Melnick, who, like his wife Rosa, is as bewildered and helpless as when he left Poland, and the couple are in sharp contrast with their young American-educated daughter, Masha. This division between the conservative and the adaptable also exists between Aaron's brother, Berrel, a pious student of the holy writings, and his wife Gnendel. Moses Melnick is a widower, and his relations with another man's wife do not satisfy him; his money and power are only an outlet for his terrific energy. Masha wins Uncle Moses' favour by defying him when he insults Aaron, who has come to beg back his job. Uncle Moses visits Masha's family, and develops a new kindness and sociability as a result of his affection for the girl. Her family rises in the social scale, and Sam feels his prospects of inheritance menaced; he attempts to cause trouble for Uncle Moses elsewhere, but the lady and her husband have had financial satisfaction given them, and Masha becomes Moses' betrothed, envied of all. Her real liking, however, is for Berrel's son, the idealistic, rebellious Charlie, and a talk with him at Coney Island decides her against marrying Uncle Moses. Her family turn on her for threatening their new prosperity, and Moses takes her over the gorgeous new house waiting to receive her, and its splendours combine with her despondency and helplessness to conquer her resistance. As husband and as father Uncle Moses becomes a kindly human being, but life is full of boredom and repugnance for Masha. Sam worms himself artfully into her good graces, and Uncle Moses is not the father of her son. Kuzmin at last goes on strike, with Charlie as its leader, the employers resorting to a "frame up" with the police against the strikers. Masha, too, strikes against Moses and Sam, and goes to find Charlie. She is taken for an agent of her husband's and sent back. Next she disappears for a few days, only returning out of hunger for her child. Uncle Moses seeks peace by yielding to the strikers, but Masha only comes back to tell him of the child's parentage, and leaves. Though Moses finds her and the child again, they vanish once more, and he ends his days a broken foolish old man. The unusual setting of the book, the problems for the United States implicit in that setting, and the vivid presentation of the folk of this self-contained industrial Ghetto, give the book unusual character and value.

The Clash, by Storm Jameson (Heinemann). Miss Jameson has given way to a host of bewildering mannerisms that have woefully darkened the significance of the present book, and her characters on this occasion are unappealing and for the most part incredible. Elizabeth Marwood is the child of an unhappy marriage, brought up, after the death of her parents, by her grandfather and great-aunt. Her nature has the turbulence of the gale that was raging just before her birth, and the fickleness of the sea by which her childhood is spent. Eventually she becomes the wife of Jamie Denman of the Foreign Office, but any love she may have had for him does not outlast Part I. of her story. She has the larger of their houses transformed into a place "where babies with no fathers can come to be born, and the mothers be happy for a while." The war breaks out, Jamie goes into the Flying Corps, and Elizabeth's own child is born just after an air-raid and only lives three weeks. Part II. begins with the arrival in England of Captain

Jess Cornish, commanding an American air squadron, and in a state of permanent quarrel with all things English. It is perhaps the encounter between Elizabeth and Cornish that in some way symbolises the relations of England and America, and gives the book its title, though Miss Jameson would seem to have chosen queer representatives. The passion to which the two give full rein appears fraught with far more bitterness than joy, and the cackling cynicisms of Great-Aunt Miriam, who plays the part of chorus, mentor, and arch-denier to the household, do not help to explain the advantages of their relationship and their indifference to all other loyalties and obligations. The feuds and daredevilries of the officers of both nationalities on the station provide relief in a few very capably written pages. When the breach comes between the pair, Elizabeth's husband takes her to his arms though he knows her to be "spoilt and draggled." The last brief chapter in which a few words with an old farmer reveal to Cornish "a strength beside which his own strength stood abashed" is worth more to the American and to the reader than most of what has gone before.

