1

is impossible to push subtlety further, and also, it must be said, fantasy..

- "A young woman crosses the drawing-room of her flat and knocks her head against the chandelier suspended from the ceiling; a bleeding wound is the result." Here is apparently a most simple dream. You cannot imagine all the developments that Freud draws from it at once, the analogies and comparisons to which he connects it. Moreover, these comparisons are all of an extremely concrete order. They all go back to some very simple acts. Although the startingpoints may be of the most varied kind, the point of arrival is always identical, and always depends as directly as possible on our sexual life.

T

vey.

In short, that is the point to which everything leads. This insistence to bring us back to it appears excessive and even, more than once, irritating. For sexual life, even if it does hold an important place, is certainly not everything in man. There are also other things, many other things. Freud persists fearlessly in saying, No. According to him, they are simple, external aspects, under which he claims he can always show us the same eternal reality.

But nothing forces us, fortunately, to believe him. Nothing forces us to see in each one of our fellow-men the lascivious and lustful animal to which he wishes, by force, to prove our relationship.

HE weather is a mosaic, the designs of which are revealed only through a comprehensive surIsolated observations shed little light upon the vast processes of the atmosphere, just as the experiences of a single soldier give us but a poor idea of the general plan of a battle. In fact, in both cases the fragmentary information afforded is likely to be altogether misleading..

The value of the comparative method in the study of weather is illustrated by an episode in the career of Benjamin Franklin. Everybody has heard how this sage proved lightning to be a manifestation of electricity, but the fact that he made another and far more important meteorological discovery is not so familiar. Let us tell the story in his own words.

Writing from London in 1760, he says: "About twenty years ago, a few more or less, we were to have an eclipse of the moon at Philadelphia, on a Friday evening, about nine o'clock. I intended to observe it, but was prevented by a northeast storm, which came on about seven, with thick clouds as usual, that quite obscured the whole hemisphere. Yet when the post brought us the Boston newspaper, giving an account of the effect of the same storm in those parts, I found the beginning of the eclipse had been well observed there, though Boston lies northeast of Philadelphia about 400 miles. This puzzled me, because the storm began with us so soon as to prevent any observation, and being a northeast storm, I imagined it must have begun rather sooner in places farther to the northeast than it did at Philadelphia. I therefore mentioned it in a letter to my brother, who lived

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CO-OPERATION IN STUDYING WEATHER

at Boston, and he informed me the whirling wind systems that we now storm did not begin with them till call cyclones and anti-cyclones. near eleven o'clock, so that they had a good observation of the eclipse; and when comparing all other accounts I received from the several colonies, of the time of beginning of the same storm, and since that of other storms of the same kind, I found the beginning to be always later the farther northeastward."

The idea that a storm might travel in a direction opposite to that of the wind was a novelty in Franklin's time, and his discovery was the first step toward a knowledge of the great

BEGINNING A PILOT-BALLOON OBSERVATION Such observations have become a regular part of the daily survey of the atmosphere. The drift of the balloon is watched through a theodolite, and shows the state of the winds aloft

Concerted efforts to solve the mysteries of the weather run back to the year 1654, when a corps of meteorological observers was organized under the auspices of Grand Duke Ferdinand II, of Tuscany. One of the most interesting facts about this pioneer enterprise is that the participants (mostly Jesuit priests), who kept up weather observations on a more or less uniform plan for thirteen years, were not confined to Tuscany, nor even to Italy. In other words, the earliest co-operative undertaking in weather observation gave due recognition to the fact that the atmosphere knows no political boundaries.

