system which doubles these difficulties, and gives us only vague words with which to solve them. We are much inclined here to adopt the language of Cicero- Utinam tam facile vera invenire possim quam falsa convincere! One familiar instance will often illustrate better than a thousand arguments. From the window at which we are sitting we see at this moment a large spider weaving its subtle web for the entanglement of its prey. The system before us supposes that some inferior organization feeling the appetency for this particular food, and the need of means for obtaining it, there thence resulted the growth of that beautiful mechanism of structure belonging to the spider, and that wonderful instinct by which the web is woven with such exquisite exactness and adaptation to its use. But this is not all-our speculator cannot rest here. The material of the web is a chemical compound of the most definite kind and definite purpose, and requires especial organs for its elaboration. This material must be alike provided for by the theory in question, and no subterfuge of phrases can save it from the demand. Thus taxed-and we might endlessly multiply such instances-the doctrine becomes a nullity to our comprehension or use; and we may wisely acquiesce in that simpler and more intelligible view, which refers all these wonders of subordinate intelligence to the will and ever present and active power of the great Author of nature. The relation of this particular question to the subject before us will now be obvious. Those of our readers who wish to pursue it further may refer to all that Cuvier has so admirably written on the permanence of species; to the works of Dr. Prichard; and to the excellent chapters in Lyell's 'Principles of Geology,' which we have placed at the head of this article. While we concur, however, with Sir C. Lyell in rejecting this theory as inadmissible in reason, we freely acknowledge that its discussion among men of science has done much to enlarge our views as to all that concerns the definition of species in nature, the conditions establishing their identity, and the changes more or less permanent of which they are susceptible, either from natural causes, from education, or from forced union with each other in the production of hybrids. The topic is one of deep interest, carrying us by divers paths into the midst of the most profound questions which can legitimately exercise our reason. It is associated closely with many of the natural sciences, as especially with all that relates to the physical history of man. No one of common reflection can enter the walls of a great zoological museum without some sentiment of awe in looking on the innumerable forms of life around-cette richesse effrayante, as Cuvier well calls it, when speaking of insects alone as one class in the vast series. The wonder is augmented when considering that this is only the visible world of life. The microscope has now disclosed to us the waters of the earth tenanted by hosts of living beings before unseen; and the most recent researches of Ehrenberg show the atmosphere around us peopled with genera and species not recognised by the most delicate human sense, yet probably affecting in various ways the physical condition of man.' If there be any real transmutation of species, or spontaneous generation and present creation of new species, we might expect to find it among these minute and simple organisms, or germs, which seem to have some common relation to vegetable and animal life; and may be presumed more liable to change in evolution from the influences surrounding them. Yet we have no certain evidence of this having ever occurred, and many facts adverse to it. The sudden appearance of known species in new situations, accepted by some as a proof, shows only the exquisite minuteness of the primitive germs of life, and their tenacity of existence until the conditions occur necessary to evolve them. Of this tenacity we have proof in many remarkable cases, and it is probably in some inverse ratio to the elevation of the species.† * These researches, which are recorded in two or three memoirs presented to the Berlin Academy of Sciences during the past year, appear to have been suggested to Ehrenberg by the prevalence of the Cholera in Berlin towards the end of 1848. They offer the extraordinary result of nearly 400 species of organic life existing in different strata of the atmosphere as examined on this spot. Another memoir about the same time relates the singular phenomenon of a vivid vermilion matter, which, on the 26th of October, 1848, suddenly showed itself on the bread and other farinaceous substances in different parts of Berlin; and which was found, on examination, both there and in England, to consist of two fungi and one animal organism-the latter called by Ehrenberg the Menas prodigiosa. It is a curious, though presumably casual coincidence, that precisely the same phenomenon occurred in Philadelphia when the Cholera was raging there in 1832. We have it in the relation of Quintus Curtius that during the siege of Tyre by Alexander the bread in the city was found suddenly stained with blood; a miracle then-now explained (as may be many similar phenomena of former times) in a manner scarcely less miraculous, but in accordance with the natural laws that pervade and govern the world. It is impossible not to suppose that these living organisms, tenanting the atmosphere in which we ourselves live, may have, in their existence and changes, many important effects on the human economy. Though not yet explicitly placed among the causes of disease, it is likely that future research will show them to be so. The same general reasoning will apply to the seeming identity of the curious cellular structure which appears, from recent research, to form the nucleus of all the textures of organic life. That species so numerous and distinct are actually evolved from that structure, proves that there is an agent of life, independent of the cell, though working through it as an instrument or medium. It is conceivable that different combinations of cells may modify the result in the simpler forms of life. Such would seem to be the case in the recent observations of Professors Forbes and Steenstrup, commented upon by Professor Owen in his recent volume entitled 'Parthenogenesis.' But the cases of this kind hitherto made known are few in number-the effects, as far as we can see, are only temporary-and the type of the species appears to be maintained amidst the variations impressed on them. The The questions which regard the individuality, the permanence, and the capacity for variation in species, are, however, so vast and various, that it would be vain for us to seek to discuss them in detail. They are, moreover, the subject of much recent controversy, resulting from the minute researches into the simpler primitive forms of animal and vegetable life, of which we have just spoken. Doubts have been started as to the actual existence of true species in nature; that is, of separate tribes of beings with specific organization and incapable of transmutation into one another; and though few have ventured as far as Lamarck, many have trodden on his traces, and resting on some singular phenomena of hybrids, particularly as disclosed in the experiments of Weigmann and others on hybrid plants, have supposed the power of transmutation within a more limited range. It is curious to observe how closely some of these recent views approach to the discarded