resenting one share in the British
Empire. Secondly, there is its race, involving, let us say, blue eyes
and light hair, and a corresponding constitution. Thirdly, there is
the climate and all that goes with it. Though in the first of these
respects the white child is likely to be superior to the native,
inasmuch as it will be tended with more careful regard to the laws
of health; yet such disharmony prevails between the other two factors
of race and climate, that it will almost certainly die, if it is not
removed at a certain age from the country. Possibly the English could
acclimatize themselves in India at the price of an immense toll of
infant lives; but it is a price which they show no signs of being willing
to pay.

What, then, are the limits of the geographical control? Where does
its influence begin and end? Situation, race and culture--to reduce
it to a problem of three terms only--which of the three, if any, in
the long run controls the rest? Remember that the anthropologist is
trying to be the historian of long perspective. History which counts
by years, proto-history which counts by centuries, pre-history which
counts by millenniums--he seeks to embrace them all. He sees the
English in India, on the one hand, and in Australia on the other. Will
the one invasion prove an incident, he asks, and the other an event,
as judged by a history of long perspective? Or, again, there are whites
and blacks and redskins in the southern portion of the United States
of America, having at present little in common save a common climate.
Different races, different cultures, a common geographical
situation--what net result will these yield for the historian of
patient, far-seeing anthropological outlook? Clearly there is here
something worth the puzzling out. But we cannot expect to puzzle it
out all at once.

In these days geography, in the form known as anthropo-geography, is
putting forth claims to be the leading branch of anthropology. And,
doubtless, a thorough grounding in geography must henceforth be part
of the anthropologist's equipment.[3] The schools of Ratzel in Germany
and Le Play in France are, however, fertile in generalizations that
are far too pretty to be true. Like other specialists, they exaggerate
the importance of their particular brand of work. The full meaning
of life can never be expressed in terms of its material conditions.
I confess that I am not deeply moved when Ratzel announces that man
is a pi