food-the city of Bologna. The fame of that city still rings down the ages for two things-its sausage, and its law school. Why not also for Chicago?

I believe that Northwestern University Law School is marked in a higher degree by educational efficiency and professional leadership in its field, and that it not only merits, but also possesses the entire confidence of the alumni, the profession, and the community. All that it now needs is an endowment of a building. But I have raised the price. It was originally $1,500,000. But that is not enough to enable it to fulfill its manifest destiny. I tell you now that the limit is raised to $5,000,000; and I want you to see that it does not stop below that sum!

HARVEY WASHINGTON WILEY

THE IDEAL WOMAN

Speech of Dr. Harvey W. Wiley at the banquet of the American Chemical Society, Washington, D. C., December, 1898. Dr. Wiley responded to the toast, "Woman."

MR. PRESIDENT AND FELLOW MEMBERS OF THE CHEMICAL SOCIETY:-I propose to introduce an innovation to after-dinner speaking and stick to my text. In my opinion, it is too late in the day to question the Creator's purpose in making Woman. She is an accomplished fact! She is here! She has come to stay, and we might as well accept her. She has broken into our society, which, until within a year or two, has remained entirely masculine. She has not yet appeared at our annual dinners, but I am a false prophet if she be not here to speak for herself ere long. And why not? Chemistry is well suited to engage the attention of the feminine mind. The jewels woman wears, the paints she uses, the hydrogen peroxide with which she blondines her hair are the children of chemistry. The prejudice against female chemists is purely selfish and unworthy of a great mind. There is only enough work in the world to keep half of humanity busy. Every time a woman gets employment a man must go idle. But if the woman will only marry the man, all will be forgiven.

I think I know why you have called on an old bachelor to respond to this toast. A married man could not. He would be afraid to give his fancies full rein. Some one might tell his wife. A young man could see only one side of the subject -the side his sweetheart is on. But the old bachelor fears no Caudle lecture, and is free from any romantic bias. He sees things just as they are. If he be also a true chemist, lovely woman appeals to him in a truly scientific way. Her charms appear to him in the crucible and the beaker:

I know a maiden, charming and true,
With beautiful eyes like the cobalt blue
Of the borax bead, and I guess she'll do
If she hasn't another reaction.

Her form is no bundle of toilet shams,
Her beauty no boon of arsenical balms,
And she weighs just sixty-two kilograms
To a deci-decimal fraction.

Her hair is a crown, I can truthfully state
'Tis a metre long, nor curly nor straight,
And it is as yellow as plumbic chromate
In a slightly acid solution.

And when she speaks from parlor or stump,
The words which gracefully gambol and jump
Sound sweet like the water in Sprengel's pump
In magnesic phosphate ablution.

I have bought me a lot, about a hectare,
And have built me a house ten metres square,
And soon, I think, I shall take her there,

My tart little acid radicle.

Perhaps little sailors on life's deep sea
Will be the salts of this chemistry,
And the lisp of the infantile A, B, C
Be the refrain of this madrigal.

No one but a scientific man can have any idea of the real nature of love. The poet may dream, the novelist describe the familiar feeling, but only the chemist knows just how it is:— A biochemist loved a maid

In pure actinic ways;

The enzymes of affection made
A ferment of his days.

The waves emergent from her eyes
Set symphonies afloat,

These undulations simply struck
His fundamental note.

No longer could he hide his love,
Nor cultures could he make,
And so he screwed his courage up,
And thus to her he spake:

"Oh, maid of undulations sweet,
Inoculate my veins,

And fill my thirsty arteries up
With amorous ptomaines.

"In vain I try to break this thrall,
In vain my reason fights,
My inner self tempestuous teems
With microcosmic mites.

"I cannot offer you a crown
Of gold-I cannot tell
Of terrapin or wine for us,
But rations balanced well.

"A little fat just now and then,
Some carbohydrates sweet,
And gluten in the bakers' bread,
Are what we'll have to eat.

"The days will pass in rapture by,
With antitoxine frills,

And on our Guinea-pigs we'll try
The cures for all our ills.

"O! maiden fair, wilt thou be mine?
Come, give me but one kiss,

And dwell forever blessed with me,
In symbiotic bliss."

This maiden, modest, up-to-date,
Eschewed domestic strife;

In mocking accents she replied,

"Wat t'ell-not on your life."

The philosopher and the theologian pretend to understand the origin of things and the foundation of ethics, but what one of them ever had the least idea of how love first started? What one of them can tell you a thing concerning the original osculation-that primary amatory congress which was the beginning of the beginning?

Bathed in Bathybian bliss

And sunk in the slush of the sea,
Thrilled the first molecular kiss,
The beginning of you and of me.

The Atom of Oxygen blushed

When it felt fair Hydrogen's breath,

The Atom of Nitrogen rushed
Eager to Life out of Death.

Through Ocean's murmuring dell
Ran a whisper of rapture Elysian;
Across that Bathybian jell

Ran a crack that whispered of fission.

Alas! that such things should be,
That cruel unkind separation,
Adown in the depths of the sea
Should follow the first osculation.

O tender lover and miss,

You cannot remember too well
That the first molecular kiss

Was the first Bathybian cell.

Not only are women rapidly invading the domain of chemistry, but they are also the yellow peril of her sister science, pharmacy. A drug store without a dimpled damsel is now a fit subject for the sheriff's hammer:—

There in the corner pharmacy,

This lithesome lady lingers,
And potent pills and philters true
Are fashioned by her fingers.

Her phiz behind the soda fount
May oft be seen in summer;
How sweetly foams the soda fizz,
When you receive it from her.

While mixing belladonna drops
With tincture of lobelia,
And putting up prescriptions, she
Is fairer than Ophelia.

Each poison has its proper place,

Each potion in its chalice;
Her dædal fingers are so deft,

They call her digit-Alice.

Love has been the theme of every age and of every tongue. It is the test of youth and of the capability of progress. So long as a man can and does love, he is young and there is hope for him. Whoever saw a satisfactory definition of love? No one, simply because the science of physical chemistry is yet young, and it is only when molded by the principles of that