in different languages, giving both words and music so correctly and so simultaneously with Jennie Lind that two parties in the room could not for some time imagine that there were two voices, so perfectly did they accord, both in musical tone and vocal pronunciation of Swiss, German and Italian songs. She was equally successful in accompanying Mlle. Lind in one of her extemporaneous effusions, which was a long and extremely difficult, elaborate chromatic exercise, which the celebrated cantatrice tried by way of taxing the powers of the somnambulist to the utmost."

That Braid did not fully realize the psychologic importance of his discovery is evidenced by the fact that he goes on to say:

even

"When awake the girl durst not attempt to do anything of the sort; and, after all, wonderful as it was, it was only phonic imitation, for she did not understand the meaning of a single word of the foreign language which she had uttered so correctly."

Little was then known of post-hypnotic suggestion, consequently advantage could not be taken of that means of reproducing, in the waking, experiences had in the hypnotic state. Unless post-hypnotic suggestions are made during the subjective state, little or no recollection will be had when the individual awakens, except perhaps as an indistinct vision or dream. The subject has to all intents and purposes been in dreamland. That these sub-conscious experiences are not lost altogether when the individual awakens is proven by the fact that they may be recalled at any subsequent hypnotization and with such even intensified vividness as to at times suggest that the subjective mind had dwelt upon them during the waking period and further elucidated the subject.

The question now agitating many observers is how to associate these sub-conscious ideas with the individual's objective senses, so as to reproduce them in the waking state. Van Norden says that "facts acquired during (natural) sleep may be recovered on awakening by indirect methods appealing to this coherent subconsciousness." Binet has

shown that in every one, and at all times, subconscious potentialities exist and can be aroused, interrogated and educated. Hypnotic hallucination is only an exaggeration of a perfectly normal process which tends to go on in all of us and is only repressed by experience, nor are its grander performances entirely without parallel; its outbursts of genius have been equaled by similar extemporizations in dreaming, and by accomplishments in the waking state, in exceptional persons. The fact merely indicates that very remarkable developments in multiple consciousness have long been studied under the phrase of "unconscious cerebration."

But someone says that these are only flights of imagination-nothing real! What is real? we would query. Does an experience have to smell of garlic, possess a metallic taste or bear the stamp of coin in order to be considered genuine? Not all dreams are visionary; they are only impractical when measured by the limitations of human experience-limitations of our own creating, in most instances. Who are our most successful men? Those who will not be discouraged by the cry of impossible! impracticable! but who go ahead and grasp success out of the very jaws of defeat! Thus was steam harnessed, the world circumnavigated, the lightning chained and the earth girded by overhead and submerged cables, and every other glorious enterprise brought to a full fruition. Born in the mind of some dreamer it became at last a practical reality. Now nothing is more real than the existence of subconscious mental activity.

"Some really great works of genius have arisen in this way," says Van Norden. "Tartini, a famous violinist and composer, dreamed that the devil had become his slave and that one day he asked the evil one whether he could play the fiddle. Satan replied that he thought he might pick up a tune, and thereupon he played an exquisite sonata. Tartini, imperfectly remembering this on awakening, noted it down, and it is known to musicians as 'Il Trillodel Diavallo'; and in like manner Coleridge

composed his 'Kubla Khan.'" Van Norden further relates how he himself, in dreams, has created whole dramas and personally acted in them as some of his own dramatis persona, although not possessing any known capabilities at dramatization and never having succeeded at impersonation.

Dreams are the result of suggestions received during sleep, either mental or physical, and while they sometimes seem irrational to our carnally educated minds, still may they not be glimpses of another phase of our existence which we, as yet, little comprehend? The Society for Psychical Research, while it has not presented conclusive evidence of the possibility of subconscious communication between individuals (telepathy), has gathered such a multitude of cases as to make it seem as if it were possible; enough at any rate has been shown to set earnest men thinking.

The fact that dreams may be recalled and the scenes enacted gives hope to the thought that the more realistic experiences of the subjective state of hypnosis may be re-enacted in the objective or waking condition. The question at the present time is how to make the connection between these two states. The methods employed in fixing dreams in the attention and hence in the memory are known and can, it seems to me, be applied with equal success to hypnotic experiences. Our grasp upon our subjective relations is very slight, even in dreams, and must be at once fixed or they vanish away. "No perceptible organ of the body indicates an inner sense, but from analogy with the outer senses it has been assumed (Herbert), in order that we may attribute to it the apprehension of our own conditions in their actual succession," and while it is true that we have made little advance in the line of positive demonstration since Herbert's time, yet we have much data in the records of cases of post-hypnotic experiences and which indicate that ideas or concepts, as he preferred to term them, are most indelibly fixed on the inner sense in the subjective state. It is a well known fact that the powers of perception are greatly enhanced dur

ing this condition, which fact may in some measure explain the possibility of the perception of composite musical productions on a mental rather than on a physical basis. The marked difference in mental activity in the apperception of music in general as compared with the perception of the unrhythmical spoken-language of man points to an entirely different psychical element that must be taken into consideration in our efforts to explain the process.

