| CHAPTER I | CHAPTER II | CHAPTER III | CHAPTER IV |
March 24. The spring is fairly with us now. Outside my laboratorywindow the great chestnut-tree is all covered with the big, glutinous,gummy buds, some of which have already begun to break into little greenshuttlecocks. As you walk down the lanes you are conscious of therich, silent forces of nature working all around you. The wet earthsmells fruitful and luscious. Green shoots are peeping out everywhere.The twigs are stiff with their sap; and the moist, heavy English air isladen with a faintly resinous perfume. Buds in the hedges, lambsbeneath them—everywhere the work of reproduction going forward!
I can see it without, and I can feel it within. We also have ourspring when the little arterioles dilate, the lymph flows in a briskerstream, the glands work harder, winnowing and straining. Every yearnature readjusts the whole machine. I can feel the ferment in my bloodat this very moment, and as the cool sunshine pours through my window Icould dance about in it like a gnat. So I should, only that CharlesSadler would rush upstairs to know what was the matter. Besides, Imust remember that I am Professor Gilroy. An old professor may affordto be natural, but when fortune has given one of the first chairs inthe university to a man of four-and-thirty he must try and act the partconsistently.
What a fellow Wilson is! If I could only throw the same enthusiasminto physiology that he does into psychology, I should become a ClaudeBernard at the least. His whole life and soul and energy work to oneend. He drops to sleep collating his results of the past day, and hewakes to plan his researches for the coming one. And yet, outside thenarrow circle who follow his proceedings, he gets so little credit forit. Physiology is a recognized science. If I add even a brick to theedifice, every one sees and applauds it. But Wilson is trying to digthe foundations for a science of the future. His work is undergroundand does not show. Yet he goes on uncomplainingly, corresponding witha hundred semi-maniacs in the hope of finding one reliable witness,sifting a hundred lies on the chance of gaining one little speck oftruth, collating old books, devouring new ones, experimenting,lecturing, trying to light up in other