During the eighteenth century there were at least four similar experiments in international meteorology. The most important was that carried out by the Meteorological Society of the Palatinate, founded at Mannheim, Germany, in 1780. This Society secured the services of capable observers widely distributed over the world: viz., fourteen in Germany, two in Austria-Hungary, two in Switzerland, four in Italy, three in France, four in Belgium and Holland, three in Russia, four in Scandinavia, one in Greenland, and two in North America (at Bradford and Cambridge, Massachusetts). Unsuccessful efforts were made to obtain observations from Java, Labrador, and Iceland. Instructions were drawn up in Latin for the guidance of the observers, who were all supplied with instruments of uniform pattern. Lastly, the records of this far-flung system of weather stations down to

Specimen of the maps issued at Cincinnati in 1869 and 1870 by the Western Union Telegraph Company, in co-operation with the Cincinnati Observatory. The object-lesson furnished by this experimental undertaking induced Congress to establish a National Weather Service in 1870

the year 1792 were published in twelve quarto volumes, copies of which are now among the rare treasures of meteorological libraries.

These records made possible the construction of the earliest weather maps, though they were not contemporary with the work of the Society. About 1820 the German physicist H. W. Brandes, using data from the Mannheim reports and a few other sources, was able to chart the weather over Europe, day by day, for the whole of the year 1783. Meteorologists deplore the fact that these interesting charts are no longer extant.

DAILY WEATHER PICTURES

What is the weather doing to-day? And what will it do to-morrow? If you are interested merely in conditions prevailing in your own locality, an answer to the first question can be obtained by a glance out of the window. A thousand contingencies may, however, arise that make you solicitous about the weather far from home-a precious cargo afloat upon

the high seas, a speculation in wheat at a critical stage of crop development, a momentous baseball game, or what not. Then your answer is to be sought on the face of a weather map. As to to-morrow's weather, local or otherwise, the map is the only trustworthy guide. If you cannot read its indications yourself, there is generally an official expert at hand to interpret it for you.

Daily weather maps, drawn from telegraphic reports and published with remarkable rapidity, are among the latter-day marvels that we accept as a matter of course, though there are men among us hardly yet gray-headed who remember when nothing of the kind was known in this country. The earliest rudimentary specimens were issued at Cincinnati in 1869 by the late Cleveland Abbe. Official maps were first published by the Signal Corps in 1870. European weather maps were first printed regularly in France in 1863.

Weather is world-wide, but weather maps are not, as yet. Only one of the

South American republics-Argentina -issues such maps, and none are published in Africa south of the equator. Nearly all weather maps are international, and are based on a telegraphic interchange of reports among different countries. Canadian and Cuban stations figure on the maps published in the United States; European maps generally embrace the greater part of Europe. A Eurasian map was published by Russia before her downfall. A map which included reports from a chain of stations extending around the globe was published by the United States Weather Bureau for a few months just prior to the World War, and to-day the official forecaster at Washington has at his disposal a daily weather map, in manuscript, including nearly the whole of North America and western Europe, a fringe of stations in the Far East, and various patches of intervening oceans. When the Russian meteorological service is rehabilitated, we shall have something approximating a weather map of the Northern Hemisphere, and it is likely that this map will be issued in printed form.

The daily surveys of the atmosphere as embodied in weather maps have lately undergone two notable extensions. A few years ago a great obstacle to the prompt preparation of such maps-and hence a serious detriment to their utility when prepared-was the slowness of telegraphic transmission of reports, especially in the Old World, where a multitude of frontiers had to be crossed. Radio broadcasting has changed all this. At present wireless telegraphy has almost completely supplanted wire telegraphy for the interchange of European weather reports, and has also made possible a rapid exchange of reports between Europe and America. The Europeans have worked out an elaborate schedule, according to which each country has certain assigned hours for broadcasting the reports collected within its own territory, generally giving the results of observations made four times a day, and in some cases at more frequent intervals. Certain high-power radio stations also send out international collective reports. Thanks to radio, vessels at sea obtain the same meteorological information that is received at places ashore, and they return the compliment by transmitting wireless reports of their own weather observations both to the land and to other vessels. Thus wireless, besides greatly accelerating the construction of weather maps, has extended their limits far out over the oceans. Sailors are now able to draw their own weather charts en voyage, and thus keep constant watch of the movements of storms. The project of a "floating weather bureau" has lately been to the fore. As was demonstrated a few

months ago by French and American meteorologists on board the French training ship Jacques Cartier, it is feasible to keep up a regular forecasting service in mid-ocean, with the aid of the wireless weather reports sent out from the Eiffel Tower, Arlington, etc., and those received from vessels within range of communication.

