The minute parasites which cause Malta, yellow, and malarial fever,

and other infections, are no doubt best dealt with by excluding them

from access to the human body when that is possible. But once they

have effected a lodgment and commenced to multiply in the blood or

tissues, it is still possible to get at them by means of drugs, which

poison them without injuring their human victim. Thus quinine has been

of enormous service in checking the ravages of the malaria parasite,

and really in Great Britain has exterminated “ague,” which is the

English name for malaria. Many experiments have been made during the

last two years, with the view of finding some drug which will, in like

manner, destroy the trypanosomes which have established themselves in

the blood and lymph-passages of the human body, and are slowly killing

their victim with sleeping sickness. An arsenic compound, “atoxyl,”

has been found effective when injected into the patient’s body, and

according to Dr. Koch, who returned last year from Uganda, he has

found nothing better than this treatment, discovered by Dr. Thomas

and Dr. Breinl, of the Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine, three

years ago. Dr. Plimmer and Dr. Thomson, who have been experimenting

in London for the Royal Society, have found a drug which is more

effective than atoxyl in destroying certain trypanosomes which attack

rats, and is now being tried in the treatment of sleeping sickness.

This is the tartrate of sodium and antimony--a salt corresponding to

the well-known tartar emetic, with this difference, that it contains

sodium instead of potassium. It seems that this sodium variety of

tartar emetic is very destructive to trypanosomes in the blood and

lymph, and has no injurious effect of a lowering nature, such as occurs

when the potassium salt is used. As the antimony drug is far cheaper

than atoxyl, it will be possible to apply it freely to horses and

cattle suffering from “nagana” and “surra,” which are diseases due to

trypanosomes of a special kind. Two white men who had become infected

by the trypanosome of sleeping sickness in West Africa have been

treated with the new drug in London, and the parasites have completely

disappeared from their blood in consequence, though it remains to be

seen whether a permanent cure has been effected. One cannot imagine a

situation of more thrilling interest than that existing in the nursing

home where those two victims were given a strong hope of escape from

what seemed to be certain death, whilst the fate of thousands of

African natives, similarly infected, was hanging in the balance! After

six months from the date of treatment the report is satisfactory. The

parasites have not yet re-appeared (July, 1908) in the two patients

treated in November.

14. _Tsetse-Flies and Disease_

Dr. Koch appears to have been questioned on his return to Europe by

some journalists as to the results of his study of sleeping sickness

during the past year and a half in Uganda. It was already known (three

years ago), from the observations of Professor Minchin, Dr. Gray,

and Dr. Tulloch (the Royal Society’s observers in Uganda), that the

tsetse-fly in Uganda sucks the blood of crocodiles, also of fishes

and of hippopotami. Dr. Koch confirms this observation. Minchin also

observed a trypanosome in the blood of the crocodile differing from

that of sleeping sickness. Whether crocodiles help, in an important

degree, to keep tsetse-flies alive in the regions where they occur,

by offering them a ready meal of blood, is uncertain. So far as the

facts are known, they do not lead to the belief that the crocodile is a

“reservoir host” for the trypanosome of sleeping sickness.

“Reservoir-host” is a very useful and expressive name for animals

which can tolerate or support a parasite in their blood which is

deadly to other animals. The parasite flourishes in abundance in the

reservoir-host with entire satisfaction to both host and guest. But

a blood-sucking fly or gnat, of promiscuous tastes in the matter

of blood, comes along, sucks the reservoir-host a bit, and then

goes off for another meal to a susceptible animal, into which it

introduces the parasite now adhering to its already blood-smeared

proboscis or beak. Such a history was first established by Bruce in

regard to the trypanosome parasite which causes the deadly nagana

disease in the “fly-belts” of South Africa. The big game animals are

reservoir-hosts to this parasite, from which they are carried by the

tsetse-fly to horses, mules, and dogs, which, being of foreign origin,

are not tolerant of it, but are killed by the poison to which its

multiplication in their blood gives rise. Thus, too, native children,

both in Africa and the East Indies, appear to be tolerant of the

malaria parasite, and act as reservoir-hosts from which the spot-winged

gnats suck and distribute the parasite to the non-tolerant, susceptible

adult natives and white men.