notions of the ancient philosophy. Atoms begin to have currency and favour again; and many a line of the magnificent poetry of Lucretius might be taken as the text of modern theory on these subjects. The definitions of species by Buffon, Cuvier, De Candolle, &c., though essentially alike as involving the facts of resemblance and constant reproduction of the same beings, are yet open to some critical cavil; and it has been doubted whether the term species might not be expediently exchanged for some other more free from ambiguity. We fully admit the influence of names upon things, and that words do mightily entangle and pervert the judgment.' It would make an amusing and important subject of inquiry, in what cases of physical science, and yet more of morals and metaphysics, new terms might be adopted, with the effect of removing doubts and closing controversies engendered by the faulty or fluctuating use of more ancient names. It is manifest, however, that such corrections must never be needlessly or arbitrarily made, lest the ambiguity created be greater than that removed. And as respects the term in question, though it has no etymological merits, we doubt whether any could be adopted, expressing in a more convenient form the relation which it professes to describe. With the impossibility of entering fully into this subject of species, we gladly avail ourselves of the summary which Sir C. Lyell has given, at the end of his 37th chapter, of the conclusions reasonably deduced from our actual knowledge of the conditions and changes of animal and vegetable life existing around us. 1st. There is a capacity in all species to accommodate themselves to a certain extent to a change of external circumstances, this extent varying greatly according to the species. 2nd. When the change of situation they can endure is great, it is usually usually attended by some modifications of the form, colour, size, structure, or other particulars; but the mutations thus superinduced are governed by constant laws, and the capability of so varying forms part of the permanent specific character. 3rd. Some acquired peculiarities of form, structure, and instinct, are transmissible to the offspring; but these consist of such qualities and attributes only as are intimately related to the natural wants and propensities of the species. 4th. The entire variation from the original type which any given kind of change can produce, may usually be effected in a short period of time, after which no further deviation can be obtained by continuing to alter the circumstances, though ever so gradually-indefinite divergence, either in the way of improvement or deterioration, being prevented, and the least excess beyond the defined limits being fatal to the existence of the individual. 5th. The intermixture of distinct species is guarded against by the aversion of the individuals composing them to sexual union, or by the sterility of the mule offspring. It does not appear that true hybrid races have ever been perpetuated for several generations, even by the assistance of man; for the cases usually cited relate to the crossing of mules with individuals of the pure species, and not to the intermixture of hybrid with hybrid. 6th. From these considerations it appears that species have a real existence in nature, and that each was endowed, at the time of its creation, with the attributes and organization by which it is now distinguished.'-Principles of Geology, 7th edit., p. 585. These conclusions we believe to be valid in all essential points. We suspect if male and female juries of each species could be summoned upon the question of its distinct individuality, they would speedily return an affirmative verdict; and, perchance, with some surprise and amusement at the doubt submitted to them. While in arguing this question much stress has rightly been laid on the period of utero-gestation, as deciding the identity or difference of species, we think sufficient importance has not been attached to the relation and adaptation of the sexes of each species to one another. This remark very especially applies to the bolder doctrine of transmutation of species already discussed. A double transmutation would in every case be required, and with adaptations in every successive stage of change which it would defy any calculation of possible chances to meet or explain. We cannot hesitate then in believing that the permanent individuality of species is the intention and general law of creation. We consider that the variations themselves of which species are rendered capable (doubtless for wise and sufficient purposes) do, by the limits imposed on their extent, express the same general law. And if objection be still taken to the immensity of the numbers of species thus presumed, we answer that he must be indeed an infant in physical science, who would limit the scope of creation by his own conceptions, or define the numbers therein employed by his own narrow use and comprehension of them. Though we may seem again to have deserted our immediate subject, reflection will show that it is otherwise. The physical history of man is based on the same general grounds as that of the rest of the animal creation. Man stands at the head; but in a physical sense he does so simply as the highest in a series of animal types, connected by close though perhaps unequal links, and subject to the same general laws determining the origin, distribution, and variations of species. He forms a genus to himself on every principle of just classification; and it is the conclusion of Prichard and his compeers that this genus differs from all other genera of the animal kingdom, in containing but one species. Still we must hold it ever in view that Man is a part of the great scale of animal life; and we shall speedily see how many arguments and analogies may be drawn as to all that regards his physical history, from those inferior forms of being which exist, for his uses or contemplation, in the world around him. This is especially true as respects the inquiry to which we now come, having already in part premised our opinion upon it, viz., whether there be one species or more of the genus Man? :— whether (to put the most cogent case in front) the perfect Negro and the perfect European, seeing the strong contrasts and diversities they exhibit, can be rightly deemed of the same species? :and whether, to explain other striking varieties in the races of men, it be needful to extend yet further this view of their specific differences? In discussing these points we must limit ourselves to the reasons best fitted to elucidate the conclusions obtained. : The question naturally first occurs-and it is a question which in its nature becomes an argument-if man be not a single species, how many species of the human being must we count on the earth? The Negro is the most striking contrast to the European; but the beardless yellow Mongolian also has characteristics so strongly marked, that we cannot concede the difference of species in the one case without admitting it in the other. How, or where, are we to stop in these admissions, when we find diversities alike in kind, and different only in degree, existing everywhere around us; and determining those divisions into races, of which some have retained the same distinctive characters from the earliest periods of history. The question is further perplexed by the intermixture of races and varieties; rendering it difficult, if not impossible, to define any such primi |