The other innovation in charting the weather is still in its earliest stage. Weather used to mean the vicissitudes of the atmosphere at the 'earth's surface, but the development of aeronautics has given it a vertical dimension. The air pilot wants reports and charts of winds and "visibility" at various levels above the earth, and he wants them to show conditions actually prevailing at the time of his flight, rather than those on the programme for the next twentyfour or thirty-six hours. His problem is therefore somewhat different from that which has hitherto confronted the forecaster, and its complete solution is not yet in sight. Nevertheless upperair weather maps, useful as far as they go, are now published regularly in two or three countries of Europe, and are prepared in manuscript, to provide data for "flying forecasts," in this country and elsewhere. To supply material for such maps nearly all meteorological services now maintain stations at which regular observations of the air aloft are made by means of pilot balloons or kites.

THE METEOROLOGICAL LEAGUE OF

"There are probably more than 35,000 meteorological stations throughout the world. Most of them exist primarily for the purpose of collecting climatic statistics, but there are several hundred that contribute their re-.

SIR NAPIER SHAW, E.R.S.

As President of the International Meteorologi.cal Committee he is "clerk of the weather" for the whole world

Europe he sees the unique aeronautical observatory at Lindenberg, the "kite station" on Lake Constance, the lofty stations on the Pic du Midi and the Sonnblick, the splendidly equipped Observatory of the Ebro, and a vast number of institutions of more conventional type. Far to the northward he beholds lonely outposts lately established in Spitsbergen, Jan Mayen, and eastern Greenland, all linked to forecasting headquarters by the magic of radio.

This imposing machinery for watching the world's weather is still defective in two respects:

It is very unevenly distributed over the globe. There are immense areas of land-to say nothing of the oceanthat not only furnish no telegraphic weather reports, but lack weather stations of any sort. It is a paradox that, in our age of ardent exploration, many regions remain climatic terræ incognitæ.

International solidarity has not yet been fully attained. Meteorologists had, to be sure, their league of nations, in the shape of the International Meteorological Committee, long before the politicians, and this body, which is made up of the directors of leading national weather services, now has a rival, with somewhat indefinite functions, provided by the post-bellum International Geophysical Union. Complete unity of effort awaits, however, the establishment of a real "world weather bureau" and a world-wide network of stations regularly reporting thereto.

This is the dream of a world system long cherished by meteorologists, and now likely soon to be realized, thanks to the facilities of intercommunication afforded by radiotelegraphy.

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HE hard life of the fishermen of the high seas has often been depicted in fiction. Pierre Loti writes of it in a romantic, exotic way, as his race and temperament direct. Johan Bojer, on the contrary, is a Scandinavian, impelled by the idea that the ancient courage and endurance of the Vikings has come down into the life of the Norwegian fishermen of to-day. His "Last of the Vikings"1 follows the obsession of Myran, the fisher captain, who will go out to fight his enemies-the storms, the rocks, and the wavesthough he might well and easily leave the sea for the farm. His son and his mates are his battle companions. The life they lead is exactly described by one writer as one of "almost unimaginable rigor and hardship, bravely borne and described with the utmost simplicity."

To be simple and yet to strike home with human directness and with seemingly unconscious dramatic power is given to few romanticists. Rightly, I think, this epic of sea conflict and its background of the tragedy and tenseness of the home life of the sea fighters make it a literary sea piece that may well be bracketed with Hamsun's epic of the farm lands, "The Growth of the Soil," as marking the high tide of Scandinavian literature in our day. The translation is excellent

1 The Last of the Vikings. By Johan Bojer. Illustrated. The Century Company, New York. $2.

in that it keeps the spirit of the author without pandering to literalism.