The tsetse-flies are little bigger than the common house-fly, and

bite, or rather stab, very rapidly after alighting on the skin. The

study of flies and gnats, and other blood-sucking insects, has

become extremely important, and has been carried on with great energy

by many specialists since it became known that these insects play

such a terribly important part in the causation of disease. At the

Natural History Museum I received (in response to a circular issued

at my request by H.M. Government) thousands of specimens of gnats

(mosquitoes) from all parts of the world, and some hundreds of new

species have been described in a series of volumes by Professor F. V.

Theobald, published by the trustees. Other volumes are in preparation

illustrating the blood-sucking flies of various regions of the world,

and one concerning those of the British Islands has already appeared.

The common gnat, the spot-winged gnat, and the tsetse-fly--as well as

the microscopic parasites causing malaria and sleeping sickness--are

illustrated by greatly enlarged models--very carefully executed under

my direction, which are exhibited in the central hall of the museum.

It is a curious fact that the coloured races of men--especially those

of Africa--have little or no objection to being bitten by flies. They

seem to accept the attention of flies and ticks with indifference.

The men sleep in the day under trees, and are willing food-supply to

the insects. The eyelids of children are literally inhabited by flies

in some countries, and the folds of the skin of fat adults hide whole

rows of fast-holding ticks. But the white man does not willingly permit

either fly, flea, or gnat to settle on him. He is (or has been),

nevertheless, unwisely tolerant of house-flies in his habitations, and

the poorer and less cleanly population are in large proportion infested

with wingless insects. The newly established knowledge that certain

flies (glossina or tsetse-fly) are the carriers of sleeping sickness,

that gnats are the carriers of malaria and of yellow fever, that fleas

are the carriers of the plague, and that certain kinds of ticks are the

carriers of cattle-fevers and dog-fevers, and probably of some obscure

fevers of man, must make us all more anxious than we were about contact

with insect life. For ages popular tradition has ascribed diseases of

one kind and another in various parts of the world to the bites of

flies. But actually it is little more than fifty years ago since it

was really shown that deadly germs or parasites existed which could

be, and actually are, carried by flies from one animal to another, and

introduced into the blood by the flies’ stab. This was first shown in

regard to the bacterium of splenic fever (or anthrax, or wool-sorters’

disease), a blood-disease of cattle which is transferred by the big,

fiercely-biting “horse-flies” (tabanus), from animals to man, and is

invariably fatal. Another bacterial disease, “pernicious œdema,” is

inflicted on man in the same way. These cases were exceptional, and

it is only quite recently that the agency of flies and fleas in great

epidemics, and in diseases causing thousands of deaths every year in

well-known regions, has been discovered.

15. _Monkeys and Fleas_

The wingless parasites known as pediculi are not known as active

agents in spreading disease germs, probably because they do not

readily transfer themselves from one animal to another. It is in this

connection a really remarkable fact that monkeys are not infested by

fleas, and that only in few cases and not in many kinds have pediculi

or acari been observed. In this respect the lower races of men (and

even the higher) seem to have fallen away from a grade of excellence

attained by their despised quadrumanous cousins. When this fact as

to the freedom of monkeys from insect parasites is mentioned, those

who have watched monkeys in captivity will immediately say, “Surely I

have seen monkeys carefully picking insects from one another’s fur.”

The fact is that it is this very habit of “picking” which prevents

monkeys from harbouring fleas. Whereas a dog or a cat can only scratch,

the monkey has an opposible thumb and delicately sensitive fingers.

That which has become the hand of man, with all its marvellous skill

and efficiency, has been elaborated in its early stages as a means

for keeping the hair clean. When monkeys are seen carefully removing

something with finger and thumb from their own or their companion’s

hair, it is not an insect but a little piece of fatty secretion and

scurf which is thus removed. The habit, which seems to be general in

all kinds of monkeys, even with the anthropoids, such as the chimpanzee

and the orang, has of course been efficient in removing any parasitic

insects which may at one time have infested monkeys--all other furry

animals are liberally supplied with them, as also are birds--but is

now preventive of any re-establishment of such visitors. The popular

judgment of the monkey’s habit is similar to that of the Japanese Aino,

who remarked to a traveller who arranged to have a bath in his room

every day that he must be a very dirty man to require it.