I Have Only Myself to Blame, by Elizabeth Bibesco (Heinemann). These sixteen stories, if they can bear the weight of that description, are occupied with mental states rather than with incidents-the mental states of highly self-centred people who appear to be too surfeited with the privileges of society to bear its responsibilities. Princess Bibesco writes with a cold cleverness that rewards attention more than the special perplexities or revulsions of the "he" and "she" of her sketches. She is waywardly, often crudely, "shocking," and her epigrams are more often spangles than shafts of light; at times they suggest a morbid phosphorescence. "The Pilgrimage" does, however, deserve attention as a story. The girl who tells it discovers that her father's deepest love was lavished upon a great singer, Maddalena Moro. She seeks out Maddalena in Italy, where the singer has married an Italian doctor, and succumbs to her wonderful fascination. Maddalena tells her that she no longer sings; her husband can stand no rival. "He wanted our love to be everything. . . . I sang my love for your father into every opera house in the world, but Giovanni said 'No, you must capture the infinite and keep it shut tight in our love,' and so it has been." The girl appeals to her, in memory of her father, to let her hear this wonder he knew and that she may otherwise never know. Maddalena consents, and her voice-crashes discord after discord. Her husband, white with misery, comes into the room unobserved, and speaks to the girl. "Fool," he said . . . "She does not know. She is deaf when she sings. She has lost her ear. Oh, my secret!" "The Old Story," and "Tout Comprendre," which tells of the agony Adrian Rose suffered because his wife's understanding of him was too perfect, make it clear that Princess Bibesco could acquit herself far more nobly than in the present volume if she took more pains in choosing from the wealth of themes her rich imagination affords her. Her talent is best displayed when, as in "The Ball," the first person singular might so easily be substituted for the third.

SCIENCE OF THE YEAR.

THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES.

WITH every year, it becomes increasingly evident that the centre of interest in pure biology has shifted away from the morphological to regions far more speculative.

This year again, a great deal of experimental work has been done on the ductless glands and their internal secretions, and the newspapers have published sadly uninstructed stories of the wonderful results of operation. It seems that we are approaching some very important discoveries in this direction, but it is still too soon to measure the advance. Among publications in this country in 1922, we may mention those of Huxley and Hogben, who find that a thyroid diet causes sexually mature axolotls to undergo rapid metamorphosis, while seven months' thyroid feeding did not produce any noticeable results on Necturus: the effect on pigment responses of pineal extract appears to be contradictory in different amphibians. Two books published this year-"Glands in Health and Disease," by Harrow, and "Internal Secretion and the Ductless Glands by Swale Vincent, should do something to correct superstition and make clearer to the lay mind the nature of the problems involved. As to grafts of such tissues in human beings, it seems that with individual characters so strongly marked as they are in the higher mammals, the grafts tend, except between very closely related persons, to degenerate quickly, and so cannot have the lasting effect claimed for them by Voronoff and his school.

T. H. Morgan, professor of experimental zoology in Columbia University, New York, lectured to English audiences this summer on his experimental work on inheritance in the fly Drosophila. The published results of this investigation have already been much discussed by geneticists. Morgan brings forward elaborate evidence to show that not only are the Mendelian characters resident in the chromosomes, but that the hereditary factors or "genes" are arranged in a linear series in each chromosome, and can be mapped thereon. Furthermore, he is ready to produce data that shall aid in forming a rough estimate of the upper limits in size of these genes, which, he calculates, probably number more than several thousand in each chromosome. The hypothetical phenomenon of "crossing-over" is involved in Morgan's explanation of some apparently exceptional results of breeding, and he admits that meanwhile the geneticist's evidence outruns the cytologist's in this direction. In June the University of Edinburgh conferred on Professor Morgan the honorary degree of LL.D.

The botanical and zoological sections of the British Association at Hull held a joint discussion on the theory of " Age and Area," published by Messrs. Willis and Udny Yule. This principle, which is based on the authors' study of the flora of Ceylon, affirms that "if one takes groups of not less than ten allied species and compares them with similar groups allied to the first, the relative total areas occupied in a given country, or in the world, will be more or less proportional . . . to their relative total ages, within that country, or absolutely, as the case may be. The longer a group has existed, the more area will it occupy." "In general the species (and genera) of smallest areas are the youngest, and are descended from the more widespread species that usually occur beside them." It is urged, as the result of the collected statistical evidence, that evolution must have proceeded by mutations, and by mutations at times so large as to give rise not only to species, but to genera and even to families. Evolution, in fact, must have proceeded in the opposite direction to that postulated by the Darwinian theoryi.e. the larger genera and the species of the larger area are the parents of the smaller. Opponents of the "Age and Area" heresy declare that Willis and Udny's curves are capable of the reverse interpretation, and are in direct support of Darwin's views.

