we upon this little world may view it-how infinitely more necessary is spiritual satisfaction. It is the dessert of the meal of life, and epicures esteem it more highly than material satisfaction.

The aim of right conduct is spiritual satisfaction. By this last I mean the sensation of contentment that results from the conviction, emotional, mental, and intuitional, that some particular action is, under the circumstances, right, and as nearly perfect as possible. True contentment can result only after these three requirements have been satisfied, and this is the reason, I believe, that the people of our day and age are so seldom contented. An ordinary person is usually more or less developed emotionally and mentally, and also has

occasional flashes of intuition; but the partial development of these three faculties causes him constant unhappiness: the dictates of the three differ widely and he is continually torn between these conflicting demands on his will. To one of perfect knowledge this strife would be non-existent, for such a person would recognize intuitionally the right or wrong of any action and, through the perfect discipline of both emotions and mind, would be quite indifferent to them.

For the ordinary man such coördination of intuition, mind, and emotion is absolutely impossible. Tormented by the eternal and useless endeavor to satisfy all the demands of his nature and thereby gain contentment, he limits the number of impressions that come to him through these three channels. The satisfaction resulting from such a compromise between absolute quietude coming from the gratification of all parts of his nature and the negative tranquillity resulting from the lack of all ideals to which any act must conform, is of a lower degree than that which he might attain by conscientiously trying to reconcile the ideals of intuition, mind, and emotion. However, since his outlook is so limited, this relatively insignificant satisfaction appears large. The Christian, for instance, refuses to listen to the demands of mind and of intuition. His mind revolts from the creation of the world out of nothing and his intuition from the monstrous injustice he sees in the world, for which the Bible offers him little real explanation. However, in order that he may not be hurt by the demands these faculties make upon him, he resolutely refuses to listen to them and devotes his time to cultivating an emotional devotion.

The West, broadly speaking, has developed its three faculties separately. The Middle Ages developed emotion, and from that time to the present day, man has been concerned with the cultivation of the mind. This is a wide generalization, but I believe it is fairly