16. _The Jigger Flea_

One flea is recorded as having been once taken on an anthropoid ape (a

gorilla), and is the “jigger,” Pulex penetrans. This is a very serious

pest, the history of which shows how man himself opens up the path

by which dangerous diseases spread. The jigger-flea was originally

known only in the South American tropics. It spread from there to the

West Indies in the last century. It burrows into the skin, usually

between the toes, but elsewhere also, and causes an abscess and sore

as big and deep as a hazel-nut. Several such cavities at a time are

dangerous, and often lead to blood-poisoning and death. Europeans avoid

the burrowing of the jigger by having their toes carefully examined

every morning, but black men are less careful. From the West Indies,

about thirty years ago, the jigger was carried in ships to West Africa.

There it flourished and spread from village to village across Central

Africa, decimating the population. It appears to have been carried to

a large extent by dogs, in whose skin it flourishes. It has now passed

through Africa to India, and we shall no doubt soon hear of its having

completed the circuit of the globe.

A great many kinds of fleas are known, many furry animals having their

own special species, which does not leave them to take up its dwelling

on other kinds of animal. The common rat has a large flea of its own,

which apparently is not the flea which carries the plague from rats

to men. It is a “wandering” flea which does this, namely, the Cheops

flea. This flea, common in the East but unknown in colder regions, does

not stay as one could wish it to do--on the rat; but travels about

visiting human beings and dogs, and so carries the plague bacillus

from rats to men. In the absence of these fleas plague would be a

rat-disease unknown in men. It is probable that we do not nowadays live

so thoroughly cheek-by-jowl with rats in Western Europe as formerly,

so that even if rats infected with plague and harbouring the Eastern

Cheops flea arrive in our docks, the wandering flea is too far off to

reach us in our modern houses.

17. _Public Estimate of the Value of Science_

The Royal Society, the full title of which is The Royal Society of

London for the Promotion of Natural Knowledge, has its anniversary

meeting and dinner on St. Andrew’s Day. The health of the medallists

of the year 1907 was given from the chair by Lord Rayleigh, and they

replied one by one to the toast. Professor Michelsen, of Chicago,

received what is considered the greatest honour the society has to

bestow--the Copley Medal (founded more than two hundred years ago) for

his researches on light. He related in his speech how he had tried

to interest a wealthy business man in the experiments going on in

his laboratory, in the hope that his friend might be moved to give

pecuniary aid for the provision of new apparatus. One by one, he showed

his delicate instruments and explained their uses; no impression was

produced. At last he explained how the bright lines of the spectrum of

flame, coloured by incandescent elements (such as theatre-goers know

as red fire, green fire, blue fire, &c.), can be recognised by means

of the spectroscope in the light of the sun--proving the presence of

the metals and other elements of this earth in that remote body. He

especially explained and showed his friend the experiments by which

sodium, the metal of which caustic soda is the “rust,” is thus proved

to be present in the sun. At last his friend spoke. He said: “Who the

---- cares if there is sodium in the sun?” Professor Michelsen did not

tell the fellows of the Royal Society how he replied to that abrupt

inquiry.

A more encouraging speech was that of Lord Fitzmaurice, the

Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, who replied to the toast

of the guests. He declared, in so many words, “It is every day becoming

more and more certain that science is the master.” He said that in

his own business as a diplomatist he found that the chief matters

which he had to discuss and decide depended on scientific knowledge

and the information and guidance given to him and his colleagues by

scientific men. In the beginning of the eighteenth century the British

Government had sent a bishop and a poet to negotiate the Treaty of

Utrecht. But neither would be of any use in modern diplomacy. What they

always had to seek at the present day was the aid of the scientific

departments of the Navy or the Army, or of the Royal Society. Such

matters as the relative merits of a Channel tunnel or a Channel ferry,

the limitations of territory by land, by sea, or above the land in

the air, the international agreements as to measures for checking the

spread of disease or of insect pests, and, indeed, most matters which

had come before him since he had been in office, had to be decided by

the scientific experts. He did not propose that diplomatists should at

once vacate their posts and endeavour to secure the occupation of them

by men of science, but he thought that at no distant date such a course

would be considered not only reasonable, but necessary!