Insect life always attracts a great deal of attention, from the economic as well as from the purely biological point of view. The mosquitoes Anopheles maculipennis and A. bifurcatus are known to transmit malaria. Blacklock and Carter of Liverpool have now demonstrated that A. plumbeus is also certainly a potential carrier. These observers find that A. plumbeus is very much more abundant in English woods than anyone has heretofore suspected, and an investigation into its life and habits is now in progress.

Austen and Leigh have published their monograph on the tsetse flies. The characteristics, distribution, and bionomics of tsetses are discussed, and some account is given of possible methods for their control.

Bequart's work on myremecophytism is an addition to a very fascinating subject. The author shows clearly that the dispersal of seeds by ants is an important factor in plant distribution.

The student of symbiosis and parasitism is also referred to Caullery's excellent book on the subject, published this year.

The Rockefeller Institute for Medical Research has published a valuable monograph on hook-worm infection (ankylostomiasis) and its prevention, based on a two-years' study of the problem it presents in Brazil, as in some other hot countries. It is very prevalent in rural districts where sanitation is neglected and the people go barefoot, for the embryos of the hook-worm live in the soil and gain access to the human body through the skin. Smillie and his fellow-workers show convincingly that by supplying latrines and compelling the field-workers to wear shoes, the dreaded scourge can be effectively controlled. Some useful observations are made on the "healthy carrier" problem.

The sections of Physiology and Agriculture of the British Association held a joint discussion on vitamins. The existence of these substances and their indispensability as a factor of diet of man and animals is now generally acknowledged, although they have never yet been isolated.

The green tissues of plants are probably the chief site of their manufacture, though what rôle they play in plant-life is not known. Marine diatoms synthesise vitamin A. and it is transferred to the small animals of the plankton which feed on the diatoms. Small fish feed on these, and are in turn eaten by larger fish, the vitamin being carried on from one organism to the next. Man makes use of these marine-prepared vitamins chiefly in their storage-form in the liver of the cod. Compared samples of cod-liver oil are found, however, to have very different vitamin-containing qualities. The opinion is gaining ground with some scientists that there is a very close connection between sunlight and vitamins, and it has been suggested that light may bring about the synthesis of vitamins in the animal body just as it does in the plant. Inspired by the work of continental physiologists and physicians on the influence of sunlight in the prevention of such evils as rickets, the Medical Research Council has appointed a committee to enquire into the action of sunlight in health and disease.

Much of the discussion in the Zoology Section at the British Association this year turned on the question of fisheries and that of the food-supply of fishes, which is so intimately bound up therewith. Petersen's paper on the fauna of the sea-bottom was one of the most interesting contributions. He described the method by which he has charted the Danish Seas, and has established, among other matters of great economic importance, the fact of overcrowding of sea-fishes in certain regions, with their consequent reduction in size and market value.

An important discovery is reported from Canada, which should have great influence on the treatment of diabetes. By experiment it has been proved that the "islets" of the pancreas secrete an anti-diabetic substance, that is to say, a substance which enables the body to make use of sugar. By a very elaborate technique, the physiologists and bio-chemists of the University of Alberta have at last succeeded in extracting this precious secretion from the pancreas, and the result of their feeding it to de-pancreatised dogs has been such as to give hope of its ultimate efficacy in treating human diabetes, a condition following, it would seem, on some breakdown of the natural, anti-diabetic mechanism.

Schmidt, of Copenhagen, has added to our fragmentary knowledge of the rare little cuttle-fish called Spirula, which is probably allied to the extinct Belemnites. While the coiled calcareous, chambered shell of Spirula is a common object in the drift of many sub-tropical seas, the complete animal has until this year been the rare and envied possession of a few favoured museums. Schmidt, cruising on the Dana, has fetched up ninety-five specimens from various depths between 300 and 2,000 metres in the Atlantic, and has now published a vivid description and photographs of the living creature. The shell lies in the posterior end of the body, and, being air-filled, tends to lift this portion in the water so that the animal when at rest rises towards the surface. The body is silvery when alive, with rust-red patches on mantle and funnel. Between the two fins is a luminous organ, which emits a very constant, pale yellowish-green light. Schmidt gives a lively account of the movements and mode of life of the captured