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The design of the joints in a power transformer core has a marked influence on the efficiency of the core as a whole. Two experimental cores have been built such that the lengths of their 45° mitered overlaps could be varied from 0 to 2.0 cm. The larger core, with 1.0 m limbs, was used for investigating flux and loss variations and the second, smaller core was used to study how the results might be affected by changes in dimensions. For the larger core, the power loss was measured in two ways for a range of overlaps: first, using the localized power loss technique, and then by measuring the total power loss with a precision wattmeter. In both cases, a minimum power loss was found when the core was built with an overlap of 0.5 cm. The overlap length was varied in the smaller core and again a minimum power loss was found, but with a 1.0 cm overlap. A change in loss of over 20% was found for the range of overlap lengths used, and the optimum overlap length was independent of flux density over the range from 1.0 T to 1.8 T. The special flux distribution was determined from an array of search coils. The variations in flux distribution enables a qualitative explanation of the occurrence of the minimum in power loss.

W ORSHIP, like love, unites; speculation and argumentation divide. The moment we try to formulate doctrines, or to construct a theory of church organization, we discover that we are handling explosive material and are sure to arouse disagreement, if not dissension. We are moving here in the field of debate, and however plausible our position may seem to us there are always other ways of viewing that same position of ours which we usually overlook. In all matters of life and thought the problems are intricate and complex, and no formulation of terms can exhaust the possibilities of any situation. There is something about the "inner life" of a black beetle which escapes the wisest entomologist. He describes the outside appearance, the look of the beast. He reports on legs and wings and speed of motion, but when he is all done with his description the beetle might well say, if it could utter itself, "You do not really know me at all as I am in myself!" How much more does our knowledge fall short of the mark when we are dealing with the inner life of a man, and how hopeless is the task of telling all the infinite truth about Christ, about God, about the universe and about eternal destiny! No, it cannot be done. There is more to be said than any of us say. And when anyone tries to make us take his account, we want the privilege of saying it over in our own way and of supplementing his way of saying it. But worship is different. As I have already said, it is like love, and therefore it draws together and unites. Worship is not theory; it is not speculation; it is not thinking; it is not talking—it is discovery, adoration, joy, peace, communion, fellowship. There are deeper strata within us than come up to light in our ideas, or decisions, or declarations. The roots of our life —our real life—lie in this subsoil of our innermost being. We need to feed and fructify this deeper buried region, and to liberate its energies. That is what genuine worship does. It opens the avenues of the interior life and lets the spiritual currents from beyond us flow in and circulate about the roots of our being. Whittier was declaring this truth in his fine lines

In NATURE, of February 16, I observe the reviewer of Mr. Godman's “Natural History of the Azores,” makes the following statement:— “Mr. Godman appears to be the first who has, after a personal exploration of one of these oceanic groups, endeavoured to collect all that is known of its natural productions.” Now, it is not with the intention of detracting from the merits of Mr. Godman's work, but merely to refresh the memory of your reviewer, that I beg to state, that I published in 1859 a small volume entitled “The Naturalist in Bermuda,” which contained all that was known of the natural productions of those islands at that date. It was by no means a complete essay, but as stated in the preface “merely a prelude to a more complete publication on the same subject, which anticipated work, the result of several visits to the group, I hope to present to public notice shortly.

AMONG other rarities which I have been fortunate enough to procure since my arrival in the Bermudas, is a pelagic fish nest, similar in most respects to that which Agassiz has so recently described, and which was obtained by the American Expedition in the Gulf Stream in December last, while on the voyage to the West Indies. As I am very busy at present preserving and packing specimens, and the mail steamer nearly due, I have only time to send you (by way of St. Thomas) a brief description of my nest, which has been preserved in diluted alcohol. It was taken from a mass of gulf weed (Fucus natans) blown ashore about a month ago. This weed, by-the-bye, has been especially abundant about the Bermudas during the present winter, thousands upon thousands of tons having been cast ashore by the waves during the stormy weather which has prevailed. The size of the whole mass is about eight inches by five as it hangs suspended, the former measurement being its depth. The weed is thicker at the top, and is woven together by a maze of fine elastic threads, affording a raft, from which depends the clustering mass of eggs, which I cannot illustrate better than by asking your readers to imagine two or three pounds of No. 7 shot grouped together in bunches of several grains, and held in position by the elastic thread-work previously mentioned. These threads are amazingly strong, especially at their terminal bases on the fucus sprays, where several are apparently twisted together like the fibres of rope, and are admirably adapted to hold the mass in a position where it must always be subject, more or less, to violence, from the continued agitation of the waves in these stormy latitudes. The sea-weed is not only on the summit, but sundry sprays are interwoven with the mass of eggs, thereby rendering the fabric still more solid and secure. It is truly a wonderful specimen of Nature's handiwork; a house built without hands, resting securely on the bosom of the rolling deep.

OWING to the October number of NATURE having been mislaid, I have not had an opportunity until lately of seeing Mrs. Merrifield's remarks upon Gulf-weed which appear in vol. xviii. p. 708, where the Bermudas are alluded to as a locality where this species grows in situ.