18. _The Common House-fly and Others_

The common house-fly is not so innocent as he looks, but really a dirty

little thing. He has not a sharp beak-like proboscis, and cannot stab,

but he has a soft, dabbing proboscis, which he pushes on to every kind

of filth as well as walking with his six legs on such matter. Then he

comes and wipes off minute particles and germs on to our food, our

lips, our fingers, and faces. It is quite certain that he, and others

allied to him, are thus the means of spreading typhoid fever in camps

where there are open latrines and open larders and mess tables. The

house-fly breeds from a maggot, just as the blue-bottle or blow-fly

does, but very few people have ever seen or recognised the maggot of

the house-fly. The reason is that it lays its eggs in horse dung, and

the grubs are hatched in the muck-heaps of stables. That is also the

reason why it is much less numerous in London than it used to be,

since stables and mews are now fewer and cleaner than they were. It is

also the reason why the house-fly abounds in ill-kept country inns and

farmhouses. Its breeding ground is just outside the window.

There is not only one common house-fly in this country: there are

three kinds, in addition to the blue-bottle or blow-fly, which is

distinguished at once by its great size and blue colour, and lays its

eggs in carrion. Late in the year you may often see what would pass for

young or starveling house-flies going about among the others. This is

a distinct species, the Homalomyia canicularis of entomologists. The

third kind only to be distinguished by careful examination with the aid

of a magnifying glass, is Anthomyia radicum. Both these are much less

abundant than the common house-fly (Musca domestica), with which they

almost always occur. Their breeding habits are similar to those of the

common house-fly.

A fourth kind of fly is invariably mistaken for the common house-fly

when it is noticed, as it sometimes is, in consequence of the sharp

stab which it inflicts. As recently as the beginning of November last

year I was “bitten” or pricked by one of this fourth kind in a London

club. They are common enough on the sea shore in autumn, and may be

a severe nuisance. People generally take them for common house-flies

which have lost their temper in the hot weather and give way to the

bad habit of “biting” out of sheer exasperation. Really, of course,

a house-fly could not stab or prick with its broad-ended proboscis.

The fly in question, which looks almost exactly like a well-grown

house-fly, but possesses a sharp and business-like beak or proboscis,

is known to scientific men as Stomoxys calcitrans. There are many

kinds of Stomoxys scattered all over the world, and it is probable,

though not actually proved, that they carry parasites such as the

trypanosomes of horse and cattle diseases from one animal to another,

as do the species of Glossina or tsetse-fly.

But we have yet to learn more about these flies and the parasites

they transfer. In the case of the gnat, it has been discovered that

the malaria parasite is swallowed by the gnat, and multiplies in

it, producing thousands of spores in its blood, and it is these

spores which the gnat hands or rather “mouths” on to man. No such

multiplication of the trypanosome in the tsetse-fly (Glossina) is

known. The tsetse-fly passes on the trypanosome as it received it, and

yet it seems as though it is not any and every biting fly which can

pass on the trypanosome of nagana, or of sleeping sickness, but only

the particular species of tsetse-fly. Perhaps it is a case of greater

abundance, the tsetse-flies being the obvious and dangerous carriers of

trypanosome disease where they occur, on account of their abundance and

the fierceness and celerity of their attack. It is almost certain that

in India, Burma, and South America some other flies must transfer the

trypanosomes from animal to animal, causing the diseases known as surra

and mal de caderas, because no tsetse-flies--that is to say, no flies

of the genus Glossina--occur in those countries, and no other mode of

transference, except by some blood-sucking insect, seems probable.

Ants in Africa are carriers of infection, and possibly also in London

kitchens, where a little red ant sometimes abounds. The black beetle or

cockroach is a creature to be got rid of, as it is very probable that

it spreads certain kinds of infection over food and dishes during the

hours of “revelry by night” which kind-hearted people allow it to enjoy

in their kitchens.

19. _Cerebral Inhibition_

The best golf-player does not think, as he plays his stroke, of the

hundred-and-one muscular contractions which, accurately co-ordinated,

result in his making a fine drive or a perfect approach; nor does the

pianist examine the order of movement of his fingers. His “sub-liminal

self,” his “unconscious cerebration,” attends to these details without

his conscious intervention, and all the better for the absence of

what the nerve-physiologists call “cerebral inhibition”--that is to

say, the delay or arrest due to the sending round of the message or

order to the muscles by way of the higher brain-centres, instead of

letting it go directly from a lower centre without the intervention

of the seats of attention and consciousness. The sneezing caused in

most people by a pinch of ordinary snuff can be rendered impossible by

“cerebral inhibition,” set up by a wager with the snuff-taking victim

that he will fail to sneeze in three minutes, however much snuff he

may take. His attention to the mechanism of the anticipated sneeze,

and his desire for it, inhibit the whole apparatus. So long as you can

make him anxious to sneeze and fix his attention on the effort to do

so, by a judicious exhortation at intervals, he will not succeed in

sneezing. When the three minutes are up, and you both have ceased to

be interested in the matter, he will probably sneeze unexpectedly and

sharply. I was set on to this train of thought by a recent visit to an

exhibition of photographs.

