accurately to map out the kingdom of Nature. Her varied productions are connected with one another by innumerable links and cross-links; and our systems of classification, even the most "natural," are but an imperfect human contrivance for bringing together those forms which present the most evident marks of resemblance or affinity. While the truth of this law is most familiar in the case of those smaller subdivisions of the animal and vegetable kingdoms—classes, orders, and genera—which are connected with one another by innumerable intermediate forms, it is none the less certain in the line of demarcation which separates these two great kingdoms themselves from one another. In attempting to draw up a definition which shall serve accurately and infallibly to distinguish between the Animal and Vegetable Kingdoms, we find ourselves compelled to abandon one supposed crucial test after another, and to content ourselves at last with framing, as in the case of the lower subdivisions, an assemblage of characters, by the tout-ensemble of which we must decide whether our organism is an animal or a plant. So great is the uncertainty as to the actual boundary-line, that large groups of lowly organisms, such as those known as Diatoms and Desmidiæ, have been regarded by experienced authorities as belonging to each kingdom; and one of the ablest of living naturalists, Ernst Haeckel, of Jena, has proposed the division of the material universe not into three but into four kingdoms—animals, plants, protista, and minerals, the new kingdom of Protista including the most lowly-organized forms of what are generally considered animals and plants, from the Flagellate Infusoria to the Fungi, distinguished by the absence of sexes, and the mode of reproduction by gemmation or fission alone. The soundness of this new classification is not, however, admitted by the best remaining authorities in England or Germany.
One of the most obvious distinctions between the Animal and Vegetable Kingdoms consists in the possession by the former of a power of voluntary motion of either the whole or a part of the body, dependent on the presence of a distinct nervous system, which is absent in the latter; a distinction obvious enough when contrasting any of the higher forms of the two kingdoms, but which, like all other individual characters, fails when pressed to too rigid a test. There are animals, so regarded by the best naturalists, and possessing other characters which compel us to refer them to this class, whose power of motion is confined to the "contractility" common to all protoplasmic substance, and which are absolutely devoid of a nervous system; and there are plants, unquestionable plants, which possess powers of spontaneous motion strictly comparable to those exhibited by the lower animals. It may be interesting to collect together a few illustrations of this last-named fact, some of which appear to the writer scarcely explicable by the application of any of those laws which govern inert unorganized matter.