In the light of our present knowledge it will not do to dismiss the wonderful experiences occurring in the subjective state as "feats of imitation." They are real perceptions and persist in the inner consciousness to be recalled whenever the conditions or associations that there existed are reproduced, and it is further possible to have them performed in the waking state by post-hyp- · notic suggestions made during the hypnotic seance, while they are yet fresh in the mem

ory.

The question naturally arises, why is it not possible to recall them and apply them as we do facts perceived during the waking state by the well known process of association of ideas? If our theory regarding the nature of the perception of music is true, then we have gone a long way in the solution of the problem and it only remains to fill in some of the minor details to make an accomplished fact what many have striven to demonstrate.

In conclusion let us recapitulate: A song or a piece of instrumental music is perceived as a composite whole and when recalled is reproduced vocally or instrumentally as a series of ideas or pictures. Although much depends upon the rhythm for the ability to correctly execute it, yet more depends upon the subjective state into which the artist necessarily and voluntarily throws himself in order to recall the sensations or the physical associations that accompanied the hearing of the piece in the first instance. The very attitude assumed in trying to recall a piece-that of looking off into space-is illustrative of the subjective state and associates it with auto-hypnotization.

A DRAMA OF ANOTHER WORLD.

BY GARRETT P. SERVISS.

THE attention of astronomers is again called to the great planet Jupiter, whose splendid appearance now makes amazed stargazers of all who chance to look at the sky in these clear August nights.

To most people the mere presence of so brilliant an ord is a source of surprise and wonder. It is a startling reminder of the fact that there are other worlds around us. That is a good thing in itself, because it prevents our minds from becoming too exclusively earth-centred. No grasping monopoly can make the astronomer unhappy by seizing the land beneath his feet, for the better part of his existence pertains to infinitely grander things.

There is a practical education for beginners in astronomy in the recognition of the fact that the astonishing effulgence of Jupiter arises only from reflected sunlight, which after traversing more than 480,000,000 miles of space before encountering that planet, comes back another gigantic leap of almost 400,000,000 miles to meet our eyes, and to make them aware of the existence of a vast bulk, 1,300 times larger than our globe, floating in the black gulf between us and the fixed stars.

But it is not these considerations which at present draw the eyes of astronomers to Jupiter. What arouses their curiosity is a mysterious detail in the economy of that colossal world which has no counterpart upon the earth to-day, nor, as far as is known, in any past period of the history of the spherical shell on which we pass out lives.

The phenomenon in question bears the unromantic name of the "great red spot." It is greater in area than the entire surface of the earth, although it is only a telescopic spot on Jupiter. It is in the south ern hemisphere, near the outer edge of one of the two immense cloudlike belts that border the equatorical zone of the planet. one on either side.

It is in motion, everything around it is in motion, and everything gets out of its way. It is like a stupendous magnet of opposite polarity to all its surroundings, so that it repels approach on every side. The vast south belt, above mentioned, bends away, making a gap 50,000 miles across, to avoid the neighborhood of the uncongenial "spot!"

The strange object reveals its uncompromising nature in its motion. While the general surface of the planet on either side of it, composed apparently of clouds thousands of miles in depth, sweeps eastward with enormous velocity, the red spot holds back, braces itself against the current, apparently dashes in pieces and scatters in long strings of débris along its northern flank, the smaller dark colored masses that overtake it, and, every twenty-four hours, forces its way three or four hundred miles backward through the swirl.

And yet it seems to be itself something that floats, because its motion is not uniform. At times the rushing clouds entirely hide its ruddy surface, and then its location is only known from the persistent bending away of the great south belt. This is the situation at present. The red spot is invisible, but the evidences of its power remain in the repelled aspect of neighboring cloudy belt, and it has just destroyed another huge dusky object that came drifting upon it from the west and which is now only a string of fragments.

It is about twenty-four years since this singular spectacle opened on Jupiter, and still it remains unexplained. There is some evidence that there were similar occurrences in the same place more than seventyyears ago, but not until 1878 did this demiurgic play become a foremost attraction on the astronomical stage. It is a story of creation; nobody can doubt that. Jupiter, in an evolutionary sense, is more youthful than the earth. And what a privilege to be spectators of such a drama!-N. Y. Journal.

DISTILLED WATER.

A PECULIAR experience, says The Clinic, is related by a physician who has practised for nearly thirty years in a California valley. The hills upon one side of this valley were of granite formation and the water was consequently "soft." Upon the other slope the rocks were limestone and the water from all the wells and springs was "hard." After nearly a generation's practice this physician suddenly awoke to the fact that his practice was enormously more upon the limestone slope than upon the granite side. He found that the people who had drank the "hard" water died of Bright's Disease, and were crippled with chronic rheumatism, while upon the other slope the people lived generally longer and were free from these diseases.

