sufficed to cause all the floating matter to be deposited on the sides and bottom, where it was retained by a coating of glycerine, with which the interior surface of the case had been purposely varnished. The test-tubes were then filled through the pipette, boiled for five minutes in a bath of brine or oil, and abandoned to the action of the moteless air."
In this way the air in its normal condition was freely supplied to the infusions, but of mechanically suspended matter it could be demonstrated that there was none. And it was proved, with a clearness that admits of no quibble, that infusions of every kind, animal or vegetable, were absolutely free from putrefactive organisms. "In no single instance. . . . did the air which had been proved moteless by the searching beam show itself to possess the least power of producing bacterial life or the associated phenomena of putrefaction." But portions of the same infusions exposed to the common air of the Royal Institution Laboratory at a continuous temperature of from 60° to 70° Fahr., fell invariably into putrefaction; and when the tubes containing them amounted to six hundred in number not one of them escaped infection—they were all "infallibly smitten." Here is irresistible evidence that there is a direct relation between a mote-laden atmosphere and bacterial development. The whole series of Dr. Tyndall's exquisite experiments is simply an irrefragable affirmation of this truth. The presence of the physically demonstrated motes is as essential to the production, in a sterilized infusion, of septic organisms, as light is to actinic action. They cannot be made to appear without the precursive motes; they cannot be prevented from appearing if the motes be there. That these are the germs of bacteria by themselves, or associated with minute specks of matter, approximates to certainty in the proportion of hundreds of millions to one.
A beautiful illustration of the minuteness and multitude of the particles is given. Let clean gummastic be dissolved in alcohol, and drop it into water; the mastic is precipitated and milkiness is produced. Gradually dilute the alcoholic solution, and a point is reached where the milkiness disappears, and by reflected light the liquid is of a bright cerulean hue. "It is in point of fact the color of the sky, and is due to a similar cause—namely, the scattering of light by particles small in comparison to the size of the waves of light."
Examine this liquid with the highest microscopical power, and it appears as optically clear as distilled water. The mastic-particles are almost infinite in number, and must crowd the entire field of the microscope; but they are as absolutely ultra-microscopic as though they had no existence. I have tested this with an exquisite 150 of Powell and Lealand's, employed with a new and delicate mode of illumination for high powers,[1] and worked up to 15,000 diameters; but not the ghostliest semblance of such particles was seen. But at
- ↑ Vide Monthly Microscopical Journal, April, 1876.