We are told that Bojer is read and known in England as well as on the Continent, and that several of his books have been widely translated. "The Last of the Vikings" is, I believe, the first of his stories to be published in English in this country. It definitely proves him to be a master in his own field-and that field is not solely the sea and its power to draw to it human heroism and to evolve men of daring and infinite strength to endure. No; his effort succeeds in using insight to depict character; or, as the English critic William Archer says, "The greatness of the book lies in its profound humanity."

It ought to be added that in common with most Scandinavian fiction this story is not particularly cheerful, although there are bright glints of humor and of the charm of love penetrating the gloom of storm and stress. Neither will it be always pleasing to delicate-minded readers, who might perhaps prefer to have rough and tough sea-fighting fishermen talk like yachtsmen at a regatta ball. We see the fisher people here as they are, and may be all the better for the tang of coarse manners and speech that marks these "toilers of the sea.'

A sound piece of writing and an obviously true seascape drawn from nature is this powerful romance of the Lofoten Islands.

Na certain occasion during the World War it happened that Dr. John Nollen, the Director of the Y. M. C. A. work in Italy, found himself on the same train with our then Secretary of War, who was going to visit the Italian front. Secretary Baker, wishing to know about the Y work, asked one of his staff, a colonel, to go and tell Dr. Nollen that the Secretary of War wished to speak to him. The colonel found the Director surrounded by Italian officers, who wanted to know exactly what Dr. Nollen's rank was and who could not believe that he had no military "handle" to his name. The Y Director, who, despite his being an Iowa Dutchman and a college president, is a good deal of a wit, on receiving the summons, said in Italian to his eager questioners: "Gentlemen, if the Secretary of War picks out a

colonel to come and ask me to see him, you can easily work out my exact hierarchical position in this train-load of army officers!"

I cite this little story to show the simple and easy friendliness which existed between the Italian soldiers and the American Y workers in that much-tried land during the great conflict. It is this fine, simple, human relationship which Professor Wannamaker's new book on the Y. M. C. A. on the Italian front vividly presents to us.1

If I were to sum up in a few words the outstanding character of that American organization at the Italian front during the war, I should say it

was its most natural and unassuming spirit of friendliness. Its officers had neither rank nor titles-no, not even spurs, as some other near-military civil officials from America loved to wear down the Corso in Rome! And there was no attempt at "evangelization" by these workers, no second thought, no secret hope of getting a foothold in Catholic Italy; only the simple and constant labor of trying to make the life of the Italian fantoccine a little easier, a little more comfortable, and a little brighter.

The basis of the success of this unassuming but most helpful undertaking was a profound understanding in the Y workers-and notably in Dr. Nollen and his personal staff-of the psychology and of the spirit which animated the Italian people in the Great War. It was this understanding which made possible a co-operation between Americans and Italians of so intimate and fine a character as, I think, has been rarely equaled in the record of civilian international "spiritual alliances." So that Professor Wannamaker can justly say: “A few hundreds of Americans in the uniform of the 'Y' moved freely among Italians under conditions so unusual that conflicting elements in the two national types were almost wholly subordinated to elements which harmonized and co-operated. For whatever success the 'Y' may have attained in endeavoring to play its part in the last year of the great struggle between Italy and Austria, a very large portion of the credit belongs to the Italian officers who facilitated its undertakings, other influential Italians who co-operated generously, faithful Italian employees, and the soldiers detailed to the Fratellanza (Y. M. C. A. Brotherhood) service."

It is unfortunate that the author should have included in this plain story of international co-operation of the finest sort an over-detailed and cumbersome list of "acknowledgments" of all and sundry who contributed to the success of the work. The undertaking was big enough and fine enough to make all who contributed to its success satisfied with anonymity. The insertion in the very heart of the book of all these personal data detracts especially from what is otherwise a splendid synthetic picture of Italy at

war.

It seems to me that the Second Chapter-"The Home Front"-lights up one phase of Italian life and activity in the war as no other publication, pamphlet, or report in English has done, and the First and Ninth Chapters, dealing more specifically with military topics, are distinct