Progressive physicians are awakening to the fact that pure water means water not only free from any decaying animal or vegetable matter or disease organism but also free from any lime. The only way in which to obtain such pure water is by distillation.

The person who drinks distilled water avoids the possibility of any experience with typhoid fever. No filthy mass of disease germs will be swallowed at each gulp of what may appear to be clear, sparkling water. Boiling kills these bacteria but it is not pleasant to think that you are swallowing their carcasses.

"Hard" water was pure water originally when it fell from the clouds but now it is full of particles of dissolved stone. These particles are not like the organized lime. found in cereals, which may enter into our bodies and add to their strength, but on the contrary it is stone partially dissolved. and produces irritation in the kidneys, aids in the formation of renal calculi and gall stones, attaches itself to the walls of the ar

teries, to the valves of the heart and causes chalky deposits in the joints. Everywhere it does harm and no possible good.

If a person is as "old as his arteries" a person who drinks distilled water will be a long time growing old. And then there is a delight in raising a glass full of delicious distilled water to one's lips and thinking that in this age of frauds, substitutions and adulterations you may know you are taking something into your stomach really pure.

THE AERONAUT BORN, NOT

MADE.*

No one has recounted risking of his own neck more blithely and vivaciously than M. Santos-Dumont, in his first paper on "How I Became an Aeronaut," in McClure's for August. It is evident that M. Dumont believes that the aeronaut, like that other soarer, the poet, is born, not made. M. Dumont tells us that "it has seemed to me from my earliest childhood a necessity of nature to become an aeronaut. I remember," he continues, "how my comrades used to tease me at our game of 'pigeon flies.' All the children gather round a table, and the leader calls out: 'Pigeon flies, hen flies, crow flies, bee flies,' and so on; and at each call we were supposed to raise our fingers. Sometimes, however, he would call out: 'Dog flies,' 'fox flies,' or some other like impossibility, to catch us. If any one should raise a finger he was made to pay a forfeit. Now, my playmates never failed to wink and smile mockingly at me when one of them called, 'Man flies,' for at the word I would always lift my finger very high, as a sign of absolute conviction, and I refused with energy to pay the forfeit. The more they laughed at me the happier I was."

* Santos-Dumont in the August McClure's.

"WHAT shall we eat? What shall we drink? Wherewithal shall we be clothed ?" The last question we shall leave. The first two are a perplexity to the cook, to the marketer, to the diner with an elaborate menu before him, and to one whose bill of fare affords but a meager meal. The housekeeper says, What is there in the house to prepare, and what will the family like? Appetites are fickle; fruit agrees with some and injures others, some thrive on buckwheat, others avoid it. The nature of the occupation should modify the diet. A woman is in the house most of the day about her work and needs different food from that of her husband who may have active exercise in the open air. The children, growing and. perhaps in school, need a special diet. Some member of the family may have purely sedentary habits, and the diet of the active, outdoor laborer is entirely unfitted to his needs.

The woman who has access to a good market finds her problems hard enough, but the farmer's wife has a much less variety from which to select her dietary, although the well-filled potato bin, the barrels of apples, the shelves of jellies and canned fruit, the pans of rich milk and cream, the fresh eggs, and always available poultry may well be the envy of the city marketer. However, the latter is greeted with fresh fruit and green-house vegetables in winter, with all kinds of meats and fish, and the possibilities of cream, eggs, and poultry from the country. The woman who is not near the market varies her menu with a round of visits to the pork barrel, the smokehouse, and the

corn beef supply, returning ever and anon to the pork barrel. If her pin money is not too dependent upon the labors of the hens, eggs form a most acceptable variation to the menu, and if the creamery does not make too great a demand, fresh milk and cream are a most satisfying part of her bill of fare.

We must eat, first, to form and maintain the fluids and tissues of the body; second, to furnish fuel to yield heat and energy. Food must supply the material which is consumed with every motion of the body and the energy for intellectual power.

All energy, either intellectual or that manifested in physical action, comes from the stored-up energy in the food. This is obtained by the chemical changes which transform the food into substances less complex in their composition. One's proper food should contain the materials which will build up the wasted muscles and best supply this energy. All food materials do not contain proper elements for the fulfilling of these two general functions.

For the building and repairing of muscles and bones and supplying heat and energy the food must contain (1) protein, (2) fats, (3) carbohydrates, and (4) ash.

Protein is that part of food which nourishes the blood and the muscles and in general repairs the waste of the body. Protein always contains the element nitrogen, and nitrogen is always a constituent of the blood, the muscle, and the bone. It is the only nutriment which can serve for the building and repair of the body. At the same time it supplies energy. But under ordinary condi