and the profound, tranquil sleep of Death reigns where just now were life and movement. Here, then, begins the eternal rest.
Rest! no, not for an instant. Never was there greater activity than at this moment exists in that still corpse. Activity, but of a different kind to that which was before. Already a thousand changes have commenced. Forces innumerable have attacked the dead. The rapidity of the vulture, with its keen scent for animal decay, is nothing to that of Nature's ceaseless agents now at full work before us. That marvelously complex machine, but this moment the theatre of phenomena too subtile and too recondite to be comprehended; denotable only by phraseology which stands for the unknown and incomputable vital, because more than physical, more than chemical—is now consigned to the action of physical and chemical agencies alone. And these all operating in a direction the reverse of that which they held before death. A synthesis, then, developing the animal being. The stages of that synthesis, now, retraced, with another end, still formative, in view. Stages of decomposition, of decay, with its attendant putrescence; process abhorrent to the living, who therefore desire its removal. "Bury the dead out of my sight," is the wholly natural sentiment of the survivor.
But Nature does nothing without ample meaning; nothing without an object desirable in the interest of the body politic. It may, then, be useful to inquire what must of necessity happen if, instead of burying or attempting to preserve the dead, Nature follows an unimpeded course, and the lifeless animal is left to the action of laws in such case provided.
It is necessary first to state more exactly the conditions supposed to exist. Thus, the body must be exposed to air; and must not be consumed as prey by some living animal. If it is closely covered with earth or left in water, the same result is attained as in the condition first named, although the steps of the process may be dissimilar.
The problem which Nature sets herself to work in disposing of dead animal matter is always one and the same. The order of the universe requires its performance; no other end is possible. The problem may be slowly worked, or quickly worked; the end is always one.
It may be thus stated: The animal must be resolved into—
a. Carbonic acid (CO2, water (HO), and ammonia (NH3).
b. Mineral constituents, more or less oxidized, elements of the earth's structure: lime, phosphorus, iron, sulphur, magnesia, etc.
The first group, gaseous in form, go into the atmosphere.
The second group, ponderous and solid, remain where the body lies, until dissolved and washed into the earth by rain.
Nature's object remains still unstated: the constant result of her work is before us; but wherefore are these changes? In her wonderful economy she must form and bountifully nourish her vegetable