There were many very interesting illustrations of the application of

photography to scientific investigation. Among others I saw a fine

enlarged photograph of the common millipede (Julus terrestris), and my

desire was renewed to have a bioscopic film-series of the movements

of this creature’s legs. Some years ago I attempted to analyse, and

published an account of, the regular rhythmic movement of the legs

of millipedes. I found that the “phases” of forward and backward

swing are presented in groups of twelve pairs of legs, each pair of

legs being in the same phase of movement as the twelfth pair beyond

it. But instantaneous photography would give complete certainty about

the movement in this case, and in the case of the even more beautiful

“rippling” movement of the legs of some of the marine worms. Some

kindly photographer might take up the investigation and prepare a

series of films. The problem is raised and the effects of “cerebral

inhibition” described in a little poem which I am told we owe to the

author of “Lorna Doone.” As it is not widely known, I give it here as a

record of “cerebral inhibition”:

“A centipede was happy ’til

One day a toad in fun

Said, ‘Pray which leg moves after which?’

This raised her doubts to such a pitch

She fell exhausted in the ditch,

Not knowing how to run.”

The point, of course, is that she could execute the complex movement of

her legs well enough until her brain was set to work and her conscious

attention given to the matter. Then “cerebral inhibition” took place

and she broke down.

20. _Colour-photography and Photographs of Mars_

There were admirable photographs of wild birds and their nests, and of

insects and plants in this exhibition. I saw the new Lumière coloured

transparent photographs thrown by a lantern on the screen, and could

distinguish the dots of red, green, and violet colour on what, at

a little distance, appeared to be a brilliantly white part of the

picture (the shirt collar of a “sitter”), just as one sees a mosaic of

coloured dots in the blazing sunlight of the pictures painted by the

French school of so-called “vibristes” (Monod and others). Perhaps the

most remarkable of these photographs was a set of prints from untouched

photographs of the planet Mars, executed in July 1907 by Professor

Perceval Lowell at his observatory in Arizona.

The Mars photographs are each about as big as a dried pea (that is

the biggest size possible with the feeble light reflected by Mars),

but “several of the canals,” says Mr. Lowell, “are distinctly visible

on the photographs, and one has been photographed double.” I should

have liked to examine these photographs in a good light with a lens.

The statement quoted means that the canals in Mars can no longer

be regarded as due to errors of eyesight and imagination, and that

the annual doubling or formation of a second canal parallel to what

was earlier in the year a single canal, is actually recorded by a

disinterested, impartial photographic plate. Are these canals the work

of intelligent inhabitants of Mars? I will not venture to say in reply

more than this, that I have never heard any other explanation of their

occurrence. But that, of course, still leaves the matter open.

21. _Origin of Names by Errors in Copying_

A curious illustration of a mistake perpetuated by a clerical error is

the title of Viscount Glerawly. The title was intended to have been

Glenawly, but the bad writing of a clerk converted the “n” into an “r,”

and the name having been so entered in the patent of nobility, or some

such document, could not be altered. The same thing has happened to

the mammoth. His proper native name is “mammont,” but “mont” became

“mout,” and then “moth.” A similar clerical error is responsible for

the name Gavial, which is applied to the long, narrow-nosed crocodile

of India, both as a scientific name (Gavialis) and colloquially.

Really the “v” is due to a misreading of an “r,” the creature’s native

name being Garial. It was so written down and sent home by an early

explorer, but his handwriting being wanting in clearness, the word was

copied as Gavial and the scientific patent issued in that name.

22. _False News as to Extinct Monsters_

The tendency of English newspapers to bedeck themselves every now

and again with rank absurdities copied from American rubbish-sheets

is a disease. On no subject outside the field of natural history and

medicine would any editor dream of printing the stuff which does duty

as “news” in regard to these departments--stuff which has not even the

semblance of being carefully concocted, but yet is found “good enough”

to circulate as serious information.

From an Easy Chair · 第 3 / 11 段